by S. C. Stokes
“Don’t pansy out on me now, Kasey. That’s The Drift there on the right,” Bishop replied casually. “Are you ready to go another round with this guy?”
Kasey winced at the thought. She was still sore from the afternoon’s encounter, but more importantly she had no way of preparing Bishop for the beast she’d faced on Hudson Road.
“I still feel like I got hit by a bus, Bishop, so do me a favor. You see this guy making a move, put a bullet in him and make our lives a lot easier.”
“Ha-ha, Kasey, very funny. There is such a thing as excessive force.”
“He put me through a window, Bishop.” Kasey labored each word for emphasis, “Trust me when I say, a bullet is exactly the right amount of force.”
Bishop didn’t answer as she screeched the squad car to an abrupt halt outside of The Drift. She killed the sirens but left the lights running.
Kasey leaped out of the car, anxious to reach Trudie before it was too late. Together with Bishop she made her way into the bar.
The dive bar featured a skiing theme with an assortment of hunting trophies lining the walls. Kasey wasn’t a fan, but Brooklyn was. The tiny bar was packed with patrons and it was difficult to move freely due to the throng of guests. Kasey and Bishop pressed their way through the crowd. There were protestations but one look at Bishop’s badge and stern demeanor, and they beat a hasty retreat.
Kasey searched for Trudie. The picture in her folder had showed a young woman in her twenties. In the photo, she’d been wearing a t-shirt with cut out jeans, and carrying an instrument case, likely a guitar from the size and shape of it. Kasey wasn’t expecting Trudie to be in the same clothes, but as a barkeeper in a dive bar it was likely that she’d be similarly attired.
She didn’t find any sign of her. The only person behind the bar was a young man. The bartender was handsome. If Kasey weren’t in such a hurry, her gaze would certainly have lingered a little longer. His tight black t-shirt did little to hide his well-chiseled form, and his biceps looked like they should have had separate post-codes. Kasey tried to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand.
Fortunately, Bishop was on point.
Bishop made her way straight over to the bar. Leaning over the wooden counter, she edged out a young woman who was locked in conversation with the bartender.
“Hey,” the young woman cried, scowling.
Bishop simply held up her badge and didn't give the woman a second glance. “You, there.” She pointed at the bartender. “I'm looking for Trudie. Is she on tonight?”
The young man took one glance at Bishop and a second look at the badge before replying. “Why? What’s she done?”
“Nothing at all,” Bishop replied, leaning over the counter until her face was less than a foot from the bartender. “But we have reason to believe her life is in danger. If you know where she is, spill it now. Anything happens to her and we will be coming back for you.”
The man backed away, raising both hands in self-defense. “Whoa, easy there, officer. Just looking out for a friend. You know how it is. Trudie is out back, just emptying the trash. Should be back any minute.”
Bishop and Kasey exchanged worried glances.
“Which way to the back?” Bishop demanded.
“Quickest way is through the kitchen, just through those doors there.” The bartender pointed at a set of silver doors off to the right.
Kasey and Bishop rounded the bar and burst into the kitchen. The space was small but busy, three cooks fussed over the food preparation for the packed bar. Between the cooks, the waitstaff and an industrial dishwasher that seemed ready to burst, it was difficult to hear a word.
The chef closest to the door whirled around to face them, but Bishop was already on top of him with her badge. “NYPD. Just passing through.”
He scowled, then went back to the dish he was carefully plating up.
Kasey spotted a door at the kitchen’s rear.
“Is the trash through there?” she asked, almost shouting to be heard over the commotion.
The chef toiling away at the grill nodded. “Yeah, just some trash and an alleyway. Why?”
Kasey ignored the question as Bishop beelined for the door. Throwing it open, Bishop and Kasey spilled into the alleyway. It was dark and narrow, the lights from the expressway blocked by the apartments over the bar.
An overhead bulb illuminated a few feet around the door, but for the most part the alley was hidden in shadow.
Oh, no, we’re too late.
“Spread out and search for her,” Bishop called. “I’ll head right, you go left.”
Kasey nodded as her eyes struggled to adapt and began cautiously moving down the alleyway, searching for any sign of Trudie. Images of Beth lying in the alleyway came surging back into Kasey’s mind. She tried to push them out but soon the beast dominated her thoughts. In her mind’s eye, she could see its snarling maw laden with razor sharp teeth. Its red eyes locked on hers.
It had been bad enough at Hudson Road, at least the home had lights. Finding the beast here in the darkness of the alley would be terrifying.
Her pulse quickened just thinking about it. Rather than fumbling about in the dark, she pulled out her smart phone and flicked on the light. The bright LED illuminated the alleyway, providing a little reassurance.
As Kasey made her way down the alley, she spotted something sticking out from behind a dumpster. Moving closer Kasey realized the shape was a pair of legs, protruding from a sprawling pile of refuse.
“Trudie!” Kasey shouted as she edged toward the body. Reaching the pile of trash, she swept the light over it, focusing on the body lying among it.
As the face came into view, Kasey found herself staring down at a disheveled man in his fifties. The man was wearing a pair of old jeans and a tattered New York Yankees hoodie. A scraggly beard covered most of his face, the brown hairs given way to gray. It had been years since the man had seen a razor.
The homeless man was not what she had expected. She leaned in to check his pulse and instantly regretted it. The smell of stale beer and garbage hit her like a wave.
The man lurched to life before opening both eyes. Kasey leaped back a mile. The man flailed his arms around, as if trying to drive back the blinding light from the phone.
Kasey backed away but tripped over another bag of garbage. She landed on her butt as her cell phone skittered across the alley floor.
“I see you’ve met Steve,” an unfamiliar voice said, “but why are you looking for me?”
Kasey startled and found a woman standing over her. lit cigarette in hand, and an amused grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Trudie?” Kasey asked hopefully, ignoring her embarrassing display of clumsiness.
“Who’s asking?” The woman took a long draw on her cigarette.
Kasey grabbed her cell and struggled to her feet. “I’m Kasey Chase with the NYPD. We have reason to believe your life is in danger.”
She looked from the woman to the cigarette she was smoking and couldn’t help but appreciate the irony.
“Danger, huh? Well, your presence fills me with confidence, Officer Chase.”
The sarcasm hit a nerve and for a moment, Kasey considered leaving. The thought of the beast catching up with the little brat was almost tempting.
Footsteps drew Kasey’s attention and she turned to see Bishop hurrying up the alley toward them. Bishop had her gun in hand as she searched for the source of the noise.
“I’m no officer, but she is,” Kasey replied, pointing to Bishop, “and as I said, we are here to help you. If you don’t want that help, that’s fine. Keep being a smart-ass and we’ll leave you here.”
“What’s wrong with here? And why would I need your help?” Trudie replied, still unconvinced.
“Miss Sears,” Bishop said, stepping forward. “We are hunting a serial killer who is operating in the greater New York area. So far, we have two women in the morgue and we have reason to believe you might be next. We need you to come down
to the station so that we can get to the bottom of this.”
“Station? If I leave in the middle of my shift, I’ll be sacked,” Trudie replied turning for the kitchen.
Bishop caught her arm. “I’ll deal with your boss, Trudie. Trust me when I say there are worse things in life than being fired. Being dead is one of them,” Bishop said. “Now come with us so we can get out of this alley.”
“Fine.” Trudie dropped her cigarette, then stepped on the still smoldering butt and ground it against the pavement. “Let’s go.”
Bishop stared at the discarded cigarette butt. “We’ll go all right, but first you’ll be picking that up. You might be determined to kill yourself, but others share this city too, so learn to clean up after yourself.”
“Are you kidding me?” Trudie replied, firing up. “You’re talking about a serial killer hunting me and you’re worried about a lousy cigarette butt.”
“The sooner you toss it in the trash the sooner we can get out of here,” Bishop replied impassively.
Trudie shook her fist but picked up the butt regardless. Tossing it in the trash, she turned to Bishop. “Happy now?”
“Quite,” Bishop replied. Kasey could have sworn she saw the corners of Bishop’s mouth peaking upwards into a smile as she steered Trudie forward. “We aren’t going back through the bar. It’s too crowded. We’ll head around. Once we’re out of the alley, it’s a clear run to the car. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
Kasey followed them as they headed down the alleyway toward the street. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped.
A hulking black shape appeared from the street, cutting off their escape.
Chapter Twelve
Kasey stopped dead. The silhouette at the alley’s entrance caused her heart to leap into her throat.
With one hand, Bishop shoved Trudie toward Kasey. With the other, she drew her compact Glock 19 from its holster on her hip.
“Stop right there!” Bishop demanded. “Put your hands in the air.”
The silhouette responded by raising both of its immense arms.
Kasey glanced at Trudie, the bartender was staring slack jawed at the shape in the mouth of the alley. Not taking any chances, Kasey raised one of her hands, concealed from view by a dumpster, and began conjuring a fireball.
“Pêl Tân,” she whispered as wisps of flame began to swirl and form above her outstretched palm. Arcane Council or not, she wasn’t going to let the beast manhandle her again. She’d set it ablaze and deal with the consequences as they came.
“Bishop…” A voice called from the alley’s entrance. It sounded distinctly like it was coming from the hulking beast.
Bishop sighed audibly. “Henley, what are you doing? Why are you creeping around in the dark?”
Kasey’s shoulders slumped in relief. She snapped her fist shut, and the flames vanished.
“Providing backup,” he replied. “We saw your car out front. Morales is in the bar. I circled around to check the perimeter. Can I put my hands down yet?”
“Of course. Use your flashlight next time.”
“Will do, detective.” He lowered his arms.
At seven-foot-three, Josiah Henley was one of the largest officers in the Ninth Precinct. Once a linebacker with a college scholarship to Arizona State, Henley had been compared favorably to a freight-train hitting at speed. Following the unexpected death of his parents in a home invasion, Henley had withdrawn from college and moved home to care for his younger brother and sister who were still at school. The Academy had turned the linebacker into a lawman and the Fighting Ninth had won out as the rookie’s first posting.
As her pulse eased back to normal, Kasey reached out to Trudie. “Are you okay?”
Trudie shook her head, white as a sheet. Clearly, the scare from Henley’s sudden appearance had caused her to think twice about her nonchalance in the face of danger. She was shaking.
So, she should be. At least we won’t have to tell her twice to keep her head down now.
Bishop took charge. “Henley, we need to get Trudie and Chase out of here and back to the station. I’m going to need you to take point, clear the way to the vehicle. If you see anything suspicious, drop it like it’s hot. We’re dealing with a murderer, so stay on your toes.”
Kasey followed Henley as he led the way out of the alley. Bishop’s gun never made it back to the holster. It seemed even the Detective’s iron nerves were starting to fray.
Her wariness proved unnecessary and the group arrived safely at the squad cars.
Kasey opened the door for Trudie and helped her into the backseat. If she had any reservations about riding in the rear, she didn’t voice them. In fact, Trudie hadn’t said a word since Henley had appeared in the alley.
“Henley, fetch Morales and meet us back at the station,” Bishop said as she slid behind the steering wheel. “We’re going to need all hands on deck to keep these women safe.”
“Understood, detective. We’ll see you back at the station,” he replied, then turned back for The Drift.
Kasey slumped into the passenger seat. The fatigue of the past twenty-four hours weighing her down. She had to fight just to keep her eyes open as they hit the Brooklyn Queen’s Expressway, heading for the safety of the Ninth Precinct.
As the squad car pulled into the station, Kasey turned to Bishop. “Can you take it from here? After last night, I need to sleep. I’m drifting off here in the seat. What I really need is a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”
Bishop pulled into her parking space before answering. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Kasey, but you aren’t going home. The killer is still out there, and he knows where you live. With all the other targets in custody, you’ll be the only one left for him to go after. It’s crazy and I won’t have it. If it’s sleep you need, you can bed down in the station, but you aren’t going home. At least not tonight, not until we have a better handle on what is going on.”
Kasey’s head fell back against the headrest. She knew what Bishop was saying made sense, but she was exhausted. The last thing she wanted to do was spend a night on a station couch. “Fine. I guess anywhere is better than where I spent last night.”
Bishop smiled. “I know you are angling for an apology, Kasey, but you aren’t going to get one. If you’d told me what you were up to, you wouldn’t have had to spend the night in cuffs. I’m your partner, or as close as you get to one, so fill me in next time.”
Kasey let out a long yawn. “Will do. In the meantime, I’m going to take the couch in the morgue. At least I won’t have to fight anyone for that one.”
Bishop raised an eyebrow. “You know that’s creepy, right? No one likes sleeping in a room full of dead bodies.”
Kasey shrugged. “You get used to it. Besides, it’s the live ones you’ve gotta worry about.” She popped the door open and dragged herself out of the car. “Night, Bishop.”
She shut the door harder than she had intended, then headed toward the station. Slipping through the large double doors, she hit the stairs and made her way down to the morgue. As expected, it was deserted. Vida had long since gone home for the night. Kasey didn’t even want to look at her watch but as she flopped onto the faded blue sofa, she made the mistake of glancing at its face.
“Argh, midnight!” she exclaimed, disgusted at how little sleep she’d had.
Kicking off her shoes, she stretched out and did her best to clear her mind. There was so much going on, but she wasn’t going to be of any use to anyone if she didn’t get some rest. Before long, sleep took over.
A voice called softly, “Miss Chase.”
Kasey ignored it, hoping the unwelcome disturbance would depart.
Instead, Kasey felt something shaking her foot. She reluctantly opened one eye to see Kathleen, Chief West’s personal assistant, standing over her.
“Ah, Miss Chase. I’m sorry to have to wake you, but the chief wishes to see you. It really cannot wait.” Kathleen smiled apologetically.
&n
bsp; Kasey sighed and struggled off the couch. The sleep had helped but she still felt like she’d been run over by a freight train. A dull headache pounded at the base of her skull while the sting of a dozen cuts and bruises, reminded her of her involuntary trip through the window at Hudson Road.
“I’ll just be a minute, Kathleen,” she answered as she made her way into the bathroom.
A glance in the mirror took her by surprise. The myriad of cuts on her face had all been cleaned and dressed.
Clearly Bishop or Vida had taken pity on her and cleaned her up. In her catatonic state, she hadn’t even noticed. A cut on her left arm had also been treated and dressed. The bruise on her jaw was starting to fade though black bags were forming under her eyes from her steady pattern of sleep deprivation.
I’m a trainwreck. I need some help.
She pulled out her phone from her pocket, then hastily punched out a text. Tucking the phone back in her pocket, she turned on the tap and splashed some water on her face to try and wake herself up a little more. The water stung as it contacted her wounds, but she welcomed it. The niggling pain dragged her back to reality.
She freshened up as best she could but found herself wishing she’d left a brush in the office. Her bag was still in her car and it didn’t seem like Kathleen was going to wait forever so she called it quits and headed back to the morgue. Kathleen was still standing by the couch.
“Lead the way,” Kasey said.
Kathleen examined Kasey. “Are you ok, Miss Chase? You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
“More of a rough week, Kathleen, but I’ll pull through.”
“Can I get you anything? A stick of gum, a hairbrush. Anything?”
“A brush would be a lifesaver. I feel like a pigeon has made its home in my hair. The whole thing is a tangled mess.”
“Sure do. I never leave home without it,” Kathleen replied, reaching into her handbag before handing a small brush to Kasey.
“Kathleen, you’re my hero.” Kasey took the offered brush and disappeared back into the bathroom. Using the mirror, she wrestled her hair into submission and returned it to some semblance of normality. “Much better,” she told herself as she examined her reflection. Back in the morgue, she handed the brush back to Kathleen. “Thanks, Kathleen, I truly appreciate it. It’s the little things that make a difference. Shall we head up?”
