Sin Eater (12 page)

“The eyes stung. The other part … felt the same. Maybe just a bit … better than usual.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?”

He looked at her in surprised, then realized she was making a joke. That’s wasn’t right. He didn’t like that too much. But he laughed dryly anyway.

She shone her little light in his eyes, her brow furrowed. “Your eyes appear normal. I don’t suppose you kept a sample of this
gunk
?”

He shook his head. “No, I had to wash it off. Like I said, it smelled terrible.”

“I can take a blood sample. And would you mind leaving us a semen sample as well?”

He nodded, offering out his arm. She rolled her wheeled stool to a metal cabinet in the corner, pulling out a few supplies, a packaged needle, a vial, and then a blood pressure cuff from the top of the cabinet. She rolled back to him with all of it. “Okay, just relax and this will be done soon.”

She applied the arm cuff, squeezing the rubber ball to apply pressure to his arm. He looked down to see his vein pop up, and he drew in his breath in a hiss.

His veins looked black.

The doctor frowned, and suddenly she couldn’t wait to get that needle in his arm and take a closer look at his biology. He felt how excited and fascinated she was. It felt wrong. A danger to him.

He panicked. He didn’t know why, he really wanted to know what the hell was happening to him, but when that needle got close to his arm, he let out a roar and backhanded the doctor across the mouth. She didn’t even have time to react. She flew back across the room, slammed
into the door, hit her head hard against the wall and slumped to the floor.

He sat frozen where he was, on the little exam table, his paper gown crinkling against the paper that was unrolled across the vinyl. It was so quiet. Except for the sound of that paper … and his own deep breathing.

He looked from her to his hand and back to her. How the hell had he done that? There’s no way he had the strength to send someone flying across the room from an open-handed slap.

And it had been noisy, too. Not the slap. The tray she’d upended was metal and it clanged like a son of a bitch, knocking against the thick wood door and then the floor. The other tools on it had tinkled like bells as they’d rained down around her. Good God, it could
n’t
get
any louder than that. Which meant someone would be coming to investigate.

He threw his clothes back on, vaguely aware that his T-shirt was backwards, but at least his fly was done up. He beat a land-speed record down the hallway and out the front door. He heard voices yelling after him, but he sure wasn’t stopping to gum-flap.

He hit the street, ran for his car like a madman, and gunned it. Maybe tomorrow he’d be better. Maybe … maybe tomorrow he’d realize this had all been a bad dream.

But first … he really needed a drink.

This club played the kind of music that Claudia hated, but at least she was surrounded by people just as sad and desperate as she was. The bass was thumping loudly, and that was all you could hear.

When she’d first walked in, a young guy with a tight tank top and well-worn jeans had wrapped an arm around her waist and asked her where she’d been all his life. Since he was only about 21 she assured him she’d been driving vehicles and smoking cigarettes for all of his life. Bit of an exaggeration. But he hadn’t understood so she calmly removed his arm and continued on to the bar for her soda.

She was dressed the same as the other women, but she felt she must stick out like a sore thumb. Men were gawking at her. Was it because she was older? Maybe they thought she was as attractive as Mr. Romeo had, but she tried to give off the vibe that she wasn’t interested in them. So no one talked to her.

She took her diet cola to a dark booth, sitting down and feeling ridiculous. She was at least five years older than the oldest demographic here. She felt more like a chaperone. What
had she been thinking?

Her eyes were on the women. And it was quickly becoming apparent this place was a heterosexual hangout. The best she was getting here was a three-way.

She felt even
more
alone. What a great damn plan.

Claudia felt her phone vibrate and ring, and she pulled it out of her pocket, checking the number. It was work.

She got up from the booth and made it to the hallway that led to the washrooms, where the music wasn’t as loud. She’d missed the call, but she dialed back immediately. Constable Vance answered right away. “Bauer?”

“That’s me.”

“I got bad news.”

“What?”

“Charles Goodwin. He got away.”

She felt her heart collapse. “
What
?”

“They were taking him to a cell, and he went totally ape shit. He knocked out two officers, made a run for it, got on the subway, and then at the next stop they got to, he was … gone.”

Claudia covered her face, shaking her head. “How … I mean, Vance, what the
fuck
?”

“I don’t know. It makes no sense. I just wanted to let you know. He is … at large. We’re getting his picture to all the TV and radio stations
in town, and an APB has been put out.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“Where are you?”

“Out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

“A little sore. It’ll take more than that to slow me down.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow. Take it easy.”

She hung up the phone, then went back her table to find that her place had been taken by a group of university students and her half-full, eight dollar Diet Coke had been cleared away.

Yeah, this was a stupid idea.

Claudia felt like she could legitimately burst
into tears. Suddenly the music seemed even worse than she’d originally thought, there were too many conflicting male colognes in the air, and she just wanted out of there.

She started through the writhing mass of dancers to the door, and as she looked up to avoid plowing
into some hottie blonde with amazing, if fake, breasts, the crowd ebbed away from her and she … saw him.

She breathed in immediately, stopping in her tracks. The people surrounding her seemed to move in slow motion. The lights went to mostly blue, bathing everything in a surreal ultra-violet glow. Except him. His tie was gone. The suit seemed extremely black, and the severe white of his shirt made his skin look even darker. His hair was down. Loose. Thick. He was holding a drink in one large hand, and his head was lowered, his eyes on her over the rim of the glass
as he drank. She couldn’t read his expression, but he looked like a predator.

Shit
.

She wanted to leave, right? No, she wanted to stay right where she was. Just so she could feel him looking at her. The sensation of her touching herself in the shower came back to her, and she must have blushed. She felt her cheeks warm.

He put his drink on the bar without turning around, and walked towards her, shoulders back, shaking his long hair out of his face. He had one hand to the buttons of his jacket as he walked, just so his suit jacket stayed in perfect position. His shoulders rolled with the strut, and he was so … masculine. She should have hated him. Usually she’d want to face-plant a guy like that. But him … she wanted him under her.

He stood immediately in front of her, looking down at her. She didn’t step back, just tilted her head upwards. She caught the scent of him. Some kin
d of soap. The slight musk of woodsy cologne. He seemed old and ancient then. And wise. From somewhere else.

Claudia swallowed with great difficulty, and he smiled. “Nice to see you again, Claudia.”

His accent made her name sound so exotic and wonderful, as though he enjoyed the taste of it. She closed her eyes as she weaved on her feet, and he put a hand around her waist to rest on her lower back. His hand was immediately warm through her clothes. She was about to step away when he took her hand in his other hand, holding it down at her side, then he took a step forward and back.

Oh. They were dancing.
Try and keep up,
she scolded herself.

She was crushed against him, and he felt firm and rock-hard against her stomach and chest. She put her free hand across the back of his shoulders, and he smiled then. She was going to pass out, she was sure of it. She did manage to smile back, however.

She kept her focus up on his face, and she couldn’t have told anyone what song was playing or whether or not they were the only two on the floor. They were just swaying, mashed against each other, but the effect it was having made her imagine they were grinding to beat the band. It likely looked a lot like sex. It sure was starting to feel like it.

His eyes kept hers in check. And every moment he was staring at her was making her wetter. When he dropped his gaze to trace her lips she wondered if he could smell it on her. When his arm yanked her in tighter she felt the swollen bulge in his pants, and instead of reacting with fear and revulsion, she raised her head up and kissed him.

In public. In the middle of a dance floor. That was just something she did
not
do.

His lips were thick, full, and heavy. As he responded it felt as though there was more of him than her. His mouth was completely covering hers, his tongue was completely in control of her. Claudia was overwhelmed and for once the thought didn’t panic her. She reveled in it.

When he pulled back he slid one hand to the side of her face, fingers pushed all the way back into her hair. His forehead rested against hers, his thumb going to her upper lip and touching it with agonizing tenderness.

“Oh, dear,
dear
Claudia.”

She closed her eyes as he said her name. “I want you,” she admitted, her voice hoarse and uneven. She caught his thumb between her teeth, then sucked it in her mouth completely.

“What a happy coincidence,” he returned throatily, his voice catching only slightly. “What do we do about it?” He freed his thumb, rubbing the wetness she left on to her bottom lip.

“Come to my place,” she suggested, wishing it didn’t sound like she was begging. But she was.

“I would love to.” He freed her from his spell long enough for her to lead him off the dance floor by his lapel.

Charles stood back behind the dumpster across from that bitch’s apartment. He couldn’t believe it when he saw her coming at him on the street that afternoon. He didn’t know she was a fucking
cop
. That didn’t bode well.

And she’d recognized him as
suspicious
?

He knew he could still get her. He’d almost had the upper hand in their little brawl, until that fucker with the creepy eyes had stepped in, playing hero. Fucker acted like he’d never seen him before
, too.

The lights in the apartment next to the bitch’s place were on. That meant he’d have to be quiet getting in there, and knock her out right away. Much better to kill someone in
their own
place, not leaving a big fucking mess in an apartment that had his name on the damn lease.

Idiot
.

He crossed the street, making quick work of the flimsy locking mechanism on the main door. He checked the names on the buzzers. Bauer, that’s what the other cop had called her. And there she was,
Bauer, C.
Number 202.

He stepped lightly up the stairs which spanned right across the whole side of the building. As he made his way down the hall moving past 205 and 203 on the right and 206 and 204 on the left, he could hear television sets behind the closed doors. Some of them were really loud. No one was hearing him with that racket for cover.

Number 202 was the farthest from the stairs on the left, and from the outside he could see she had two deadbolts as well as a locking door knob. But nothing fancy.

He used his lock pick set, frowning when the door still didn’t open. What the hell … ah yes, the old trick of leaving one or two locks open so that the lock picker was actually
engaging
the locks instead of
releasing
them.

Didn’t stop him at all. He was opening the door in under a minute, shutting it behind himself and reengaging the top and bottom dead bolts, just how she’d left it.

He left the lights off so he could see what she did when she first came in. There was a wonderful spot around the corner leading to the kitchen. Assuming she headed the opposite way to her bedroom or the washroom, he could sneak right up on her.

He tried the hallway. No squeaky floorboards. Things were looking up.

He returned to his hiding spot, crouching down to his haunches and leaning against the wall. He wanted to be comfortable, but ready to move at any moment.

There was a knock at the apartment door, and he froze. Then a voice.

“Claudia?” Pause. Wait. “Claudia, it’s Iola. You in there?”

Pause. Wait.

The handle was jiggled, but nothing happened. She didn’t have a key. He exhaled. Then he hoped this woman, whoever she was, didn’t railroad his prey when she got home. Maybe that Claudia bitch would be out past her nosy neighbour’s bedtime.

Her neighbor. The one from the train, likely. Right. She was the one that brought him here in the first place. He wouldn’t hurt her unless he had to. After all, she showed him this bitch. He owed her some loyalty just for that, right?

He slumped back against the wall, waiting.

Iola stepped away from Claudia’s door, confused. She could have
sworn
she heard Claudia come home, but there was no answer and no light shining out from under the door. She must have heard someone further down the hallway.

She went back to her apartment. After her date she’d change
d into a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, and she’d scrubbed the makeup off her face. Now she just felt listless. It was too early for her to go to bed. She usually worked until 2am and she didn’t want to throw off her sleep patterns too much.

She sank back on to the sofa, flicking through the channels for a good thirty seconds before settling on a romantic comedy. She assumed it was a romantic comedy; it had Kate Hudson in it.

But almost immediately a news flash broke in, and she was about to change the channel when the anchorwoman broke in saying police were on the lookout for a man wanted in connection with the murder of a local woman.

Well, she
had
to know what that guy looked like. She would avoid him on the subway if she were to see him –

She almost dropped the remote. It
was
the guy from the subway.
Holy shit
.

She picked up her cordless phone, not sure who she was going to call.
Claudia, but she’s not home, remember?

She dialed Claudia’s
work number as the anchorwoman prattled on about the suspect. Charles Goodwin. Five-foot-ten, two hundred pounds, sandy-coloured hair, grey eyes …

She just stared at the mug shot. It was him.

“Hey, you’ve reached Sergeant Bauer. I’m away from the phone right now –“

She hung up. She was frustrated, but what was she going to do? Calling the police and telling them that he had
scared
her on the street three nights ago wasn’t going to help them find him. And was it even a crime? He hadn’t done anything to her.

“… police had Goodwin in custody after he fled police from the site where the body had been found. Following a brief foot chase Goodwin then assaulted a female sergeant before being subdued. No details are being released as to how he was able to escape police custody. Police are asking the public to exercise great caution and to not approach him. If you see this man please contact the police department immediately at …”