It's A Shame (7 page)

He held
the phone to his ear and I could hear him talking in a low, soothing, tone for a few minutes. He ended the call and slipped his smartphone into his pants pocket, and walked back towards us.

“She’s fine…
knows nothing.  I told her we wanted to take her and Franklin out for dinner next week. Said she’ll look at her calendar and let me know what date works for them.”  He smiled weakly.

“Thanks
,” I said, my double meaning understood.

“Well, we
’ll keep you up to date of any new information.”

Detective Johansen
turned to his partner and pointed to the door.  “We’ll be finished outside in about a half hour.  It would be better if you just stayed here until we’re done.” 

“Whoa there
,” Michelle called out. Detective Johansen spun around to face her. “Did you find anything on the security cameras? Was there another note inside either of the boxes?”

“That information is being kept confidential for now
. I’m asking for your cooperation.  Can I count on you?”

She stood mesmerized…
Hello, Michelle…wake the hell up.

“Sure.” She
nodded enthusiastically as she uttered her monosyllabic answer.

He winked, “But you don’t have to worry, I’ll have an officer posted outside…you got nothing to
be concerned about.” He turned to go.

“
Easy for you to say, you don’t have some crazy son of a bitch running around town dropping mutilated body parts off at your door and leaving cryptic messages, right?”

“
You’re right I don’t, but I understand your concerns, and believe me, we are doing everything we can right now.” He looked at Cole and me, then Michelle. “Just be patient with me…
please
.”

Cole
and I nodded.

“
Just hurry,
please
,” Michelle replied mimicking the detective.

“Thank you detective.”  I sat up and grabbed the glass of water Michelle held out for me.

“Dean,” he blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Dean…
Grace
.”  He winked.

He
flashed his megawatt smile and I saw Michelle’s eyes light up.  He walked through the kitchen into the hallway and after pulling the door open, shut it behind them as they both walked out. Michelle stood and quickly walked over to the door. She opened it a few inches and peeked out.

“Thank you
,” she called out. Then she stepped back in shutting the door.

“Holy Christ…here we go again
,” I mumbled.

“I get the feeling he didn’t tell us everything
he could have,” Michelle said.

“I know he didn’t… I’ve got a phone call I need to
make.” Cole pulled his phone out of his pocket again as he walked into Michelle’s office closing the door behind him.

“Do you know most people
—like normal people, that is—don’t experience this…this craziness their whole fucking life...their whole fucking life? How is it that we are having to do this again?” I trailed off.

Chapter
6

He
slowly pushed the door open, a small fraction at a time, in an attempt to be as quiet as possible.  Mother would be watching her
shows
right about now, and he mustn’t interrupt her shows. She would be spread out across the couch upstairs like a beached whale. He hated how her obese frame caused the couch to bend in the middle. Her fat would slip into the dirty folds of the old sofa.  She would scream like the Banshee of Hell if he disturbed her, even if for a single fucking second. 

He was smarter than
she was. She didn’t even know about his special room. Of course, she was too fat and lazy to ever come down the stairs.
Probably would have a heart attack if she tried.

He descended
the steps, creeping slowly, silently.  He glowered at the sunlight struggling to penetrate through the dark painted windows, slipping in through the tiny cracks in the camouflage. He would have to repaint the windows again. He liked his privacy.  This was his special place. Where he was in total control. He couldn’t have anyone seeing, knowing…it was his secret. He looked forward to coming here each day and spending time with her. 

He flipped open his
phone, using the light it cast to illuminate his path, ensuring he didn’t fall or trip over the scattered debris on the floor. That definitely would not do.  Although he was pretty sure he could walk this path in his sleep.

He knew there was an old wheelchair sitting in front of a rusted out shell of a hospital bed
, both items taking up the corner to the left of the musty, damp room.  Even though the light from his phone was dim, he was able to see the mold that slinked up the cold, cement block walls. 

He glanced at the decrepit bed
with it’s rusted railings raised and smiled as he remembered the evil demon laying in it, drooling spittle, moaning.  His head dipping from side to side as he writhed in agony, his breathing light and shallow, his curved skeletal hands, grossly claw-like, reaching for him. 

Swallowing hard, he instinctively backed up as fear gripped his heart, his heartbeat erratic
and racing.  He hated and treasured the memory at the same time.  He swiped at the sweat on his forehead subconsciously rubbing his hand onto his pant leg.

It was the first time he felt his
own power, knew he was special.  He stood up to the demon, removing the dropper from the medicine vial that sat next to him on the nightstand and squeezed its contents into the old man’s gaping orifice. It dribbled down the side of his lagging mouth. 

He pump
ed it, refilling it several times, over and over, and stood watching, waiting, for the results. This was
his
brand of mercy and he waited for the confirmation of the light.  He was rewarded shortly thereafter with the demon’s weakened spastic convulsing.  Flopping like a beaten, dying fish in the confines of his cage, unable to escape, forced to lay witness to
his
extraordinary power. 

Knowing
his mother would soon hear the sound of alarms blaring as the machines gave him away, he momentarily cringed, calming only after realizing the demon was doomed nonetheless.  The smile crept back onto his stony face.

When she finally arrived it would be too late, the demon would be dead. He saw in his minds eye, the corner of the faded blue room as he stared numbly at the carpet, stained with years of
the demon’s urine, feces, vomit and blood.

The corners of his mouth lifted as he
felt somewhat overwhelmed by his control and smiled at the fond recollection.  He shook off his trip down memory lane regaining his outward appearance of normality and continued to point his phone’s light back onto the floor, as he walked across the last twenty feet to reach…
her
. 

H
e slowly pushed the door to the side and entered the darkening room.  It took a few minutes for his eyes to become accustomed to the dimness.  He raised his head, trying to focus his eyes on his beautiful girlfriend. She squinted when he shone the light in her eyes, turning her head.  She looked tired, ragged. 
She needed sleep.

He flicked the switch on the wall and the lone light
flipped on, casting its faint yellow glow along the gray cement walls. The shadows of the room elongated and moved in an eerie dance as the light bulb flickered every few seconds.  He noticed her moving against her bindings, the silver of the duct tape glimmering with each weakened pull.  He closed his phone promptly shutting the light off and dropped it back inside his uniform pocket. 

Walking to her side
, he lowered his hand and grabbed at her, rubbing her breasts until she winced, loving her response.  She arched her back as he squeezed, propping herself up, moving closer to his hand.

“You greedy little whore…” he looked down the length of her,
taking note that she lost more weight. “You like when I grab your tits, don’t you?”

Her eyes widened
, and she shook her head violently side to side.

“You have to eat
, or you won’t be as pretty as she was,” he muttered, his eyes mirroring his desire.

Her eyes widened
, and she frantically pulled at her restraints. Big droplets fell from her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

“Don’t talk
,” he said leaning in to her face. “You don’t have to say anything, I know you are happy I’m home.  It’s hard for me too, you know.”

She smelled different
than his first girlfriend. Not like when he had to wash her because she got shit all over herself. This odor was almost intoxicating. He was heady from the smell, and he dipped in closer to her to get another sniff.  She recoiled looking very much like she was trying to pull away. 

It was almost like
the sight of him repelled her, but he knew that couldn’t be right.  He must have misread her reaction.  Her eyes widened and quickly filled with tears again.  He hated when she cried.  Then the black smeared all over her cheeks, trailing lines through the pink powder he’d brushed there, making it hard for him to remember how she looked when she was pretty.  Now he’d have to wipe her clean with the Windex and rag again and reapply the pretty colors,
stupid twat
.

“Stop that
now,” he said exasperatingly, feeling his anger build.

She
stilled and seemed to have stopped fighting, but her eyes continued to follow him glistening in the dim light.  He knew she liked him.  There were times when she couldn’t take her eyes off of him and that made him happy. Her eyes opened then snapped tightly closed. She was trying to tell him something, she was trying to convey the sadness she felt when he left her. He knew she hated the thought of him not being here with her, almost as much as he missed her when he had to leave for work.

He yanked four gloves
out of the box, two for each hand and stretched them deftly over his fingers. Then he walked to the side table and picked up the shears from the dirty bloodstained surface.

“And now for
a few flowers my lovely,” he smiled impishly.  She rocked her body violently side to side.  Her eyes wide, she screamed weakly against her binding.

He reached forward grabbing her hand and placed the
old pruning shears directly underneath, squeezing as hard as he could with both hands, ensuring a clean cut.  No one liked flowers with ugly ends.  It certainly wouldn’t do to fuck it up again, causing himself extra work trimming away the messy, dirty ripped skin and bloodied splintered bone.  He wanted a clean cut, just like all the flowers he got from his first girlfriend. Besides, the man would be mad. The man yelled at him all the time telling him ‘he couldn’t follow simple fucking directions’. He hated when the man yelled.

He watched as her
eyes rolled back then closed tight and he heard her moan in spite of all the duct tape he’d used.  He promptly slammed his free hand over her mouth so that no one could hear her.  She closed her eyes and went to sleep.  He knew this because he lowered his ear to her chest and heard her breathe. 
Good, you need to sleep
. 

Holding up the flower to inspect, he smiled to himself
. Now one more, just like this. He took another
flower
and held it up to the light.

T
his is a good one too, very pretty.

He wrapped the duct tape a
round her head two more times, and then wrapped her bloodied hand.

This
stuff really does have hundreds of uses.

“Don’t worry…I won’t be gone so long this time.
I’ll be back to feed you,” he whispered close to her taped ear. “You have to eat more, or I’ll have to use the tube. You don’t like the tube…remember?”

He knew
when she woke up she would be sad he wasn’t there to comfort her and talk to her.  He lowered his head and turned the light off on his way out the door.

He had more work to do. First h
e needed to prepare the flowers for shipping, drop them with the delivery service. But first he had to go upstairs and decode the newest missive in his uniform pocket.  It was in the post office box—just like always. It was waiting for him…his new orders.  The man was watching him, keeping an eye on him. Making sure he kept in line and carried out his orders.

He idolized the man, even when the man screamed at him, even when the man
had hurt him bad that time. He knew the man only wanted him to carry on, take care of his girls, and send them flowers. Then when it was over, after the man killed
them
, the man would give him his reward.

He climbed the
basement stairs, shutting the door quietly behind him. As he passed the doorway to the large filthy room he glanced towards the back wall seeing her there. Her fat lying in folded layers around her rotund body. Her neck was bent back in sleep and he knew the rolls under her chin were full of food and dirt like they always were. He shuttered; it was fucking cold in here.

He looked down and saw the
remnants of food lying scattered on the table and floor, where they fell after falling from her fisted hands. The same hands she beat him with. Brutalized him with. He smiled…now she can’t catch him anymore.
Evil Beast.

H
e walked through the living room silently, so not to wake her, then climbed soundlessly up the worn out carpeted stairs, down the hall to his small room. He stepped inside and flipped the wall switch as he closed the door, locking it. The light on the top of his desk glowed brightly as he pulled the paper out of his pocket and took his codebook out of his secret drawer. It was time to decipher his latest orders.