Elena's tired when she finally gets home. She makes a point of turning on her police scanner, even as she hopes no more women turn up dead. After showering, she puts her hair in a messy bun, slips into her comfortable bathrobe, and pads into the kitchen to pour herself a generous glass of red cabernet. She takes a hefty swallow before sitting to record tomorrow's podcast.
As Elena sets up her equipment, she thinks about everything she wants to go over on the podcast: the similarities in the victims age, looks, and career; the neighboring crime scenes, the probably cause of death. At this thought, Elena snorts. She can't wait to hear all the crazy speculation on this one. Logically, she knows there's no such thing as vampires, and there has to be some logical reason for the bloodless bodies and strange puncture wounds and for the sheer lack of evidence, she just hasn't figured that explanation out yet.
Elena turns on her recording equipment. Even knowing she can't be seen, she straightens her shoulders a tad and adopts her "on air" persona, glancing over her notes one last time before beginning:
Valerie Tulle was found four blocks from the location where Amber's body was found. Both women had puncture marks on their necks. The police haven't confirmed or denied whether or not these could be animal attacks. But it would be unheard of for one to attack in the city.
The police processed the scene, finding few footprints some distance from Valerie's remains but no drag or scuffle marks and, again, no blood. How does a killer remove every trace of blood? There was no dependent lividity. For those of you listening for the first time, lividity is the reddish- to bluish-purple discoloration of the skin due to the settling and pooling of the blood following death. For example, if the victim is found prone- or face down- the discoloration would be on the face, abdomen, legs. If a body is found supine-face up- the pattern of lividity would be on the back, and so forth. The absence of it suggests no blood. Could their bodies have been dumped? The police aren't ruling out anything.
Elena talks for some time yet before signing off. "If you're interested in true crime, make sure you subscribe to my podcast. I'm Elena Gilbert, and this is 'Someone Knows Something."
She's still lost in thought as she turns off her equipment and takes a last gulp of wine. She considers another glass and doesn't like drinking alone, but it is a necessary evil during a case…an indulgence that calms her mind and helps her sleep, if nothing else.
Elena's awakened by the high-pitched squeal of her scanner. She's dressed and at the scene in minutes, uncaring of her unmade face or frizzy hair.
The area is already crawling with police, forensic technicians and bystanders eager for a look. Elena does a double take when, out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the man she saw at the Tulle crime scene. Curious, she ponders the man's presence. From her research, she learned there's usually two reasons why criminals tend to return to the scene of their crimes. The killer returns to see the investigation taking place in an attempt to learn what the cops know. They want to see if they can figure out what if any evidence is found or suspects. Bringing themselves into the investigation is often realized after the fact as well. They are wanting to get a heads up on what's needing to be done on their part to prepare for a possible visit by the police.
Killers also revisit their crime scene to relive the moment. They want to remember their murder and often will take a souvenir from their victim or victims and bring it with them when they revisit.
Shaking off those thoughts for now, she quickly glances left to right for traffic before crossing the road, but when she looks up again, she's puzzled to see that he's already gone, whether he left or lost himself amongst the throngs of people she isn't sure.
Frustrated, she turns around and approaches a group of officers, surprised to find Elijah there. "Is this murder related to the other two?" Elena blurts out to get his attention.
"Excuse me," he says to the beat cops before inclining his head to Elena, indicating her to follow. "I thought you'd be here sooner!" Elijah jests, but his serious demeanor returns quickly.
"I heard it on my scanner. I have a job to do too, Elijah," she points out, fighting to stop herself from rolling her eyes at him. "What can you tell me?"
"Olivia Parker, swing-shift cocktail waitress at Binion's Casino."
"You must believe they're related, or why would you be here?" Elena suggests. "Is this one drained of blood, too and was there a rose?"
"Enough, Elena! Your job is to report, not make up fairytales."
"The blood loss is a fact, Elijah. All three women are or were cocktail waitresses. Now do you want to try again with the denial?" she retorts with a little sass.
"We don't need help from amateur bloodhounds like you," he replies, looking at her sternly.
"I'm not your enemy, Elijah. I want to get to the bottom of this, too. Why are you so hostile tonight?"
The detective sighs. "You're right; I'm sorry. I want to catch this guy."
"So, is this your subtle way of saying these killings are related?"
"You keep that to yourself. We have no way of proving that, Elena. We're waiting for DNA results."
"You did collect evidence at the scenes?"
He cocks his head, drawing his brows together. "Are you hearing yourself?"
"I didn't mean it the way it sounded, I meant- was there any evidence to collect?"
"Elena, enough for tonight. It's late, and I'm tired. Go home, okay?"
"Only if you promise to talk to me tomorrow."
"Text me. We can meet for coffee unless something comes up. Goodnight, Elena."
"Goodnight," she says softly as she watches him retreat inside the home. Sighing, she starts walking back to her car. With her thoughts a million miles away, she gasps when she brushes against someone.
"Excuse..." the word dies on her lips when she recognizes the man. It's the lurker she'd seen earlier. Elena's mesmerized for a moment, but not because she's creeped out or afraid. No, it's his eyes. Never has she seen a pair like his. Even the darkest of sapphire can't hold light to the electric fire that burns each rim and shimmers under his glossy gaze. Before she can string a few words together, he's half a block away from her. Stopping for a moment, he turns to give her a nod before slipping into the crowd and vanishing from her sight.
Damon's sitting on a stool at his favorite bar off the strip. He downs his drink before immediately signaling to the bartender for a refill. Looking over his shoulder, he zeroes in on a buxom redhead. Could be a good time...He's barely had the thought when a burly guy grabs her hand and pulls her out of the establishment.
Damn!
The bartender flicks on the TV. Damon sighs, accepting he'll be stuck with only his drink for company tonight, and raises his eyes to the screen.
"We're live on scene at 18th and Elm. 22-year-old Olivia Parker was found murdered in the home behind me," the reporter steps aside so the cameraman can zoom in on the location. "The 9-11 call came in a little after three-thirty this morning after the victim's body was discovered by her twin brother. The police aren't saying whether this killing is related to those of Amber Bradley and Valerie Tulle. This is Andie Starr reporting for KNTV."
"Leave the bottle," Damon remarks to the bartender when he refills his tumbler. Not that he gives a damn, but his thoughts drift to the women mentioned by the reporter. He's going to have to be more discreet. Twice now, he's made eye contact with that brunette who curiously shows up. Whether she's a reporter or someone who has a morbid fascination with murder, he's not sure.
Damon empties his glass again and reaches to refill it, but before he can do so, a blonde woman catches his attention. Judging by her attire – short skirt, her breasts spilling out of her tank top, patent leather boots – he assumes she's a hooker. Not that he cares...
"Save my spot, I'll be back," Damon remarks to the bartender. He slides off his stool as soon as he gets a nod. Approaching the woman, he rakes his eyes over her. By the look on her face, she knows he's coming for her.
"I'm Damon. Do you want to get out of here?"
"You got cash?" she asks, running her tongue over her lips as she takes him in.
"Yeah, let's go," he grabs her by the arm and leads her outside.
Damon takes the girl to the back alley. There're more comfortable places, sure, but he's going for convenience. Release. If he's a little too rough with her, if she flinches when he squeezes her breast too hard, if she snarls when he tears her panties, he can't bring himself to care. In fact, it only makes it that much better.
"I need a night off," Elena exclaims when she and Rebekah enter the downtown bar. People are spilling out into the parking lot to smoke cigarettes while others are standing around their motorcycles. Behind the bar is an alley that people hook up in all the time.
"You ever been back there?" Rebekah asks, the corners of her mouth lifting into a grin.
"I'm not answering that," Elena sing-songs.
"So, you have! You have to tell me," Rebekah elbows her playfully.
"Uh, uh," Elena tut-tuts and pushes through the bar's entrance. Looking around, she points to an empty table close to the bar. "Let's grab it before someone else does," she grabs the blonde's arm and drags her over.
"Geez, Elena," Rebekah grumbles under her breath at being tugged.
"Geez Elena' what? You don't want to stand, do you?" she asks, signaling a waitress with the crook of her finger. Looking around, she notices the bartenders appear busy. Some are chatting with customers; others are mixing drinks. Several cocktail waitresses appear to be waiting for drinks at the bar, others are trying to get through a crowd so thick that they have to hold the trays way up over their heads and almost dance sideways to avoid the crush of bodies.
"This place seems uncharacteristically busy tonight," Elena remarks, smiling when the waitress appears.
"Why don't you bring us a pitcher of margaritas," Rebekah tells her, denying the need for a drink menu.
There's a din of constant chatter which is giving Elena a headache. "Ah, thank you," she remarks when the waitress returns with their order. As soon as their glasses are filled, Elena lifts hers by the stem and empties half the pour.
"Thirsty?" Rebekah remarks, taking a mouthful of her own.
"Very...um, have the police determined if the murders are related?"
"I thought we were taking the night off?"
"We are, but aren't you curious? What can you tell me about the Olivia Parker murder? Did she have blood loss too?"
"I don't want to talk shop." Rebekah glowers at her.
"Come on! Just tell me, then I'll shut up. How can you pass that up?" Elena grins playfully.
"Fine, yes, it would appear that the murders are related, but that didn't come from me. You want more, you'll have to talk to Elijah," Rebekah sets her glass down, noticing that Elena's not paying attention. Snapping her fingers in front of the brunette's face, she adds, "Hello?"
"Stop it," Elena barks.
"Who are you looking at?" Rebekah follows Elena's gaze. "That dark-haired guy? He's hot!"
"Well, that hot guy just happens to have been at two of the crime scenes. I'm going to try to talk to him." Elena empties her glass for fortification before heading over to confront the man.
Feeling eyes on him, Damon shifts on his seat, only then noticing the pretty brunette from the crime scenes is coming towards him. Although curious, he's not about to stick around. He throws some bills on the bar top before exiting into the silvery moonlight, which is almost brighter tonight than the flashing lights of the bar itself.
Damon's about to get into his car when he hears a, "Hey mister," coming from behind him. He's got to give the girl props. She's persistent if nothing else. Pretending he didn't hear anything, he gets behind the wheel of his baby, revs the engine, and backs out of the parking lot. Before shifting into drive, he glances out his rearview mirror to see the woman running towards him.
Chuckling, he lowers the driver's side window and gives her a mocking wave before stepping on the gas...
Thank you all so, so much. I haven't written vampire Damon since 'Blue Christmas' in 2015. Tamilnadu09- who has written many great DE stories herself- actually tweeted a link to it at the time which was really flattering.
This story is canon-ish and you'll recognize those parts but it's also AH in that there is no Elena or 'Originals' in Damon's past.
Chapter title: 'Don't Talk to Strangers' by Dio.
Massive thanks to jmfangs and to Eva. They're both very talented writers. Be sure to check out their stories along with 'Redemption' by Adaud, and 'Lucky' by Foreverfirstloves. They're both post-finale stories and everything we could want for DE in the future.
Have a wonderful day. Until next time.