Two weeks go by. Two overwhelming, ache-filled ones. Saying goodbye to Damon has shaken the very foundation of her being. She hates that she hurt him, and her very soul longs to be in his arms again. To his credit, he didn't ask her to turn, but even if he had, she doesn't regret not wanting to be a vampire.
Why would anyone willingly choose that life?
Never would she have thought someone she really hasn't known very long could have such a profound and lasting impact on her life, nor did she ever expect the pain to last this long or bore this deep.
Elena deludes herself into thinking these feelings will begin to loosen their hold as the days pass- instead they sit in the pit of her stomach like a clenched, iron fist. Knowing she bears the bulk of responsibility for feeling this way, she tries -mostly unsuccessfully- to push him out of her thoughts - even if it's for only a few minutes at a time.
However, despite how she feels on the inside, she refuses to allow herself to wallow in a puddle of self-pity. Elena gives herself one day to commiserate and graze on junk food. When the sun comes up in the morning, she gets herself out of bed, showers, and goes to work. She loves what she does, and most importantly, there's a killer to be caught. Unfortunately, she has nothing new on the fiend since they found the last body; nevertheless, she turns on her equipment and slips her earphones on.
"...Drug deals became commonplace and there were homicides and lesser crimes along the Pacific Highway. No one could have foreseen that the deadliest killer of all would choose a ten-mile stretch of this roadway as his personal hunting ground.
He was like a wolf watching his quarry from the woods, almost invisible as he crouched where the leaves turned to faint brown and gray, virtually hidden by the protective camouflage of the foliage. No one really saw him, and if anyone did, they wouldn't remember him. More than any other serial killer in the annals of crime, he could quite literally hide in plain sight.
Disasters often begin silently with an almost imperceptible shift in the way things are expected to be. Rockslides start with a pebble or two plinking down a mountain and avalanches with the first tiny jar beneath pristine snowbanks. A small hole in a dike. A crack snaking along the hull of a ship. Rocky plates far beneath the ground shift, and earthquakes wreak havoc. By the time human beings find themselves in the path of destruction, it is all too often too late to save them.
Elena goes on to detail the lives of the victims, how their families miss them, and the last time they were seen. It's an emotionally exhausting session, so she turns off her equipment and steps out of her office for an hour or so before returning to finish the episode.
Gary Leon Ridgway was born on February 18, 1949, in Salt Lake City, Utah. Raised near Seattle's Pacific Highway, a deprived neighborhood near SeaTac airport, Ridgway was a poor student and was sent to Vietnam after high school. When he returned, he got a job painting trucks, which he kept for 30 years. Though he married three times and was fanatical about religion, Ridgway was a frequent customer of prostitutes.
Ridgway's slayings began in 1982, when young runaways and prostitutes began disappearing from state Route 99 in South King County, Washington. He brought many of them to his home and strangled them, then left them in woodsy, remote sites. The first few bodies turned up along the now-notorious Green River.
Dubbed the Green River Killer, Ridgway eluded the law until 2001, when King County sheriff Dave Reichert, the first officer assigned to the case in 1982, called a meeting to re-examine evidence using newly developed DNA-testing technology. The analysis produced a match between evidence from the victims and Ridgway, and he was charged with four counts of aggravated murder in December 2001. Ridgway eventually pled guilty to 49 counts of aggravated first-degree murder.
Facing the prospect of execution, Ridgway made a deal with investigators to reveal where he'd hidden the bodies of several of the young women who'd never been found while also agreeing to plead guilty to any future cases where his confession could be substantiated by evidence. He was sentenced to life in prison in December 2003, having committed more murders than any serial killer in U.S. history. An additional body was found in 2011, with Ridgway receiving another life sentence. Ridgway told investigators he killed as many as 75-80 women along Route 99.
"I'm Elena Gilbert, and this is 'Someone Knows Something'...
Elena has worked in the crime world for a while and even taken criminal justice classes herself. For some reason, sociopaths and murderers intrigue her. She wants to know what makes them tick, although she's never gotten the opportunity to interview one. Ted Bundy was executed before she was born, but Gary Ridgway is in the State prison in Walla Walla, Washington. Maybe someday she could travel up there to speak with him? Her pipedream, however, is to someday write a book. Perhaps the Vegas killer could be its subject?
It's early yet when she finishes the recording, and now the Vegas killer is back in the forefront of her mind, so she hops into her car and drives to the police station, hoping Rebekah will know something about the girl found in the alley.
Walking inside the police station, she waves as she passes Tessa at the desk and stops at the threshold of Elijah's office. "Hey," she announces her presence, smiling when he looks up.
"Hi, Elena, I don't have time to chat today," he tells her, barely looking up from the computer screen.
"I just stopped to see if there's a positive ID on the girl yet?" she asks, leaning against the doorframe.
"Megan King," he raises his eyes again. "Sit down; I'll give you five minutes," he says firmly, holding up his hand and spreading his fingers out.
"What can you tell me?"
"Megan had a hard life. Her father told me that she started getting birth control pills from Planned Parenthood when she was around eleven years old. She ran away from home many times. He said they worried about her constantly, spent many hours and days looking for her. He said the last time they saw her she came home with a friend, but her parents refused to let that person stay, so Megan stole money from her mom's purse and disappeared.
She was living with her boyfriend in one of those seedy motels on Doolittle Street. According to the boyfriend, the night she disappeared she was wearing dark shorts and a tee shirt with glittering gold or silver threads, and her hair was newly dyed black. She told him that she'd be home in a little while, then walked away into the night and never came back."
"How old was she?" Elena asks, grabbing a tissue from Elijah's desktop.
"18, and that's five minutes. Goodbye, Elena," he sing-songs, but she's already stepping over the threshold.
"Bye," she calls over her shoulder and steps into the stairwell to talk to Rebekah.
Elena runs into Rebekah when she steps out of the stairwell and into the basement housing the medical examiners' offices, forensics, and the morgue.
"What's your hurry?" Rebekah asks, glowering at her.
"I talked to Elijah for a couple of minutes. I thought I'd pick your brain before I leave...was Megan King a victim of the vampire killer too?"
"Vampire?" Rebekah arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her.
"I dubbed him that." Elena shrugs. "The women have all been drained of blood..."
"I suppose it fits," she agrees and walks into her office to file an autopsy report. "I'm really busy today too, Elena."
"If you'll answer my question, I'll be on my way."
"I don't know. She lost a lot of blood, so unless she died elsewhere and her body was dumped, or if the killer was interrupted before he drained her completely, then yes, it's possible she could very well be another mark on his bedpost."
"Interesting..." Elena ponders and stares into nothingness, considering what she's been told.
"Now, if that's all, I have to fill this out, and I have another autopsy to do."
"I'm on my way," Elena calls over her shoulder as she leaves.
Numb.
That is how Damon feels right now, and it has nothing to do with the absence of emotion but rather with the excess of it. He is feeling so much- as if the nerve endings in his body have simply shut down.
If only his brain would do the same, Damon thinks bitterly. But no, his mind is operating at supersonic speed, exploring every single dimension of the void he'd been plunged into since he walked out of Elena's house.
Frustrated, he throws back what's left of his drink, grabs his car from the valet, and begins to drive.
Damon's lying on the road, the arid and sunburnt, barren land of the Mohave, an eternal desert stretching for miles and miles. His eyes stare straight above. The moon and the stars give motion and beauty to the night sky, and the desert comes to life in the darkness. It is here that the drama of predator and prey is played out...
The purr of a car engine and the abrupt squeal of brakes alert him to her presence. He lays motionless. A car door opens. There's the soft pad of footsteps.
"Sir, are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm lost," Damon replies, meeting her eyes as she stares above him.
"And you're lying in the middle of the road?" she asks.
"Not that kind of lost." Damon sits ups. "Metaphorically, existentially."
"Do you need help?"
"Well, yes, I do. Can you help me?" Damon takes a flask from his pocket and swallows a mouthful of bourbon.
"You're drunk!"
"No. Well, yes, a little maybe."
She shakes her and starts to walk to her car.
"No! Please don't leave. I really do need help." Damon rushes over to her. "Don't move," he adds, his pupils widening ever so slightly.
"I...I don't want any tr.-trouble," she stammers, as fear fills her eyes.
"Neither do I, but all I got is trouble."
"Why can't I move?"
Damon takes another drink from his flask and stuffs it in his pocket. He lays his hands on her shoulders. "What's your name?"
"Jessica."
"Hi, Jessica. I have a problem. I'm in love with a girl. But she doesn't want me because of what I am. I can't be what other people want me to be. This is who I am, Jessica."
"Are you gonna hurt me?" Jessica asks, her eyes darting around.
"I'm not sure because you are my existential crisis. Do I kill you, or do I not kill you?"
"Please don't," she pleads with him as tears fill her eyes.
"But I have to, Jessica, because there is only so much hurt a man can take."
"Pl-pl-please don't kill me," she splutters, her body shaking.
Damon sighs and looks away for a few seconds. Meeting her eyes again, his jaw nearly drops when the reality of Jessica's face morphs into the illusion of Elena's.
Shaking himself out of it, Damon releases her. "Go! Go now!"
Jessica runs to her car. Damon watches the road till her taillights are no longer visible in the darkness.
"So do you want to talk about it?" Caroline questions, pouring Elena a glass of iced tea.
"I'm fine, Caroline, really," Elena deflects while playing with her straw.
"You keep telling yourself that. I'm not blind. I can see that you're hurting. Sometimes I know you better than you know yourself and vice versa."
"I ended things between me and Damon. As hard as I try not to think about him...Damon just...sort of snuck up on me. He got under my skin, and no matter what I do, I just can't shake him." Elena sighs, cradling her glass.
"Once you fall in love with someone, I don't think you can ever shake them."
"I think you're right. I do love him, but there's so much you don't know about him, Caroline..."
"Tell me. If you love him, why are you running away from it?" the blonde asks and lays her hand on Elena's forearm.
Elena shakes her head and feels tears begin to prick at her eyes. "I want a normal life, children, pets, and the happily ever after..."
"Why can't you have that with Damon?"
"You're going to think I took the giant leap over the cuckoo's nest if I tell you," Elena suggests, dropping her chin to her chest.
"I don't understand."
"Damon's a vampire, Caroline. An undead, living," she air quotes the words, "breathing vampire."
"Oh, come on! You can do better than that..." Caroline scoffs.
"It's the truth; I swear!" Elena says forcefully.
"How did he convince you of that? Wear a grill with fangs?" Caroline asks, shaking her head.
"No, he's a real vampire. I didn't believe him either at first. I wouldn't lie about something this important, Care."
"Okay, what did he do to make you believe he's a vampire?"
"Remember I told you I got mugged? Damon gave me some of his blood to heal me."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, it's the truth. That's not all; I let him drink my blood."
"You let him drink your blood?" Caroline gasps, her eyes practically popping out of her head.
"I know how it sounds, but let me tell you, it was the best sex I ever had," Elena admits, feeling her cheeks heat up.
"Does he have a friend?" Caroline retorts and empties her glass of iced tea.
"Believe it or not, he and Ric know each other. They're friends."
"Wow! It's so hard to believe...Is Ric a vampire?" Caroline blurts out, her eyes widening.
"No! No, he's not." Elena shakes her head to emphasize the point. "I don't really know anything about their history, but somehow they became friends, a human and a vampire. It's nuts."
"I was scared for a moment there. Wow!"
"Tell me about it." Elena picks up the pitcher and refills their glasses.
"I'm going to put that aside for a moment," Caroline starts and takes her hand. "I don't know if Damon is your Mr. Right or not, Elena; that's for you to figure out, but if you really care about him, love will find a way."
"I told him I didn't want to be a vampire, and to his credit, he told me he'd never ask me to change."
"Obviously I don't know him, but from what you have told me, he seems pretty special."
"He is, Caroline..." Elena shoots her a look. "There's just so much minutiae to wade through."
"Guys like him don't come around every day, so you have to ask yourself if you'll regret letting him slip away?"
As her words sink in, Elena can't help but feel hope towards the Damon situation. "When did you become so insightful?"
Her blue eyes twinkle. "I've always been that way." Caroline smiles for a moment before her face stills. "Now what are you going to do about him?"
Elena sucks her lower lip between her teeth. She's sure about not wanting to be a vampire, but she also knows that she doesn't want to let Damon go either. Maybe they can find a balance somehow? "I'm not sure, Caroline; I guess the first thing would be for us to really talk, that is if I can find him," Elena answers uneasily.
"It's natural to be nervous; it's a really big decision."
"You're right, and the last thing I want is to hurt him all over again. I swear that wasn't my intention...I just didn't want to lie to him. I had deluded myself into thinking he's as human as I am... I witnessed him using vampire mind control on Elijah, and it was like getting punched in the chest."
"Mind control?" Caroline asks, leaning forward in her seat.
"It's something vampires can do. It's called compulsion. He's assured me that he's never done that to me."
"How can you be sure?"
"I trust him," Elena admits, and squeezes a lemon rind into her tea.
"That's important, but holy wow!" Caroline gasps, her eyes suddenly growing wide. "The women, they've all had their blood drained. Could a vampire be the killer?"
"That's what Damon thinks."
"Oh my God...how will they stop him?"
"I don't know." Elena blows out a puff of air.
"As much as I'd like to continue this, I really have to run," Caroline declares and moves behind Elena. She slides her arms tightly around her best friend before releasing her, uttering "Call me," over her shoulder as her heels click on the tile floor of the restaurant on her way out.
Elena watches 'til she's gone. She takes another swallow of her ice tea, and after setting the glass down, she drops her face into her hands as she considers what to do about Damon.
While driving towards Treasure Island, another 420 comes over Elena's scanner. She makes the first U-turn she can, inputs the address into her GPS, and arrives at the California Casino within half an hour.
As yellow crime scene tapes are tied, the police presence increases, and many onlookers begin to gather along the street. Elena notices the forensic technician photographing the scene. She hears the squeal of tires just before Elijah ducks under the tape and approaches the body.
"Send someone inside to see if there's any footage," Elijah says to one of the uniformed officers, pointing at the surveillance camera.
Elena waves at him, but he just shakes his head. He's got too much to unpack here and apparently can't be bothered. She observes the scene for a while, scanning the crowd to see if anyone resembling the man in the surveillance photo appears, although she doubts she'll recognize anyone due to the poor quality of the photo.
Checking her watch, Elena blows out a frustrated puff of air. She's already been waiting an hour. He hasn't even spared her a second glance! After another fifteen minutes pass, she decides to leave. Hopefully, she can catch him tomorrow at the station. Sighing, Elena makes her way through the crowd and heads back to her car.
The parking garage is unusually dark, and she's a little alarmed when she passes the parking attendant booth and doesn't see the person who was manning it when she arrived. By the time she reaches her car, parked all by itself, the feeling of dread has grown even more.
She looks around, panicked, and that's the exact moment she sees the shadow of a man standing not ten feet from her...
Her first instinct is to get in her car and speed out of there. Just as she opens the door, it slams shut, someone's hand keeping it closed. Her heart is racing so quickly she thinks she may pass out. Elena feels a breath on her neck and it makes her nauseous.
"Wh...wh...what do you want?" she stammers, stark terror stealing her words.
"I'm going to use you to make him suffer," a male voice taunts before wrapping his fingers around her neck, cutting off her airway.
He laughs maniacally as she claws frantically at his hands...
Damon steps out of the elevator and looks around. Several bars border the casino floor. "That one," he says under his breath and strolls inside. He straddles one of the stools and signals the bartender.
"Bourbon, your best," he grins and lays some bills on the bar top.
"Our best is Pappy Van Winkle's 23-Year-Old Family Reserve; it runs for five grand a bottle."
"I don't care." Damon looks into his eyes. "Just pour."
"I'll just pour," the man echoes, reaching for the prized bourbon. He fills a tumbler and slides it over to Damon.
He savors the early aromas of caramel and cream with soft notes of oak, nuts, and leather, as well as the oaky finish when he sets the glass down. He looks around the bar a little, not really surprised that it isn't packed; it's early in the day. His eyes eventually land on the TV. He watches for a moment and is about to turn away when a special bulletin from the Las Vegas Police Department comes across the screen with Detective Mikaelson stepping up the microphone.
"I have two things to say, then I'll answer a few of your questions," he starts. "First of all, there was another murder last evening at the California Casino, same MO. The victim has been identified as Jules Blake of Tallahassee, Florida.
Also, many of you know Elena Gilbert, a local true-crime podcaster at one of the Las Vegas newspapers. She went missing last evening and was last seen near the Blake crime scene. Her car was found at a nearby parking garage with the door open, her purse and keys laying on the ground. A man was found murdered not far from her vehicle, and aside from his gender, the evidence matches up with the other recent murder victims."
Damon's listening with rapt attention, an invisible hand squeezing his heart.
"We have obtained images from both the hotel and the parking garage surveillance tapes. If anyone recognizes this man and has any information, please call the LVMPD. If anyone sees this man, please call. If you see him, however, don't approach or try to apprehend him; he's considered armed and very dangerous," Elijah cautions. Two pictures of the same man appear side by side on the television screen.
Damon's eyes nearly pop out of his head when the camera zooms in on the picture. "It can't be! There's no fucking way!"
The whole world could be crumbling around him… he doesn't even shake. Damon gawks at the TV unblinkingly, not believing whose eyes are staring back at him in the photo.
Stefan...
Stefan- many of you were right. I wanted it to appear that he was dead. No one guessed who done it in "Welcome to the Jungle"- or "Shatter Me" or at least no one mentioned the killer in reviews before the reveal. I was hoping for that in this story.
You're all amazing. Thank you for the support.
Thanks to Morgan and to Eva. Morgan recently updated her "Quarantine Olympics".
LVMPD- Las Vegas Metro Police Dept.
If any of you are interested, 'The Capture of the Green River Killer' was originally broadcast as a TV miniseries. It is available on youtube.
Chapter title: 'Vengeance Is Mine' by Alice Cooper.
Have a wonderful day and thank you all again.