Chapter Four

privateradios

Her apartment was dark and silent as Pratt gracefully moved about. Usually he would have bumped his leg into Aiden's furniture in the darkness of her place but luckily for Pratt, he had walked this familiar path many times before. He had snuck into her apartment while Aiden was out at her new job. He had done it enough times to put together a plan of attack and go through it successfully.

The one new thing to his advantage though, was that that he wasn't expecting Aiden to come home drunk fallen into a deep sleep, one that made her completely unaware of his presence.

Pratt moved with the walls as he made his way into her bedroom. There she laid, her windows open to reveal the moonlight illuminating her face. Pratt watched her with interest, hands itching to attack but instead, her turned away. Not now. Another time. Today he wasn't going to do his 'normal' attacks. No, Aiden had something better.

And so he moved into her bathroom that was adjacent to her bedroom. He slowly closed the door behind him and turned on the flashlight he brought with him. Pratt reached out with his free hand and unlocked her medicine cabinet, pulling open to reveal the numerous medicine bottles that greeted him. He shuffled through the bottles before finally finding what he was looking for.

His gloved fingers wrapped themselves around her Tylenol before opening it. Afterwards, Pratt reached for the bottle of poison he brought with him and added a couple of drops in the medicine, making sure it was complete with precision. It would be enough to complete the mission.

Pratt then continued by putting the cap back on the Tylenol before placing it back in the cabinet. As he was just about to close the medicine doors, he noticed the bottle of Advil; probably Aiden's first preference for curing her hangover and with successful intentions for her to take the Tylenol instead, Pratt reached over and grabbed the bottle of Advil, stuffing it into his coat pocket.

When completed with his tasks, Pratt peeked into Aiden's bedroom, smiling in relief to see that she was still asleep. He moved quickly and quietly, retracing his steps through out the poor lit apartment before finally reaching her front door and slipped out, closing it gently behind him.

Xxxx

D.J Pratt was on a role. First he had accomplished his goal with the poison in Aiden's medicine and now he was finally onto the homicide detective that kept hinting towards the CSI about his involvement.

There was no way Pratt was going to let the son of the Legendary Donald Flack Sr. figure out what he had been working on for so long. No way was Pratt going to easily let him succeed.

Pratt knew that what he was about to do would be something that could completely through off the CSIs and detectives because Pratt never went after men. No, Pratt went after women. Therefore, his attacks and killing of the homicide detective would be a mystery for a long time. A nice period of time to finish off Aiden and quickly get out of the city without being caught.

And so Pratt waited, his body leaned up against the brick wall as he eyed the detective's apartment, waiting for his prey to emerge. What he was about to do was something that he had come up with a couple days ago and he wasn't entirely sure if it was going to work but then again, there was nothing wrong with giving it a shot.

He glanced down at his watch before looking up, a small smirk twisting at his lips when the dark haired detective stepped out from the apartment complex, throwing his suit jacket around his shoulders.

Pratt peeled himself off from the wall and moved around the corner and into the alleyway. It was the shortcut that Pratt had seen Flack take many times before. Pratt quickly glanced over his shoulder and was pleased to find that there was no one in the alley as well. Meant easy target, easy access.

And just on time, Flack had turned the corner into the alley, his hands placed in his pockets as he walked, completely unaware of Pratt who had been currently hiding behind a couple of boxes that had been stacked upon one another.

The detective was whistling a tune that Pratt was sure he had never heard of. It was upbeat and fast, and Pratt smirked widened at the irony that was about to occur.

Pratt moved silently out from behind the boxes before walking up behind Flack. If Pratt had wasted one more minute, he would have been sure that the detective would have noticed his presence but Pratt was quick and grabbed the metal pipe he was holding and whacked it across the back of the detective's head.

The detective fell to his knees at the sudden impact and Pratt noticed that his immediate reaction was that of reaching under his suit jacket to pull out his guy but yet again, Pratt was quicker. He brought down the metal pipe again and it hit Flack hard in the back, causing him to slip his fingers from his gun and collapse to the ground.

And as the detective tried to regain his strength and turn around to see his attacker, Pratt had dropped the metal pipe and pulled out a Swiss army knife, one that his grandfather had given him years ago. "You know, detective, no one said knowing everythin' was a great idea. Think ya may wanna reconsider getting' in others' business next time." Pratt said as he kicked Flack hard in the side, hard enough to crack some of his ribs.

Flack tried to roll over to defend and attack but Pratt had quickly dropped down on top of him and plunged the sharp knife into Flack's back. The detective screamed at the pain and Pratt couldn't help but notice all the blood that was seeping out of Flack's wounds. The blood from his head wound and the knife was all over the place along with being on Pratt's clothes. The evidence was becoming too messy and more mistakes were easily being made.

In hopes that the detective would loose enough blood, Pratt quickly stood up and looked down at what he had done.

Flack wasn't moving.

Mission complete.

TBC.