by Baker, Alex
Walking into the room, Laura decided to test the waters and gauge the chief’s demeanor. “We keep spending so much time in your office, Chief, and we’re going to need to move our desks in here.”
Chief Epps removed his glasses and rubbed his face wearily. “We don’t get some answers soon and the powers-that-be may hand this space over to you. I know I’ve said the mayor’s office was gnawing at my heels; well, they’ve moved up to the jugular.”
“Speaking of biting,” Laura began but then hesitated, catching a sideways glance of concern from Dwayne. She noted the forensics officer was white-knuckling his chair, as if preparing for a rollercoaster ride. Yeah, it’s going to be a rough one.
“You have something, Detective Stenks? Let’s hear it,” Chief Epps said, a steely resolve to his voice.
The man is backed in a corner and depending on us. It did not make what she was about to say any easier. Taking one last look at Dwayne, who appeared almost at combustible levels of anticipation, the words came out in a voice that felt disconnected from her body.
“Ambrose and Constance: they are the ones responsible for the cannibalistic-like murders.” The words seemed to echo in the room for what felt like hours. Laura wanted to turn and look at Dwayne, but she held strong and kept her eyes locked with the commanding officer, holding her expression like a professional card player being called on a bluff bet.
She was not the only one playing the high-stakes game, though. The chief’s facial articulation had not changed: no eye rolls, no frown, and no eruption of emotion. Not so much as a twitch. Laura was not sure he was even still breathing. What was worse is that she had tricked herself into believing that making the statement would be the most difficult part. It was not. Just like a child that gets caught doing something wrong and being told, “Wait until your father gets home”, the worse part was waiting for the response.
And in an instant, Laura’s wait ended.
“Let me understand this, Detective Stenks,” Chief Epps began, his face as stoic as a granite statue, “these crimes are being perpetrated by a beast-like man that no one, except for yourself, has been able to corroborate the existence of?”
“Yes,” Laura answered.
“And a dead girl?” the chief asked directly.
“Yes,” Laura answered.
There was a silence again. The urge to look at Dwayne was almost overwhelming. Laura wanted so badly to see what his expression was, but instead, she pressed onward. “Only, she’s not really dead.”
Again, she hesitated. The world suddenly seemed very small, as if just the three of them and that office were the only things that existed. The rest of reality just faded away. “They are stalking victims…and feeding on them.” Nothing. Neither of the other two in the room said a thing. Maybe we are the part of reality that has unraveled. She fumbled on to fill the silence, like a relationship break-up that won’t end. “Separately…not together. That is, I do not believe they are working in tandem. Sir.”
Finally, the smoldering tension ended and the volcano erupted, exploding as much as someone as reserved as Chief Epps could. Still, for Laura, witnessing the man come that far unglued made the moment all that much more impressive…and intimidating. His hands came down hard enough on the desk in front of her and Dwayne that it made them both jump slightly, while standing so quickly that his glasses bounced at the end of the cord holding them around his neck.
“Now listen just a damn minute, young lady,” the chief bellowed, so loud that Laura was sure they were now being watched by just about every officer within eyeshot. “I’ve given you two a lot of leeway and trusted you to be the face of this department at a time when the media and everybody else is watching. And you, Detective, you were already on thin ice.”
The chief’s attention seemed caught by something he saw through one of the office’s windowed walls, causing him to break from the reaming long enough to slam the office door shut.
Laura looked down at her nails and was dismayed to find there was not enough polish left to scratch off – nothing but a smidge of red near the quick here and there. Fitting, since I’m about to have a whole lot of free time on my hands, so I can put a fresh coat on them and then scratch it all off again.
Brushing back around her in a huff, the chief leaned onto his desktop with his fingertips, his simmering intensity unwavering. “Now,” he began, “I’ve had enough of this voodoo garbage. I don’t want just answers, I want a good reason as to why I shouldn’t toss you out of here on a shingle right now.”
Not able to hold herself in check any longer, Laura turned to look at Dwayne and found him already staring at her. His expression said everything she needed to know in regards to how he was feeling about the situation: the look in his eyes said, “Run.”
21
They moved nimbly through the night, disappearing into the darkness like two shadows. Back alleys and well-worn streets gave way to the decrepit and littered sidewalks of the all-but-abandoned tobacco warehouse district. Once a vital part of the economy in Virginia’s capital city, time had seen its usefulness decline and its once bustling port area fall into decay.
There had been attempts to revitalize the area, including renovating some of the old buildings into lofts for young urbanites. The movement had been a success on the outskirts of the zone and nearest the canal, but the bulk of the old buildings were beyond rehabilitation due to lack of interest, infestation by gangs and drugs, and harboring a generally poor reputation.
A great place to set up a feeding zone and go relatively unnoticed, Constance thought as the two came to rest in front of one warehouse in particular.
Catching the scent of those nearby was easy, especially so due to the drugs being ingested and the lack of bathing. The odors were pungent and sharp and beyond obvious, though none ventured out to test them or approach in any way. The teen envisioned eyes peering out into the night from places of believed safety, curious as to what it was that sent shivers of fear through them. It had come to feel natural to her to cause such a reaction, like a part of her or an instinct, and she imagined it was some form of instinct, as well, that kept them away; hunter versus prey.
Metal grating on metal shrieked out into the quiet, moonlit district and echoed off the nearby dilapidated and defunct storage facilities, as Ambrose slid open a large loading door. Other than the natural lighting provided by the moon that seeped in through various busted out windows, there were no lights, yet Constance had little difficulty seeing, as she entered the main area of the loading bay. Other than a small, wooden desk, there were a couple of chairs. Most were mismatched and of the folding type, while one was made of wood and gave off a sturdy appearance. Aside from those items and a pile of debris in one corner, the large space remained empty.
A strong residue of oil and old chemicals hung in the air. Time, it seemed, had not been enough to remove all traces of the previous happenings of the building’s former life, as it was almost potent enough to mask the aroma of rotting corpses. That confirms the private feeding spot.
Behind Constance there was a loud clank as the door slid to a close.
“Please,” Ambrose said, motioning for her to follow him as he walked past her on his way to the small grouping of furniture. The rasp of his voice irritated her almost as much as his scent, which she could not seem to clear from her nose even with the fresh cadavers tainting the main area of the building. Still, she figured, she had come this far, so she might as well see what it was he wanted to show her.
Following intentionally slow enough behind the beast-like man to create some space, Constance could see that the large bay opened up even further to the right, while being boxed off by a wall containing a number of doors on the left. It reminded her a lot of the abandoned automotive repair shop that he had tortured and held her in, and it made sense to her why he might have chosen the place. It’s a familiar setting. Bastard!
Accented by the faint light filtering in, Ambrose awaited her at the beleaguered table, hi
s eyes glowing in the dark.
The eyes. She had them too now and was sure he could see her just as well as she could see him. It was a trait the teen thoroughly enjoyed, though. There was a deep-seated satisfaction she received from watching people from the concealment of shadows; just knowing she could see them but they could not see her. It was far more intoxicating than the smells, which had become more of a game of curiosity. Well, that and for tracking meals.
Breathing in deeply, Ambrose’s musky odor stung her nostrils, and she had to forcibly refrain from gagging. Despite her efforts to figure it out, she could not think of one thing that reminded her of the pungent scent, at least not close enough where she could give it a fitting label. So, she went with wet skunk ass, which gave her a bit of a chuckle. At least it felt funny until she wondered if she carried the same revolting odor. Hard to tell, can’t smell your own funk. As displeased as she was at the possibility, she could not help but giggle again, noting to pick-up some perfume the next time she was store-hopping.
“There’s nothing humorous about the business we have at hand, young one,” Ambrose chided.
Constance’s smile melted into a scowl. “So, just what is this big surprise? Or do you actually have one? Maybe you came looking for me because hunting down beautiful, young women is the only way you can get your jollies, old man.”
“Perhaps you should try having more patience and respect,” Ambrose snarled.
“You man enough to teach it to me?” Constance instigated.
“You know I am,” Ambrose shot back, his lip turning up enough to bear his teeth in a slight growl.
For a moment there was a silent stand-off, before the older man-hunter grunted, “Enough. This is not helping either of us.”
So, he does have a weakness. Maybe she could not bring herself to physically retaliate against him yet, but she could certainly find other means to attack him, chipping away little by little at the stone he represented. Any headway, no matter how small, felt good, especially compared to the internal conflict that was driving her crazy. She was repulsed by being in his very presence, and yet, the urge to succumb to him as an authoritative figure weighed heavily on her. Add to that the notion of him keeping tabs on her, which was totally unacceptable.
She answered to no one. Her life was now for her, and only her, to control. Anything Ambrose wanted to teach her, Constance was determined to use to her advantage. She had already found one chink in his armor, his patience, and was sure there would be more.
Ambrose’s voice echoed throughout the empty, metal and concrete building as he bellowed out one word, “Ferguson”.
Off to her left, Constance could make out the faintest of footsteps – almost a shuffle. She had not detected anyone else occupying the location but, then, the lingering odor made it difficult to identify anything outside of the closest or strongest smells. Like Ambrose’s stench.
A light came on, otherwise undetectable aside from what filtered out around one of the solid doors, and was followed by the sound of a lock being unbolted.
Squeaking on rusted hinges, the aging door opened, allowing light to pour into the main room. Silhouetted by it was a lone male figure.
22
Laura Stenks…civilian. I wonder what it will be like to not wear a badge any more. Laura did not get to ponder long, though, as the moment she had been waiting for finally came. Chief Epps paused to take a breath.
Seeming ceaseless, a break in the non-stop berating allowed her a chance to speak. “Sir, if you would just hear me out…,” Laura said quickly.
Not quick enough. The sentence was cut off by the commanding officer. “I take little pride in calling my officers on the carpet, and I despise the idea of using anyone as a scapegoat, especially someone I have watched and admired as they progressed in this department. However, the wolves are frenzied with hunger and right now, I cannot for the life of me produce a valid reason for not letting you be the sacrificial lamb.”
He paused to rub his face with his hands, appearing to struggle with whatever thoughts were going through his mind. Laura knew it would not take much to tip him further over the edge, so she decided this time to not try to take advantage of the quiet moment.
“You have anything you can add to this to make some damn sense, Mister Early?” the chief asked.
“Yes, I can sir, and Detective Stenks is absolutely correct. The evidence corroborates it,” Dwayne said without missing a beat.
Laura felt somewhat stunned by the remark. So much so that she could not help but totally ignore her instinct to keep her eyes on the commander and turn to look at the forensics officer. It was not that he had backed her, as she knew Dwayne well enough to believe he would have supported her in some way. No, it was the direct and confident way that he committed to it. And it did not end there.
The chief started in on him as well, stating, “Not you too, Early,” but Dwayne did not allow him to continue.
Instead, he pushed on with his point. “Sir, with all due respect, you asked for my professional opinion, so please allow me to give it.”
Chief Epps simply nodded acknowledgment and relinquished control of the conversation. He did not sit down, though, Laura noted, appearing to be ready to pounce again at any given moment.
“As I mentioned, the evidence supports her statement, no matter how outlandish it may seem,” Dwayne began again, his tone steady and commanding.
It was obvious why he had received his latest promotion. Laura knew how good he was at his job, but she could not recall ever seeing this side of him. It was enough to make a sizable increase in the already large amount of respect she carried for him as a person.
“Dental records obtained by subpoena provided evidence of an exact match, aside from the fangs, between the bite marks found on the most recent victims and the teen, Constance Kysta, in an examination performed by Micky. These marks only occur on the recent victims and not the ones that predate Miss Kysta’s passing. The previous bite impressions come from a completely different person and are larger in size, suggesting a larger human, and possibly older and fully grown adult, committed the act.” Dwayne paused as if going over and sorting all of the facts in his head, before beginning again.
“The unidentifiable blood samples, one coming from Richmond and the other from Las Vegas, that contained a mix of human and an animal-like DNA were a match. They prove a connection between the two crime scenes and that Laura…,” Dwayne said, pausing again after using the detective’s first name. Dwayne had to know it would come off as being too personal of an address, but it was the only slip Laura noticed in what had otherwise been a solid speech. The forensics officer picked back up immediately from that spot, correcting himself as he went, “Detective Stenks’ description of an older man as the actual killer could very well be on mark.”
“The dead animals that had been sucked dry began appearing around the same time that it was reported that Miss Kysta’s body was missing, and they abruptly stopped appearing when the first homicides showed up. That’s more than a coincidence,” Dwayne said with conviction.
Chief Epps responded with his composure having somewhat been regained but still abrasive. “You want me to go the mayor with vampires running around biting people? Do they turn into bats too?”
“No, not vampires in a theatrical sense, Chief,” Laura said, seizing the opportunity to jump back in and form a solid front against the chief’s disbelief and disapproval. “We’re not talking capes and wooden stakes and glittery teen angst here. This is some sort of animal-human hybrid feeding on people – hunting them.”
“Yes,” Dwayne added, “Predatory in nature.”
“How do we know we aren’t dealing with some hoodlums or copycat killer or cult, for that matter, that dug this girl up and began performing some sick ritual?” the chief asked.
Dwayne rebutted calmly as he once again pointed out the bite mark evidence and added to it the fact that the coffin and grave had been exited from the inside-out.
&n
bsp; Uncomfortable silence followed again. Laura drifted back to the night in Las Vegas during the encounter with Ambrose. She had found Constance riddled with bite marks. Blood stained the teen’s legs. The signs of torture were disgusting, and she had been surprised to find the young woman still clinging to life.
The scene was eerily reminiscent of Laura’s own childhood experience. The sexual sadism she had endured at her mother’s hands after innocently coming across her parent’s dominance closet had cut a scarring swath so deep in her psyche that she was still not sure of all of the effects. There was a dark hole filled with sadness and humiliation. It was a chasm she struggled to keep from falling into – to keep control of herself.
Control. It had been such a defining thing. She had spent so much effort reinforcing herself by controlling everything she could around her, including people. It was an appetite she had to feed, and she had gone to questionable extremes to do it; sexual extremes, which left her with a deep-seated feeling of guilt. The constant question nagged her as to whether the satisfaction she received was caused by the traumatic youthful experience and, if so, why she would enjoy it so much.
Then there was Constance. Ambrose had fed upon her, filling some need of his own. It had disgusted her to the point that she vowed to change her life, to change the person she was. But, in being honest with herself, it had left her feeling even emptier than before.
Thinking about it just brought back more images of Constance, hanging there and helpless.
That girl – he had tortured her. He had taken her life, and once again Laura had been helpless to stop something so heinous from happening. Now that same innocent girl had been transformed into the very hideous thing that had scourged her, just as Laura feared her own actions made her as disturbed as her mother.
Emotions welled up in Laura: anger, fear, guilt, and humiliation. They bubbled up, vying for top position in her self-deprecation and threatened to spill out as her brain transposed images of her, as a young girl, and Constance.
