At that the crowd burst into a roar. The mayor tapped on the microphone trying to calm them down. “One question at a time please. You, in the red shirt,” he said and pointed into the maze of faces.
“Mayor Greenberg, you’ve talked about bringing this fugitive to justice, but do you have any leads? Any ideas on who you’re looking for?” a man wearing khaki pants and a red polo shirt asked.
“This is an ongoing investigation so we can’t reveal a great deal of information, but I can tell you it won’t be long before we have someone in custody.”
“Does that mean you already have a suspect in mind?” a redheaded woman shouted out.
“Again, I can’t comment on specifics, but we are very close indeed,” the mayor said with a satisfied grin on his face.
“We’ve heard him called the riverside killer. Is that what your office is officially calling this villain?” a taller man shouted above the crowd.
“Riverside killer,” the mayor repeated. “My office has never been one to sensationalize these acts of violence. If the media has dubbed the criminal as the riverside killer, so be it.”
“How are you going to keep us safe? Will you start nightly patrols?” someone else screamed.
“I wanna thank you all for coming out and you can be certain this will all be over soon.” The mayor ignored the last question and stepped away from the podium. He shook the captains hand then walked off of the platform and headed towards Eve and Sal.
“My condolences mayor,” one of the reporters said and shook his hand.
“Thank you very much. Adam was a great man and he is sorely missed.”
The reporters began to disperse and the equipment was disassembled and vanished just as quickly as it had been put up.
“Detectives,” the mayor said as he bent under the caution tape and shook Sal’s hand.
“Sorry to hear about your brother,” Sal said politely.
“Psh, that asshole would’ve drank himself to death sooner or later anyway. I don’t think any tears will be shed due to his untimely demise. We need to be focusing on putting a face to this killer. I assume you are the lead on this.”
“No sir, this is detective Rosario’s case,” Sal replied with a smirk on his face.
“Rosario is one of our best detectives sir,” the captain jumped in. “She closed the Scottsdale case last year.”
“Yes I remember that. Great deal of police work went into that. This Rosario, he handled that? Bring him forward so I can meet him.”
“I’m right here sir,” Eve stated, trying to hide the attitude in her voice.
“Jesus Steve, you took my equality in the workplace speech literally,” the mayor uttered in astonishment.
“Sir?”
“Is this even safe? She’s a petite thing,” the mayor continued. “This case is very important Steve. We can’t afford any screw-ups.”
“I can handle myself sir,” Eve said, in her own defense.
Sal suppressed a snicker. The mayor looked Eve up and down with skeptical eyes.
“This is on you Steve. If this goes bad that will be the end of your career. Find me someone,” he said coldly to Eve and then marched off.
The captain gave a stern look to Eve and Sal and then followed after the mayor. Eve looked to Sal and sighed.
“What an asshole.”
“Don’t let it bother you. Let’s just catch this son of a bitch and get it over with.”
Eve nodded then took a look back to the road before heading back to the crime scene. A silver Honda crawled past her and slowed almost to a stop. She stared into the window, but a dark tint obscured the driver’s identity.
Eve narrowed her eyes and took a step forward. The car’s engine roared and they sped off with screeching tires.
“Everything okay?” Sal asked.
“Yeah…yeah, I think so.”
CHAPTER 11
CRYING TO DIE
It was after 9 pm when Eve made it home. As she pulled her Charger into the driveway she noticed a car that looked similar to the one she saw earlier. It was parked across the street from her house.
Shining her spotlight on it revealed an empty driver’s seat and no one around. Convinced she was being paranoid, Eve parked and headed inside.
Marc was lounging on the couch in a pair of striped boxers and socks. He flipped through channels on the television not really paying attention to anything.
“You finally made it home,” he declared at the sound of the door.
“I could’ve been someone else coming to drag you off into the night.”
“Not in these boxers,” Marc laughed.
“Well maybe I just came to take your penis and put it into my pickle jar.”
“About that, I’ve decided that you’d really need a mop bucket,” Marc laughed and pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his face.
Eve giggled and set her bag down onto the coffee table. “Who’s car is that outside?” she asked.
“What car?”
“The Honda across the street. I thought I saw it earlier today.”
Grunting, Marc got up and walked to the window in the dining room. He pulled the blinds back and peered outside. “There’s no car out there Eve.”
“What? It was just there,” Eve said as she walked to the blinds. “That’s weird.”
“Eh, they were probably visiting somebody around here. There’s always cars parked out there.”
“Yeah I guess,” Eve said.
“Come on, you need to relax.” Marc ushered her to the couch and then headed into the kitchen. A few moments later he returned with a glass of red wine. “This should help.”
Eve grinned and took a sip from the glass. “Instantly better,” she said.
“So what did you think of Agnes?”
“She was nice and very helpful,” Eve replied.
“Yeah, I think she’s a bit smitten with you herself. She asked for your number after you left. So expect a call from your new best friend.”
Eve laughed and rolled her eyes. “Sounds like someone is jealous.”
“Well of course I am, a hot cougar trying to snatch my wife away. The least you could do is let me join.”
“Hey!” Eve snapped.
“Too far?” Marc said with a shamed look on his face. “Um, I think I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Good idea,” Eve scoffed.
“But not before…” Marc slid forward and grabbed Eve by the waist.
He leaned into her and started to nibble on her ear. Eve giggled and lightly pushed against his chest.
“Stop it goofy,” she crooned.
Marc was undeterred. He slid his hands up her shirt and pressed his lips against hers. Eve stared into his hazel eyes and kissed him back. She rubbed her fingers against his rippled torso and moaned.
Marc leaned back. “You coming to take a shower?”
Eve nodded and quickly followed him into the bathroom.
On the other side of town Agnes had just gotten home and kicked her shoes off. Barely awake, she staggered into the bathroom and filled the tub up. As she stepped into the warm water the door slammed and she could hear Henry lumbering down the hallway.
She bathed herself then leaned back and propped her legs up on the far side of the tub. Henry foraged through the refrigerator like an angry bear. He guzzled down a beer then stumbled towards the bedroom.
“Agnes,” he called loudly.
“I’m in the bathroom,” she screamed.
Henry walked into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’ll never believe the day I’ve had,” he said in an exhausted tone.
“Tell me about it,” Agnes replied.
“Well for starters I almost got arrested.”
“You did what!” Agnes said abruptly and sat up in the bath tub splashing water onto the floor.
“Eve and that asshole Sal, they weren’t too happy with me announcing the identity of one of the victims. They threatened to charge me with interfering with the
investigation. They’re all just full of shit.” Henry walked into the bathroom and sat down next to the bathtub.
“You know Eve?” Agnes asked.
“Of course, I’m at every crime scene. How do you know Eve?”
“Her husband…he’s a doctor and does some work with the school. I just met her today. She thinks the killer is using some type of drug.”
Henry’s eyes lit up. “You’re helping her! That’s great. Tell me everything she’s told you so far.”
Agnes stood up and stepped out of the tub. She reached for a towel as suds slid down her naked body. “I don’t feel like talking right now,” she said with a seductive grin on her face.
Henry stood up and slid towards her. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. “I don’t feel like talking either.”
He lifted her up and she straddled him with her legs. She ran her hands down the back of his neck then leaned forward and started kissing him. Henry moved clumsily out of the bathroom and fell onto the bed.
“Take this off,” Agnes moaned and tugged at his belt buckle.
Henry ripped at his pants until they fell down to his ankles. Agnes slithered backwards. She licked her lips and panted hungrily.
Henry crawled across the mattress and pressed himself on top of her. Agnes grunted before grabbing the sides of his face. She moaned and pressed her face onto his, kissing him vigorously.
He kissed her back and ran his fingers across her thigh. Agnes giggled and jumped, shoving Henry to the side. He rolled and tumbled off of the bed, falling to the floor with a rattled clunk.
“You okay?” Agnes asked.
“Ouch,” Henry muffled.
They both broke into laughter and Henry climbed back onto the bed. Rubbing his head he flopped onto her and dug his fingers into her thigh. He kissed her on the neck and started to grind against her.
“Now please don’t kick me again,” Henry whispered. “Play nice and we’re gonna have some fun.”
His words sent prickles down Agnes’ spine. She froze and looked at Henry in the eyes. His features started to blur and become distorted. Agnes blinked and she was no longer looking at Henry, but someone else entirely.
She was on the floor of an apartment she vaguely remembered. The warm feeling of blood trickled down her neck. A man was mounted on top of her, a man that was not Henry.
He had a round face and soft features. His eyes were evil and dark. He held a small knife in his hands and was pressing it against her skin.
“I told you to play nice. He wasn’t lying, you are a wild one,” the man giggled sadistically.
Agnes whimpered as the man thrust himself inside of her. She let out a horrific scream and squirmed across the floor.
“No! Please, no!” Agnes begged. She kicked her legs and screamed over and over.
“Stop moving, I told you!” the man stammered and pushed the knife deeper.
He licked the side of her face, his slimy tongue wiggled up her cheek and into her ear. His sticky sweat splashed onto her nose, mixing with her own blood and tears.
It was horrible. She cried out in pain, but at the same time she had a faint feeling that she wanted it. That she asked for this. While she detested what was happening, there was some part of her body that was enjoying it.
He huffed over her, like some agitated bear. Writhing and grinding wildly, he slammed her into the floor and pulled her hair.
“You like that don’t you?” he said in an excited tone. “You like when I treat you like that. When I treat you like a little slut.”
“Yeah…I love it. Hit me harder, make me bruise. Beat me. Show me what kind of man you are.” Agnes didn’t remember saying it, but she had to, it came out of her mouth although the words felt foreign.
The man gripped her neck and squeezed. He sat up then brought his heavy fist crashing into her side.
Agnes screamed in agony. She tried to push him off, but wasn’t strong enough. He pressed down on her with his weight. His musky scent filled her nostrils like she’d been submerged in it.
“Agnes! Agnes,” Henry called.
Shaking her head Agnes opened her eyes and gazed at Henry’s face. He was staring down at her with concern.
“Are you okay? You…you were talking crazy,” Henry said.
“Get off of me,” Agnes snapped back.
“What?”
“I’m not in the mood anymore. Just get off of me.”
Henry gritted his teeth and rolled to the side. Agnes jumped up from the bed and stormed into the bathroom. She slammed the door and locked it.
“I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry,” Henry pleaded.
“Just leave me alone.”
Henry sighed and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. He’d known Agnes for more than two years and in that time she’d always been a bit rough around the edges. Now, it was starting to wear on him and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
With a heavy head, Henry dozed off to sleep. As he snored loudly Agnes cracked open the bathroom door and quietly stepped out. She tip toed across the carpet and stopped at the edge of the bed.
She stood over Henry, glaring down on him with a bizarre look in her eyes. “I could do it,” she whispered. “I could kill you right now, it’s not like you don’t deserve it.”
She slid her tongue in a circle around her mouth and bent over, her lips almost touching Henry’s neck. She took a deep breath, sucking in his scent. He smelled like chipped wood and salty sweat.
Agnes smiled and raked her fingers through his hair. He shifted and tucked his face into the pillow.
“So vulnerable, so easy,” Agnes said as she straightened up. She clenched her jaw and wrapped her fingers into a fist.
She began to tremble and shake, breathing rapidly as she gazed at him. “You’re all alike,” she mumbled.
To the side of the bed was a wooden nightstand with a brass handle. Agnes slid it open and reached inside. She pulled out a small, black 9mm. It was Henry’s gun, something he had insisted on keeping close. He’d seen firsthand how brutal it can be living in the city.
Agnes eyed the gun under the dim light. She lightly traced the intricate lines with her fingers. It was sleek and smooth, yet cold and hard.
“I don’t need you,” Agnes said then placed the gun to Henry’s head.
The black steel lightly brushed against his temple. Her finger hovered over the trigger, her hand trembling like an alarm clock.
“It would be so easy. You’re just like him…you don’t know love. All you do is take. You deserve it, you deserve to die. You know it don’t you? You want me to don’t you?”
Agnes started to giggle and covered her mouth with her free hand. “But not yet,” she said and put the gun back into the drawer. “Maybe you can be saved. But the others, the others have to go. They know what they’ve done,” she finished and walked out of the room.
With Henry still asleep she headed into the kitchen, grabbed her keys and walked out of the front door.
The night air rushed over Agnes’ face as she dipped into her car. Like a robot she pulled onto the road and headed off on a path she could navigate blindfolded. It wasn’t long before she was parking in a familiar lot that was rundown and crumbling from neglect.
She grinned as she headed down the cracked walkway and into the small brick building. Following her normal routine she rode the elevator down and then walked through the metal door. She stepped into a carpet of darkness and flicked the light switch on the wall.
Suddenly the room broke into symphony of screams. Three men were strapped to gurneys near the far wall. Their hands and legs had been bound and two straps ran across their chest, pinning them to the tables.
“Help! Someone help us!” they screamed.
“Shhh…” Agnes pressed her finger to her lips, making a hushing noise like she was comforting an infant. It did little to discourage the men’s cries for help.
They stared at her with lo
oks of wild bewilderment. Agnes could tell from their ruffled hair and red faces that they’d been struggling to escape. Beads of sweat lined their foreheads and the gurneys were a little out of place.
The IV bags that hung next to their tables were empty. Two of the men were severely emaciated and looked to be on the brink of death. Their skin hung from their bones like wet clothes.
“Please no…please!” one of them exclaimed.
Agnes tapped her foot and gazed at them one by one. She took a shallow breath then raised her hand and began pointing with her index finger.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”
CHAPTER 12
FRIENDS
Agnes casually strode across the street and walked into the police station. She looked left then right and approached the front desk. An older gentleman with greased down gray hair lifted his head and gave her a once over.
“How can I help you today pretty lady?” he asked.
“Please don’t call me that,” Agnes shot back.
“Well what do you want me to call you?” the man asked with a sly grin.
“Agnes or Ms. McCall. Or doctor if you must.”
The man nodded. “How can I help you doctor.”
Agnes closed her eyes and took a shallow breath. “I’m here to see detective Rosario.”
The man sniffled and reached for a napkin. He blew his nose then tossed the napkin into a metal waste bin.
“Pig,” Agnes mumbled under her breath.
“Eve Rosario?” the man asked.
“Yes, she’s a friend.”
“Well she stepped out for a bit, she should be back within the hour. You can wait if you’d like,” the man said and pointed at a row of chairs.
“Thank you,” Agnes responded and took a seat.
The waiting area was a cramped room off to the side. It had a few metal chairs along a wall and a half empty water cooler. Agnes sat patiently in the room twiddling her fingers.
She watched with mild interest as officers and criminals alike were escorted past her and into the back. The police station was a revolving door, a crude motif for the broken justice system.
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