Stalked

by Louise Krieg

  Mr. Slasher's phone began to ring and he picked it up.

  "Hello, Mr. Slasher here,” he said. "Oh yeah, sure. I've got plenty... it's twenty dollars and just a good sit down is all I want... yeah. Five o'clock? Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. No problem. Alright, bye bye."

  Mr. Slasher put Jonk's body on the table and close the door behind him.

  COMPULSION

  RONALD GOFF

  Chapter One

  Danny looked around the crime scene, looking for any sort of clue that he might have missed, anything that might stand out. But from everything he could see, this crime fit the pattern of the other sites he'd visited lately: there were no fingerprints or footprints left behind, no stray hairs or anything else that might contain DNA, and absolutely no way of tracing the murderer except the knowledge that he'd done this before and he'd do this again.

  And the victims always fit the same pattern: young professionals from the medical field, and stunningly attractive ones at that.

  “Danny, you ready to go?” his partner, Mark (but everyone called him by his last name, Lindsay), asked him.

  Danny shook his head even though he knew he wasn't missing anything. “Lindsay, tell me her details again.”

  Lindsay sighed. “You already know them better than I do,” he complained. But dutifully, he recited: “Name is Tracey Duncan. She was a nurse at the Park Hospital on South Street. Based on her time of death and the keys in the front door, we can assume that she had just got home from work when our killer attacked her. He grabbed her; she struggled—based on the bruises on her upper arms and the vase knocked over in the front hall. He subdued her and brought her up into her bedroom so he could tie her down on the bed. Then he strangled her.” Lindsay paused. “The fact that all of his victims have been strangled is a bit odd still, don't you think? Shooting them all would be easier.”

  Danny shook his head. “There has to be a reason for it. Something deep and sick. Maybe he wants to be close enough to see the light go out in their eyes, or wants to feel them struggle against him, or wants to feel like he finally has power over them.” He frowned and thought for a moment. “We need to figure out what all his victims have in common so we can stop him before the next one. There has to be some sort of a pattern.”

  “Well, Sherlock, you're not going to find anything else here,” Lindsay said, a hint of impatience in his voice.

  Danny frowned but finally shrugged and followed Lindsay wordlessly back to their car. Inside, he drummed his fingers restlessly against the dashboard. “I just can't shake the idea that there must be something that we're missing,” he said. “In all the years that we've worked together, we've never let a guy get away with this many murders without catching him.”

  Lindsay shrugged. “This guy's smart, though—he clearly knows what he's doing.”

  “And the mark on their stomachs…” Danny said, pulling out a photo from his back pocket. The photo had been taken at the first of these crime scenes, but each new victim had the mark, always in the same place, just below their navel. One of the guys at the precinct had determined that the mark was being carved into their skin by the same knife each time, based on the similarities in the cuts. But there was no way of knowing if the cuts were made before or after the victim died.

  “We've still had no luck in identifying it,” Lindsay said grimly. “All we know is that it isn't a mark for any sort of mainstream religious or cult group.” He glanced out the window. “Danny, we need to get back to the precinct—the rain is supposed to be strong tonight, and I don't want to be driving with buckets and buckets pouring down over my windshield.”

  “It's hurricane season,” Danny said impatiently, still scanning the room for some other clue. “You've driven during hurricane season before.” He walked over to the dresser and drummed his fingers on the top of it, then pulled open the top drawer. “People keep all sorts of things in their underwear drawers,” he muttered, beginning to rifle through the woman's socks and panties.

  “You have no respect for people's privacy,” Lindsay muttered.

  “She's dead anyway,” Danny said dismissively. “I'm sure she doesn't mind me touching her...” He trailed off, pulling a photo out of the drawer. “Lindsay, look at this—what do you see?”

  Lindsay came and squinted over his shoulder at the photo in Danny's hand. Then, he shrugged. “Typical breakup souvenir,” he said. “A once-loving photo, with his face cut out of it.”

  “But look at his arms!” Danny insisted.

  Lindsay frowned. “Well, yeah—typical once-loving photo: he's got his arms around her.”

  Danny made a disapproving noise. “Details, Lindsay. Look at the tattoos. If I'm not mistaken, they're the same type of rune as what's been carved into our victims stomachs—wouldn't you agree?”

  Lindsay's eyebrows rose. “Are you telling me that she dated the creep who killed her? That would at least give him a motive. And that would mean the rune is likely some sort of signature. But what about all the other deaths? Surely he hasn't dated all of them.”

  Danny frowned. “We're going to need to dig back through some of these cases. And we're going to need to talk to Tracey's friends and see what we can find out about this guy.”

  Chapter Two

  Unfortunately, finding out who the guy was proved to be more difficult than Danny expected it would be. First, there was the problem of tracking down anyone who knew Tracey outside of work. Because she was a young medical professional and kept long and irregular work hours, she seemed to mostly be friends with her coworkers—but none of them seemed to know even the most basic things about her personal life.

  When they finally found Jenny Fisher, whom Tracey had known for her whole life and who frequently chatted with Tracey on the phone, Jenny didn't seem to know anything about the mystery boyfriend. She did concede that there probably had been a boyfriend based on Tracey's “desperate desire not to move cities after college”, but she didn't know the guy's name.

  Danny scowled down at the case file, wondering how anyone could live their life as such a mystery. Why was it that Jenny didn't know anything about Tracey's boyfriend? Had she been ashamed of him?

  Could that be the reason he'd killed her?

  Of course, even if they found the guy, there was no evidence linking him to the murders yet, but Danny couldn't seem to quit thinking that the guy in the photos must be the killer.

  He rubbed at his eyes but jerked and looked guiltily at Lindsay when he knocked at the door. His partner folded his arms across his chest and frowned at him. “Danny, you should have gone home hours ago,” he chided. “And you look like hell.”

  “You should have left home hours ago,” Danny retorted. “And yet, you're still here as well.”

  “I'm back here,” Lindsay said, falling into the seat across from Danny. “Allison called and said you were still here and that you looked like you might be preparing to sleep on the couch again.”

  Danny frowned. “It's none of Allison's business if I want to sleep on my couch.”

  “It is if you overwork yourself into an early grave,” Lindsay said. “You're one of the best detectives on the team; they need you around here. And if you keep obsessing about the case like this, you know the Commander is going to take you off it.”

  Danny's lips tightened into a thin line. “He wouldn't do that. Not when I'm this close to figuring it out. If I could just figure out...” Suddenly, he turned to his computer and started typing rapidly. “The tattoos. He couldn't have done those on his own—not with the way they spiral around his arms. If we could just find someone who did the tattoos, they would have to have a record of him, they might even have contact info for him.” He chewed at the edge of his fingernail as he waited for the results to load.

  Lindsay snorted. “What are you searching, 'rune tattoos Miami'? The guy could have gotten those tattoos done anywhere, you know.”

  “Tracey didn't have time to travel, and her friend Jenny said she was desperate to stay her
e in Miami after she finished college and that it was probably to do with a boyfriend. We can assume that means the boyfriend is from Miami and that they never travelled together,” Danny said absently. He grinned at the screen. “And sure enough...”

  He quickly printed the shop's sample pictures as well as their main page. “I have a field trip to take,” he said.

  Lindsay snorted, clicking through the screen as well. “Tomorrow, maybe,” he said. “They're only open until 8:00—it's nearly 9:30 now.”

  Danny scowled at the webpage and then sank down into his seat. “I guess it's time to call it a night,” he said, sighing.

  “I guess it's time,” Lindsay agreed, smiling fondly at the man. “Let's get you home, all right? Again, it doesn't benefit any of us if you burn yourself out.”

  Chapter Three

  The next day, they were both there just before when the shop opened at noon. Lindsay snorted at Danny's jeans and faded black teeshirt. “You don't look even remotely like the type of person who would get a tattoo, even dressed like that,” he pointed out. “You're definitely not going to be able to convince the guy that you want some strange runes tattooed up your arm, especially since you don't even know what they mean.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Danny snapped irritably. “It's not like you look like the type of person to get a tattoo; you're too blonde and clean-cut and all-American.”

  “Here, let me see,” Lindsay said, leaning over to pull open the dashboard. He rummaged around for a minute and then came out with an eyeliner pencil. “Jane's got half her makeup kit here in my glove compartment,” he said ruefully. “Now look at me and close your eyes.”

  “You're not putting eyeliner on me,” Danny protested.

  “What if that's the only way to get the information that you need?” Lindsay asked.

  Danny frowned and then snagged the eyeliner pencil from Lindsay's hand. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I'm going to do it myself. I don't trust your big oaf hands not to stab me in the eye with this thing, and that's going to be a big setback to my case.”

  Lindsay snorted and watched with amusement as Danny began to outline his eyes with careful strokes. “You'll need it a bit thicker than that to look like a good emo kid,” he critiqued.

  Danny scowled but dutifully smeared on more of the black and smudged it around with his fingertips. “Better?” he asked.

  Lindsay grinned. “Looks lovely. Makes your eyes pop.” He reached over and messed up Danny's hair a little more. “Perfect. Now throw that back in the dashboard and let's get this over with.”

  Danny sighed and hopped out of the car, heading quickly into the shop. There was a woman with full sleeve tattoos and bubblegum-pink hair leaning against the counter reading a magazine. She eyed the two of them critically. “I have an appointment at 12:15,” she told them. “Granted he's usually a bit late, but I don't have time to tattoo either of you now.” She snapped her gum and turned back to the magazine.

  Danny moved hesitantly forward. “Do you have time to do a bit of a...consultation, maybe? I'm not quite sure what I want yet, but I was hoping maybe I could talk to you and get a better idea before I start drawing it all out.”

  The woman—Amelia, according to her name tag—frowned at him. “You're going to draw your own tattoo?” she asked skeptically. “For your first tattoo?”

  “I'm an art student,” Danny lied. “And I want something that's going to be unique and personal to me. Something that'll tell my story.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. Do you realize how many years a good tattoo artist has to practice to be a good tattoo artist? Drawing designs is one thing, but having an understanding of anatomy and being able to fit pieces on a body is another thing entirely.”

  “I know,” Danny said. “That's part of why I just wanted to talk it over with you, if you have a moment.”

  Amelia sighed. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. Do you have any idea what you want?”

  Danny pulled out the crumpled print-out and smoothed it out over the counter. “I saw this on your website, and that's part of why I came here. I like the idea of doing something with runes—something that maybe I understand that no one else understands. Or very few people anyway. I like the idea of expressing myself like that, but kind of in secret.”

  Lindsay stared at Danny with new appreciation: he knew the man had done a lot of undercover work in the past, but he had never realized the man was this good at thinking on his feet.

  “I remember this guy,” Amelia said, nodding at the picture. “I can't remember what he said the runes meant, but same as you, he wanted to design his own tattoo. He actually did a pretty good job of it—but it's all runes, no pictures, and that makes things a little easier. We adjusted a couple of them so they lay better around the curvature of his arm, but for the most part, he had a good understanding of how things were going to work.”

  “Do you know what type of runes these are?” Lindsay asked curiously. “Did he make them up himself?”

  Amelia glanced over at him and shrugged. “Honestly, no idea. Most of the people who come here want to personalize their tattoos—we don't draw the butterflies and dreamcatchers clientele. But because of that, a lot of the tattoos have private meaning, and it's not really our place to ask for their life story while they're being tattooed.”

  Danny traced one of the runes with his finger. “Do you have any contact information for him?” he asked. “I know that would maybe be kind of a breach of security for you to give me his information, but maybe I could have you pass my information on to him? I'd love to talk to him about designing my tattoo if he had a moment.”

  Amelia frowned and drummed her fingers on the countertop. “I'm sure we have contact info for him, but we keep a specific list of people who agree to be contacted in the future if people have questions about their tattoos. I'll have to check if he's on it. And even if it is, we may not have current contact details for him—you know how people change phone numbers and email addresses these days…”

  “Oh man, if you have his info, that'd be great,” Danny enthused. “Like I said, when I saw those pictures on your website, well—that's what really brought me here.”

  The phone rang, and Amelia reached over the counter to answer it. She looked momentarily startled, and Danny listened with half an ear to her conversation while he tried to think through anything else about this case that he might be missing.

  He tuned back in quickly, though, as Amelie said, “Well, you wouldn't believe it, but I've actually got two guys here in the shop at the moment who were interested in the last work we did for you, the sleeve of runes, and they were wondering if they could talk to you about that. Maybe we could schedule a time that would work for all of us?”

  Surely it was too much of a coincidence for him to call at the same time as they were there in the shop. Danny whipped his head towards the door, wondering if they were being followed—but surely one of them would have noticed that, if that were the case. There were plenty of places the guy could be hiding, though: in the cars in the parking lot, in the strip mall across the street, or in half a dozen places in between.

  His gut instinct was that they needed to get out of there, but he wasn't willing to leave without the information. They were close enough now that he could practically taste it, and after months of chasing this guy, he couldn't leave. But… He glanced sidelong at Lindsay, trying to remind himself that it wasn't just his own life he would be putting in danger by staying. But then again, Lindsay knew the risks just as well as he did.

  “How about today at 3:30?” Amelia asked, looking at Danny for confirmation. “You could come into the shop and do your consultation, and then around 4:00, you could meet up with these guys and chat.” She paused, listening. “Okay. Okay, sure. Sounds great.”

  She hung up at the phone and clapped her hands together. “Well, that was a bit of weirdness from the universe: that was the guy with the rune tattoos on the phone, as I'm sure you could hear. He's look
ing to come in for a consultation as he designs his latest tattoo—a piece to commemorate a special someone that he's just lost.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “So come back here around 4:00 today and you can have your talk. But now, my 12:15 appointment is here.”

  “Thanks,” Danny said, grabbing the print-out and heading towards the door with Lindsay on his heels. In the car, he heaved a sigh. “We're going to need backup, I think.”

  Chapter Four

  “There's no way I'm letting the two of you continue to work this case if you think your lives are in danger,” the Commander snapped when Danny requested backup for that afternoon. “Do you realize what a shitshow of paperwork we would have on our hands if the two of you were shot while investigating this guy—especially if anyone found out you knew you were being followed? And the last thing I need is for the two of you, some of our best detectives, to get killed in the line of duty.”