Double Perspective: Murderer and Assistant
(object) knife
(smell) blood
(restriction) No character names
(genre) Suspense
(element) water
word count: 1965
A dark haired young woman sat perched on the roof of a battered car, her hands clenched around the binoculars through which she peered intently. Below her lay a beautiful walled estate; the extravagant manor house loomed over immaculately maintained gardens and outbuildings.
"Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five," she muttered under her breath before she lowered the binoculars and grabbed a notebook. She scribbled quickly for a few moments, then tensed when she heard the low hum of an approaching motor. A minute later a familiar black Satocycle came into view, and she slid off the car and waited as the rider approached.
"Did you get everything?" she asked softly.
The rider pulled off his helmet and met her gaze. "Yeah, baby, I got everything."
"Even-" she broke off, unable to complete her thought.
His face was somber. "Yeah, that too. I called in some favors and I was finally able to find out everything. It was a paid job, and it wasn't approved by the gang so the one who actually did it has been taken care of, but your brother-" He took a deep breath. "He's gone. "
She choked back a sob, one hand pressed against her mouth. She shook her head in denial then broke down as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he muttered against her hair. "I know you were hoping he was in there." He looked out over the shrouded estate, his gaze flinty.
She finally stepped back, her face was blotchy with tears but her expression was coldly furious. "He'll rot in hell for what he's done to my family. To my mother. To my brother..." her voice faltered and she swallowed hard. "He killed a sweet little boy."
The man shook his head. "Nothing I found will convict him. I know where he hid the body. They buried the murder weapon there too. But cops won't do shit against him, you know that. Even if they could find some evidence he was involved he'll just pay everybody off."
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked back out at the distant house. "You said you found the murder weapon. How was he killed?"
He went very still. "Baby-"
"Tell me!"
He blew out his breath and shook his head. "It was a knife. They cut his throat, baby."
When she spoke again her voice was devoid of emotion, monotone. "My mother thought I was gone. I was supposed to be with you, but I had to come back to get my purse. I heard her crying, begging for him to stop, to tell her where her baby was. She was begging. Anything to find her son."
He looked at her, his face sad. He said nothing, merely waited.
"I peeked around the corner and he had her on her knees in front of him. My beautiful mother. He was forcing her to -" She stopped and shook her head. Her body shook uncontrollably. "I ran. I was a coward, too full of fear and shame and disgust." She turned to face him, and he felt a chill at the expression on her face.
Blank.
Cold.
She had always been incredibly loving, full of the joy of life. Before she found him he had been a petty crook, content with the dead-end nature of his existence and unaware how broken he was. She had challenged him, raised him up, shown him a real life that he was proud to live. She had shared her family with him, and he loved the comfort of the warmth they had wrapped him in. For the first time in his life he knew what it felt like to belong to something real.
Now it was she and her mother who were broken. Pure hearts destroyed by greed, by lust, by evil.
Raged burned hot in his chest.
She finally shook herself. "The plan is slightly changed, but for you it's the same. If it works I'll meet you back here, be ready to torch the car."
"Wait, what?" He blurted. "No, no, no. I told you, your brother's not there. There's no rescue mission!"
Her expression didn't change. In her head she was already counting the times in her head; the cycle of the security cameras she'd have to dodge to get into the house.
"There's no rescue mission," she said flatly. "If you want to leave, leave. Otherwise it's as we arranged."
"You know I won't ever leave you, baby." He said firmly. He took a cautious step forward, his hand half-raised. "What are you going to do?"
She reached into her pocket and drew out a small bottle, and the man shuddered as he recognized it - a powerful narcotic normally used by the healers but also by many for suicides. "I caught my mother staring at this. I don't know where she got it but I think she was going to use it on herself, so I stole it." She tapped it against her thigh, then returned it to her pocket.
"Baby," he choked, realizing where this was leading. "Don't-"
"I've been watching him for weeks. I know his routine, and his security." Her voice dropped and he had to strain to hear. "This is for my mother, and for my baby brother, and all the other innocent people he's destroyed." Her eyes tightened with resolve. "Tonight, he dies."
She dropped lightly from a tree branch and sprinted over to stand directly underneath a roving security camera, safe in its blind spot. She continued counting silently in her head as she sprinted between pre-selected locations on the grounds. As much as possible she stuck to hard paths to avoid leaving footprints. Where she couldn't, she bent small puffs of air to smooth out her tracks. Weeks of careful surveillance allowed her to avoid detection; places that both provided cover from view as well as being near enough to the large fountain that the sound of the water would help muffle any noise she might make. She made it to the corner of the house where she hunkered down behind a dense bush, concealed from view. From here the noise of the fountain was more muted and she was grateful, for she was now able to listen for sounds coming from the house.
Nearby were the glass doors of her quarry's study. A heavy cigar smoker, he almost always left the doors open and this night was no exception. Her heart raced and she continued counting and listening. Certain the room was empty she leaped up when her count told her the cameras were pointed away and slid into the lush elegance of the room. She hurried over to the door and pressed one ear against it. She stiffened when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Looking around frantically, she chose to hide between the heavy drapes pushed back from doors. She pressed hard against the wall behind her and tried not to breathe.
The door creaked as it opened, and the footsteps were measured and slow against the wood floor. She heard a cabinet being opened and a small thud followed by the clink of glass on glass. She smiled grimly when she realized it was the butler pouring out his boss' nightcap. All the better. She knew from hours of watching him he tended to down his first glass of whiskey quickly, so he'd have less time to notice that she'd dumped a full bottle of drugs into it.
After a moment she heard the cabinet door click shut and the footsteps retreat. The study door creaked again as it was pulled shut, and the footsteps receded back down the hallway. With a pounding heart she cautiously eased out from behind the curtain, listening hard. A single glass of whiskey rested in the middle of the mahogany desk. In the distance she heard new footsteps and voices, but she had just enough time. She swirled the bottle's contents into the glass, willing the liquid to settle as the voices grew closer.
"... concerned that our contact hasn't responded, sir," said one worried voice.
"Then ensure that he's found and silenced," replied a familiar, hated, voice. "He's turned into a loose end, and I don't like loose ends. Take care of it, and I want it done by tomorrow."
"Yes, sir." The second set of footsteps retreated.
She pocketed the bottle and ran as quietly as she could back through the doors to the cover of her bush, where she settled in to wait a little while longer. A few minutes later there was a slurred curse followed by a loud crash. She crept forward and snuck a glance into the room.
Her target was collapsed across his desk, his whiskey glass shattered on the floor below. His face was mottled purple and blood poured from his mouth and nose from the massive overdose that had lurked in his glass. The smell of the blood was sharp and metallic and mixed unpleasantly with the smoky scent of the whiskey. She clenched her jaw as her stomach roiled but she managed to stumble away. When she thought she could manage to move without vomiting, she did her careful trek back across the grounds, eventually staggering up to where the man waited anxiously.
"It's done," she rasped.
He nodded, then lit the cigarette wrapped in a oil-soaked rag resting on the floor of the car. The original plan had been to use the car once she had retrieved her missing brother, but now it was a liability and would be left behind, any evidence linking them to it destroyed.
She watched as he rolled the Satocycle back to the asphalt then threw his leg over and looked back at her, waiting. She spun her hands and bent a small dust devil over the dirt where they had stood, obliterating any footprints or tire marks from the Satocycle.
As they rode away she tightened her grip around his waist. The Satocycle was swift and quiet as it moved down the road, and as she looked back over her shoulder she cloud just see the glow from the car fire, only barely visible. The estate remained silent; her victim had almost certainly not been discovered yet, but now it was only a matter of time.
With a final shudder she buried her face against his strong back and sobbed.
Someone was pounding on the front door, jarring them awake. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, before they stumbled together to the front door.
Standing before them was her friend, a tall dark-haired man in a police uniform who looked even more awkward than usual, and next to him was a stern steel-haired woman she vaguely recognized as his boss, the Chief Inspector.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tired and quiet.
He shifted uncomfortably. "A lot has gone down in the last twenty-four hours," he said after a moment. "We're going to need you to come with us. You too," he added to the rumpled man hovering anxiously behind her.
"What's going on?" he demanded, his eyes flicking between the two police officers.
"We think we now know what happened to your brother," the woman said brusquely. She paused, looking them over carefully. "And there are additional… complications. Ones for which we hope you can help us."
The young woman's hand clenched the door frame. "Where are we going?"
"Our second crime scene," said the Inspector. "Where we hope all will be revealed."
The young woman's breath caught. "The second crime scene?"
The Inspector's face remained impassive. "Your mother is at the first crime scene right now. She will be brought to meet us." She nodded at the other policeman and he stepped forward reluctantly.
"We need to go now."