Bloodlust (Frailty Book 2)

by Baker, Alex

  Laura advised that she was on her way.

  “You are taking me to the police now, yes?” Roofy asked.

  “No,” Laura responded. “I don’t have time to deal with that right now. There could be a possible break in the case concerning Constance. I’ve got to go check this out.”

  “The girl? I will go with you,” Roofy said, sitting up anxiously.

  “Absolutely not,” Laura countered. “The last thing I need is a mess like that. Look, I know you’re concerned but doing something rash will not help things. Let me go check this out and then we’ll decide the best course of action.” The question came up in Laura’s mind as to whether or not she was using the call to justify making a decision to keep Roofy longer just for her own selfish reasons. She decided she did not care.

  “What about me? Do I stay here?” Roofy asked.

  “It’s still not safe. Ambrose is in the city and my fellow officer’s may get itchy trigger fingers if they see you out and about. I’m going to get you to a location only I will know about. You’ll stay there until I get back,” Laura instructed.

  “Aww,” Apocalypse’s voice rattled inside Roofy’s head, “You aren’t going to get any.”

  26

  Stopping momentarily on the shoulder of the road, Laura retrieved her cell phone from her purse, which was buried under a pile of clothing in the passenger seat of the car.

  Making Roofy strip naked may have seemed to be nothing more than a self-gratification ploy to the big Russian, but she did have an honestly purposeful reason for doing it.

  Leaving him handcuffed just was not going to be enough, she had determined. It would not prevent him from covering his hands with a towel or shirt and walking out the door. Handcuffing him and leaving him naked, however, provided quite a solid deterrent to his escaping. Surely that would draw attention.

  Well, and there was the self-gratification angle.

  Having found the phone, Laura called Dwayne.

  “Hey, Laura,” he answered on the other end, and from the sound of his exasperation, she could tell he was in the middle of some activity. “Hold on…let me pull this out,” the forensics officer added.

  “Oh my God, Dwayne. I do not need to hear a play by play of your exploits. Couldn’t you have just waited to answer?” Laura asked.

  “What? No. I’m not…,” Dwayne fumbled on the other end. “I’m working a case.”

  “Is that what you call your dates now?” she asked playfully, taking full advantage of his uncomfortable reaction.

  “Never mind,” Dwayne responded. “Hold on a sec.”

  On his end of the connection, Dwayne set down the phone and prepared to bag the evidence, which consisted of a stack of Lego blocks. While unremarkable by themselves, the Legos had been used to spell out a series of words.

  Near the children’s toys were a set of hands, the ones that Dwayne and his unit were sure had made the words. Those hands were attached to a set of arms that attached to the victim, who lay on the floor with a knife through his chest. The wound had been fatal, but it had not killed him right away.

  That, in and of itself, was also unremarkable, Dwayne had thought. What was remarkable was that they were not the only set of hands the male victim had. His primary set was clutched around the knife, as if he had been trying to remove it. No, this was an entirely second set of hands attached to an entirely second set of arms that had grown from his body. More specifically, they had grown from his back.

  It appeared that the deceased man was the possessor of a very rare physical condition called parasitic twin. He shared his body with an unborn sibling. Only, his development had also resulted in the additional appendages that were never removed.

  Typically, in circumstances like these, the extra limbs were useless, but for the case Dwayne and his team were investigating, that did not appear to be true.

  The body lay amongst a smattering of toys that were scattered about the floor, indicating a child had played there sometime recently. Apparently the building blocks were close at hand. No pun intended.

  Spelled out with the Legos were three simple words: Linda did it.

  Linda, as it turned out, was the man’s wife. She was missing from the scene, along with their six year old son.

  “I’ll be damned,” Dwayne said, and having bagged the small blocks, picked his phone back up.

  “Okay, whatcha got for me, Hotness?” Dwayne asked.

  “Development at the Kysta house. I’m going to need your expertise,” Laura answered.

  The forensics officer indicated he would be headed that way shortly to meet her. With that, she put the phone back in her purse atop the mound of clothes.

  Pausing for a moment before departing, she pulled Roofy’s shirt out of the bundle and smelled it. His aroma was intoxicating. Rubbing the inside of her upper thigh softly with her free hand, she was suddenly disappointed in her choice of attire. A skirt would have been so much better.

  27

  Sun setting, Lauras’ vehicle came to a stop on the curbing in front of the Kysta household, followed by a squad car with its light bar on. She barely had time to exit when Dwayne arrived, and neither had time to speak before the Kysta’s neighbor, Missus Hiller, descended on them.

  “What in the hell took you so long?” the woman asked irritatingly as she stormed over from her yard next door. She had trimmed her hair to a cropped style since the last time Laura could recall seeing her. Not a good look. Now you just look like a pear with a bad hairdo.

  Hands planted firmly on hips and speaking in-between trying to catch her breath, Missus Hiller immediately set her hostilities upon Laura, reiterating her discontent with the authority’s arrival time and personally attacking Laura’s work ethic.

  Dwayne had braced for the short-fused response that Laura was sure to give, but it did not come. Instead, seeming distracted, she ignored the woman and turned her attention to the two uniformed officers.

  “You two secure the house. Let me know what you find,” Laura ordered.

  With that, the two headed off to perform their ordered duty.

  Missus Hiller was exasperated. “Are you blind and deaf, as well as dumb?” she asked insultingly.

  Again Dwayne expected the volcano to erupt, but instead he caught a sideways, almost whimsical, glance from the detective.

  Laura did not have the inclination to deal with the demanding neighbor. Her mind was locked squarely on two things, with Roofy being the prominent item at the immediate moment. With a simple statement of “Mister Early” she dumped the responsibility solely into his lap. If Missus Hiller had been distraught before, Laura was sure that would have put the woman into hysterics.

  Dwayne interceded before that could happen. “Missus Hiller, you are obviously very concerned for the Kystas’ wellbeing, and we can appreciate that. Why don’t you speak to me for a moment and let’s see if we can’t put you at ease,” the forensics officer said, turning on the charm. “By the way, that hair style looks sharp.”

  “Jesus Dwayne,” Laura heckled, “you’re trying to question her, not pick her up.”

  “What?” Missus Hiller responded, clearly upset. “I’ll have you know I am a happily married woman.” Laura had already walked away, though, extremely amused with the situation she had put Dwayne in. He deserved it for complimenting that grossly unflattering haircut.

  Behind her, the conversation between Dwayne, as he tried to calm the neighbor once again and talk her out of filing a complaint, and Missus Hiller faded into an after-thought. Laura’s fingers ran over the empty handcuff pouch on her belt. Back at the motel room that was serving as a safe house, Roofy was restrained and naked, all too ready to feed her desires. She fantasized about feeling the weight of his large body against hers as he forced himself upon her. He would ravage her; pleasure her.

  Or maybe I’ll keep him cuffed and take advantage of him. It was not the type of control she usually exerted in her sexual scenarios, the physical kind. Typically she preferred the
mental dominance, allowing her partner to believe they had control when actually they were doing exactly what she wanted them to. Being the dominatrix has its perks, though. Could be interesting.

  Something caught her attention, and she began concentrating to the conversation that was going on not far away. Missus Hiller was explaining that there had been no lights on in the house except for maybe a television. She had called, knocked on the door, and texted to no avail.

  Dwayne had attempted to explain the incident by stating that maybe they were away or busy, but the neighbor had insisted no one had come or gone in days. Still, she was sure she witnessed shadowy movements behind the drawn shades and curtains.

  Inside the home, the two officers took turns backing each other as the cleared rooms.

  “Sweet Mother Mary, if there is anyone alive in this place, I’ll be surprised. Doesn’t smell this bad down in Micky’s shop,” the first stated as he peered into a just-opened coat closet.

  The second scanned around from behind him, firearm drawn and at the ready. “Yeah. Almost as bad as your wife’s cooking.”

  “Screw you, Ass,” the first retorted as they moved slowly through the living room.

  The second yelled out once again that the police were there, but they received no response.

  “So what do you think of ‘Skanks’ being back?” the lead officer asked.

  “I don’t know, but what is with those clothes? I mean, if you’re going to be a tight-assed bitch, at least give me something to look at,” the second answered.

  “You’d still do her,” the first officer said, giving the indication that the hall bathroom was clear.

  “Sure,” the second said. “I’ve said before I’d lay the lumber to her but…” He stopped mid-sentence, and they both halted in place. “You hear that?”

  The lead nodded agreement and pointed towards the kitchen, where the two slowly proceeded.

  Rounding the corner, they both caught site of what was causing the noise.

  “What in the blue Hell is that?” the lead asked.

  Outside, Laura watched the light from the officer’s flashlights travel from window to window as the evening grew darker. Lost in thought, she became aware that Dwayne had walked up beside her and was speaking.

  “Hello. Hey, I said you’re just like that house, no lights and no one home,” he said. “What’s got you so preoccupied?”

  Laura deflected the question and instead asked one of her own. “All finished up with Miss Busy-Body?”

  “Yes. You’ll be happy to know I saved you from an ass chewing,” Dwayne said.

  “I feel so much safer,” Laura said mockingly. “My hero. Hope you didn’t ask her who her stylist is; that look of hers is the real crime here.”

  One of the officers anxiously emerged from the front door and yelled out, “Detective! You need to get in here and see this!”

  Exchanging a quick glance, Laura and Dwayne took off for the door and stopped when they reached the officer, who still seemed shocked.

  “I’ve already called for back-up and an ambulance,” the officer said before Laura could ask for details. “Danny is working on one of the victims.”

  It took a lot to get an officer that flustered, Laura thought. Whatever was in there was bad. “What exactly did you find?” Laura asked.

  “A goddamn horror movie,” he answered, still trying to collect himself. In-between deep breaths, he blew out his nostrils, obviously aggravated by a smell. Laura knew what that generally meant.

  “Come across a teenage girl?” Laura asked as she took a pair of nitrile exam gloves from Dwayne and began putting them on.

  “I don’t know…there’s a lot of bodies, and they are in bad shape,” the officer replied. “House is secure, though. You’re good to enter.”

  Heading into the Kysta house, flashlight in hand and Dwayne close behind, Laura ordered the officer to stand guard until the back-up arrived. It was a standard procedure; plus, she had decided he could use the air.

  The stench of human corpses hit her and Dwayne both as soon as they got a few steps inside.

  “Go to your left,” the officer yelled in from outside, and they headed that way, immediately exiting the foyer area and entering a small den. Assorted dirty dishes and glasses left out on the coffee and end tables gave the room an unkempt look, but there were no signs of a struggle or anything to indicate a forced entry had taken place.

  “The chair,” Dwayne said and pushed past Laura as he made his way to a recliner containing what appeared to be a human figure covered in a blanket. Laura had missed it with her first look around the room and found that the light from her flashlight and from the television that was left on was inadequate for not skipping any immediate details. Looking around, she found a light switch and turned it on.

  “Jesus,” Dwayne exclaimed from behind her, and she turned to find he had removed the blanket and uncovered a body. Laura made her way over. “Mister Kysta, I’m thinking,” the forensics officer added with a grimace.

  More like a mummy, Laura thought. The victim’s skin was pale-ish gray and sagging, as well as appearing dried out. Eye sockets were sunken and dark. Telltale bite marks marred the neck.

  Dwayne had noticed them too. “You think the girl could have done this?” he asked. “I mean, it’s her father?”

  “It’s sick,” Laura replied. “And yes, I like Constance for this. We’re getting close.” The idea that it may be Ambrose also crossed her mind, but this did not seem to fit his style. On the other hand, the teenager using a familiar place made sense. It would be comfortable for her, although it was unclear how she would have come and gone without being noticed.

  “How could she do this to them…I mean, feed on her own parents, though?” Dwayne asked.

  “Speaking of parents, where’s the mother?” Laura responded with her own question.

  A voice from the kitchen provided the answer. “Detective, is that you in there?” Danny, the second officer called out. “This one isn’t going to make it!”

  Hustling toward the officer’s direction, Laura and Dwayne crossed the kitchen, laden with piles of unwashed dishes, and found Danny providing medical assistance in an attached laundry room.

  “I’ve done all I can,” the officer said. “What the hell do you do for someone in this condition? What the hell happened to them?”

  Laura recognized the woman as Missus Kysta but only barely. Like her husband, she suffered from a massive loss of blood, and it had been going on for some time by the appearances of it. Unlike the other victims, Constance had kept them alive, making sure the feedings left them in a weakened state but not enough to kill them right away. Eventually the father had succumbed to his injuries, or she got bored or hungry enough to finish him off, Laura considered.

  Dwayne reached across the comatose woman to look inside the partially opened dryer when a boney hand grabbed his arm, causing him to scream and jerk back.

  “I’ve…I’ve got to finish…for my little girl...,” Missus Kysta gasped and moaned from her position on the floor.

  “Ma’am, help is on the way. Try not to move,” the officer said, but she was not hearing him. Making an attempt at reaching the dryer, Missus Kysta collapsed and one long last exhale exited her dying lungs.

  Danny immediately checked her pulse and began trying to resuscitate her. Dwayne stopped him after just a moment. “She needs blood, man. There’s nothing we’re going to be able to do for her.”

  With his hands still on her frail chest, the officer asked, “Little girl? Do you think she meant her dead daughter?”

  “She obviously had trouble letting go. It’s a psychological condition,” Laura replied instantly, trying to throw off the officer’s line of thinking. After the last conversation they had with the chief, they did not need any loose gossip going around, not until they had all the proof they needed.

  “So who did this to them? Same person that has been doing the killings?” Danny asked.

  “Look, w
e’re going to need the scene, and we need it as uncontaminated as possible. Why don’t you go outside and catch some fresh air,” Laura said. She did not want to get into the discussion any further. Of course, not answering him probably insinuated more than I wanted to. Oh well. Without any provided explanation, all he and his partner are left with is assumption. That can be passed off as weightless rumor.

  Waiting for the officer to leave, Dwayne turned to Laura. “I’m almost afraid of what we’ll find upstairs.”

  It was as bad as they anticipated; beginning with the smell escalating in potency with each step they took towards the upper floor.

  Following the rank odor to the master bedroom, they found a stash of corpses in various forms of decay crudely piled on and around the bed. Scattered amongst them were a bevy of empty air fresheners, both the hanging and canister types.

  “Guess mom and dad weren’t using this anymore,” Dwayne said, careful not to touch or move anything as he looked around. “So, what, she keeps them as slaves downstairs while she has happy feeding time up here?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Laura replied. “Mom and Dad are weak; probably too weak to do much of anything. With them under her control, she’s free to do what she pleases without drawing too much attention – well, except from Missus Nosey-Britches next door.”

  “Having a neighborhood busy-body does have its advantage. Missus Hiller did tip us on to this,” Dwayne stated.

  Laura ignored his remark, partially because he was right; mostly, though, because her attention was on the crime scene. As horrific as it was, it was also an uncomfortable mess. Like a trash dump. “One thing’s for sure, our little bloodsucker is not doing her work in here,” Laura pointed out.

  “Agreed,” Dwayne replied and nodded towards the trail of blood staining the carpet. “She didn’t exactly try to hide where all of this came from.”

  Some attempts had been made to mute the stains, as there were signs a chemical carpet cleaner had been used en masse, but there was simply too much bodily fluid to cover up. The scene did leave Laura wondering how the girl would coax anyone up to the room given the conditions, and she could not picture someone so young and small overpowering all the victims.