Forever Together

by Naughty Aphrodite

  “I’ve had enough of his nonsense!” the chief’s voice boomed through the precinct. Silence settled in the room. My heart thumped in my chest. Sweat dripped down my neck. I had come face to face with some of the worst criminals in the city through my line of work, but Commissioner Prescott was always the scariest.

  “Yes, sir,” Bill said quickly before shuffling behind his desk, pretending to work on some reports.

  “Fox. In my office.”

  I nodded, following him into the small, cluttered room he called an office. I sat down on the worn-out leather chair in front of his desk, my hands on my knees, feeling the anxiety wrap around my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  “You’ve been on the H.P. Emulsion case for almost six months now. Do you have any leads?”

  I gulped down the rock that had formed in my throat. Overall, my success rate as a detective was pretty high. I had booked plenty of bad guys, picking up the tiniest clues until I finally got to them. Some of my co-workers had even started nicknaming me Holmes. I was just doing my job.

  But then came H.P. Emulsion. He was like no other criminal. He was sophisticated. Smart. Cunning. For months he had alluded me, keeping me up at night, driving me to the point of insanity. I had to find and stop him, even if it was the last thing I ever did.

  “No, sir,” I finally answered, my mouth feeling dry.

  “Well, the lab came back negative for prints. We might as well open it. As we both know, time is of the essence.” He pushed the envelope in my direction.

  Carefully, I picked it up, sliding my finger under the seal, breaking it with ease. H.P. Emulsion always used the same exact envelopes. Our team had already tried to pinpoint any retailers, but it was a rather common item, sold in over twenty stores in Hyannis alone. Sure, we could go to each one and interrogate the employees, but we honestly had no idea if H.P. Emulsion bought them locally, outside the city, or if he ordered them online. It was just one of the many dead-end trails I found in the pursuit of the notorious serial killer.

  “Detective Fox?” the commander’s voice broke me out of my semi-trance.

  “Sorry.” I composed myself before sliding out the photograph I knew would be in the envelope.

  “Ricky Montague.”

  I nodded, agreeing with my commander, “Seems to be Emulsion’s next target.”

  “I don’t get it,” he continued, getting up and pacing around the room. As he looked out a small window, he ran his hands over his bald head. “There seems to be absolutely no pattern to his targets. One week he might kill a well-known criminal, but the next, it’s some random prostitute. What’s his motive?”

  I had been asking myself that same question for months.

  What’s his motive?

  “Sir, let me find Montague. We both know he’ll be down by the West Side.”

  “You think he’ll let you take him in willingly?”

  “He might if he knows there’s a hit on him.”

  “There’s always someone trying to kill him. He won’t buy it. He’ll think you’re trying to take him into custody.”

  “Maybe I should. We have more than enough to convict him on drug charges alone. At least if he’s in a holding cell, Emulsion can’t get to him.”

  “You can try. But be careful out there.”

  I nodded, “I will, sir.”

  ***

  The West Side was the poorest part of the city. Houses were crumbling to the ground. Kids played on the street, wearing tattered and dirty clothes they got from the Salvation Army. Most men sat on street corners, taking swigs from brown paper bags.

  A few suspicious eyes watched my car as I cruised along, looking for signs of the Red Crosses.

  Finally, I noticed a group of men huddled in a circle, passing around a joint. Tied to their jeans were red bandanas, showing off their allegiance.

  I parked my car and got out, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I knew it was dangerous to just walk up to these men; that they could open fire at any moment, but I had to find Montague before Emulsion did. I couldn’t let him outsmart me again. I just couldn’t.

  One man turned and looked at me. His eyes were bloodshot as he sauntered up to me, acting like he owned the whole world. “What are you doing in these parts, pretty Momma? Don’t you know a girl like you could get hurt?” His face was so close to mine that I could smell the tuna salad he had eaten for lunch.

  “I need to see Montague,” I answered, my voice unwavering. After years on the job, there wasn’t much that could unnerve me. Especially not a bunch of teenage kids who thought they were cool by getting high and messing around in gangs. They would all be crying when they found themselves behind bars, becoming someone’s plaything.

  “What do you want with the boss?” another boy asked with his hands in his pockets. I could see the faint outline of a gun… or maybe he was just excited to see me.

  “Someone’s planning to kill him.” I reached into my jacket, pulling out the picture. “H.P. Emulsion is a serial killer that photographs his victims before he kills them. He never lets them live for more than twenty-four hours after he has sent their picture to the police department.” I glanced at my watch. Eight hours and counting…

  “Wait… you’re a cop?” one of them blurted out, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “I should’ve known you’re a dirty rat. You smell like one.” He pushed me against the wall, his arm against my throat.

  I was just about to fight back when a blood-curdling scream rang through the air.

  Everyone froze.

  Seconds later, a scantily-dressed prostitute came running out of an alleyway, flailing her arms about. Her ankles nearly buckled as she attempted to run in her unpractically high heels.

  I used the distraction to escape the man’s hold, running up to the woman. “What happened?”

  “I… I was going in there for a smoke… saw this guy just lying there…” she trailed off, running her fingers through her dirty blonde hair. She started to pace around, mumbling to herself in a thick Boston accent.

  “Ma’am,” I placed my hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. “Please. I need to know what happened.”

  “See for yourself!” she pointed to the alleyway. “I think I’m going to be sick…”

  “Please, stay here. I’m going to have to ask you a few more questions.”

  She nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench.

  I watched her, making sure she wouldn’t book it before I grabbed my phone, dialing the precinct. I was definitely going to need backup. It took a lot to scare a prostitute on this side of town.

  Carefully, I tiptoed into the alleyway, my gun at the ready. As I rounded the corner, I spotted a body. A man was lying in a pool of blood, a bullet hole through his forehead.

  I couldn’t remember hearing a gunshot, which meant whoever did this had used a silencer.

  Using the flashlight on my phone, I examined the victim, but it wasn’t hard to see that it was Ricky Montague.

  On his chest was a small photograph, taken by a Polaroid camera. It was a picture of the deceased, right after his death.

  This could only be the work of one man.

  H.P. Emulsion.

  Chapter 2

  HECTOR

  I took off my leather gloves, shoving them into my pockets. I hated wearing them. Hell, I hated my current occupation, but when times are tough, you have to do whatever it takes to survive.

  In the distance, I heard someone scream.

  So, someone had already found the body. Even though I hated my job, a small part of me enjoyed the cat and mouse game I was playing with the Hyannis police department. I knew they had no leads on the H.P. Emulsion case. As far as they knew, I was a ghost who left no trace – well other than my photographs. But, honestly, that’s just a little personal touch. I could never make it as a professional photographer, so a professional hitman who photographs his victims was the next best thing.

&nbs
p; Okay, maybe I’m being a little cynical.

  I got to my car, stashing the SIG Sauer Mosquito I used for the job. Satisfied that no one would stumble upon my dirty little secret, I closed the trunk, locking it.

  Once on the road, I relaxed a little. As expected, a call came in.

  I let it ring three times before answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Hector!” a man’s deep, gravelly voice came through the line.

  “Mr. Johnston.”

  “I see you have done as I have asked.”

  “I have.”

  “Good, good. I’ll send someone with your payment tonight. Would you like it left in the usual spot?”

  “Yes. That should work.”

  “Good. I’ll leave your next assignment there as well.”

  “Next assignment? That’ll be the third one this week.” I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, feeling the sweat on the small of my back.

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  I could almost picture Raul Johnston’s severe expression. “Because we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your darling little sister now, would we?”

  At the mention of my sister, I ground my teeth together. It infuriated me that this man had such control over me, but I was helpless against him, especially with my sister’s life on the line.

  “No. It won’t.”

  “Good.” With that, he hung up. The silence in the car became deafening. Quickly, I turned on the radio.

  “Hello! You’re our lucky caller number seven!”

  “Oh my God! Really?” a woman with an obnoxious, high-pitched voice squealed through the line.

  “Really.”

  “I’m so excited. My husband and I have been dying to go on a trip together…”

  “And you’re one step closer if you can just answer this riddle…” the show host trailed off to build suspense. “What two things can you never eat for breakfast?” Soft music played in the background while the woman struggled for an answer.

  How could she be so clueless? It was obvious…

  “Ice cream… and…” she started to stutter, grappling for another answer. “Oh! I know… pizza!”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Buzz!

  “I’m sorry… but that’s incorrect,” the host said, feigning disappointment. “Good answers, though! Alright, folks, we’ll be asking the same question in an hour. Remember to listen to today’s top hit and then call in for your lucky chance to win!”

  I shook my head, changing the station.

  ***

  Soon enough, I arrived at the hospital. The security guard nodded at me, instantly recognizing me after my numerous visits.

  “Is she doing any better?”

  “She’s hanging in there. She’s a tough girl,” I said before I stepped into the gift shop, browsing through the selection.

  “Back again, Hector?” the old woman at the counter called out.

  “Yeah. I want to get her an elephant plushy.” I held out a book I had been cradling under my arm. “I picked this up from the library and want to read it to her before I have to return it tomorrow.”

  “You know, Caroline really is lucky to have a brother like you who cares so much about her.”

  I nearly scoffed. If only this woman knew what I did to pay for all of Caroline’s medical bills, she wouldn’t be saying these things. “Thanks, Janice.”

  She got up with a groan, shuffling toward the display of stuffed animals. “We don’t have much in terms of elephants, but we do have this little guy. It’s a finger puppet.”

  I grabbed the toy and placed it on my finger, wiggling it around. As I did, the trunk moved this way and that, creating a funny effect. “This will be perfect.”

  “Take it.”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s only a few dollars, go ahead and take it. You’ve spent more than enough in this place.” She smiled warmly, patting my hands.

  “I can’t do that,” I shook my head, already reaching for my wallet.

  “I insist.” Even though Janice had to be at least seventy years old, she still had the strength to push me out of the shop.

  “Fine, fine,” I relented, fearing she would hit me with her cane if I didn’t leave.

  Down the hall, I took the elevator up to the third floor.

  The children’s ward was one of the saddest places on Earth. Kids who should be playing outside or learning about the world in school were cooped up in hospital beds, looking miserable.

  A distraught mother cried into the chest of her husband, her whole body shaking.

  I shuddered. Caroline suffered from a rare autoimmune disease, one that still didn’t have a cure. For this reason, she was constantly getting sick, forcing me to bring her back to this horrid place. Every day, I prayed that she would become healthy and live her life like every other little girl.

  But, then again, I had no idea if that’s even possible. Probably not after what happened to our parents. What she saw when she was only two years old, hiding under the bed. If only I had been home that day, instead of partying with my friends, maybe things would have been different…

  I shook my head. This was no time to blame myself. The past was the past and there was nothing I could do to change it now. All I could do was make sure Caroline survived and got the best possible treatment, no matter the cost.

  Her room was at the very end of the hall. I knocked softly before walking in. Her curtain was drawn closed and I could hear a woman’s voice from within. It was probably one of her nurses, administering her daily shots.

  “Hey, Hector!” A little boy eagerly sat up when he saw me, waving happily.

  “Hey, Jake.” I walked over to him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “You look a lot better since the last time I saw you.”

  He nodded, “Yeah. They put me on a new medicine. It tastes really bad… like dog barf… but the doctors said it’s working. My white blood cells are back at a normal level now.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s fantastic.” I ruffled up his hair playfully. “Looks like you’ll be out of here in no time.”

  “I hope so! Mom said that if I do, I’ll be able to go to third grade, just like everyone else.”

  “Wow,” I smiled at him. “Just don’t go bragging that you know what dog barf tastes like.”

  “I won’t!” he laughed.

  “How’s my sister doing?”

  Jake suddenly frowned. “Not too good, I think. The nurses have been in here an awful lot.” He looked up at me with great big eyes. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  It was the same question I had been asking myself for two years now, ever since she got so sick she couldn’t get out of bed. Now, each day felt like a miracle, but at the same time, I felt like I was losing her. It was almost as if she was getting weaker and weaker by the hour and no amount of money or medicine could make her better.

  Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back. Caroline’s favorite nurse appeared, wearing a somber expression on her face. She locked eyes with me before bowing her head and rolling the blood pressure machine out of the room.

  “Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” I walked up to my sister and grabbed her hand. It was ice-cold. “Everything okay?”

  She just looked at me with her big blue eyes. When she was younger, they used to be as bright as the sun, but lately, they had grown dull. My heart tightened, fearing I really was going to lose her.

  “I’m okay…” she croaked, trying to wet her lips, but I could tell that her mouth was much too dry.

  I grabbed the sponge off her nightstand and carefully pressed it against her lips. She gratefully lapped up the few droplets of water before offering me a smile. As always, it melted my heart.

  “I got you a book from the library,” I said as I sat down on the edge of her bed. “It’s about an elephant.”

  Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the mention of her third favorite
animal. “Really?” she asked, sitting up with a difficulty.

  “Hold on. Let me help.” I placed my hand on her back, easing her up as I pressed the button to adjust the bed. “How’s that?”

  She nodded, “Good. Thank you.” Caroline had always been very polite. Even when she was in a lot of pain or just in a sour mood, she never failed to thank all her caregivers.

  “But yes, it’s about an elephant.” I handed her the finger puppet. “There wasn’t anything else at the store, but I thought you could act out the story.” I helped her get the toy onto her finger.