Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Goren or Eames or any of the other characters in Dick Wolf's best show, but I do own Carla Stanton.
Author note: This is my first fan fic, so forgive me if it's not up to scratch. Any help/advice you can give would be appreciated. Please R&R
Chapter One: The phone call
She looked out the window at the stormy sky; yellow clouds swirling across the sunset, rain slapping the glass. She sighed, took another sip from her third glass of scotch.
Why won't he ring? She thought in dismay.
It had been seven hours since her husband left for Washington. Usually he called her when he arrived at the airport, but so far she had heard nothing.
Chewing on her thumbnail, she thought back to this morning.
The alarm clock had chirped at 8:00am, leaving Ed with just enough time to get up, shower and get to the airport before his 9:30 flight.
He had kissed her as he got up, and then walked down the hall to the bathroom. Ed's suitcase had been packed for three days; he was heading to Washington for a conference which would change the way their company was headed, and he was looking forward to it.
Half and hour later she heard him yell his goodbyes from downstairs and the front door slam.
Now seven hours later, she still hadn't heard from him.
Just then the phone chirped next to her, startling her and she dropped her drink.
She caught it on the third ring.
"Hello? Ed?"
Static met her ears, followed by a deep voice. "Carla."
"Ed?" She asked, even though she knew it wasn't her husband.
"I've been watching you, Carla. I saw you this morning. What's in the headlines?"
She thought with a chill how this morning she had bought a New York Times from the stand up the street. She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. "Who is this?"
"You know who this is. You failed me, Carla. It was simple, what I asked you to do. A favour for a favour, you remember."
Another chill down her spine. Suddenly she found her voice again. "Who is this? Leave me alone!"
"Your husband has a lovely tattoo, Carla. Does it turn you on?"
"What are you talking about...oh God, Ed! Leave him alone you bastard!"
"You can run, Carla, but you can't hide." The line went dead.
She sat down slowly, her breath coming in short, frightened gasps, her mind reeling.
She was numb. Did that monster have Ed?
She picked up the phone again, dialing in her husband's cell phone number.
One ring...two...three...a click. More static.
"Ed?" she said into the phone, her voice almost drowned out by the staticy clicking in the background. "Ed? Come on, damn it! Pick up the ----"
The line went dead again, and the light above her shut off.
Damn storm. It's freaking me out, she though with an irritated sigh.
Walking into the kitchen, she realized there was a blackout. She grabbed the torch and stumbled to the back door. The darkness had set in quickly due to the storm, even though it was only 3:30.
Walking out into the ice-cold rain, the wind whipped her body like a huge fan. She walked slowly around the house, where she saw the grey electrical box. She had to turn on the backup power.
She reached out for the switches, her hand pale with the cold.
Suddenly she felt hands around her throat. She cried out in shock but all that come was a gurgling noise. The pressure was unbelievable; even with her black belt in tae-kwon-do she couldn't find a way to pry off her attacker.
"It was simple, Carla," said the voice behind her, and Carla recognized it as the man from the phone call a minute ago. "You knew I wasn't joking. We had a deal. Well now you're gunna pay."
She gasped for air now, the world spinning beneath her feet. Stop. Stop! What did I do?
But she didn't make a sound and she hit the cold wet earth.
She lay on the ground, her long blonde hair wet, her brown eyes open in shock.
Detective Robert Goren stood above her, noting the peculiar way that Carla Stanton had fallen.
Her head was to one side, her arms stretched out and her left leg curled over her right.
Almost like she's dancing, thought Bobby.
"Carla Stanton, forty five years old." A policewoman said from behind him. "Husband is Ed Stanton, and a twenty one year-old son, Charlie."
Bobby cocked his head. "Eames? Take a look at this."
His blonde partner appeared by his side, looking quizzically at the body.
"Look at the wounds on her body," Bobby continued. "She was strangled -" he indicated the asphyxiation marks on the throat. "- then she was mutilated."
"But the perp left her face alone." Eames pointed out. "He didn't know her?"
Bobby bent down close to the body. There were six slashes across her stomach, more on her legs and arms. She was covered with blood, but the marks left by the killer's hands as he strangled her were clearly visible.
He rolled the girl onto her side, looking at her back. He stared with shock at the marks embedded in her flesh.
"Here's what I think happened," said Eames. "There was a blackout, so she came outside to flick on the solar power. The killer surprised her from behind, grabbing her throat and strangling her until she passed out."
Bobby wasn't listening. He was still staring at the woman's back. The word.
So the perp knew Carla, but he performed the killing like a sex-driven sadist.
"Any witnesses?" He asked.
"None. She was home alone. He husband went to Washington for business and her son lives in Westchester."
"Let me guess, the neighbours didn't see a thing." It was amazing the amnesia induced by flashing a gold shield at someone.
Bobby's phone chirped in his pocket, bringing him back from his thoughts.
"Goren."
"It's Deakins. There's been another murder on East 35th. Get over there and check it out."
TBC. What is written on the victims back? Who is the next one? Who made the phone call?