THE HUNT BEGINS
Donovan drove slowly and steadily through the area mentioned on the radio call. It was a seedier side of town where drug addled prostitutes sold their bodies for their next hit of whatever substance possessed them. He wondered if Black Heart would waste her time around this area. This was entirely beneath her, but seemed fitting all at the same time. He didn't stop or pull over; he simply kept straight on the road until his sharp eyes caught sight of an ambulance and a few police cruisers. This would be where he'd find the murdered man. Here he would also find the crazed killer he sought. Here his thirst for revenge would be quenched. All for you, my love, he thought.
He found an empty slot in which to park his car. He sat behind the wheel for a moment before he climbed out into the still night. Absently, he reached under his jacket to ensure he had thought to bring his shoulder holster and revolver. It was funny how the mind played its cruel tricks. He seemed to be losing time and couldn't remember the simplest of things, including his weapon. Of course, he didn't necessarily need the gun. He could take Black Heart out with his bare hands. In fact, that was what he preferred. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he opened the car door and climbed outside. With his dark clothing, he could easily blend in the crowd. Several cops knew him, and probably some of them had been to his apartment earlier, but he had never had a lot of trouble blending in.
There was a crowd surrounding the crime scene. The cops had just gotten the area secured with their yellow tape. He saw the prone body of the victim and had to look away for a moment. The poor unfortunate fuck had been shot in the exact same spot as Loralei. Yes. Black Heart was here. He could almost smell her. Donovan forced his eyes back onto the dead man. The fellow was decked out in business casual type of dress. He had apparently come to this side of town for drugs, sex, or a little of both. Whatever the case, he had died in the same vicious manner as Loralei. It was the only evidence he needed. His eyes began to scan the crowd. Black Heart wasn't stupid, but she was a serial killer, and like most serial killers, she would eventually return to the crime scene to witness the havoc she wreaked. Dozens of women milled about, most of them streetwalkers, but none of them possessed the sharp, almost cutting features of the black widow. He wasn't stupid enough to think she would still be a redhead. She had to know he was after her.
Donovan held her body down roughly on the sidewalk. His knee was placed squarely in her back, and his hand had pressed her cheek against the rough concrete. She was struggling beneath him, trying desperately to throw his body off hers. He held fast. She would not get away from him, not this time, not ever again. Black Heart was screaming at him, cursing him, and laughing about his bleeding lover. At that point, he had blanked her words out of his mind. She was trying to get to him, to weaken his hold. It didn't work. He, in fact, pressed down harder. In his position, it would have been so very easy to snap her neck and let go. He would have one hell of a price to pay for his act, but he questioned whether or not it would be worth it. His rational side won out, and he backed away to allow the cops to secure her. He had Loralei to think about, and for the moment, being with her was the most important mission before him.
He snapped out of his daze. He had lost time again. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was, what his mission was. He saw the dead man, gazed at his blood until he thought he might pass out. Stay focused, you must stay focused, he thought. His eyes began to obsessively scan the crowd again. The bitch had to be out here, this murder was her own special calling card. She was toying with him, begging him to find her, and he would. He would not stop. Not now. Not ever.
She lingered near the dead man's body for as long as she dared. To her utter delight, he was fairly well off and enjoyed the occasional romp with the local prostitutes. The moment he saw her, he said he had to have her. She was new, different than all the other girls. Of course, she willingly obliged to be his 'date' for an hour or so. He didn't want anything more than a good blowjob [his words, not hers]. She hated doing that more than any sexual act that existed, but she needed his money. She went down on her knees and gave him exactly what he asked for. At the completion of the act, she stood up, dug out her weapon, and fired two bullets in his chest. He actually hadn't had time to realize what had happened to him. He lay dying, much as the bitch lover of Donovan before him, when she went through his pockets. She found what she'd been looking for and opened it. A twisted triumphant smile touched her lips as she glanced at the wad of cash in the wallet. He was an idiot to carry this kind of cash in this neighborhood. Oh well. His stupidity became her windfall. When she began thumbing through the wallet, she found several credit cards. The dumb bastard had written his pin number right on the cards. It would do for extra cash. She would have to make quick work of it, though, because his body would be found soon.
With a wad of cash in her possession, she went back to the scene. As she thought, someone had found him; the police were crawling all over the place. It made her feel quite good to see how her deeds had garnered such attention. Her murder spree, plus shooting a federal agent, had given her a nice slice of notoriety. She wondered how long it would take for Hollywood to make a movie about her. She giggled a little and felt a delicious tingle rush though her entire body. Her happiness was short-lived. She saw him before he saw her. He had tried to be nondescript, to blend in, but for her, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He had come after her, just as she knew he would. She wasn't ready to kill him yet. She wanted to wait to get to her bank account before she came back to finish the job. He wouldn't recognize her. She didn't look like the same person anymore. Suddenly, her morbid curiosity waned. She must escape, and escape now.
Donovan's eyes detected movement from the far end of the crowd. He didn't immediately notice if the person was a woman. Not caring who it was, he began to make his way toward the movement. The lone figure broke from the crowd. At that moment, he could see it was a female. He was surprised at how calm he was. He should have acted on instinct and ran after her, but he didn't. Instead, he calmly began to stroll through the people on the sidewalk. He didn't understand how he could remain so utterly sedate. Inside, his rage boiled, threatening to spill over. The woman didn't look back at him once. A fleeting thought, one belonging to rational Donovan, entered his mind. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps this was not Black Heart. Yet, his rational side no longer ruled him. He was certain he was trailing his quarry.
She sensed someone was following her, and she clearly knew it was the crazed agent. She had to elude him, to find a way out. At this point in the game, she couldn't be caught. She had to rebuild her fortune. The money she had stashed away wouldn't last forever. She needed more men, more fortunes. How would she get it locked behind bars, or worse still, executed? No Nononononono, she screamed to herself. This couldn't be happening. She had to get away, to find a nice hiding place. This psycho would not ruin her plans. Even though panic entered her and became her intimate friend, she did not pick up the pace. It would appear too suspicious.
Donovan continued to keep up a steady pace behind her. He was no longer unsure of her identity. What he was unsure of was why he hadn't struck out. When he caught her before, he hadn't hesitated to pounce. But now, he had made a few city blocks casually strolling behind her as if he were a tourist. He was making his own plan, thinking out what he wanted to do to her once he caught her. Those dark, evil thoughts scared the part of him that was still rational. Oh, the idea seemed more attractive the longer he thought about it. What could he do? Should he shoot her? Strangle her? Throw her in front of an oncoming train? What he wanted more than anything was for her to trade places with Loralei. It should be this cold-hearted bitch laid out on a morgue slab, not his dear, sweet lover.
Ahead of her, in the distance, he could just make out another crowd of people. They were approaching a better part of town where most of the good bars were located. He tried to recall what day it was, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember. Whatever night it was, it was obvious what was going on a few blocks up. This was a weekly pub-crawl, and dozens of people, most of whom were college students, were out bar hopping from club to club. If she managed to make it to the mass of people, he knew she could disappear. He didn't want that. It was time for irrational Donovan to make his move. He began to run behind her, quickly closing the distance between them.
She heard the slapping of his feet behind her. She had no choice but to run. If she could make it to the crowd, she could disappear amongst the safety of dozens upon dozens of bodies. Her new look would blend in well. She sprinted forward, realizing that if she didn't stop soon, she wouldn't make it. She was in poor physical shape and was already winded. It also unnerved her that the agent did not speak or yell or curse at her. He ran without making a sound, not even breathing heavily. He could easily gain the upper hand in this deal, and she didn't like that at all. The crowd was just within reach, and he finally made a noise. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was a cross between the vicious snarl of a wild animal and the low groan of a man possessed by some demonic spirit. She would never hear a sound like that again, not in this life. For the first time since her game began, she was afraid.
Donovan watched in utter disbelief as she dove into the crowd. Not once did he take his eyes off her. If he lost sight of the back of her head, he would lose her. Of course, it mattered little to him. If she escaped tonight, there was always tomorrow. He would go wherever she went, follow her until the day he drew his own last breath. He dove into the crowd after her, the back of her dark shirt within inches of his grasp. He reached out to grab her and pull her back, but a young man with rock hard muscles thwarted his move. He bumped right into Donovan, knocking him flat on his ass. Part of him wanted to beat the kid within an inch of his life, but he was focused on catching Black Heart. He jumped to his feet quickly, shoving away the helping hand of the kid. She was gone. He had lost her. Yet, his stubborn side wouldn't allow him to give up. He continued plodding through the crowd, searching endlessly, hunting until his body ached and his brain felt like mush.
Toward dawn, he slowly walked back to his car. Although ruled by obsession and rage, he was still human. He was utterly exhausted and drained. He had no need for a hotel room; he wanted to stay in the car, to stake out the area. He wouldn't miss her again. He grabbed onto the handle below the seat and pushed it back as far as it would go. It would be an uncomfortable bed, but he didn't care. There would be no true rest for him until the deed was done.
* * *
Cody, Jake, Monica, and Alex were still at the hospital. They hadn't seen or heard from Donovan in several hours. They had no idea where he had disappeared. Jake uttered a low 'fuck it' under his breath and excused himself. Several minutes later, he found what he was looking for: a payphone. He knew from experience that Donovan never went anywhere without his cell phone. Even if the boss had gone off the deep end, he wouldn't leave behind his connection to the outside world. He had to be told about Loralei. He had to know. He plugged a couple of quarters into the payphone and dialed Donovan's number. It rang its standard five rings before the voice mail kicked on.
"Donovan," Jake said, "I don't know where you are or what is going on inside, but you need to come back to earth. You need to call one of us. It's about Loralei. There's something you have to know."
* * *
Donovan had heard the cell phone ring. He had laid it out in the seat beside him. He didn't make an attempt to grab the phone; it was a tool of the rational Donovan. Since he was not that man anymore, he had no use for it. He was certain the caller was one of the team, but he had no interest in speaking to them or even seeing them. They would interfere with his plans; throw an unnecessary wrench in the cogs of his machinery. When the phone stopped ringing, he picked it up and retrieved the number. The caller id said 'payphone.' Whoever had called also left a message. If it were yesterday, he might have cared. It wasn't. It was today, and he was a different man. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and leaned back.
* * *
"I tried to call," Jake said to the others. "He isn't answering his phone. We need to find him before he's lost."
"Damn you, Donovan," Alex whispered. "Just answer your damn phone."
