Three days had past, since Detective Dorough had questioned the latest victim’s co-workers. He was sitting in his office, rubbing his temples, in effort to ease his stress. All the patterns showed that another victim would pop up tonight…tomorrow night, at the latest. Yet, he still had no clues, as to who, or where. A slight migraine penetrated his skull, as he looked over the case files, yet again. Why couldn’t something just pop out, at him?
“Dorough.” Howard’s head popped up, at the sound of Mr. Knowles’ voice. Seeing the man, in the doorway, he stood up. There was a younger man, standing behind Lucas Knowles, which did not escape Howard’s sight.
“Yes, Mr. Knowles?” His eyes traveled from his boss, to the younger man. Looking him over, he noticed many things about this kid…his neck and hands adorned distinctive tattooing…his nails were painted black…his eyes were covered by lightly tinted sunglasses…and his clothes screamed ‘punk’.
“This is Alexander McLean.” Lucas gestured a hand, toward the kid. Certainly he didn’t appear much younger, but Howard still formed an opinion of him being nothing more than a punk kid….he, undeniably, looked the part. “He will be assisting you, with the case, from here on out. He’s a transfer from a Los Angeles department. By all means, don’t let his appearance throw you off…he’s the best they’ve got and between the two, of you, I’m sure you’ll be able to crack the case.”
“Alright.” Howard nodded his head, not believing his ears. This punk kid was now, in essence, his partner. Regaining his composure, he cleared his throat. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. McLean. I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here.” The young man stepped forward, extending his hand and gave a slight nod. Howard was impressed with the firmness, of his grip. This McLean kid surely had a confidence about him, and Howard was pleased with that. Maybe working with him wouldn’t be as bas, as originally thought.
“Fill him in Dorough. I’ll be checking in often.” With a nod of his head, Lucas Knowles exited the office, and weaved back through the bustle of the homicide department.
“Well, ain’t he the sociable type.” Alexander McLean rolled his eyes, stepping closer to Howards desk. “May I?” There was a small smirk across his face, as he motioned toward the chair that sat in front of Howard’s desk.
“By all means, please.” Nodding his head, he, too, sat back down. The two men stared, at each other, for several minutes. Howard continued to scan his eyes over the younger man, taking in his unusual appearance.
Alexander knew what the older man was thinking; he was quite used to people putting him into certain classifications. He also knew that he did good work and, not to sound smug, but he took pride in being a ‘kick ass homicide detective’. His left knee bounced, ever so slightly, as he gazed at the man before him. He figured Howard would underestimate him and he had full intentions of proving himself.
“So this Defacer guy…pretty sly one, is he?” Alexander finally broke the silence, raising a brow, in Howard’s direction. He was pretty familiar, with the case, but knew he was far from having all the details.
“Oh yeah. He’s thrown us all, for a loop.” Shaking his head, Howard pushed the files across his desk, toward Alexander. “He’s given us nothing, to go on. The evidence is minimal and hasn’t given us any leads. With no survivors, and no witnesses, we’ve got practically nothing. He’s due to strike again…he averages a hit once every four to five days. Unfortunately, it looks like some more murders have been linked, to this guy…but, we’re still at a loss.” Alexander listened closely, as his eyes scanned over the paperwork.
“He wears rain gear.” Letting a chuckle escape his lips, Alexander scrunched his nose and shrugged his shoulders upward. “It’s the only logical explanation for why there are never any fibers left behind. There was this case, out in LA, a few years back…the chick wore rubber waders. She was too dumb to wear the jacket, though, and we were able to retrieve some fibers from under her husband’s mistress’ fingernails. Fibers from her pants were never found, because she had the waders on.” Howard just blinked, wondering why he hadn’t thought of such a thing. Obviously this kid knew a thing, or two.
“Huh…rain gear, eh? I’ve never seen a case, like that. If that’s what this guy is using, he’s covered from head, to toe, in rubber.” Rubbing his chin, Howard thought over the case. It fit. That would explain the pure lack of forensic evidence…why no victims were ever able to scratch his skin…as well as there never being any trace, of someone even being there, aside, of course, from the victim being murdered.
“That was the only case I can remember seeing, where someone dressed in rain or fishing gear, to avoid leaving evidence. Most murderers don’t think things through logically. I’d say this guy is probably trying to prove something.” His shoulders shrugged again, quite please that, five minutes on the case, he had already contributed information that no one else had thought of. Yes, it was no doubt, this kid was good.
Howard Dorough continued to fill in Alexander McLean, on the complexity, of the case. Their minds twirled, discussing the endless possibilities, of when and where The Defacer might strike next. How could they know that The Defacer was on the way, to his next victim’s house, at that very moment?
It was early, in the evening, and the sun’s rays were still shinning brightly. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, as he navigated his truck through traffic. The address was burned into his memory, but her face was at the forefront, of his mind. Taking an exit, he drew closer to his destination, and his nerves grew. It was a bit of a drive, to get where he was going, but he had driven longer, in the past.
By the time he turned onto the remote street, his palms were clammy…something that usually didn’t happen. Under normal circumstances, his adrenaline would be pumping, not his nerves. The sun was lower, in the sky, when he spotted the house that he was looking for. It was quaint…white with light blue shudders, a shade of blue that he personally loved…two stories, but still small…a beautiful flower garden decorating the pathway that lead to the front door. Somehow, it was strikingly similar to what he imagined her house, to look like.
He pulled along the curb, slowing the truck until it came to an easy stop. Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled his ball cap low and stepped out of the truck. He hadn’t worn his ‘uniform’ today, because this visit was merely for research purposes. The official business wouldn’t take place until later, that night. Dragging his feet, slightly, he made his way up the path. Standing before the hard wood door, he stared at it, intently. His hand shook slightly, when it reached up, knocking softly.
Inside the small house, he heard a faint rustling, and knew that Theresa was headed to open the door. He found himself holding his breath, when he heard the lock flip. What he didn’t expect was the bright smile she greeted him with.
“I um…uh…this is…is yours.” Visibly shaking, his hand held out her wallet. His head remained hanging low, refusing to look up, at her. There was a gasp, from her lips, when she saw what he held.
“Oh my lands!” One hand flew to her chest, as the other reached out, for her wallet. “I’ve been driving myself crazy, looking for this thing! Oh thank you, so much, for returning it, to me!” Before he knew what was happening, the woman wrapped her arms around him, giving him a grateful hug. His every muscle tightened, at her touch. Why would this woman hug him?!? “I just made dinner…please, come in! It’s the least I can do, for your kindness! I can’t believe…oh wow…I thought I had truly lost it! Which, of course, I did lose it, but thankfully you were sweet enough, to return it!” Were his ears hearing correctly? She was inviting him into her home…for dinner? Theresa had already stepped back into the house, but she had left the door open.
“I…I really…I…can’t.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “You’re uh…you’re welcome for...the wallet…though.”
“Nonsense!” Flinching, he was shocked by her sudden presence, right in front of him. There was a weird feeling that coursed through him, when she lightly grabbed his arm, gingerly pulling him into the house. “I absolutely refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer. I’ve made a home cooked meal and there is more than enough, for you to join me.”
“But I…I shouldn’t…I…I don’t…” As soon as she let go of his arm, and closed the door, his hands disappeared into his pockets.
“Pish posh. Just slip your shoes off, on the mat. You can hang your jacket and ball cap on the hooks there.” She waved a hand toward the wall, before turning and heading down the short hallway. “Don’t be shy, now. Just come on in the kitchen, when you’re done!” Before heading through the kitchen doorway, she sent him a warm smile.
Don’t be shy? That was easier said, than done. Letting out a soft sigh, he took off his shoes and jacket, but left his ball cap on. He couldn’t take it off…after taking of the sunglasses; it was the only thing he had left, to help conceal his face. Looking around, he moved further into the house. Being invited in, for dinner, was the very last thing he had expected, to happen. He nerves were through the roof, now, as he stepped onto the cool tile, of the kitchen floor.
“Oh no, no, dear. I’m sorry, but I don’t allow ball caps, at the dinner table…it’s a very strict rule that I grew up with. Please, put your cap with your jacket. Dinner is ready!” If it weren’t for the sweet smile, that adorned her face, he would have felt like a scolded puppy. Reluctantly he trudged back, into the foyer. Briefly, he thought about quickly making an escape, but he figured she would catch him and insist, again, that he stay. So, he hesitantly took of his hat, and placed it on the hook, with his jacket. As soon as his hands lifted, from it, he turned to see her standing there.
“Thank you.” Her voice was so light…so soft…so…caring. Giving her a slight nod, he followed her through the kitchen and into a small dinning room. “It’s nice and hot. I hope you like tacos…it’s one of my personal favorites…made from scratch, of course, and with my mother’s recipe. The meat is delectable and we have all the fixin’s for them, too. Come on, now, don’t just stand there. Sit down.”
“I uh…um…” Swallowing the lump that settled in his throat, he glanced up at her warm brown eyes. They were so welcoming and so unlike what he was used to seeing. People didn’t look at him, like that, anymore. He found it slightly…comforting. “Th…thanks.” Quickly taking the seat, he ducked his head. The sound of silverware hit his ears, and he knew she had begun to eat, but he just sat there, staring at the plate before him, with his hands resting on the lace table cloth.
“Aren’t you hungry?” The feeling of her soft hand, being placed over his, almost made him jump. “You don’t look like you’ve had a good meal in a while, why don’t you dig in and help yourself. There’s plenty, you know.”
Staring at the food, he realized just how hungry he was. She had been right; he hadn’t had a home cooked meal, like this, in ages. Not having the will, to resist the smells, he began to dig into his plate. With his fork and hands flying, he devoured the food, at lightening speed. If he would have looked up, at her, he would have seen that she was watching him…a satisfied smile, upon her lips.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'd like to thank those who are reading. You all know that this is a bit out of my comfort zone, so I am thankful to you, for giving the story a chance. I also appreciate any and all reviews!
