by Baker, Alex
“Who would do something like this? What kind of monster would vandalize her grave?” Missus Kysta asked, barely holding herself together. Chief Epps put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm the grief stricken woman. “Oh, God. My little girl. Why?” she continued.
“Missus Kysta, I promise you that we will do everything within our resources to check into this and find out who did it,” the Chief said, his voice soothing and reassuring.
Anyone hearing that would believe him without a shadow of a doubt. The next thought that went through Laura’s mind was of how she could back away unnoticed before they escorted the distraught parent from the room.
She did not get the opportunity.
“Yes. And we have one of the best detectives in the precinct here to help,” the young officer said.
Here comes that frozen feeling again, Laura said to herself as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She wanted to reach out and smack the innocent smile from the officer’s face, but of course, that would mean getting closer to Constance’s mom, who was now leaning back and peering right at her from around the chief.
The woman was out of her seat, pushing past the chief, and in Laura’s face before the department head could react and fully stop her. So much for not getting closer.
“What the hell is she doing here?” the woman asked demandingly.
As amped up as the woman’s mental state was, it had managed to escalate intensely. There were no quick come backs; no rebuttals; no dominating personality to back off the hostile intrusion into her space. All of the reactions Laura had relied on in the past failed her. She stood rigidly, accepting her berating.
“You should have saved her,” Missus Kysta continued, finger jammed into Laura’s expressionless face. “You let that Russian garbage rape and murder my daughter!”
To his credit, the chief attempted to pacify the woman, but even his skills, tried and true as they were, could not subdue the emotional torrent.
As the verbal assault continued, Laura could feel every eye in the room centered on her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and it felt as if the moment was being etched directly into her brain by a knife. At this rate, there won’t be a file cabinet big enough to hold all of the mental folders I’ll be carrying into the next therapy session.
The woman finally gave in to uncontrollable sobbing once again. It was the break the chief and young officer needed, as they began corralling her towards the exit.
Laura watched as the three disappeared from sight. Most of the sound had drained from her perception, but one comment managed to find acknowledgement in the detective’s thoughts. She was not sure at what point Constance’s mom had made the remark, but Laura’s brain made her consciously aware that Missus Kysta had said she was glad Roofy was dead.
To be correct, she had said ‘that Russian pig’, Laura recalled.
Her memories traveled back to Las Vegas – to the site of the large ex-wrestler lying in a pool of blood. They really had not spent much time together, yet Laura had found his passing very hard to cope with. An unexplainable attraction. Or maybe connection was a better word for it.
Whatever it was, for someone that had never found solace in soft contact, Laura could not help but wish the massive Russian was there to put his arms around her; to feel his heat next to her again. He had such a powerful presence.
And the way he quenched her desires…her sexual thirst.
There was a phone ringing. Laura became immediately aware that she was still standing in the middle of one of the busiest rooms in the City of Richmond Police Department. Without a second thought, she put on the sternest face she could muster and strode imposingly to her desk.
5
Sweet, like honeysuckle.
No. That was not it either. Constance could not quite put her finger on it, but that did not matter. It was sweet.
Following the young man had been easy. Staying out of sight even easier, despite the fact they had passed beyond the area where the crowds lingered. She had swayed through the traffic of people, tracking her prey by smell. The sweetness was hard to miss, especially amongst the Play-Doh-like cloud that represented the dull masses. Now she just kept close enough to keep him in eyeshot.
So sweet. She wiped the corner of her mouth.
Nearing the parking area, Constance drifted through the shadows, here footfalls making an almost indiscernible amount of noise.
Overhead, roofing for the graveled lot was provided by a series of criss-crossing railway and vehicle bridges. Built after most of the ground dwellings had long since been established in the city, the thoroughfares masked most of the natural light that would have been provided by the nearly-full moon. Add to that the almost deafening noise when a locomotive passed through, and the location made for the perfect high crime spot.
Frequent assaults, robberies, and drug transactions had all but shut down the public parking area, putting a serious cramp on much needed vehicle space at one point in time and, thus, revenue flowing into the Shockoe bar district. It had been all the news for a while. Even school kids heard stories of how rough the spot could be, with postings on campuses advising students to avoid utilizing the lot. It had a reputation of the worst kind.
The police, bowing to pressure from the businesses, remedied that. Frequent patrols and busts, along with a renovated lighting and camera surveillance system pumped life back into the grounds.
Of course, Constance reckoned, no one is going to suspect an innocent, sweet girl, such as herself, of doing anything wrong.
Sweet.
Her hunger was growing, and the young man’s scent was driving it into a fever pitch.
She settled in close to one of the pillars that supported the tracks high above and watched, planning her next move. It was a perfect spot, she decided – hidden from the view of her target and of the prying eyes of the cameras. It also placed her right in line with the parking area’s secondary exit.
Prime real estate, she thought, fluffing her dark brown hair and adjusting her clothing.
The male had opened his car door but stopped to do something with his cell phone.
Telling Mommy you’re on the way home. Maybe she’s sickeningly sweet when it comes to her little boy.
Sweet.
The teen ran her tongue over one of the elongated, pointed teeth that had become a permanent fixture in her mouth since her rebirth. The taste of blood slid down the back of her throat as she pressed the flesh too hard onto the sharp canine.
What was it about him that was producing that smell? She found it intoxicating and increasingly hard to contain herself.
In the distance, the soft glow of the phone accented the young man’s face. Could be a girlfriend, one of his boys, or a damn game. Who knows? Constance rubbed the cool, mostly smooth, graffiti covered concrete column with the palm of her hand.
Finally her patience paid off. He pocketed his phone, got in the car, and started it. Slowly the vehicle approached her area.
As it neared the large pole, she stumbled out, and coming within inches of hitting her, the car lurched to a stop.
Perfect, Constance thought, quite proud of her timing. Playing on the moment, she put a hand out on the hood and feigned being startled.
Cue the door, she said to herself, timing out reality with the scenario going through her mind. Cue the apology.
“Damn! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” The male asked as he nearly tripped exiting the vehicle.
“What?” Constance started, slurring her words ever so slightly, “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.” Oscar, she said to herself.
“I didn’t see you. You came out of nowhere.” His expression was priceless.
And exactly what I expected, Constance thought. “Sorry. I hit the drinks a little too hard tonight…maybe.” She added an innocent chuckle.
“What are you doing over here by yourself, anyway?” The male asked. “It’s not the safest place.”
“Really,” she responded, wiping a lock hair back
behind her ear for effect before letting her hand brush down over the front of her chest, “because I’ve got you here to protect me.”
Based on his reaction, she knew he was nibbling the bait. Now to set the hook, she decided.
“Look, uh,” he stammered, “you want me to wait with you then while you call one of your friends…get a ride…or something…you know?”
“My friends are all gone,” Constance replied seductively. “Besides. I’d rather ride home with you.” Still leaning against the car, she gave him a smile, one she knew he should not be able to resist.
An expression of dejection came over the young man. “Damn. Look, I really want to, but I’ve got to get home or I’m in deep shit. Maybe I could just drop you off in front of one of the clubs and get your number, and we could hook-up some other time.”
It was the mommy, Constance thought. She listened as he fumbled to recover the situation but resentment rose up in her. Another person interfering in her plans. Someone else whose petty need for attention was preventing her from getting what she wanted. No. She would have none of it. This prize was hers, and she was not going to let some suffocating, insecure bitch take it from her.
Emotion burning in her, Constance straightened herself and got close enough to almost feel his breath. Locking eyes, and with all the determination and most sexually persuasive voice she could muster, she insisted, “I want you to take me in your car.”
As she had first approached, his apprehension was obvious. She had seen it painted on his face. But as she spoke, something unexpected happened. The expression seemed to fade away. His eyes appeared to glaze over. Constance had faith in her charm, leaving no initial doubt her prey would have given in, but this was different – not just persuasion.
“Yeah. Sure,” he replied. The response was flat and listless, though. Devoid of sentiment.
Bizarre as it was, the young man’s reaction was not lost on her. Were there not so many things she could do now that she could not do before. Maybe this was just one more trait she had inherited from her attacker - her killer. And exuding control over people would definitely come in handy, especially when feeding.
Control. Yes. She had control.
She leaned in even closer to him and drew-in deeply from the air between them.
Sweet. He smelled so sweet.
Her tongue found its way up the side of his neck, and the sweetness lingered in her taste buds, tingling her mouth and causing her to pucker ever-so-slightly.
Too much, she thought, forcing herself to pull away from the male. Not here. Somewhere private, Constance.
“Open the door for me,” she demanded, and he obliged.
A moment later, he joined her in the vehicle, putting it in gear and exiting the graveled parking lot.
“Where would you like to go?” He asked, still every bit as monotone.
“To get something to eat,” she said. “I’m starving.”
6
Rosedale Acres. Chipper name. Laura mused as she made her way past the numerous headstones. Graveyards and golf courses, two places you can always count on to have well manicured lawns and nice grass. Maybe it’s all the natural fertilizer here.
Laura stopped herself there. Perhaps a little too dark. Still, she could not help but smile.
Maybe a golf course in a graveyard, she continued back on her original train of thought. It would be almost like a demented mini-putt course, but instead of sand traps, there would be open graves.
Okay, okay. Enough, she decided, instead concentrating on the job at hand.
The mid-day sun brought some welcome warmth to an otherwise chilly day. Laura rubbed her hands together, realizing she had once again left her gloves somewhere where they were doing her absolutely no good.
Catching sight of what she was looking for a short distance away, she realized she was also absent of another commodity – her company.
“Dwayne,” Laura yelled back over her shoulder, “over here.” Her Richmond Police Department coworker had lagged behind to get a few last minute details from one of the cemetery’s managers.
She had known he would not have lingered too long and would probably be catching up to her. They had that type of working relationship, enough so that Laura had wished on many occasions that Dwayne had opted for her line of work instead of forensics. Having an abundance of personal space was always a top rule and priority for her, there being few exceptions to said rule, but he was the closest thing to that one being broken. If she had been forced to work with a partner, he would have been it. As long as he understood who was in charge.
His footsteps got closer and within a short moment Dwayne was back by her side, as expected.
“Gotta say, girl, I am really glad the chief hit you up. Just has not been the same without your sass and frass. You know what I mean?” Dwayne asked. “Think it will do you some good too. You know, have something to throw yourself back in to.”
“Glad the chief sent you along on this one, too,” Laura replied. She did not pass out compliments easily but having Dwayne around put her a little more at ease, especially after the bad taste that the episode at the headquarters had left in her mouth. He had a way of spinning things in a more positive perspective, and he was one of the very few people in her life that she felt was truly trustworthy.
“What would you do without me?” Dwayne asked. “Besides, I like keeping company with beautiful women.”
Same old Dwayne. “Okay. Slow your roll, Don Juan.” She said the statement in her typical firm voice but hearing that playful banter brought on the feeling of comfort she had missed and was growing to appreciate. “And congrats on the promotion,” she added, changing the subject.
“Thanks.” Dwayne, using an imaginary rag, pretended to shine the new rank insignia that accompanied his name plate.
“Really. Head of forensics for your team. Who did you sleep with to get that?” Laura asked.
“Chief Epps,” Dwayne responded. “Who knew he was my type?”
Laura cut her eyes at him. “Who knew you were his?”
The two stopped at the small mound of dirt encircling the body-sized hole leading down into the grave marked for Constance Kysta. The day’s light allowed for seeing some distance down into cavity but not nearly far enough to get a clean look at the destination below.
Dwayne set his forensics kit down in the grass and knelt to get a better look. “Any leads on our superheroine killer yet?” he asked as he studied the scene.
“No,” Laura answered. ”I went by the Other Self costume shop yesterday, but they hadn’t sold any Amazing Woman costumes in some time.” Not since the one I bought. It was a point the smart-mouthed clerk, Anthony, had seemed to take pleasure in reminding her of. Pleasant thoughts of beating him with a baton had crossed her mind. “So, the perp must be ordering them from an online source. Too wide a net to try to track whoever the source is that way.”
“Smart man,” Dwayne said, retrieving a small flashlight from a pouch on his belt and peering down into the hole. “Bet you’d look hot in one of those outfits.”
The comment was nothing unusual when coming from her coworker, but it hit way too close to home. She chose to ignore it entirely, hoping he would drop the line of dialog.
“What? Nothing?” Dwayne asked, looking back over his shoulder.
“I like your new hair style. Looks good on you,” Laura answered after a silence that lingered just a moment too long into the obvious realm. It was a feeble attempt to change the subject yet again, but she decided to give it a shot, despite how much ribbing Dwayne might give her for it. The sentiment, itself, was not a lie, though. His hair had begun receding and having sheared off the tightly curled black hair made a difference. It added a look of maturity. At least one of us is taking care of ourselves, she thought, referencing her own lack of cosmetic care before opting to drop the self-deprecation in one of her overflowing mental folders.
“You want to give it a rub, hot stuff?” Dwayne fired back quickly,
“Or are you changing the subject because you’re afraid of the heat?”
So much for the maturity. All she could do was shake her head at the smile he was giving her. It was one of those smiles – the ones guys use as if to say ‘I’m half joking and, yet, serious enough to go through with what I’m saying’.
“Okay…okay,” he said, putting his hands up in submission. “Thank you, and what do you make of this?”
That’s what made it easy for Laura to let Dwayne’s flirtatious quips roll off her back – they were harmless. He could flip the switch right back on again, and when he was on, it was impressive to watch. There was little surprise in his promotion because there were few details he seemed to miss. As long as he did not land himself in the HR hot seat, she was sure he would continue to move up the ladder.
Laura stepped forward and leaned in over his shoulder. “Make of what?”
“This hole in general. Why would someone do this?” He asked, shining the light back down into the cavity.
“Could have just been some sick-o or kids being stupid and gross.” There was nothing Laura believed about the statement she had just made. Her mind went right to Ambrose. Sick bastard, she thought, a lump hanging in the back of her throat as she found it difficult to try to swallow.
Could he really have done this, though? To what end? Detective Stenks pondered if maybe he wanted to use the body for some ritual or to finish acting out a horrible fantasy. As far as she had gone with her own fetish, she knew there were people that took things a lot farther. Her mother came to mind.
But desecrating a young woman’s body? Then again, had he not already done that when she was living? So, perhaps as bait? No. No one is going to go all code amber over a corpse, she decided.
Still, oddly as it sounded when she told herself, the scenario did not seem like something he would do. Laura was back to feeling like she was missing something again.
