Cusp of Crazy: Nick Stryker Series, Book One, Shallow End Gals

by Vicki Graybosch

  Lacey was silent for a moment. Nick had never told her he loved her before. “Wow. This has been quite a day.”

  “I can comfort you tonight or I can give you some space. Your call.”

  “My call……hmmmmm. What’s taking you so long to get here?”

  Thursday one a. m.

  The night air felt frigid on his face. He didn’t remember arriving, only his purpose. The blackness of the alley accentuated the huge vapor clouds of his monsters’ breath. The tension in the air was almost visible as the sounds and lights of the city blurred. His monsters were taking over, pushing him aside. This would be a brutal kill. He wanted to watch. Write about it.

  The man stood looking at the street, his back to the alley. The monsters crept closer in effortless silence. They snatched him back into the darkness as the blade of the knife sliced deeply across his throat. They tossed the lifeless man like trash beside the dumpster, and then vanished back into the blackness of the night. They were powerful, free. He had lost control and it thrilled him.

  Mitch finished his beer and frowned at the long faces of Eli and Wayne. “Whatever made us bet Chad that the three of us could take his team of five?”

  Eli pointed at Wayne. “I say it’s Oink’s fault. What the heck was wrong tonight, dude? You couldn’t hit a cow on a leash the way you were throwin’.”

  “I know. I guess my head’s still at work.” Wayne had missed every throw. “You two want a ride or you taking a cab?”

  Mitch shook his head, “We’ll take a cab, hopefully with a live driver. It’s out of your way and you already lost your jacket.”

  Wayne moaned. He had bet Chad his jacket that they could win tonight. Watching Chad parade around the bar in his favorite jacket was infuriating. He was glad when Chad left.

  Wayne, Mitch and Eli walked out the door of the bar. Wayne walked quickly toward his parked car, cursing himself for not having a coat. Mitch and Eli headed for the corner to catch a cab. As they passed the alley, they saw a man’s feet protruding from behind the dumpster. Eli started to slowly walk over.

  Mitch hissed, “Let the man sleep. Ain’t none of our business.”

  Eli stopped and turned back to Mitch. “It’s Chad. He ain’t sleepin’. His throat’s been cut.”

  Mitch screamed and ran after Wayne. “Oink! Get back here!”

  Eli leaned against the bricks in the alley and rubbed his hands over his face. “This here new habit of ours has got to stop.”

  He thought he heard slow, heavy breathing laced with low throaty moans. He quickly turned to face the back of the alley. His hands began to tremble. His body froze in terror. Clouds of vapor seemed to hang in the air in the far corner. His mind screamed danger. The breathing became louder. Eli ran screaming after Mitch.

  He was disoriented, but back at home, covered in blood. He wished he could remember the moment of the kill. His monsters had stolen all of his joy. Now they were quiet, resting. He must regain control of them. He looked at his knife and watched the fresh blood drip from its blade. What was done was done. Now he could sleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  Thursday six a. m.

  Jen woke to an empty bed. She walked out to the dinette where John had littered the table with papers and red licorice. He was in his sweats and stopped to sip some coffee.

  He grinned at her. “Morning love,” and went back to typing.

  “You’re having red licorice for breakfast?” Jen scratched her scalp and realized she had to do a complete makeover before she went to work.

  John turned to face her. “It feels so great knowing you support what I’m doing! I woke up inspired with a new story. I can’t stop.”

  Jen rolled her hand in the air. “By all means continue.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and went to the bathroom to shower. Last night had seemed like some kind of dream. She and John were fine. He totally understood her passion for her job now that he had found something that made him feel the same way. There was a new peace in her mind, and a renewed love for John.

  Nick watched the shadows move across the wall of Lacey’s bedroom every time a car passed outside. He was sitting up watching her sleep and thinking about work. Lacey was right, his work consumed him.

  Lacey understood. She wasn’t asking him to change who he was. She asked him to make their relationship an important priority too. Nick wanted to; he was going to, somehow. Lacey agreed it would take time to find balance. She was very aware that real people in real trouble needed Nick, too.

  He thought about Don’s death. Don didn’t believe in ‘random’ crazy, just crazy. Wayne had warned him that asking questions about what Don was looking into was dangerous. How would Wayne know? What did Wayne know? Why did Wayne say anything at all to him? He didn’t even work that precinct.

  Carl. Carl had a slow methodical manner that obviously worked for him based on his closed cases. Carl also mentioned that Wayne was paranoid. Nick suspected that Carl was much smarter than Wayne gave him credit for. Could be office jealousy.

  James. Where was he? How did the camera not pick up someone leaving that building through the grate? Was there yet another way out that Nick hadn’t found?

  Casey. Someone very sick had taken that game to a new level. Could it be the man that Eric described? Or had Eric made it all up and he was the cab driver killer? But why?

  Lacey stirred and opened her eyes. “Good morning.”

  Nick slid down under the covers and nuzzled her neck. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The typically noisy congestion of the squad room had been replaced with an eerie quiet. Wayne typed feverishly to finish his report on Chad’s murder. He sent an email to Nick with a copy of the report attached.

  “Detective Wayne Dunfee?” The voice echoed through the squad room.

  Wayne looked up. The suit and demeanor screamed IA, but it wasn’t anyone Wayne recognized. “Yeah.”

  The man walked over and handed a form to Wayne. “Standard report if an officer suspects that he is a target. Your initial report on last evening was forwarded to me. I’m not hanging around, but I wanted to tell you in person that I am investigating your prior concerns. I, too, am troubled by this latest development. Keep me posted.” He handed Wayne a card and walked from the room.

  Wayne looked at the card: David Fulton, Assistant U.S. District Attorney, Chicago Division; Special Crimes. Wayne swallowed. This was not good. He wasn’t being paranoid after all. Wayne made a photocopy of the card and attached it to his email to Nick. If something did happen to him, Nick would have to connect the dots. Wayne grabbed his jacket, closed down his computer, so Nick could use it later and left for home. It had been a long night. The last place he wanted to be today was the squad room.

  Sleep fought to dissipate his memories. The frozen expression on Chad’s face as the still wet blood ran from his neck and pooled on the alley bricks. His jacket; the silver ‘Oink’ lettering reflecting the red and blue flashing lights of the first responders. Mitch and Eli exchanging worried glances, then staring at him. A fitful sleep finally won and provided some relief until the dreams began.

  Momma listened with eyes popping as Mitch and Eli retold their story for the hundredth time. They had been at the precinct with Wayne all night and Eli had to report to work in an hour.

  Momma patted Eli’s shoulder. “Best you call in sick and get some sleep. You have an important job. Can’t be makin’ mistakes.”

  Eli shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep if I had to, Momma. One dead dude a week is plenty. This, this is crazy.”

  Mitch moaned his agreement as he put his apron on, unlocked the cash register, and flipped the window sign to ‘Open’. “Momma, all this killin’ isn’t far from this store. I think I’m going to take up residence in the back room ‘til they catch this guy.”

  Momma’s heart swelled. Mitch was a good son and having him there at night would be a comfort. “I ain’t gonna talk you out of what you feel is right. I got one of them hide-a-bed couches upstairs by the T
V. Be a lot more comfortable than the back room.”

  “Deal.”

  The door to the sandwich shop opened and the first delivery of newspapers was plopped on the floor. Eli walked over, cut the twine binding and began searching for the story about Chad. “Here it is. One whole line; Preliminary reports of an altercation in an alley in the 107th Precinct resulted in an unidentified stabbing victim.” Eli dropped the paper down and glared over the top. “Really? An altercation? A stabbing? Unidentified? How about this? Chad had his friggin’ throat sliced open over by Cubby’s Bar for no reason and is dead. Now that would be reporting news.”

  The door opened again and customers began filtering in for their morning paper, muffins and coffee. Eli grabbed a coffee. Momma stuffed a muffin in his pocket as he turned for the door.

  Casey sat cross legged on her bed, sipping a hot cup of tea and watching the news. Her mind kept wandering back to last night’s fiasco. How would she ever make this up to Joyce, Shelly and especially Tanner? They had to be at court this morning at nine. Casey looked at the clock on her bed stand, it read seven thirty. She would have to shower within fifteen minutes if she wanted to be on time. She took a larger gulp of the hot tea. God, she didn’t want to go.

  A simple scratching sound came from her closet. She grabbed the remote and hit mute. As clear as if standing next to her, she heard the sound of a man muffle a sneeze. Then more scratching, then nothing. Was she going mad? She stared at the closet door and waited a full five minutes before she opened it. Hammer high in the air, she only saw her clothes. She leaned back and bent down to see if there were feet behind her hanging suits. Nothing. Silence. She grabbed her outfit for the day, closed the door and moved her bedside table up against it. She ran to the kitchen and dumped a cup of flour into a bowl and ran back to her bedroom. As she spread the flour on the floor in front of the closet, she imagined what someone would say if they saw what she was doing.

  She grabbed her underthings from the drawer and carried her suit to the bathroom and locked the door. Before she turned on the shower she leaned against the bathroom wall and listened. Convinced that her mind was playing tricks on her she showered and dressed for work. Before she left, she glanced back in her room to check the flour. It was fine.

  On the sidewalk, hailing a cab, she almost starting laughing. Her life had been turned upside down by a book. Once in the cab she glanced back. A hand slowly spread open her front curtain.

  Casey screamed, “Stop! Go back!” She threw a ten dollar bill at the cab driver and ran up the front steps. At her door she took a deep breath and opened it quickly and loudly.

  “Whoever you are this ends now! Show yourself!”

  Silence.

  Casey inched her way through the entire apartment. The flour was fine. The table was still against the closet door. Her hammer still rested on her pillow. Her living room curtain was fine. Casey slid down her wall to the floor and began to quietly cry. She was quite sure she was going crazy.

  Eric had almost been caught by Casey. He had barely made it to the end of the hall and lifted himself through the ceiling panel when she stormed up the stairs. He wanted to install a small motion sensor camera in her living room. Everything was done except the lens location. Right now he only had the vent and that wouldn’t alert him of motion if that man came back. The camera was rigged to intercept his other lines and flash a red light if it detected motion. He would have to set it every night after she went to bed, but he didn’t mind. The important thing was to keep her safe.

  Jen and Carl rode the elevator together up to the third floor homicide room. Carl held the door for her. Jen asked, “I don’t see a whiteboard here. You don’t use them?”

  Carl chuckled, “You’re a gal after my heart. I’m the only one that liked it. Popular vote has them stored in the back room. I got too lazy to keep hauling one back and forth.”

  Jen smiled. Carl continued, “If you want to use it, I’ll help you set it up. It’s a big one.”

  “That’s a deal. Nick and I work with one all of the time. Helps connect the dots.”

  “Precisely.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jen began a long column list on the left of the board. She was so involved that she didn’t hear Carl walk up behind her. He pointed to Eli and Mitch’s names. “Are these the guys that found the cab driver?”

  Jen nodded. “More importantly, the guys that might have seen the doer.”

  Carl frowned, “I talked to them and they said they can’t ID from what they saw.”

  Jen glanced at him and said, “More than once someone remembers something later.” She tapped her marker on Eric’s name. “This guy has the good ID. We just have to convince him to cooperate. That’s Nick’s job.”

  Carl returned to his desk. Eric? He hadn’t heard that name. Carl thought about what he had heard about Nick. Smart, intuitive. That whiteboard looked like one huge mess. Nick Stryker might be an empty legend.

  Tanner, Joyce and Shelly waited in the courthouse rotunda for Casey to show up. It was almost nine. Suddenly Tanner exhaled, “She’s here.” He quickly walked over to meet her at the door.

  Joyce glanced at Shelly, “Ain’t that cute? His concern and all.”

  Shelly glared back, “Oh, stuff it!”

  Casey looked terrible. Tanner was clearly worried. “Did you sleep?”

  Casey offered a weak smile, “Yeah. Not enough. How about you?”

  Tanner laughed. “I had to take three showers to get that river stink off of me. Threw my suit in the trash, and then slept like a baby. Swimming always does that for me.” He thought he was being cute. Casey rolled her eyes.

  The bailiff walked out from behind the double doors and yelled, “Casey Thurston?”

  The three of them walked over and the bailiff glanced again at his clipboard. “Casey Thurston? The D.A. is not pressing any charges. I was told to return this to you by Detective Stryker.” It was a paper sack that contained the book.

  Tanner asked, “That’s it? We can go?”

  “Yep.”

  Casey shrugged, “I guess we go to work.” She clung tight to the bag imagining the evil contained within. Not wanting to let it escape. Hoping it would smother in the sack.

  Nick drove over to Gary’s address and spotted his car in the lot. Nick waited until Gary walked out of his building and then he walked over, holding out a paper for him.

  Gary was clearly annoyed as he grabbed the paper. “What’s this?”

  “A restraining order signed by a judge this morning. Read it carefully. You cannot be anywhere Lacey is without violating the order. You violate the order and you go to jail.”

  Gary tossed the paper in his car. “She didn’t have to do that. All I want is to talk to her.”

  Nick shook his head. “You still don’t get it. There is nothing you could say now that she wants to hear. Nothing. Let it go.”

  Nick walked back to his car. He saw that Gary was reading the protection order. Maybe, at least, this problem was taken care of.

  Gary tossed the order to the backseat after reading it. He looked at his watch, nine thirty.

  He wasn’t giving up on Lacey. Lacey deserved to hear how he had watched her for months, waiting for a chance to meet her alone. She would appreciate that he cared that much. He knew Nick hadn’t been around. He was no boyfriend. It was Nick that was delusional.

  Gary noticed a new waitress at the diner last night. If he hurried, he could find out more about her. She wasn’t as pretty as Lacey or as smart. But there was something about her that he found appealing.

  CHAPTER 9

  Nick stopped in the liquor store across from Momma’s. The owner, Jack, had promised him the camera footage from Tuesday night. Nick walked in and saw a man about 60 stocking the wine racks. The man turned around.

  “Mornin’.”

  Nick nodded. “Good morning. You Jack?”

  The man walked over and looked Nick up and down. “Yeah, I’m Jack. You’re a cop.”

  �
�That I am.” Nick opened his jacket to expose his badge. “Nick Stryker. You promised me some camera footage.”

  Jack pulled his head back. “I gave it to ya. Well, not you. I left it upstairs at the Precinct in homicide. Gave it to a guy there.”

  Nick was surprised that no one had mentioned it to him. “When did you leave it?”

  “Yesterday morning. I gave it to some big guy with hairy eyebrows. I told him that you wanted it.”

  Carl.

  Nick looked around the store, “You here alone? I’m surprised you’re open this early.”

  Jack wiped a bottle and placed it on the shelf. ‘My stock guy quit on me after that cabbie murder. Said he was lookin’ to get a job in a better neighborhood.” Jack shrugged, “I told him he was going to have to move a ways away to get away from crime. Like Michigan.” Jack chuckled and went back to stocking the shelves.

  Nick saw the blue neon ‘Open’ sign at Momma’s and walked across the street. He grabbed a Chicago Tribune, walked up to the glass case and surveyed Momma’s fresh muffins. Looking down through that glass case took him back to his high school days. Momma had figured out that if she gave Nick a free chili dog after school, he would walk the same route as Mitch and keep him out of trouble. Nick’s mom had left his dad when he was young and never looked back. Raised by a dad that had to work two jobs, Nick had always felt that Momma was part his, too.

  Mitch and Nick exchanged greetings and Mitch asked, “You here to ask me a bunch of questions?”

  “I thought I’d take a box of muffins back to the precinct with me. You pick out Momma’s best.”