Chapter Thirteen

Mallory

After reining in my emotions, I was able to gather my wits and get down to cleaning the soon-to-be library. I make a mental note to get black out curtains in here so peepy Joe can ’ t leer at me while I ’ m lost in a dirty book, and maybe a dope reading chair. New lighting to prevent eye strain is a must as well. I dust, vacuum and wash the floors, and then wash the walls. Hesitating momentarily, I debate whether to open the window. Is he out there today? What if he climbs in the window? It ’ s all very doubtful, but after last night, I’m at war with myself. Ghost makes me feel things I’ve never felt before: desire, protected, admired, and strong. I’m torn between what I feel and what is morally right. My eyes inspect the property and there is no sign of him. Before I freak myself out too much, I open the window. The warm spring air flows in and starts to dry everything up, chasing away the stale air that ’ s been lingering in here for far too long.

I head to the kitchen to make a coffee and decide to run downstairs to grab the paint and supplies I have. It ’ s a race, me against the one cup coffee machine. As soon as I hit the button for the large mug selection, I take off, dashing around the corner and thumping down the stairs. I run to the utility room to grab my paint roller and brushes before the last drip of coffee drops in my mug. Crap. The laundry. The appliances win today, but tomorrow they won ’ t have Mr. Washing Machine to delay me.

My mind is a seriously wild place sometimes. I start chucking all my things into the dryer, my eyes lingering on my now clean panties. If he did jerk off all over them, how did he get in? Did he pick the lock? Are one of the upstairs windows unlocked? I make a mental note to double check the doors and windows, then turn the dryer on. I head back upstairs, painting necessities in hand. I deposit them in the barren room, prep my coffee, and take a break on the couch.

∞∞∞

It ’ s just after 4 pm by the time I ’ m done screen shopping. My mug, long since empty, sits abandoned on the side table to my right. I ’ ve added some items for the library to my online shopping wish list: more books, another two bookshelves, a rug, some spooky decor, and a lamp. I ’ d like to go do some thrift shopping and get myself a vintage looking chair. I sigh. Eventually, just one thing at a time, Mallory. We don ’ t know how long this good feeling will last and we don ’ t want to get ahead of ourselves. I ’ ve decided that painting can wait until tomorrow. I'll finish the prep work and taping tonight, but a well deserved bubble bath is calling my name. Selecting an upbeat playlist, I rise from the couch, stretch and head back to the soon-to-be book room. "Fallin’" by Why Don’t We starts pumping through the speakers and I feel myself getting swept up in the beat. Dancing around my room, in my house, has me feeling free for the first time since I was a child. I’d sneak out to play on the swing in the neighbours yard in the dead of night. It was the only taste of freedom I ever got to experience.

Graves

It's next to impossible to pry myself away from her but I had to leave. Work really gets in the way sometimes. I ’ ll be back before too long though, it is supposed to be my day off. I’ve been called in, but I won’t be staying. There’s been another murder. That’s all I was told. I’m full on shitting my pants that my activities from last night have been unearthed. If Mallory is going to want to be with me in the future, all of me, then I am going to have to show her I can reel in my crazy. But for how long? It ’ s a caged beast, always clawing to get out. I can ’ t even say I hate that part of myself, it feels too good to give into the darkness. I will be back as soon as I can. The desire to see what occupied so much of her time today is eating away at me. I wonder what she's doing now… Is she thinking of me? The man in uniform or the man with no identity? I saw her admiring both my personas. What will she do when I finally get my hands on her?

This really used to be the worst town to be a police officer in. Aside from the body that turned up at the old sawmill about two months ago, there ’ s been nothing but bored teens causing trouble, local drunks trying to get home after a night at the pub, and the speedsters you catch on the highway. It’s what has allowed me to watch and follow Mallory so frequently, protect her so fiercely.

Climbing into the driver’s seat of my blacked-out, lifted Dodge Ram, I pull out the radio and call into the station.

“Officer Graves checking in, I’ll get to the station in about thirty minutes.” I shift the truck into reverse and then Carla's voice comes across the radio, which is fucking odd since she shouldn’t be answering a radio.

“Officer Graves, are you there?” she asks tentatively. I shift the truck back into park and reply.

“Yes, I’m on my way to the station now, Carla.” I’m so nervous, my ass is fucking sweating.

“Well, turn yourself around, Graves. You’re needed up at the mill.” Oh thank God, no one’s discovered my double homicide.

“Okay Carla, thanks. Hey, why are you answering the captain's radio?” I inquire nervously.

“The captain flew out of here in such a rush he didn’t even see the radio fall off his belt. I radioed his car but he said he wasn’t wastin’ time coming back for it,” she huffs out, clearly exasperated.

“Okay Carla, thank you.” It’s a relief to know nothing bad happened to my uncle. I reverse out of my hiding spot and head out in the direction of the Henderson Mill.

∞∞∞

Pulling up to the scene, it looks like the captain has called in every available officer from our station and maybe even the surrounding towns. There’s a few faces I don’t recognize walking the grounds. The mill is slightly run down. While still being functional for the purpose of tourism, it’s obvious it’s neglected, despite the town council’s best efforts. The grass is gone from the immediate area, only reappearing at the tree line to the woods. Nothing grows here anymore. It’s as though the evil spread out around the mill in some sort of supernatural radius...killing everything in its path.

Relief and dread war within me. Was there someone here last night while I was busy in the woods? I wasn’t too far away from the mill, could they hear what was happening? Fuck. I pull on my Crystal Creek Police Station ball cap and head out to look for my uncle.

I quickly walk the perimeter, there’s nothing amiss on the outside of the mill. I’m about to head inside when a hand lands on my shoulder. The grasp is a little too tight and I have to suppress the urge to throttle them for touching me.

“This area is currently closed to civilians, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises immediately.” The voice is gruff, clearly trying to sound intimidating. It’s not working. I turn, suddenly face to face with fucking Santa Claus. My anger immediately dissipates and I struggle to refrain from laughing. These small town police stations and their inability to bring in new, young recruits are forcing the men well past retirement to stay on. It’s quite sad when you think about it. This grandpa should be home in a recliner, not standing watch at a murder scene. There’s just not enough excitement in small towns to lure in the young guns.

“I’m with the town police department. Call for the captain, he will confirm. Sorry for my lack of formal uniform today, I was told to come immediately,” I reply, and pull my badge from my pocket to show him. He waves me through and apologizes for the mix up. His belly really does shake like a bowl full of jelly.

Inside I find Captain Graves, Johnson, and two other members of our squad, Myers and Smith. They are looking a little green around the gills and I’m positive Smith is going to vomit all over our crime scene. The lingering smell of cedar mixes with the unmistakable odour of death, creating a wholly new smell that’s borderline offensive. It’s widely known that once you experience death's gag-worthy aroma, you will never forget it. Truer words have never been spoken.

“Smith and Myers, get the hell out of here before you compromise our scene.” I can see the sweat on Smith’s brow as he passes me and the second the door closes behind him, I hear him losing his breakfast.

“You better have caught that in your fucking hat, Smith,” I bellow, laughing under my breath. Myers nods as he passes, he’s handling his shit better but he is a sympathetic puker. I know damn well they will be locked in a puke-off if Myers sees the mess Smith made.

“Hey, Myers...” He turns back to me. “Take the back way out and start doing evidence tagging on the south side working clockwise around the building.”

“Yes, sir,” he responds, and heads towards the exit at the other end of the mill.

“AND STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM SMITH!” I holler, hoping he can still hear me.

The scene I’m met with is eerily similar to the one from a few months ago. The victim is female, dark hair this time, not blonde. She’s probably mid to late twenties in age, and she’s been hung naked from the rafters of the mill. I suspect when we get her down we will find that the hanging is just a ruse to divert us towards suicide as manner of death. When in reality she will have been asphyxiated up close and personal. Whoever the perpetrator is, he is escalating. There are small cut marks all over her body, she was undoubtedly tortured before he ended her life. This always happens when they try to capture the feeling of their first kill. If we don’t catch him soon he’s going to start dismembering bodies and…experimenting. He’s already feeling bold, returning to the place of his first murder.

Sidling up beside my uncle, I observe that Johnson seems agitated. He’s lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet and shifting his weight from side to side. He’s flushed, and fidgety. It’s immediately annoying. The captain on the other hand looks like he has aged ten years since I saw him yesterday. He takes it personally that this happened in his town. In the place filled with so many happy memories of him and my aunt. This person is tearing my uncle apart in so many ways simultaneously. I despise it. We stand there bouncing theories off each other, waiting for the coroner to come and collect the body. Now, I’ve never had an in-depth conversation with Johnson before but I’m starting to think he may be the most clueless cop on the planet. I’d usually appreciate his ability to come up with new theories but only if the evidence supports it. His theory that this killer is a woman is absolutely ludicrous. Not that a woman couldn’t do this but the genital mutilation alone points us towards a male un-sub.

Is he trying to steer me in the wrong direction on purpose? It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. He must want to solve the case all by himself and be the hero. He’s been lusting after the captain position for months but I’m already a sure-in for that position. Perks of being the captain’s family and the only one he trusts to love this town as much as him.

The coroner finally shows up and removes the body while I’m tagging evidence for collection. I pause what I’m doing in order to inspect the body before it leaves the scene. Just as I suspected…multiple bruises and abrasions from ligature strangulation. Whoever murdered this woman, and the last, is doing it slowly. Garrotting them as both a form of torture and wielding power over the victim. I bet he gets off on the whole sick process. The coroner's assistant tells me they will have the preliminary report done by the end of the day and ensure I will have it in my inbox by tomorrow morning. With that, my uncle dismisses me, telling me to enjoy my time off because when I’m back I’ll be diving head first into this case. I need to catch this motherfucker before he kills again and levels up to serial killer status. I’ll never be able to see my little siren then, I’d be inundated with work. Thinking of her brings a smile to my face, I can’t wait to see what she’s been up to while I’ve been gone.