The Darkness Inside

Prologue

A silent alley can be a terrible place to die, especially so if there is noone who can hear your cries for help. Wet pavement, metal garbage cans, and rats scurrying around. The perfect scene for a grizzly murder. A murder, which will plague the minds of a number of people for a long, long time. Especially those close to a couple with a lot of hope in life.

Meet Frankie La Croux. A 21-Year-old student from France with aspirations to become a famous artist. She had been an Arts student at Dugalle's Institute for the Creatively Gifted in Paris until the year before, and had recently come to America to further her studies. Her ultimate hope was to gleam all the knowledge of western creative culture and roll it into her unique style of painting.

Francesca Louisa La Croux was born in a little town called Mazoux on the eastern border of France to a French mother and a German father. Her mother was a schoolteacher at a crèche and her father a retired soldier of the German militia. Louisa Broudoux and Heinz La Croux had met during WWII when Germany was at its zenith. Louisa was hiding with her family in Notre Dame during the German occupation of France and on a routine curfew inspection, Heinz's contingent of soldiers had found Louisa and her family in the basement of a church where a number of scared Frenchmen were hiding, afraid for their lives. For Louisa it was love at first sight and she had secretly hoped that Heinz would take her away with him but he did not. He did however come back for her later that night and they spent the entire evening making love in a farmer's barn not very far from the church where he had discovered them. They married soon afterwards but could not conceive a child. It was only later in their lives that they were successful in their endeavor but unfortunately Frankie's mother passed away during childbirth. Heinz was so grief stricken that he took to the bottle and spent the rest of his days drowning his sorrows in the local taverns. Due to his reputation as a fighter during the war many people challenged him and it was in one of these bar brawls that someone stabbed him with a broken bottle.

Frankie had at this time already been a teenager and was fairly adept at taking care of herself but when her father passed away, her grandmother, Emily La Croux, a wealthy and powerful businesswoman, took custody of her. It was a big change for Frankie. She was used to meager accommodation having grown up in a small house and little to eat. Her grandmother started to insist that she wear more upstanding clothing, more suited to rich girls. She found the elegant dresses to be extremely distasteful and went back to wearing her normal clothing – jeans and t-shirts, which her grandmother loathed. When Frankie finished her senior year at high school, her grandmother insisted that she went to study at the Business School where she herself had gone when she was younger, but Frankie reacted violently to this, not wanting to enter into a 'boring life'. After much begging however, her grandmother reluctantly agreed to enter her into a art school in Paris, if only to get Frankie out of her hair, as she was becoming tiresome. So it came to be that Frankie La Croux ended up going to Dugalle's School for the Creatively Gifted.

When Frankie finished her studies at Dugalle's and decided she wanted to move abroad to continue her studies, Emily La Croux was furious. During her time at Dugalle's Emily kept trying to change Frankie's mind, but to no avail and the shock of finding out that she wanted to go abroad made her mind-numbingly angry. Enough so that she completely removed her from her Will & Testament. So, by working in restaurants in Paris, Frankie eventually made enough money to obtain her Visa took a flight to Los Angeles. When she arrived, she had meager savings with her, as she was not prepared for the expensive living costs of L.A. This meant that she had to find a job. After walking the streets for days she finally found a job at a small diner in downtown Los Angeles. It was a cozy little place called the Sizzling Bear and Frankie immediately struck up a friendship with her fellow employees.

Daisy, Hilary and Barney were fulltime employees at the Sizzling Bear. Daisy and Hilary were the two waitresses and lifelong friends. They had gotten to know each other while still attending middle school in Boston. Barney was the Cook. He was a huge burley black man with a very soft personality. Some people thought too soft, however everybody liked him and his delicious food so they kept coming back. The manager of the diner was a small middle-aged man by the name of Jimmy Jones. Frankie hardly ever saw him as he was almost always tucked away in his little office set off the side of the kitchen and the door was always closed. Jimmy Jones disliked being disturbed. He always arrived first in the mornings and was always the last to leave after everyone else had gone. The only time Frankie, Hilary, Daisy and Barney ever saw him was when their wages were paid and when their work was not up to standard, which was hardly ever. Frankie thought the reason for his solitude was probably due to his utter dislike of any and all people. His attitude sure said as much.

Frankie rented an apartment in downtown Los Angeles with the money she made and started to save money for her enrollment into the Robertson's School of Art in Beverly Hills. It took her a few months but she finally achieved this goal with the tips she made as well as her pay. Her shifts altered somewhat to accommodate for her classes but Frankie was pleased with her accomplishments. It didn't take her long to adjust to the new way of life. Her classes were going well and her work, although tiring, was going even better. She was doing so well that she could start looking for a car. She had been contemplating buying a car ever since she arrived in America, but unfortunately she had had to be content with taking the bus to Beverly Hills. It was during this search for a new car that she met the most curious, yet the most alluring man she had ever laid eyes on.

One day when she was out looking for a car, she met a man known as Eric Bannon on the Downtown Express bus. She could not squeeze much out of him but she did however find out that he was in America in very much the same capacity as she was, however instead of studying he was here working. He explained to her that he was in the United States working for a computer chip manufacturer called World Computer Technologies – WCT. WCT, he explained was centered on the development for chips, which could be used not only in normal day-to-day home computers but also in larger scale company solutions as well as in many other devices. When she asked him about his past he was reluctant to share. He did however give her his mobile number before they parted ways and she continued her search for a car.

She finally found a suitable little Volkswagen in a used car dealership and drove home with it in victory. When she showed up with the little VW at work the following day her friends were green with envy.

She had all but forgotten about Eric Bannon until one day her car broke down on the way to work. She was standing in front of the car, hood up, and looking at the smoking engine in frustration when he showed up. Fortunately his knowledge of cars was enough so that she could start her little VW again and before leaving they had arranged to meet for dinner the following night.

After dinner they started seeing each other on a more conventional basis and soon Frankie found herself in love with Eric.

They had been seeing each other for six months when the tragedy happened.

Frankie decided to introduce her to her friends at the diner and they decided to walk down, as Frankie did not live far from work. They were so engrossed in each other's conversation that they did not notice that they were being followed…

Chapter 1 – Tragedy in the life of….

The ambulances, police cars and other emergency vehicles had already blocked off the section of the street where the crime occurred. Detective Andrews stood with his back to the grizzly crime scene, chewing on a toothpick.

"Motherfucker!" He said under his breath.

"What the hell is this city coming to when couples can't even walk the streets and be safe anymore…and all 'a dat…" He pointed back over his shoulder "…just for a fuckin' few bucks. It's disgusting I tell ya."

Detective Macdonald just stared morosely at his partner and nodded mundanely.

Andrews turned to one of the uniforms. "You got an ID on them yet?" He asked.

"Uh yeah…the girl's French, name's Francesca Louisa La Croux and the guy's name is Eric Bannon, British, Engineer over at WCT."

"Jesus, not Emily La Croux's granddaughter I hope." Andrews said.

"Afraid so Detective." The cop said.

Andrews turned around and scrutinized the crime scene again checking to see if he hadn't missed anything the first time around.

It was a mess. Blood everywhere. On the walls, on the back door of the diner, on the trashcans. Everywhere. Andrews had never seen so much blood in his life before. The bodies were on opposite sides of the alley. Apparently placed so with a certain purpose. Andrews was pretty certain that the guy was held while he was forced to watch his girlfriend being raped. They did not know if she was raped yet. Would have to get a rape kit. Chances were good though.

The girl had been gutted and slashed in absolutely every imaginable place. Probably kept alive throughout the whole process, until her throat was finally cut. She died of massive blood loss.

The guy had been shot in the abdomen, six, maybe seven times. High-caliber weapon by the looks of it. Probably a Colt or a Desert Eagle. Pretty expensive weapon.

"Someone must have really hated this guy." He mumbled under his breath when he had seen Bannon for the first time.

Based on the gunshot wounds alone it seemed plausible that this wasn't just a gangland type of murder, but a more professional killing. Not every street-criminal could afford high-caliber weapons.

What interested Andrews the most was the Modus Operandi of the murder. Besides the gutting and the shooting of the couple, something had been taken from each of them. The girl had an eye missing and the guy had a hand missing.

Andrews still couldn't figure out why these were taken but he carefully wrote these facts down in his notepad before he entered the diner to question the employees.

Macdonald remained behind to make sure that the forensics team thoroughly combed through every inch of the crime scene to gather all the evidence they could find. It was a lengthy process and Macdonald decided to send one of the uniforms to get some coffee for him from the diner while he waited for the scene to be released by forensics so the coroners could remove the bodies. The cleanup guys were already there.

Photographs were taken, evidence collected and placed in plastic bags and containers. Blood, hair and other forms of DNA samples. Footprints, bullet casings and the tire tread marks out in the street in front of the diner.

The uniform returned with Macdonald's cup of coffee and he savored its heat in the cold December evening. He looked up at the palm trees lining the street as they swayed in the icy wind. It was odd how the trees usually associated with summer looked so gloomy on this night. One would usually think happy thoughts when you looked at a palm tree. The beach, the sun, bathers and sandcastles. All these things in turn reminded of his family. Sally and Mac were having problems. Only Andrews knew about it. He tried to push it out of his mind.

Just then the head of the forensics team came to him and notified him that the scene had been cleared for cleanup. He proceeded to give this information to the cleanup team and then headed inside to join Andrews, however before he reached the front door, something drew his attention.

Sticking out beneath one of the trashcans was a piece of paper. The wind was busy playing with it so the piece of paper kept slapping against the pavement. He pulled it from beneath the plastic and looked at the faded block letters and a strange symbol. When he found that the information on the flyer could not really be deciphered he pocketed it with the intention of giving it to forensics should it prove to be related to the case at a later stage.

He continued on and entered the diner's front door where Andrews could be seen sitting in one of the booths interviewing the diner's cook, Barry or Barney or something. He was still busy trying to remember what the cook was called when he heard a scream coming from outside which was followed by the screech of tires on cold asphalt and the acceleration of a powerful engine making a hasty turn.

He immediately dropped his hand to his shoulder holster and armed himself.

Andrews entered the diner after having left Macdonald to his usual devices on a crime scene such as this one and proceeded to the Manager's office to start his standard procedure of questioning. The questioning of the manager turned out to be very unpleasant and unhelpful as Mr. Jones was not only rude but Andrews also ascertained that the man was just too ignorant or deaf to have heard anything.

He then moved on to the first of the two waitresses. Hilary was a pleasant girl with a southern accent. She was in a shocked state and could at first not answer Andrews' questions because she was crying uncontrollably. However after Andrews said some consoling words to her and gave her his handkerchief to wipe her tears away she seemed to gain some control of herself.

After he completed his interview with Hilary he made a note to visit her later after she had recovered from the shock. He had learned after 20 years on the force that a person is more susceptible to not remember certain things due to shock.

He found that the second waitress, Daisy was much easier to interview than Hilary was. She was of course older and more mature than the other waitress and so she was more in control of herself. Daisy was more of a mother figure to Miss La Croux and Andrews found out some very useful things from her, which La Croux had divulged to her during her time working at the diner. Things, which might prove useful at a later stage in their investigation. He jotted down all the information he could find out from Daisy as she told him.

He had just sat down with the cook, Barney, when he heard the bell at the front door tinkle as someone entered. He was about to turn and warn the entering patron that the diner was closed for the duration of the interviews when he heard a scream outside the diner followed by the screeching of tires and a car speeding away. As a trained police officer he knew instinctively that trouble was brewing and he reached for his police issue revolver in its shoulder holster before he even realized it…

The Mustang's powerful engine revved as it pulled away from around the corner of the diner and its two occupants were pulled back against their seats by the sheer power of the classic automobile. The driver grinned cheerfully which made his broken face look grotesquely insane. The only whole thing which could be noted was a gold tooth, which gleamed in the sunlight like a lone star in it's own universe.

The passenger lolled over as they hit the turn and sped by the diner. Two men in suits came rushing out of the diner with revolvers held out in front of them but they were not out in time to see the plates of neither the Mustang nor the driver and so the driver had even more reason to smile.

Eddie James, 32 years old, the model mobster for the modern world. Unfortunate for him, not the brightest. But never tell him that. He is also extremely violent. Really loves beating the shit out of women, raping them and finally killing them very violently.

He sped off into the night, pride swelling in his chest due to the accomplishment he made at the murder scene. His Lord would be proud.

Leaving the stupid asshole in the alley with the girl had been his mistake but he came back to correct it. Fortunately for him the cops were inside the diner interviewing the witnesses so he strode casually through the police line and just upped and walked out with the body over his shoulder. If it wasn't for that coroner bitch, he would have made a faster getaway too, but as fate would have it…

It looked like he would have to make amends to the bitch at some other stage.

Now as Eddie sat grinning in his bosses' Mustang something occurred to him, which he should have thought of before. In his line of business there was little room for mistakes, and he was reminded of it again as he looked at the tag on the body bag.

He slammed both his hands on the steering wheel in frustration and pulled the car to the side of the road, grumbling to himself.

"They take fingerprints from victims before removing a body from the scene!" Eddie screamed.

"Oh my God!" He slammed his head on the steering wheel in frustration, setting off the car's horn.

The boss had taught him and his cronies from the start – Leave no evidence lying around, not even the least bit – but it was too late for that now. They would discover that prick boyfriend's connection to them sooner or later and when they did they would come knocking, and Eddie would be the one to blame. The boss would fucking kill him.

Luckily the boss was a smart and persuasive man. He could keep the cops occupied until this mess could be covered up.

This thought cheered him as he put the 'Stang in gear and sped off in the direction of the outskirts of town.

The boss would understand. Surely he would.

Andrews and Macdonald were standing next to the ambulance as the paramedics cleaned up the cut on the coroner's head.

"Good thing he was in such a hurry otherwise it could have been much worse." The paramedic was saying to the coroner.

Macdonald was smoking a cigar to stave off the nerves as he looked around uncertainly.

"Jesus Andrews, what the fuck's next? They gonna come after us?" He asked.

Andrews just shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at the tire marks on the road. He knelt down beside the tire marks and felt the warm asphalt under his fingertips.

"Better get forensics to look at these treads. Could be a good lead in catching that asshole body snatcher." He said as he dusted his knees.

Macdonalds turned his attention towards the coroner again.

"Ma'am, do you think you can give us a description of the assailant?"

She nodded and Macdonald sent her on her way along with a police artist.

Andrews cleared his throat dramatically.

"What do you make of the interviews with the acquaintances?" He asked Macdonald.

"Dead end. Apart from the fact that she was off for the day and wasn't expected to show up at the diner, which she did. Also, they didn't know the man she was with. Could be a stranger, could be a friend, and could even be a boyfriend as we initially suspected. Bottom line is they're as much in the dark as we are."

"Lets get back to the station to try and make sense of the evidence we collected. Maybe we'll be able to wrap our heads around this one if we get away from here." Andrews said.

Macdonald nodded his head and headed for their Ford sedan, which was parked around the corner.

This was going to be a kicker. He thought.

A real kicker indeed.