This is it, the second and final part of "A Stranger at the Door". Feel free to tell me what you think!
After this I will be posting a (much shorter) story once a week, or every other week, depending, so be sure to tune in on Sundays to check that out.
Again, without further ado, enjoy!
After this I will be posting a (much shorter) story once a week, or every other week, depending, so be sure to tune in on Sundays to check that out.
Again, without further ado, enjoy!
Noon had come to pass by the time I woke up again. To my pleasant surprise, the nightmares had been minimal. I felt better rested than I had in ages. For a moment I just lay there, basking in the aftermath of a good night's sleep. Eventually I stood and got ready for however I would spend the day. There was the case to deal with, but I wasn't quite sure what to do next. It wasn't like I had any experience in the field, maybe I could ask Shane...
With that in mind, I finished getting ready and made my way up the stairs, into the living room. There I found Shane sitting in the chair, utterly unmoving. I could have sworn he was sleeping – my mind had immediately jumped to dead, but he was clearly breathing.
“Alexis,” he spoke suddenly, “Good afternoon.”
I jumped in surprise. “Mornin'”
“There's a pot of coffee up in the kitchen. You can have as much as you like.”
“A man after my own heart.” I joked, and tacked on to the end a genuine, “Thanks.”
“There are witness reports on the counter.” he called out after me, as I made my way into the kitchen.
I poured myself a mug of coffee and returned to the living room, flipping through the reports. I sat down on the couch and continued reading.
Apparently, one of the neighbors had heard the gunshot, seen someone running away from the scene, and called the police. When asked to describe the possible murderer, all any of the witnesses could say was that he – they thought the figure had been a man – was tall, with long hair, wearing fairly normal clothes – jeans and a shirt that they had been too far away to see clearly. They had neither recognized him, nor seen him leave, as they had immediately retreated into their house and called the police.
Other neighbors had heard the loud noise, but had had no idea what it was, and had ignored it accordingly. The police had put out a flier asking if anyone in the neighborhood had seen anyone who didn't belong on the streets that night, but no one had come forwards yet. It didn't seem too promising.
“I checked the neighborhood list-serve, no one saw anything.” Shane offered as I finished reading.
I nodded. “Wait! How?”
“I have a friend who lives in the area.” he said with a shrug, “What'd you think?”
“About what?”
“The reports, the case, anything that's come to your attention, really.”
“Hmm...” I thought for a moment, wracking my mind for anything that could possibly be illuminating. Finally I spoke, “Well, it's more a question than anything, but what's next? Maybe we could narrow down the next victim, or something...”
I trailed off as it hit me. There was one way I could find out for certain who the next victim would be. If I had another flash, that would do the trick. But I didn't want to have another flash, I didn't want to see another person die. But if I could save a life because of it, wouldn't it be more than worth it? I also didn't have the slightest idea as to how to induce a flash, and who would believe me if I managed to? They'd think me insane at best and a murderer at worst. Still, there had to be some way, something I could do!
Nothing came to mind.
Shane watched quizzically as the gears whirred in my head.
Finally, I spoke once more, “Well, there is a pattern...”
“Good!” Shane exclaimed, “What is it?”
I hesitated, “Well, they're all artists, right?”
“And?”
“Well... They– they... I don't know... Sorry.” I laughed awkwardly.
“Don't worry about it. You're doing fine, especially for a beginner.”
“Wha-? Really?”
He nodded, “You also have only seen one of the victims and not the others.” With that he shoved himself from the comfortable chair and went over to the file cabinet. There he fished out a few folders and brought them back to me.
I read through each and everyone with painstaking attention, trying to pull out some hidden meaning or significance. I searched for some clue as to the perpetrator of such a horrendous crime, and who their next victim might be.
The first had apparently been a young woman, a painter, featured in an article in the Post, not a month before. A rising actor had followed shortly after. He had performed at a well-known theater in the area. And then there had been the musician. All had been killed the same way, answering the door, with a single bullet through the head and a penny at their feet.
Just as I had finished looking through the second folder, Shane spoke again, “We suspect that he's killed more before these guys, but he hasn't been caught, and the crimes haven't been connected yet, so there's no proof, and there doesn't seem to be anything else to go on.”
I nodded. It seemed that no one had seen the culprit until the musician's – Johnathan Youth's – death, and even then the description they had given seemed vague to the point of uselessness. She had a feeling the killer knew exactly what he was doing.
“There's not enough of a pattern to figure out the next victim yet, but I believe I have a few leads worth investigating...” Shane said, “Don't wait up.” he joked as he put on his jacket and walked out the door.
And so he left me alone with my thoughts. Before I could get my mind back on track, a low rumble in my stomach alerted me to an acute hunger. I was halfway to the fridge when my senses returned to me. Just because Shane was a very accommodating landlord, and employer – as I reminded myself – didn't mean he wanted me eating all his food. Anyway, I needed to buy a few things if I ever wanted to cook.
So I set off for the supermarket – I wasn't yet comfortable with the idea of going to one of the many small, shady-looking markets that were closer by – still mulling over the case. I was used to studying as I went about my chores, but this was different. Now that I was out of school, I could see how much of a “monkey” - to use the expression of one of my better teachers – I had been, just memorizing everything they told me to without really thinking about it.
In retrospect I wonder what I had been planning on doing with that law degree, I wouldn't have made much of a lawyer. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had learned how to memorize names and dates. Perhaps I was being too harsh, but I was sick and tired of it all. The years of effort I wasted on school had cumulated with me dropping out halfway through my third year. I was an utter failure. But that was all behind me. Now I had a mystery to solve, lives to save.
A quick bus ride out and back, and I was ready to get to work on making myself something to eat. I had never been much of a cook. Before college I had never needed to and during I didn't have the time to do anything complicated. But it was worth a shot, and honestly, how hard could following a recipe be? I flipped through one of Shane's cookbooks and found a recipe for quiche that looked simple enough.
About an hour later I dug into a slightly overcooked broccoli and cheese quiche. Between the cooking and shopping, my focus on the case had been rather limited. Even when I sat down to eat and turned my attention to it alone, I still came up with nothing. I supposed I wasn't much of a detective...
Suddenly I blacked out.
***
6:23PM, FEBRUARY 29TH, 2011, WASHINGTON DC
A young woman, Lisa Harris, sits in the dining room, eating diner. The room is large and richly decorated with silk curtains and a mahogany table. Still it cannot escape the clutter that lines the floor and sits atop the expensive furniture. The ring of the doorbell echoes through the large house. She ignores it and continues to eat.
It rings again.
There is a moment's pause before she puts down her fork, forces herself to her feet, and makes her way to the front door. She pulls it open. A shot rings out. She falls to the ground. A single penny clatters on the floor next to her, followed by a hand gun.
The world fades to black.
***
I found myself collapsed in the chair, my face in my plate. I shakily sat up and stood, and stumbled up the stairs in search of a napkin to wipe my face. Well, now I knew who the next victim was... But who could I tell, who would believe me? I knew there wasn't much I could do alone about any of it. I had a little more than a day before another person would be dead, another person murdered because I hadn't done anything about it.
No! I couldn't let that happen! Not again! I clenched my hands into shaky fists.
I needed a course of action, but what? Without my parents I had no one to turn to, and I couldn't turn back now. Maybe Shane, I bet he could help me... I would tell him, not about the flashes, but who the next victim was. He would know what we could do to stop her murder – if he believed me, that was.
There had to be some logical explanation, some way I could prove it to him, make him understand without telling him about the flashes. My mind raced, sifting through all the data I had seen. What could possibly bring me to this conclusion? A pang in my stomach cut through my thoughts and reminded me of its existence. I hastily resumed eating, still lost in thought.
The victim was a radio DJ – I wasn't quite sure how I knew her profession, but I did – not an artist. What connected her to the others? Or why would the murderer change his pattern? I had nothing. What about the coin... and the gun! Why had he dropped a gun this time? It had been on purpose, I was sure!
I dropped my fork, leaped to my feet and jumped up the stairs two or three steps at a time. I raced into the living room and grabbed the folders on the other victims off the coffee table. Just as I was about to retreat into the basement, the door swung open, and in walked Shane. The folders slipped from my hands, sending papers flying across the floor. The next few minutes were spent on hands and knees on the floor, frantically gathering up the fallen papers and reorganizing them.
“I'm so sorry!” I exclaimed, as soon as the mad rush to fix the damage I had done had ended.
“Not a problem.” Shane replied, “I don't suppose you had an epiphany while I was gone?” he punctuated the half-statement, half-question with a chuckle.
I hesitated before replying, “Actually... I kn- I think I know who the next victim is...”
“And who would that be?” He watched me with acute interest.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out, it hit me; I could not remember the woman's name for the life of me. “I... She was- she's a radio, er, announcer...”
He raised an eyebrow at me in what seemed to be a combination of confusion and surprise. “What brought you to that conclusion?” he asked.
“Well, uh...” I gestured wildly, “I- I thought that, maybe, well...”
“A hunch then?”
I nodded.
“Well, a hunch has to come from somewhere. Something tells me you've got a good sense after all.” he grinned, “But there's still the question of why. If you're right – and we might as well go with it, we don't have any other leads at the moment – it means our guy's changing his M.O.-”
“Yeah!” I interrupted, a tad more enthusiastically than necessary, “The others were artists, but...” I paused, still searching my mind for the dead – soon to be dead, rather – woman's name. But as it was to no avail, I continued, “But this one, she's a radio DJ.”
Shane nodded. For a moment he remained silent as if mulling it over in his head, before finally speaking, “I am of the opinion that our murderer will strike again in the next few days. He's been killing more and more frequently and I believe he's working towards a climax of sorts. Something within the next few days would fit that pattern perfectly. Between that and your DJ, we might be close to an actual lead.” He grinned easily, ruining the serious tone of his statement.
I couldn't help but smile back. We would save her. I knew Shane would have a plan.
“Would you be up for an early dinner? I know a good Chinese restaurant nearby.” he remarked.
“Sounds great!”
***
Dinner had been great, I thought as I reflected on it the next morning, and I was more than ready to get back to working on the case. To my relief, my night had been relatively nightmare free. I got ready quickly and headed up the stairs. Shane was in the living room examining a book of coins.
“I'm a collector.” he explained, without glancing up, as I took a seat on the couch.
I nodded in reply, “Any luck figuring out who she is?”
“None.” he shook his head, though his focus remained on the coins, “I've compiled a list of all DJ's in the area,” he pointed to the coffee table, “The women are highlighted. Maybe something I missed will catch your attention.” he laughed.
I picked up the sheet of paper and glanced through it, focusing on all the highlighted names. One of them caught my eye, “Lisa Harris.” I tested it out, “Lisa Harris! That's her! She's the next victim!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself.
“What?” he looked up from his work, genuinely startled, “How'd you come to that conclusion?”
“I-I...” I hesitated, unsure of what to say, “Well, I... A guess.” I finally resigned myself to the only answer that came to mind.
He raised an eyebrow at me and replied, “Fair enough... You are aware that this is not a game?”
“I know it isn't!” I exclaimed, and quieted as quickly as my voice had risen, “I'm sorry. I know I must sound insane, but I know it's her.”
“How?” he demanded.
“I can't say!”
“Okay.” his voice dropped and the tension vanished as quickly as it had appeared, “Fair enough. We need to find out as much as we can about her, then. I may accept your 'guess', but I know Detective Bales won't. She's reluctant enough to let me on the case as is. Letting you on was against her better judgment.”
I consented and spent the day on the computer, finding out as much about Lisa Harris as I possibly could, with minimal input from Shane, who sat on his own, deep in thought. When we were hungry, we ate as we worked. The hours passed. I could feel them ticking by, as the time of her death approached.
This wasn't accomplishing anything! It hit me with astounding force, as afternoon wore into evening. A woman was going to die and I was just sitting there on the computer, researching her as if I was trying to write a paper! I put my computer on the coffee table with a clang and shoved myself to my feet.
“We need to do something!” I exclaimed.
“Patience.” Shane replied without even opening his eyes.
Silence fell and lingered for a moment before Shane suddenly stood. He pulled on his jacket and was halfway out the door before he turned back toward me.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, “We have a woman to save and a serial killer to catch!”
“What? Really?!” I questioned, forcing myself to my feet all the same.
“Of course, unless you want to stay here and hold up the home base, that is.” he said with a laugh.
“Are you kidding?” I said as he helped me into my coat.
“Come on!” he waved me into the empty street, lit by the golden rays of the setting sun.
But I had little time to admire the evening as we ran to the bus stop, barely catching the bus. And we were off, down the neighborhood streets, onto the highway and off again, rolling to a stop at the station. We ran off the bus, with a quick word of thanks to the driver, and in to the station. We ran up to the platform just as the last train sped away. So we waited, my heart racing as we stood there. My foot tapped the ground in impatience.
Finally, the train came and we piled on, along with the scattered strangers waiting with us. We were as good as alone in the car – there were only two others. As we sped through the dark tunnels in the over-bright train, Shane spoke in a low voice.
“I'll be going straight to the police station. I need you to go to Ms. Harris's office and see if she's there. You have the address?”
I nodded.
“Good. Meet me at her house.”
“Will do.” I replied with a nod.
For a few minutes, we sat in silence. My fingers fidgeted of their own accord.
I, at least, contemplated the task ahead of me. A nudge from Shane told me it was time for me to get off. So I did, and left the station at a run, racing down the streets like a madwoman. Finally, I came TO the correct office building, one of many lining the busy city street. For a moment I hesitated, but there was a life on the line. So I stole myself and forged onward.
I flung open the door to the building and crept into the lobby. I scanned the white walled chamber. My eyes landed on the reception desk where a young man sat in front of a computer as he talked on the phone.
I hesitantly walked over. “E- excuse me...” I said.
After a pause he looked up at me, his expression was one of complete exasperation.
“Yes, of course.” he said into the phone, after a time, “One second...” Then he put it on hold and turned to me, “Yes?” he asked.
“Well, erm... I'm, well, looking for someone...” I hesitated, “Lisa Harris...”
“Very well.” he replied gruffly, “She's on the 4th floor, suite 404.”
“Thank you.” I hastily replied, and dashed into the elevator.
Upstairs I ran down the hall, glancing at each door way as I passed. 401, 402, 403, 404! I tugged at the handle, but it didn't budge. Locked! I cursed under my breath.
“Are you looking for someone?” a passing man in a business suit asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, Lisa Harris..”
“She's already gone for the day, sorry.”
“Shit.” I hissed. “Sorry. Thank you.” I gave the man a brief smile that probably looked more like a grimace and dashed off.
She had already left. I didn't have time to wait for the elevator, so I raced down the stairs and flew out the door. I managed to catch the next train just as it was about to leave. The ride was too long, but eventually I was back on the street, running through a neighborhood of large houses like the one I had lived in for most of my life.
But I had no time to admire the scenery, a woman was going to be killed and I had to stop it! I sprinted down the road, but I knew it was too late. As I neared the right house I could see a figure on the ground in the doorway. It was Lisa Harris, dead.
I had failed, again, and she was gone. And I could have stopped it! This wasn't just another test. There was a life on the line and I didn't come through. I couldn't do it when it mattered. I fell onto the curb and pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and dialed “9-1-1”
The police and an ambulance soon arrived. An EMT helped me up and guided me to an ambulance. There I was seated and handed a bright orange shock blanket.
“How are you holding up?” I heard Shane's familiar voice, filled with concern.
I glanced up from the corner of the blanket I had been fiddling with, to find him sitting there, next to me.
“I failed...” I replied, barely audible.
“It's not your fault. You did as much as you could, figured out who the victim was when no one else could.”
“But it wasn't enough!”
“She's dead, true, but we're that much closer to finding her killer. Come on, there's some new evidence I'd like you to have a look at.” He took my hand and helped me to my feet.
I let him pull me toward the house. I didn't want to look at the corpse of the newly murdered woman, but I had to. If I wanted to learn from my mistakes, I had to face them, as my parents had told me to do. The first thing I saw was the bullet hole through her head. And then there was the penny, like before, and the gun – the new addition.
“Alexis, what do you think?” Shane asked, in a low, comforting voice. He squeezed the hand that, to my surprising relief, he had not dropped.
“Well... there's the gun... Why did he leave it?” I attempted.
“You think it was on purpose, then?”
I nodded.
“Hmm...” he turned to Detective Bales.
I only half listened as they talked about the case, and then I followed them as they interviewed the neighbors. The elderly detective pulled me aside and questioned me about what I had seen. As soon as she was done, Shane led me away and we returned home to find a dinner of carry-out Mexican food sitting on the table, courtesy of a friend of his.
The next day, Shane left before I was up. I spent my time resting and pondering the case. I wasted the day away on the computer, deleting emails from my parents and replying to those from my friends. Morning faded into afternoon, three turned to four, and still there was no sign of Shane.
Suddenly I blacked out.
***
5:30 PM, MARCH 1ST, 2011 – WASHINGTON DC
A knock sounds on the door between the basement and the outside.
***
I was shoved back into reality just as quickly as I had left it. I knew that door, it was mine. The next victim was me... I had one hour left to live. My heart raced, my body shook. Shane would know what to do. He could stop them!
I pulled out my phone with clammy hands and called him. There was no reply. For a moment I hesitated, but I didn't have much longer. I called Detective Bales. For a few tantalizing moments, I waited for an answer, before finally she picked up the phone.
“Hello? Detective Jane Bales speaking...”
“Detective? It's me, Alexis!”
“Yes?”
“I- I think that the Penny Killer is after me! Please send someone, please! I don't have much time!” my voice rose as it was tainted with growing hysteria.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded frantically, before realizing she couldn't see me. “Yes!” I almost shouted.
“What brought you to that conclusion...?” she still didn't believe me.
“Please! I just know it! I know I sound insane, but you have to believe me! I don't have much longer!”
“Okay, we're on our way.” she hung up before I could make a terrified excuse to stop her.
Then I began to pace, sure I was wearing holes into the carpet with each increasingly terrified lap. A knock sounded at the door. A ring peeled at the bell. It was upstairs. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and flew up the stairs. On the other side was Detective Bales. I hugged her in relief.
“Thank god, you're here!” I exclaimed, “Come in!”
She directed a team of officers, dressed like a SWAT Team, into the house, and led me outside.
“How soon do you think they'll be coming?”
“5:30” the time slipped out of my mouth.
She nodded, “How did you come to this conclusion?”
“I- I... I can't explain.” I said, my head bowed, “But you have to believe me!”
“I do. Shane told me about how you knew who the previous victim was.”
I nodded.
We continued the walk to her unmarked car, parked a few houses down, in silence. We piled in and waited.
The minutes ticked by...
Suddenly, a bang echoed from the house. A moment passed before, out of the rear view mirror, I saw the door to Shane's house swing open and out walked the team of officers. They were all surrounding Shane. The man himself strode amidst them, his held head high with uncharacteristic cold arrogance. It took me a moment to notice the handcuffs around his wrists.
With that in mind, I finished getting ready and made my way up the stairs, into the living room. There I found Shane sitting in the chair, utterly unmoving. I could have sworn he was sleeping – my mind had immediately jumped to dead, but he was clearly breathing.
“Alexis,” he spoke suddenly, “Good afternoon.”
I jumped in surprise. “Mornin'”
“There's a pot of coffee up in the kitchen. You can have as much as you like.”
“A man after my own heart.” I joked, and tacked on to the end a genuine, “Thanks.”
“There are witness reports on the counter.” he called out after me, as I made my way into the kitchen.
I poured myself a mug of coffee and returned to the living room, flipping through the reports. I sat down on the couch and continued reading.
Apparently, one of the neighbors had heard the gunshot, seen someone running away from the scene, and called the police. When asked to describe the possible murderer, all any of the witnesses could say was that he – they thought the figure had been a man – was tall, with long hair, wearing fairly normal clothes – jeans and a shirt that they had been too far away to see clearly. They had neither recognized him, nor seen him leave, as they had immediately retreated into their house and called the police.
Other neighbors had heard the loud noise, but had had no idea what it was, and had ignored it accordingly. The police had put out a flier asking if anyone in the neighborhood had seen anyone who didn't belong on the streets that night, but no one had come forwards yet. It didn't seem too promising.
“I checked the neighborhood list-serve, no one saw anything.” Shane offered as I finished reading.
I nodded. “Wait! How?”
“I have a friend who lives in the area.” he said with a shrug, “What'd you think?”
“About what?”
“The reports, the case, anything that's come to your attention, really.”
“Hmm...” I thought for a moment, wracking my mind for anything that could possibly be illuminating. Finally I spoke, “Well, it's more a question than anything, but what's next? Maybe we could narrow down the next victim, or something...”
I trailed off as it hit me. There was one way I could find out for certain who the next victim would be. If I had another flash, that would do the trick. But I didn't want to have another flash, I didn't want to see another person die. But if I could save a life because of it, wouldn't it be more than worth it? I also didn't have the slightest idea as to how to induce a flash, and who would believe me if I managed to? They'd think me insane at best and a murderer at worst. Still, there had to be some way, something I could do!
Nothing came to mind.
Shane watched quizzically as the gears whirred in my head.
Finally, I spoke once more, “Well, there is a pattern...”
“Good!” Shane exclaimed, “What is it?”
I hesitated, “Well, they're all artists, right?”
“And?”
“Well... They– they... I don't know... Sorry.” I laughed awkwardly.
“Don't worry about it. You're doing fine, especially for a beginner.”
“Wha-? Really?”
He nodded, “You also have only seen one of the victims and not the others.” With that he shoved himself from the comfortable chair and went over to the file cabinet. There he fished out a few folders and brought them back to me.
I read through each and everyone with painstaking attention, trying to pull out some hidden meaning or significance. I searched for some clue as to the perpetrator of such a horrendous crime, and who their next victim might be.
The first had apparently been a young woman, a painter, featured in an article in the Post, not a month before. A rising actor had followed shortly after. He had performed at a well-known theater in the area. And then there had been the musician. All had been killed the same way, answering the door, with a single bullet through the head and a penny at their feet.
Just as I had finished looking through the second folder, Shane spoke again, “We suspect that he's killed more before these guys, but he hasn't been caught, and the crimes haven't been connected yet, so there's no proof, and there doesn't seem to be anything else to go on.”
I nodded. It seemed that no one had seen the culprit until the musician's – Johnathan Youth's – death, and even then the description they had given seemed vague to the point of uselessness. She had a feeling the killer knew exactly what he was doing.
“There's not enough of a pattern to figure out the next victim yet, but I believe I have a few leads worth investigating...” Shane said, “Don't wait up.” he joked as he put on his jacket and walked out the door.
And so he left me alone with my thoughts. Before I could get my mind back on track, a low rumble in my stomach alerted me to an acute hunger. I was halfway to the fridge when my senses returned to me. Just because Shane was a very accommodating landlord, and employer – as I reminded myself – didn't mean he wanted me eating all his food. Anyway, I needed to buy a few things if I ever wanted to cook.
So I set off for the supermarket – I wasn't yet comfortable with the idea of going to one of the many small, shady-looking markets that were closer by – still mulling over the case. I was used to studying as I went about my chores, but this was different. Now that I was out of school, I could see how much of a “monkey” - to use the expression of one of my better teachers – I had been, just memorizing everything they told me to without really thinking about it.
In retrospect I wonder what I had been planning on doing with that law degree, I wouldn't have made much of a lawyer. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had learned how to memorize names and dates. Perhaps I was being too harsh, but I was sick and tired of it all. The years of effort I wasted on school had cumulated with me dropping out halfway through my third year. I was an utter failure. But that was all behind me. Now I had a mystery to solve, lives to save.
A quick bus ride out and back, and I was ready to get to work on making myself something to eat. I had never been much of a cook. Before college I had never needed to and during I didn't have the time to do anything complicated. But it was worth a shot, and honestly, how hard could following a recipe be? I flipped through one of Shane's cookbooks and found a recipe for quiche that looked simple enough.
About an hour later I dug into a slightly overcooked broccoli and cheese quiche. Between the cooking and shopping, my focus on the case had been rather limited. Even when I sat down to eat and turned my attention to it alone, I still came up with nothing. I supposed I wasn't much of a detective...
Suddenly I blacked out.
***
6:23PM, FEBRUARY 29TH, 2011, WASHINGTON DC
A young woman, Lisa Harris, sits in the dining room, eating diner. The room is large and richly decorated with silk curtains and a mahogany table. Still it cannot escape the clutter that lines the floor and sits atop the expensive furniture. The ring of the doorbell echoes through the large house. She ignores it and continues to eat.
It rings again.
There is a moment's pause before she puts down her fork, forces herself to her feet, and makes her way to the front door. She pulls it open. A shot rings out. She falls to the ground. A single penny clatters on the floor next to her, followed by a hand gun.
The world fades to black.
***
I found myself collapsed in the chair, my face in my plate. I shakily sat up and stood, and stumbled up the stairs in search of a napkin to wipe my face. Well, now I knew who the next victim was... But who could I tell, who would believe me? I knew there wasn't much I could do alone about any of it. I had a little more than a day before another person would be dead, another person murdered because I hadn't done anything about it.
No! I couldn't let that happen! Not again! I clenched my hands into shaky fists.
I needed a course of action, but what? Without my parents I had no one to turn to, and I couldn't turn back now. Maybe Shane, I bet he could help me... I would tell him, not about the flashes, but who the next victim was. He would know what we could do to stop her murder – if he believed me, that was.
There had to be some logical explanation, some way I could prove it to him, make him understand without telling him about the flashes. My mind raced, sifting through all the data I had seen. What could possibly bring me to this conclusion? A pang in my stomach cut through my thoughts and reminded me of its existence. I hastily resumed eating, still lost in thought.
The victim was a radio DJ – I wasn't quite sure how I knew her profession, but I did – not an artist. What connected her to the others? Or why would the murderer change his pattern? I had nothing. What about the coin... and the gun! Why had he dropped a gun this time? It had been on purpose, I was sure!
I dropped my fork, leaped to my feet and jumped up the stairs two or three steps at a time. I raced into the living room and grabbed the folders on the other victims off the coffee table. Just as I was about to retreat into the basement, the door swung open, and in walked Shane. The folders slipped from my hands, sending papers flying across the floor. The next few minutes were spent on hands and knees on the floor, frantically gathering up the fallen papers and reorganizing them.
“I'm so sorry!” I exclaimed, as soon as the mad rush to fix the damage I had done had ended.
“Not a problem.” Shane replied, “I don't suppose you had an epiphany while I was gone?” he punctuated the half-statement, half-question with a chuckle.
I hesitated before replying, “Actually... I kn- I think I know who the next victim is...”
“And who would that be?” He watched me with acute interest.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out, it hit me; I could not remember the woman's name for the life of me. “I... She was- she's a radio, er, announcer...”
He raised an eyebrow at me in what seemed to be a combination of confusion and surprise. “What brought you to that conclusion?” he asked.
“Well, uh...” I gestured wildly, “I- I thought that, maybe, well...”
“A hunch then?”
I nodded.
“Well, a hunch has to come from somewhere. Something tells me you've got a good sense after all.” he grinned, “But there's still the question of why. If you're right – and we might as well go with it, we don't have any other leads at the moment – it means our guy's changing his M.O.-”
“Yeah!” I interrupted, a tad more enthusiastically than necessary, “The others were artists, but...” I paused, still searching my mind for the dead – soon to be dead, rather – woman's name. But as it was to no avail, I continued, “But this one, she's a radio DJ.”
Shane nodded. For a moment he remained silent as if mulling it over in his head, before finally speaking, “I am of the opinion that our murderer will strike again in the next few days. He's been killing more and more frequently and I believe he's working towards a climax of sorts. Something within the next few days would fit that pattern perfectly. Between that and your DJ, we might be close to an actual lead.” He grinned easily, ruining the serious tone of his statement.
I couldn't help but smile back. We would save her. I knew Shane would have a plan.
“Would you be up for an early dinner? I know a good Chinese restaurant nearby.” he remarked.
“Sounds great!”
***
Dinner had been great, I thought as I reflected on it the next morning, and I was more than ready to get back to working on the case. To my relief, my night had been relatively nightmare free. I got ready quickly and headed up the stairs. Shane was in the living room examining a book of coins.
“I'm a collector.” he explained, without glancing up, as I took a seat on the couch.
I nodded in reply, “Any luck figuring out who she is?”
“None.” he shook his head, though his focus remained on the coins, “I've compiled a list of all DJ's in the area,” he pointed to the coffee table, “The women are highlighted. Maybe something I missed will catch your attention.” he laughed.
I picked up the sheet of paper and glanced through it, focusing on all the highlighted names. One of them caught my eye, “Lisa Harris.” I tested it out, “Lisa Harris! That's her! She's the next victim!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself.
“What?” he looked up from his work, genuinely startled, “How'd you come to that conclusion?”
“I-I...” I hesitated, unsure of what to say, “Well, I... A guess.” I finally resigned myself to the only answer that came to mind.
He raised an eyebrow at me and replied, “Fair enough... You are aware that this is not a game?”
“I know it isn't!” I exclaimed, and quieted as quickly as my voice had risen, “I'm sorry. I know I must sound insane, but I know it's her.”
“How?” he demanded.
“I can't say!”
“Okay.” his voice dropped and the tension vanished as quickly as it had appeared, “Fair enough. We need to find out as much as we can about her, then. I may accept your 'guess', but I know Detective Bales won't. She's reluctant enough to let me on the case as is. Letting you on was against her better judgment.”
I consented and spent the day on the computer, finding out as much about Lisa Harris as I possibly could, with minimal input from Shane, who sat on his own, deep in thought. When we were hungry, we ate as we worked. The hours passed. I could feel them ticking by, as the time of her death approached.
This wasn't accomplishing anything! It hit me with astounding force, as afternoon wore into evening. A woman was going to die and I was just sitting there on the computer, researching her as if I was trying to write a paper! I put my computer on the coffee table with a clang and shoved myself to my feet.
“We need to do something!” I exclaimed.
“Patience.” Shane replied without even opening his eyes.
Silence fell and lingered for a moment before Shane suddenly stood. He pulled on his jacket and was halfway out the door before he turned back toward me.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, “We have a woman to save and a serial killer to catch!”
“What? Really?!” I questioned, forcing myself to my feet all the same.
“Of course, unless you want to stay here and hold up the home base, that is.” he said with a laugh.
“Are you kidding?” I said as he helped me into my coat.
“Come on!” he waved me into the empty street, lit by the golden rays of the setting sun.
But I had little time to admire the evening as we ran to the bus stop, barely catching the bus. And we were off, down the neighborhood streets, onto the highway and off again, rolling to a stop at the station. We ran off the bus, with a quick word of thanks to the driver, and in to the station. We ran up to the platform just as the last train sped away. So we waited, my heart racing as we stood there. My foot tapped the ground in impatience.
Finally, the train came and we piled on, along with the scattered strangers waiting with us. We were as good as alone in the car – there were only two others. As we sped through the dark tunnels in the over-bright train, Shane spoke in a low voice.
“I'll be going straight to the police station. I need you to go to Ms. Harris's office and see if she's there. You have the address?”
I nodded.
“Good. Meet me at her house.”
“Will do.” I replied with a nod.
For a few minutes, we sat in silence. My fingers fidgeted of their own accord.
I, at least, contemplated the task ahead of me. A nudge from Shane told me it was time for me to get off. So I did, and left the station at a run, racing down the streets like a madwoman. Finally, I came TO the correct office building, one of many lining the busy city street. For a moment I hesitated, but there was a life on the line. So I stole myself and forged onward.
I flung open the door to the building and crept into the lobby. I scanned the white walled chamber. My eyes landed on the reception desk where a young man sat in front of a computer as he talked on the phone.
I hesitantly walked over. “E- excuse me...” I said.
After a pause he looked up at me, his expression was one of complete exasperation.
“Yes, of course.” he said into the phone, after a time, “One second...” Then he put it on hold and turned to me, “Yes?” he asked.
“Well, erm... I'm, well, looking for someone...” I hesitated, “Lisa Harris...”
“Very well.” he replied gruffly, “She's on the 4th floor, suite 404.”
“Thank you.” I hastily replied, and dashed into the elevator.
Upstairs I ran down the hall, glancing at each door way as I passed. 401, 402, 403, 404! I tugged at the handle, but it didn't budge. Locked! I cursed under my breath.
“Are you looking for someone?” a passing man in a business suit asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, Lisa Harris..”
“She's already gone for the day, sorry.”
“Shit.” I hissed. “Sorry. Thank you.” I gave the man a brief smile that probably looked more like a grimace and dashed off.
She had already left. I didn't have time to wait for the elevator, so I raced down the stairs and flew out the door. I managed to catch the next train just as it was about to leave. The ride was too long, but eventually I was back on the street, running through a neighborhood of large houses like the one I had lived in for most of my life.
But I had no time to admire the scenery, a woman was going to be killed and I had to stop it! I sprinted down the road, but I knew it was too late. As I neared the right house I could see a figure on the ground in the doorway. It was Lisa Harris, dead.
I had failed, again, and she was gone. And I could have stopped it! This wasn't just another test. There was a life on the line and I didn't come through. I couldn't do it when it mattered. I fell onto the curb and pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and dialed “9-1-1”
The police and an ambulance soon arrived. An EMT helped me up and guided me to an ambulance. There I was seated and handed a bright orange shock blanket.
“How are you holding up?” I heard Shane's familiar voice, filled with concern.
I glanced up from the corner of the blanket I had been fiddling with, to find him sitting there, next to me.
“I failed...” I replied, barely audible.
“It's not your fault. You did as much as you could, figured out who the victim was when no one else could.”
“But it wasn't enough!”
“She's dead, true, but we're that much closer to finding her killer. Come on, there's some new evidence I'd like you to have a look at.” He took my hand and helped me to my feet.
I let him pull me toward the house. I didn't want to look at the corpse of the newly murdered woman, but I had to. If I wanted to learn from my mistakes, I had to face them, as my parents had told me to do. The first thing I saw was the bullet hole through her head. And then there was the penny, like before, and the gun – the new addition.
“Alexis, what do you think?” Shane asked, in a low, comforting voice. He squeezed the hand that, to my surprising relief, he had not dropped.
“Well... there's the gun... Why did he leave it?” I attempted.
“You think it was on purpose, then?”
I nodded.
“Hmm...” he turned to Detective Bales.
I only half listened as they talked about the case, and then I followed them as they interviewed the neighbors. The elderly detective pulled me aside and questioned me about what I had seen. As soon as she was done, Shane led me away and we returned home to find a dinner of carry-out Mexican food sitting on the table, courtesy of a friend of his.
The next day, Shane left before I was up. I spent my time resting and pondering the case. I wasted the day away on the computer, deleting emails from my parents and replying to those from my friends. Morning faded into afternoon, three turned to four, and still there was no sign of Shane.
Suddenly I blacked out.
***
5:30 PM, MARCH 1ST, 2011 – WASHINGTON DC
A knock sounds on the door between the basement and the outside.
***
I was shoved back into reality just as quickly as I had left it. I knew that door, it was mine. The next victim was me... I had one hour left to live. My heart raced, my body shook. Shane would know what to do. He could stop them!
I pulled out my phone with clammy hands and called him. There was no reply. For a moment I hesitated, but I didn't have much longer. I called Detective Bales. For a few tantalizing moments, I waited for an answer, before finally she picked up the phone.
“Hello? Detective Jane Bales speaking...”
“Detective? It's me, Alexis!”
“Yes?”
“I- I think that the Penny Killer is after me! Please send someone, please! I don't have much time!” my voice rose as it was tainted with growing hysteria.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded frantically, before realizing she couldn't see me. “Yes!” I almost shouted.
“What brought you to that conclusion...?” she still didn't believe me.
“Please! I just know it! I know I sound insane, but you have to believe me! I don't have much longer!”
“Okay, we're on our way.” she hung up before I could make a terrified excuse to stop her.
Then I began to pace, sure I was wearing holes into the carpet with each increasingly terrified lap. A knock sounded at the door. A ring peeled at the bell. It was upstairs. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and flew up the stairs. On the other side was Detective Bales. I hugged her in relief.
“Thank god, you're here!” I exclaimed, “Come in!”
She directed a team of officers, dressed like a SWAT Team, into the house, and led me outside.
“How soon do you think they'll be coming?”
“5:30” the time slipped out of my mouth.
She nodded, “How did you come to this conclusion?”
“I- I... I can't explain.” I said, my head bowed, “But you have to believe me!”
“I do. Shane told me about how you knew who the previous victim was.”
I nodded.
We continued the walk to her unmarked car, parked a few houses down, in silence. We piled in and waited.
The minutes ticked by...
Suddenly, a bang echoed from the house. A moment passed before, out of the rear view mirror, I saw the door to Shane's house swing open and out walked the team of officers. They were all surrounding Shane. The man himself strode amidst them, his held head high with uncharacteristic cold arrogance. It took me a moment to notice the handcuffs around his wrists.
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