A/N: I don't own anyone but Alex…..Wish I did own some of the others…..
Oh can it be the voices calling me…..They get lost and out of time…..
I should've seen it glow…..
But everybody knows that a broken heart is blind…
Rubber crunched under fresh virgin white, cutting a silent swath through the violent dances of white squalls. Taillights were swallowed by angry tight coils as though they were nothing more than a deception created by billions of symmetrical frozen diamonds.
It was a beautiful night as far as he was concerned; no one would interrupt him as he would conduct the same rite every time. They deserved it after all.
She had been easy to lure like a starving dog; waving a few hundred dollar bills like a raw steak, waiting patiently as she gravitated towards him, like a moth dancing with the flame. He couldn't but to smile with jubilation as his mind replayed that instant.
"Need a date Sweetie?"
She was about 18, perhaps a natural beauty at one snapshot in time; but the streets were abrasive, scouring any trace of vitality from the dull listless skin that masked her face neck and the tops of her breasts that strained under the surface of the tube top. The acrid stench of cigarettes hovered over her entire being, drowning the cheap pharmacy perfume. Hair that was barren deprived of the rich almond strands that once crowned her scalp. The heels were borrowed as they were one size too big for the petite feet clinging to the cracked leather for warmth and protection. The narrow handbag tapped the frayed belt loop of the acid washed jeans. Her teeth chattered to its own cadence for the jacket that posed as warmth was neither.
"Get in," he had whispered quietly but never relaxing his fingers or wrist.
"You're not a cop are you?"
The door swung wide then slammed rattling the panes of glass that encased the Towncar. It was as though she had trespassed into a different plane. The scent was crisp and clean, a sharp contrast to the putrid refuse littering the alleyways or the sleazy no tell motels that she was accustomed to patronizing. She felt…..safe.
"No," he answered levelly. No need to upset her. Upsetting her would draw unwanted attention or worse.
"So what do you want? A hand job? A blow job? A fuck? Wait, you're one of those that like to plow a girl up the ass." Her words played out akin to a poet reciting their prose.
"You'll see," he kept his eyes forward while executing a perfect right. "I prefer to have my dates somewhere more comfortable."
"Oh a gentleman," the sweet smile exposed in the dingy yellow glow of overhead street lights gave away the chipped canine in the upper right of her jaw. Probably a customer that didn't know the word 'No'; at least when it came from a woman's mouth that is. A fractured tooth wouldn't impede his plans.
The vents continued saturating the cozy interior with gusts of hot air, allowing her to sink deeper against the plush oversized seat. Her teeth ceased tapping in their incessant tempo, a sign her body was almost ready.
The storm alleviated in intensity upon the final turn, permitting the path to their final destination to be presented before them. She peered through the slightly congested window, squinting her curious emerald rings with futility like a child trying to decipher where Mom and Dad were taking them on a Sunday afternoon.
"So where are we?" She wasn't alarmed…..yet.
"Somewhere we won't be disturbed." The engine was effectively silenced with a snap of the ignition.
Emphasis on the final word made her slightly unnerved and pondering if this was such a good idea. He was resting calmly in the driver's seat, eyes gazing over the blanket of powder coating the hood before coming to rest on a rust encrusted handrail that marked a neglected flight of steel.
"M-Maybe I should go," her voice quivered as the rapid rhythm of chattering teeth commenced. But it wasn't from the cold.
Her scratchy fingers curled viciously around the door handle as she slowly scooted away from the john. Now her heart was racing and every alarm was screaming in the confines of her mind. Yes this was a definitely a bad idea.
A hard crank of her wrist sent the door flying open flooding the car with the merciless rush of sleet and snow. Her foot touched pavement pushing into the virginal white but it was a tease as the john fisted her dirt blonde locks at the scalp tearing her away from the sweet taste of escape. The wind killed her screaming before the hypodermic tore into skin and muscle, delivering the thick aqueous contents into waiting veins.
It happened so fast. She had no time to think or react but only to scream in futility as the darkness swooped in drowning her within a tide of darkness.
She had been easy to subdue but not all of them had been as docile. But reflecting upon such triumphs would have to wait for now; his work wasn't finished. So many of them were out there filling the streets and crevices of society; polluting humanity with their diseased stench and toxic taint. As long as they proliferated like roaches and rats society would never be free. Even the ones who no longer carried the stigma were no saints in his eyes. They were parasites and parasites had to be exterminated.
Taking a deep breath he popped the trunk and was instantly slapped with the stinging needles of ice upon exiting the comfortable cocoon of tropic warmth. His mind shut down the physical irritation against his cheeks, focused on closure. The circumscribed space exhaled the thick stench of drying iron and copper as the trunk lifted open without a single groan showing her off with eyes locked open in the final moments of her existence. Milky white film dulled the previously bright crystal blue. Limbs were still pliable holding fleeting pockets of warmth. Her lips were sliced apart exposing the unwholesome cause of momentary ecstasy for a steep price. It was filth that had taken on the guise pleasure and false promises; filth that would no longer be the harbinger of angst.
That had been the climax. Euphoria had washed his mind and body when the final tear of the blade severed the stretched thread of bloody skin.
Pained squeals and bitter tears were his reward. Muffled screams for mercy strummed like the Philadelphia Symphony as he had carried out his work.
She had screamed through the soiled gag as the pliers tore at the erect buds, twisting flesh right then left before pulled up with an abrupt snap right. The spring of scarlet had been a beautiful vision, dancing deliciously across his mind as he hummed a gleeful tune. But had been only the beginning. The beauty of the claws of glowing coral were mesmerizing as they pierced the hills of bloody tissue, eliciting another violent scream for his efforts. The tips singed the ghostly hairs that dotted the pale bare canvas, as if they were teasing with sinister promises of affliction and agony. Deliverance was slow and methodic, drawing out every charge of every nerve just to watch her linger in the throes of anguish. The harmonious sounds of her shrill pathetic cries and the sizzling of iron on living flesh had hurled him into sweet exhilaration. His pulse always raced to the brink, threatening to rupture his heart when they writhed and wailed like that; in a few instances his body and mind had crossed the threshold as he had discovered his hand grinding against a growing damp spot in his jeans.
Shaking his head of the beautiful memory, he reached out with one hand and fisted the cold strands of dishwater blonde elevating the upper body off the floor while the other slid under the knees clearing the dead woman from the car. She was like the others, unworthy of burial or any display of compassion.
Sycophants didn't warrant or deserve it.
The final destination was the vacant lot where a brownstone once proudly occupied. Neglected before extermination when progress left it behind its ghost haunted the row of random buildings and immaculately shaped spaces.
The nude form was dropped into the snow without a second glance from him. He pivoted on his heels, mindful of the tracks he created from the car. With each step he crafted a smear over the crisp indentations until his feet had carried him to the driver's side door.
The local crack heads and heroin shooters were fucked up from their latest hits, incoherent as the black Towncar rolled down Kensington Avenue and in the direction of anonymity.
"Hey Sergeant get those scum lopping shit bag reporters outta here!"
Lieutenant Carter Blake was screaming over the sirens of oncoming assistance. The call had arrived at about 4:50 that morning: The mutilated remains of a white female had been discovered in The Badlands. It wasn't uncommon to get reports of murder victims in the infamous neighborhood but this one was different.
"What's going on Blake?"
Ash was approaching from the street with hands shoved deep in the front pockets of his coat. The snow had tapered to flurries though the wind howled through the canyons of Center City then north into the Badlands. He drew the collar around his neck as Blake massaged one temple. A headache was brewing he knew that furrowed look and furious kneading were the first signals.
"White female found nude in the lot by one of local hookers."
"That's nothing unusual for the Badlands," Ash shrugged with indifference as he wasn't exaggerating.
"Well that's what we thought until we got a closer look at the body."
Blake drew the blue tarp back from her legs until it gave up the gory secret beneath. Ash's eyes went wide as his mind fought to catch up and digest the image of the mutilated genitals. The outer layer was absent but the inner bits were not spared the blade as they had been reduced to the texture of chopped steak. His hand slapped over his mouth, releasing the collar of his coat.
"What the fuck….."
"It's him Ash. That mother fucker is back!"
"You sure it's him and not a copycat?" His fellow cop drew his hand aside.
"Nope," Blake distastefully deposited the tarp and took three steps up then stopped. "The first beat to arrive found a few calling cards."
The older cop swept the corner of the tarp aside granting his younger counterpart a brief view. From the corner of his eye Carter caught sight of his partner almost losing his breakfast. His knees flexed and buckled coming close to sweeping his feet from beneath him. It took every bit of willpower to not regurgitate the breakfast burrito and French Vanilla latte he pummeled down on the way here. Ash was silently grateful for the brisk strips of wind rushing off the Delaware and ferrying any stench that may otherwise cling to the body.
"Son of a bitch," Ash pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why now? I mean we just got over the Origami Killer case. I thought the bastard was dead or moved outta here."
Blake was silent as the ME arrived to collect her grisly prize. Just another day in the paradise that is Philadelphia. She initiated her initial investigation against the backdrop of wailing sirens and distant clamoring of the media. Ash couldn't but help to gawk at the deep lacerations that mangled what had once been an angelic frame. A set of deep slash marks ripped her jowls from the corners of her lips to the outer ring of her ear creating a macabre smile. Blake recognized it as a Glasgow Smile; he recalled the photos of Elizabeth Short aka The Black Dahlia from his days in the academy and found the mirror image of that very grin blaring up at him.
"Looks like your boy's back."
"Nice to see you too Melinda," Ash muttered through his gloved hand.
"Well I would say the same Ash but the circumstances say otherwise," the ME shifted her stance and stood on both feet. "Her labia majora have been severed off and the labia minora appeared to have been hacked at; maybe by a short blade or knife. Whoever this suffered and that is putting it lightly."
The Assistant MEs approached in solemn formation, keeping the gurney between their rigid bodies. They weren't ignorant to murder or even ritualistic murder but seeing the young woman tucked beneath the police tarp was agitating to their minds.
With silent attentiveness and respect each one positioned themselves at an end and in tandem lifted the solid form and plastic as one. Their synchronized display of lowering the deceased into the body bag completed with the smooth streaming of the zipper was more of a gothic dance than procedure. Their eyes didn't lift from their morbid cargo while escorting the gurney down to the waiting van. The wind was picking up making it likely for any evidence to be lost or contaminated the longer it lay open in this fucking landfill. What evidence there had been was either tucked neatly away in evidence bags or destroyed by the tromping of the boots of the idiot rookies on scene.
"How many does this make?" Blake was huffing as he encountered hidden cracks and fissures in the ground. Ash had to take pause and recount the number of victims.
"I believe we're up to number 12 in the last 7 years. The youngest victim was 14 and the oldest 45."
"This is worse than the Origami Killer," Blake slipped under the police tape in the hopes of avoiding the pack of hyenas pointing their oversized lenses and screeching demands for a bite. His fists continuously curled in then out as anger seethed beneath the surface. "People are going to panic."
"Too late Carter," Ash shook his head. "The media already ignited the goddamn powder keg by saying the Ripper is back. "
"And we don't have shit for leads either," the lieutenant slumped in the passenger seat with a short slam of the door. "All we know is this guy targets women and there's no real pattern. We don't have one set group he focuses on because some of the victims aren't junkies or prostitutes! The only common link is that they're all found somewhere in the Badlands."
"Maybe there isn't a definitive pattern to his victims. It could be this sick fuck is toying with us keeping us running around in circles chasing our own tails."
Blake was deathly silent as he had seen the message waiting from Perry.
Department requested assistance from bureaucrats in Washington two hours ago
He didn't want to believe it as it meant one miserable fact: Agent Norman Jayden would be the fucking thorn in his side once again. God how he couldn't stand that little prick with the stupid glasses! The little prick that let Ethan Mars slip from the station making him appear like a goddamn idiot! The same little prick that had the balls to belt him in the interrogation room after apprehending and handing down justice on said suspect! Blake had harbored a simmering resentment towards the profiler especially since that right hook created a beautiful swell of purple and yellow around his eye. Anyone who asked was given the same response every time: It was courtesy of Miroslav Korda during the pursuit in the market. If the truth slipped that it was that little bastard Jayden and not the con others in the station would snicker and whisper like gossiping old women.
Thankfully Perry had his ass, keeping his barbaric behavior within the department and writing it off when Jayden had stormed in his office explaining with an air of arrogance that ends sometimes justified the means.
I'll get Jayden for what he did!
Blake had not been afforded the opportunity to reciprocate proper courtesy to the federal agent. After coming to blows with the agent at the shrink's office Blake had been itching to get his digs in. Now that chance had materialized in the words of his captain.
You think you can do a better job than me with your psychology degree and your great glasses!? That doesn't mean zip when you get out there! You're just a fucking bureaucrat!
Ash turned his head seeing the secretive smile parting his chapped lips and wondered exactly what he was devising. He wouldn't have to theorize greatly as he suspected it revolved around the impending arrival of a certain federal agent. He knew how oh so well Perry and Carter played with the fed and it would all but guarantee more fireworks in the coming days.
"Any word from the ME yet?" Blake was growing impatient. The photos of the dead prostitute were strewn across his desk along with older photos of the Ripper's previous crimes. Each victim was mutilated to some degree which had happened pre mortem according to the ME's office. Ash had gone to learn of their latest victim and see if anything worthwhile existed which left Blake alone with the graphic images.
Christ! Whoever this asshole is he certainly held nothing back! It was as if he was enraged or fucked up in the head. And this bastard has done this 11 other times!
"Blake," Perry's scratchy tone snapped the lieutenant from his musing. He scrubbed his face with a few quick swipes of the hand and peered upward with eyes tinged with pencil thin scarlet. The layers of saggy skin dragging his eyes down spoke of sleepless nights mixed with coffee and adrenaline fueled highs which equated to crashes which were amplified tenfold.
"Washington just called me and Jayden's ETA is 45 minutes."
Perry didn't want the agent present any more than Blake or Ash did but it wasn't their call though Perry had come to realize that if it had not been for the bureaucrat, Shaun Mars would've died and they would've convicted an innocent man. But there they were still holding their badges and pensions like the good old boys they were.
The Commissioner was being faced with merciless demands for a suspect to be caught or for some bit of promising news and their resources could only be recycled so far. They were going to have to put up with the young awkward agent for god knows how long. The Ripper resurfacing had put every woman within the entire city on edge with some resorting to conceal carry if it meant the difference between life and death. The press was showing up from other parts of the state and now the national media had taken notice. This was turning into one public relations cluster fuck. Goddamn police scanners needed to be banned in the hands of the media as far as Perry was concerned. They already had issues in the past with cops and administration leaking information because money talked and talked loudly. This was no exception.
"Oh joy," the lieutenant cast a sarcastic smile. "I'll be sure to give him the appropriate welcome when I see him."
"Watch your actions Carter. This isn't like the Origami Killer. The parasites are everywhere it seems and one lapse in judgment or one camera pointed in the right or rather wrong place I won't be able to help you."
"Morning Captain," Ash set a 24 ounce dark roast in front of Blake before easing into his seat. The sharp aroma wafted from the black outlet and tickled his scent of smell. Blake reached for the tall order, anxious to get the chemical mixed in his blood. It had been another shit night between the sheets as he shot wide awake and glanced at the clock catching the time of 0240. Sleep had danced around the edges of his consciousness the last few evenings with teasing whisps before drawing back and surging forward like the tides.
"Tell me you found something," Blake tepidly sampled the bitter steamy brew. It bit the tip of his tongue but gradually mellowed as it trickled down his throat.
Damn this is good! Just what I needed!
"Victim's name is Mary Kelley, age 19 and known prostitute over in the 25th District. Melinda won't have any results on the victim till tomorrow at the latest."
"Lovely, another damn street walker," He rolled his eyes and savored his coffee a little more. Could the day just get any better?!
The sleek black Fusion cautiously rolled along the narrow side street, avoiding the parallel groupings of police and civilian vehicles parked up onto the sidewalk. Agent Norman Jayden didn't think he would be back in Philadelphia after the Origami Killer had been identified then unceremoniously made into hamburger by a scrap grinder on the docks. But here he was, once again called in to lend a hand as The Ripper had decided to surface after a 2 year leave of absence. The idea of being in the same room with the psychopathic asshole Lieutenant Carter Blake made him about as warm as dead fish. From what he had been able to learn before leaving Washington, the Ripper stalked, kidnapped then brutally murdered his victims; but not before he inflicted a wide range of excruciating afflictions.
Twelve victims in seven years…He emerges at will then disappears for time unknown.
The sedan slid into the last available spot adjacent to the crime scene, obscured from sight and responder. Ahead through the partially obscured windshield two of Philadelphia's finest stood watch before the ugly yellow police with the bold lettering emblazoned on it. Instead of cold fat rain drops penetrating to his bones it was biting bitter cold with whips of ice and snow.
Here we go again…..
The agent started to reach for the handle but stopped; the familiar tremors rattled his right then left hands.
Shit! Not now!
Rolling waves of nausea tumbled and receded the longer he sat.
Damn…..Feeling sick…
A sharp increase in temperature in the confines of the car was cause for the agent to tug at his black tie.
It's gotten hotter….Not gonna make it….
With an unstable hand Jayden retrieved a small vial of very fine luminescent turquoise grains. Quickly closing his eyes he flung his head back and inhaled, waiting for withdraw to be silenced. The shaking and blurred sight soon stabilized as Jayden regained control of his body. He waited a moment to permit the nerve numbing chemicals to subdue the grip of withdraw. Jayden slumped back in the seat while his pulse decelerated resuming its normal course. A short swipe of the glistening beads from across his high brow completed his transition from withdrawing addict to collective Federal agent.
"Alright," he whispered to himself then stepped out into reality.
The media wasted no time setting up
His light emerald eyes spotted the growing horde to the left, retained by the human chain of dark navy. His hand drew the collar tighter around his throat, shielding the warm thin skin from the heat stripping chill. At least it wasn't rain soaking his suit and coat this time so he shouldn't bitch; too much.
His first destination was the pair of uniforms that appeared to be bored and casting alternating glances at their comrades who were stomping around the area.
"Sir you can't enter here. This is an active police investigation." The one to the left held up a gloved hand but Jayden noticed the short soft quake in his voice.
"I'm Agent Norman Jayden; FBI." The two traded glances before looking back at the new arrival.
"You have an id Agent Jayden?" The second one retorted in a snarky bit. Apparently the loathing of the agency or any outside agency for that matter had spread like a damned disease. Perhaps it was just him.
"Yeah I do," Jayden produced the baseball card sized id from his back pocket and held it close for the duo to examine.
"Alright you can pass."
Jayden swept under the tape and made his way towards the main area.
Too many people walking around the crime scene
The unit carried on trampling on the grounds like a herd of elephants. Jayden had a bout of déjà vu from the Jason Bowles investigation.
If there's any evidence left it's more than likely been destroyed
He quietly deduced the Philadelphia Police Department wasn't interested in finesse and sensitivity where crime scene investigation was concerned but rather results regardless of the level of brutality. But the agent wasn't going to allow a bunch of mindless rookies aimlessly wandering around hinder his investigation; he had ARI.
ARI or Added Reality Interface as it was called was a technology in its infancy used only by a few select agents; Agent Norman Jayden was one such fortunate soul…..
Or not….
Triptocaine was his Achilles' Hell.
It had been issued as a means to counter the effects of ARI, balancing the line between the real and virtual worlds. But like all of the numbing agents, Tripto, as Jayden referred to it as, humans could be lured under its siren like song, abandoning sensibility in exchange for illusions of halcyon. But the longer he remained the deeper his body and mind rooted themselves in a pathetic reliance of chemical release.
Squeezing his eyes shut with a brief clench of his fists, Norman pressed on one foot at a time through the ankle deep marsh of white and mud. With shades drawn and resting comfortably on the summit of his nose, Jayden slipped the glove over his right hand as ARI clicked on.
Off in the distance the high whine of a locomotive sliced across the distance to points known only to the engineers. Jayden blocked out the pollution of human voices, police sirens, and idling vehicles as he instantly went into investigation mode.
"Video memo recording; Agent 47023, Agent Norman Jayden; Friday February 1st, time is 11:15 AM."
The wind shredded the layers of polyester and cotton as Jayden activated the pulse mechanism of ARI. Through the midnight hue lenses his eyes observed the invisible wave ripple across the topography then abruptly abolish. A couple of points lit up despite the blanket of frozen white. Jayden knelt before the partially buried patch of dead foliage and tapped his index and middle fingers on the icy blades. The sharp crackle of bone along cartilage caused a brief wince.
"ARI comment: sliver of human flesh identified with fibers of navy blue cotton affixed to it; could be from the killer or victim."
The agent didn't let the parade of footprints pass his sight. There had to be hundreds based on his quick estimation; hundreds of imprints that decimated critical clues. Why was he not surprised.
I don't see Blake anywhere….
Jayden couldn't but help to permit the thin smile materialize then vanish. The lieutenant had been a psychotic unstable asshole during the Origami Killer investigation. It didn't take a psychic to see the trouble that was looming like a gathering storm. Still, he had a job to do; Blake or no Blake.
Straightening to his feet he continued to the following area of interest.
Parallel to the pothole riddled street were a series of treads that had zigzag creases with hints of wear around the top. ARI went to work dedicating the image into its virtual file, already initiated the procedure of cross checking against the known makes and models of tires. Jayden craned his neck to the left, noting the peculiar footprints that vanished at the tracks. The soles weren't the same pattern of the police issued boots.
"ARI comment: Unusual set of tracks leading from where body was discovered end at vehicle tracks. No distinguishing marks or names indicated."
The federal agent kept his thoughts silent while making his way towards the darkened plot of land free of snow or ice. He was not anxious to face the gruff cop once again. He knew the older man would never forget what he did in the psychiatrist's office or in the interrogation room.
I will get you for this Jayden!
Norman shivered and wondered if it was from the leaks of frozen air poking up his sleeves. He was going to have to face Blake and he would have to be ready for whatever the son of a bitch hurled his direction.
ARI had uncovered several marks and areas for him to delve into. Even with the shades on and sun blocked by menacing clouds, the device had pulled through, sniffing the DNA sample out.
"ARI comment: DNA belongs to victim now identified as Mary Kelley; skin cells approximately two millimeters to the immediate right also from victim. Large accumulation of DNA centered around the narrow strip of mud indicating this is where the neck or head was positioned."
ARI had not indicated any additional leads or clues for him to examine. The police carried out their examinations and interviews of local prostitutes and junkies with most turning out jumbled words or drawn out phrases and sentences from the effects of withdraw of their latest imbibing. Some shook like a sapling in a gale while another shivered from the flimsy excuse for a coat was wrapped fiercely across her chest. Norman suspected he may not extract anything of great viability but he wasn't about to leave anything left to chance.
Three steps from the makeshift grave and a sharp jolt made Jayden freeze. Thick fingers pinched through the coat and shirt as the hard to forget voice rasped alongside the outer shell of his ear.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the fucking bureaucrat."
Blake didn't hold back on the sarcasm and concentrated venom in his tone. It whipped across his tongue like a striking cobra punching through the wailing winds.
"And if it isn't the unstable psychotic asshole," Jayden matched the contempt with his own level of repugnance. "I have an investigation to conduct Blake."
Jayden jerked his arm but Blake refused to cooperate and spun the smaller man around.
"Aw you're wearing those glasses that make you look so smart and important," Blake snorted.
"Let me go asshole," his temper treading the line between restraint and erupting. "You've been tracking this guy for what seven years now and you haven't found shit! Not one fucking solid lead or suspect to track down! So let me go now or I make your day worse than what it already is."
Watch your actions Carter…..
Perry's words chided him. Blake snarled and pushed the agent down fortunate that the number of people present had shrunk since his arrival. Even if one or two of the uniforms had seen the altercation it would've been shrugged off. The media had all but wrapped up their nightly bit that would be regurgitated to their mindless viewers. Besides, one of the standing brownstones had shielded Blake from other curious eyes.
"Just remember you're not in DC anymore Jayden. You're in my city where it's my rules!"
"Fuck you Blake! You think you're so great well you're just a pathetic bully who pushes others around to get what they want! You don't care who gets hurt as long as you get what you want!"
Blake gritted his teeth as he knew the agent was striking a raw nerve with Ethan Mars. The father who had been tireless in his search for Shaun, even going to the extreme of killing a man and cutting part of his pinky off if it meant he would bring his son home.
"I still owe you for that sucker punch in the interrogation room and for what you did at the shrink's."
"What's the matter Blake? The big bad cop still pouting over that? Don't like being called out for being a dick?"
Blake inched closer towards his foe, hands clenched tightly by his sides.
"Just you wait Jayden," his voice dropped to an ominous octave and eyes hardened to hazel spears that locked with Norman's equally sharpened emeralds. "When no one's around…..just watch."
Jayden whipped the glasses off and peeled the glove down and off his hand feeling the light tremors tapping his nerves; courtesy of adrenaline that instantly saturated his muscles and blood. Flight or fight was the proper name but Jayden thought more of it as Nature's liquid courage.
Shaking his head and catching a short breath, the agent couldn't focus after this heated encounter. Blake had gotten under his skin like a progression of dull rusty knives. It was no secret he wasn't welcome but the Philadelphia PD could go fuck themselves at this point. His job was to identify and arrest The Ripper before any other victims turned up.
But with Carter Blake that would only complicate matters. He knew the lieutenant would be gunning for him and Jayden was going to have to stay two steps ahead.
Night time…..
It was his daylight. While the city slept he played.
"Okay guys I HAVE to go! I have to be up at 0530!"
"Alex it's only 8:45!"
"You work with some of my cases and see how fast you become tired."
"Oh fine! But Saturday we're on though!"
"I wouldn't miss it!"
The petite brunette cleared the swinging door effectively silencing the mob inside the crowded bar. He had stalked her from the instant she stepped out from the Social Services Department and pulled away, heading north on Cherry Street. She lived in a working class part of the city: a quiet mosaic of hard working honest people.
She is none of those! A snake that slithers in the grass!
He could've done it as she left her brownstone for the bar but there were too many eyes and ears to be successful. So he waited until twilight dominated the skyline.
His mind danced with the delicious ideas of what he wanted to carry out. Her screams would be an orgasmic symphony to his ears as her blood would flow like the Delaware. Her skin would peel like a delicate orchid.
She had to pay! For too long she went unscathed!
It was time.
Quick note: Melinda is Melinda Warner from Law and Order SVU
Mary Kelley - One of Jack the Ripper's victims
Whitechapel - Neighborhood in London that Jack the Ripper stalked from 1888 to 1891