Spolit
by
Joanne Ellis
Published by Night Publishing, Smashwords edition
Copyright 2010, Joanne Ellis
ISBN 978-1-4523-4193-4
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All characters are fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is accidental.
To discover other books by Joanne Ellis, please go to http://www.nightpublishing.com/id34.html.
The terror in her eyes and the realisation she’s going to die is sweet medicine to my soul.
Her eyes widen, and then concede, when the spoilt bitch knows her time is over.
Her blood spills as I carve into her flesh my hate for her perfect existence.
Oh, the gratifying sound of her last breath.
She too will taste the feeling of nothingness.
Chapter 1
Lucas
Monday
Lucas tried to shake off his nightmare as the icy water prickled his skin. The hollow pain living in his chest threatened to suffocate him. He stuck his head under the spray while their faces haunted his mind and forced the torment deep down, back where it came from, where it belonged.
The shrill of the phone broke through his troubled thoughts. He held their images in his mind for a moment before allowing them to fade. As he cleared the haze, they disappeared. Chilled through, he stepped out and his aching body protested with a shiver. Physical pain was easier.
Throwing a towel over his hips, he ran to answer the insistent ringing.
“Hudson.”
“It’s me,” Maggie responded.
“What’s up?”
“We got another one.”
“Dammit. Where?”
As Maggie gave him directions, Lucas pulled a suit, shirt and tie from his well ordered wardrobe.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” he told her.
Lucas returned to the bathroom and shaved quickly. He glanced in the mirror and noticed his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He shrugged. What did it matter? Running his fingers through his hair, he took a few deep breaths in preparation for what he was about to face. He threw on his clothes and after a tedious ride in the lift, he jumped into his unmarked car.
As he drove, memories of that day came with a vengeance. The day he’d successfully put behind him, until last week. The visions refused to fade night and day now. He looked down and saw the blood, so much blood.
He shoved himself back to reality. He needed to concentrate. During his twelve years as a cop, he’d seen the horrors, dealt with them all before pushing them aside. Some were harder than others but he’d gotten through mostly unscathed, until now. This case was different. It was affecting him.
Lucas parked next to his partner’s car and as he climbed out the humidity warmed his still cold limbs. The oppressive heat would only get worse as the day progressed. Maggie leant against her car, waiting. When she spotted him, she strode over, her frame athletic and expression grim. Even with a scowl, she was a stunner. With her short blonde hair and penetrating blue eyes her beauty was unique. She certainly didn’t look like your average cop. Her physique and angular features turned heads.
“Definitely the same?’ Lucas asked.
“’Fraid so.”
A long forgotten yet familiar lump surfaced in Lucas' throat as they flashed their badges at the taped-off scene. An officer directed them towards the dank alleyway in the rear, which was undetectable from the road. The unmistakable stink of rotting garbage assaulted them as they turned the corner.
The victim lay face-up, naked and brutalised. She appeared to be in her mid twenties and would probably have been beautiful, like the first victim once was. Her wrists and ankles were lacerated as though she’d been bound and at her throat remained a gaping smile. The absence of blood implied she’d been murdered elsewhere. Purple and yellow bruises speckled her body indicating days of abuse while her face was battered and swollen. Lucas could see the fear frozen in her unseeing eyes.
Across her chest the words SPOILT BITCH were slashed in red - light and dark. Lucas determined the varying degrees of colour and congealment indicated the wounds were inflicted over time. Another pretty young woman tortured and left in a dirty alley behind a warehouse, as if she meant nothing. It would not feel like nothing to the people who loved her. Lucas knew this first-hand. Bile rose in his throat. What kind of sick bastard could inflict these horrors?
Techs were walking the grid, collecting evidence and taking photos when the Medical Examiner arrived. David Walker was in his late forties. A short, squat man with pointed features and thinning hair, his compassionate nature complemented his thoroughness. His knees creaked from the strain as he knelt beside her.
“The chest wounds and cause of death appear consistent with the last victim,” he began. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles too.”
“Similar dump spot as the last one,” Lucas said.
“Yes, all too familiar.” Maggie shook her head. “Any ID again, Dave?”
“Can you help me roll her over?”
As he crouched, Lucas slipped on latex gloves from his pocket and helped roll the body from back to side. He held her in place as Dave examined the victim, took her temperature and checked for ID beneath her. Lucas swallowed down the lump still wedged in his throat; handling dead victims never got any easier.
“Yes, here it is,” Dave said. He passed the ID to Maggie’s now gloved hand, which she bagged.
“Kate Miller,” Maggie read.
“Thanks, Dave.” Lucas turned to Maggie. “Same MO.”
She nodded.
Lucas helped ease the body back again and as he stood, tore off his gloves ready to deposit them in the nearest bin.
“Let’s go,” he said. “See if we can work out what these two have in common.”
* * *
At the station, coffee in hand, Lucas logged onto his computer. As it went through its sluggish loading process, he rubbed tired eyes, ran his fingers through his hair and drank his strong caffeine hit, anything to distract his mind. A solitary word became his silent mantra. Focus. He tapped his fingers impatiently, waiting for the missing persons’ database to load Kate Miller’s report. He considered making another coffee when at last the details materialised before him.
Kate had been reported missing the previous Monday night, although she’d in fact been missing since Sunday. He pulled the report on the first victim, Libby Greene, from the pile on his desk, to scan again with fresh eyes, checking the correlations. Libby had been missing for six days before her body was discovered early the previous Tuesday morning.
Libby had been sexually assaulted several times over the six days, while the letters cut into her chest were also inflicted over time. Her throat had been slashed, leaving the identical gaping hole they’d seen that morning. She too, had been dumped behind a warehouse having been killed elsewhere. ID left with the body but no other possessions.
“Hey,” Maggie said. As she slid into her chair opposite, she aimed a breakfast roll at him. “Here, eat something.”
“Thanks, but I don’t know if I can.” He grimaced. “Kate’s been missing for six days. There’s an overlap.”
“So he might’ve grabbed Kate before he killed Libby.” She paused. “This is one sick puppy we’re dealing with here, Hudson. Holding one girl while stalking another and perhaps holding them both. Can you imagine what they would be listening to ...?”
Lucas nodded. “He could have more than one location too.” He shook his head in frustration. “We’re speculating until we get Dave’s report.”
“A lead would be helpful.” Maggie paused. “I guess it’s time to talk to Kate’s family, see to the notification.”
Maggie studied Lucas as he grabbed his jacket from the chair and picked up his keys without saying a word. This usually indicated he wanted to drive. She noted the tight set of his jaw and the dark smudges under his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping again. She quickened her step as she followed him to his car. He lit a smoke, a habit she barely remembered him having. His dark eyes reflected his far off thoughts and troubled mind. His self imposed solitary life was slowly destroying what little light remained. His passionate nature was being torn apart by loneliness. Maggie was well aware of how much this case would be disturbing him. She wondered whether this would be the one that tipped him over the edge.
Chapter 2
Chelsea
Friday
Chelsea sat on her overstuffed suitcase and forced it closed. Although she’d planned a three day trip, she’d packed enough for a week. She thought back to her last visit and realised it had been months since she’d visited her home town. Eagerness to escape from her busy schedule, along with excitement about seeing her family, rose within her. After hopping off the case on the bed, she threw the remaining items into a bag.
“I think you’ve packed enough,” said Elle.
“Probably. I never pack light.”
Chelsea shrugged before glancing over her shoulder at her friend and roommate. Elle’s tall, slim frame leant gracefully against the doorway. She flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder as she studied Chelsea through dark blue eyes.
“I’d better get going. If I’m late I’ll never hear the end of it.” Chelsea lugged the suitcase off the bed.
“Let me help you.” Elle took most of the heavy burden. “Seeing I have the house to myself this weekend, I might ask my new guy over for ... dinner.” She grinned.
“So when do I get to meet him?”
“If all goes well, this weekend.” Elle nudged Chelsea with her elbow. “Maybe we can organise something when you get home.”
“Sounds good.”
They walked into the garage and Chelsea hit the button to open the automatic door. Elle loaded the suitcase into Chelsea’s sleek, compact car while she jumped in.
Chelsea stuck her head out the window as she backed out. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Doesn’t leave me much,” Elle grumbled before waving.
Chelsea waved as she drove away before glancing back at her home, which held many memories, happy and painful. The two storey contemporary house with a small colourful garden - which Chelsea tried to keep tidy when time permitted - was welcoming, while the two balconies extending from the front bedrooms added charm and a view. Regardless of the sadness that surrounded her within its walls, she felt a smile tug at her lips at the comforting sight of home.
Leaning forward she turned the radio up and settled in for the long drive ahead.
* * *
Amy
Monday
Lucas drove in brooding silence while Maggie scanned Libby’s murder file and Amy Miller’s statement about Kate. When finished, she turned to stare at him.
“What?” he asked and grinned, hoping it would deter her questions.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah.”
“I just thought ...”
“I’m fine, Mags.”
“If you want to talk about it ...?”
“I know where you are.” He smiled. “Thanks.”
Their silence resumed and continued for the rest of the journey. Lucas parked out the front of the small townhouse where Kate lived with her sister Amy.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
The girl who answered their knock appeared to be a younger version of Kate and there was no doubt they were in the right place.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m Detective Hudson.” He showed the girl his badge. “This is Detective Johnson. We’re here in relation to Kate Miller’s disappearance.”
The hopeful smile which greeted them disappeared from her face.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes, Ma’am, we believe so,” Maggie said. “May I ask your name please?”
“Yes, my name is Amy Miller. Is she okay?”
“Are your parents at home?”
“Only Kate and I live here. Please will you tell me? What is it?”
“You might want to sit down. Can we come in?”
“Please, where is she?”
Amy’s anxiety-filled eyes darted between Lucas and Maggie.
“We believe we found your sister this morning.”
“Where is she? Is she ...?”
“Perhaps it would be better if we came in.”
“Okay.”
Amy led them to the sitting room and perched on the edge of the couch. Maggie sat beside her and Lucas took the chair opposite.
Amy stared at them for a moment wide eyed before asking in a broken voice “Please, where is she?”
“We’re really sorry ... your sister has been murdered,” Maggie said gently.
“Oh no, please no,” Amy whispered as the blood drained from her face. “Kate ...”
Tears streamed down her face as she sat rigid for a moment, her face full of shock and disbelief. She buried her face in her hands and broke into wrenching sobs. The two detectives glanced at each other; they hated this part of the job. Several heartbreaking minutes passed before Amy’s tears subsided and her composure returned. She took a deep breath and with a determined set to her chin, looked at Maggie.
“We’re very sorry about your sister but we do need to ask you some questions so we can find out what happened to her. Would you like to call someone? We could continue this later.”
“I want to help.”
“If you need time,” Maggie said.
“No, I want to do it now. What do you need to ask me?”
“When was the last time you saw Kate?” Lucas began.
“On Sunday night as I was leaving to go out with friends. About six, I think, as the movie started at seven.”
“Was she here when you got home?”
“I don’t know. It was about eleven and her door was closed.”
“When did you realise she was gone?”
“The next day. She’s usually home from work by six, so when she wasn’t home by eight, I began to worry. I rang her work and they said she hadn’t been in ...” Amy’s voice trembled. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“This was when you reported her missing?”
“I rang her phone first and heard it ringing from her bag in her room.” She paused. Lucas and Maggie exchanged another glance. Libby’s possessions had been left at home too. “I rang everyone we know and no-one had seen her ... so I reported her missing.”
Amy picked at the tissues scrunched in her shaking hands and chewed on her lower lip.
“Did she say if she was going anywhere or meeting with someone?” Lucas asked.
“No.”
“Do you know if she was having anyone over?” Maggie asked.
“Um, she mentioned she’d met this guy but she didn’t say if she was meeting him.”
“Did she tell you his name?”
“No.”
“Perhaps she had him over or he came to pick her up?”
“I doubt she would have invited him here. She’s really ... cautious. She might have planned to go out but she didn’t say anything. Kate would have told me if she was seeing anyone special. We are … I mean were, very close.” She bit her lip again and fresh tears threatened.
“Could there be anyone who may have held a grudge against her?”
“No! She’s a kind, beautiful person. I don’t know why anyone would want to do this.”
The tears Amy held back now ran down her face.
“Just a few more questions and then we will leave you in peace,” Maggie said.
“Do you or your sister have a lot of money?” Lucas asked.
“What?”
“Is your family well off? Were you spoilt?”
“No. Why are you asking me this?” She furrowed her brow.
“There was a ... note left at the scene.”
“No, our parents are working class. We rent this apartment. We pay our own way ... I ... I don’t understand.”
“Can you think of anything else about the man she was seeing?” Maggie asked.
She shook her head. Amy didn’t bother wiping away the flowing tears now.
“We don’t want to make this any harder than it already is but we need to send over some crime scene investigators to check for fingerprints and evidence, in case she invited someone in.”
She nodded her assent.
“We appreciate it.” Maggie paused. “We also need someone to come down and identify her. Would you like us to arrange for your parents to do it? We would have gone to them first but we didn’t have any contact details.”
“It’s ok, I’ll ring my parents. I don’t know how I am ... Can we do it later?”
“Yes, when you’re ready. Are you sure you’re ok?”
She nodded.
“Again, we’re sorry,” Maggie said as Amy showed them to the door.
Once in the car Lucas and Maggie sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts.
“More of the same,” Maggie spoke breaking the quiet. “Both had a mystery guy and were missing five days or longer. Neither spoilt nor well off but had the words cut into them. Why use these particular words?”
“I’m having trouble with that too. They both have dark hair and are short and petite too. Maybe they resemble someone or they dressed well and he assumed they were rich.”
“Hopefully Dave will have something for us.”
Chapter 3
Broken Souls
Friday
It was around nine but there appeared to be little activity on the streets. As Chelsea drove through the stillness, a familiar sentimentality flowed through her. Her mind drifted back to the first time she’d brought Wes to meet her family. How his brilliant blue eyes widened in amazement at the houses and estates, almost as if he couldn’t believe places like this existed. She remembered his beaming smile as they drove in the gates and how proud she’d been to bring him home.
Stop it, Chelsea, he’s gone.
The second Chelsea pulled to a stop, her sister ran out to meet her. Charlotte wrapped her in a big bear hug as Chelsea climbed from the car.
Charlotte’s curly strawberry-blonde hair bounced and her dark brown eyes sparkled as she gave Chelsea an animated update on the latest gossip. Her chatter remained constant as she strode towards the house. Chelsea, considerably shorter than her tall, slim sister, quickened her steps to keep up. As they entered the large hall, a fluffy grey cat wandered in and wound his way around Chelsea’s legs.
“Hello, Sebastian.” Chelsea beamed as she picked up their beloved pet. “It has been so long since I’ve seen you.”
Chelsea placed Sebastian down as Sarah’s short, petite frame rushed down the stairs, to embrace her eldest child.
“Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re finally here. I was beginning to worry.” Her brow creased. “I wish you would leave earlier and get here before dark.”
“I couldn’t close early today. I had to finish some bouquets for a wedding this weekend.”
The arrangements were for her shop, Bloom, which she’d bought with the help of a business loan, several years before. Chelsea took pride in what she’d achieved without the aid of her wealthy parents.
“You work too hard, Chelsea. Maybe you should hire more help.” Sarah stopped. Chelsea’s expression silenced her. “Very well, no lecture. Let’s go and locate our men.”
The girls followed their mother toward the study while Charlotte continued to update Chelsea. “You’re not going to believe this but Evan is already seeing Sasha Brooks.”
“You broke up about three weeks ago, didn’t you? I thought it wasn’t that serious.”
“That is not the point. I broke up with him and he still should be heartbroken.”
“Aren’t you already interested in someone else?”
“Once again that is not the point.” She pouted her full lips before stomping into the study.
Chelsea laughed, amused by her sister’s latest folly. As she followed Charlotte into the room that had always been their sanctuary, the comforting warmth surrounded her. The blazing fire from the hearth produced an inviting glow.
Her grandfather, Harold, sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs by the fire, drinking his ritual nightcap of brandy. His thick beard always ready to tickle your cheek and his wavy grey hair was, as usual, in disarray. Chelsea always found her Pa to be an uplifting sight.
Her father, Bradley, sat opposite, attempting to read a book. His lanky frame filled the chair, while his dark wavy hair crept down his face as he came very close to snoozing.
Chelsea’s brother, Hayden, a younger version of his father, lay on the adjacent couch with iPod plugs in his ears. He thumped out a beat on his legs.
Seeing her baby brother, ten years her junior at fifteen, always brought forth familiar tender feelings. She’d loved to mother him as a child.
Hearing the women enter the room, Bradley’s eyes sprang open as though he wasn’t about to doze off and Harold beamed at her.
“Come over here and give your old Pa a kiss.”
Chelsea walked over to give her grandfather an affectionate cuddle and kiss. “Hi Pa, it is so good to see you. Hope you’ve been good.”
“Never. I have to keep Mrs. Simpson down the road on her toes.”
Chelsea laughed and proceeded to her father. “Hi, Dad,” she said giving him a squeeze. “I’ve missed you; it’s nice to be home.”
“We miss you too, honey. It has been far too long.”
Chelsea glanced over at Hayden, who was still playing a drum solo and totally oblivious to anything happening around him.
“Hayden,” Sarah yelled.
“Huh?” he yelled over the music. “What?” He opened his eyes and seeing his sister, pulled the plugs out of his ears. “Hi, Sis.”
Chelsea walked over to her brother and kissed him on the top of his head. “Hey, Hads.”
“Now I can go to bed?” he mumbled.
Hayden unfolded his long, lean frame from the couch and trundled out of the study and upstairs to his room in the left wing of the house.
“So full of conversation, our Hayden,” said Sarah, rolling her eyes.
“He’s a teenager, Mum. I don’t remember being much better. Cut him some slack.”
“I do, Chelsea, but sometimes trying to talk to him is like pulling teeth.”
Chelsea curled up on the couch her brother had vacated, happiness warming her as she listened to the chatter around her. For the first time in months she felt relaxed and comfortable. She soon discovered her eyes growing heavy.
Through her sleep haze Chelsea heard her name and opened her eyes to see Sarah’s kind face beside hers.
“I think perhaps you should go off to bed, honey, especially if you want to get an early start in the garden tomorrow.”
She glanced around to discover only Sarah and Charlotte were still up.
She said goodnight before heading up the staircase to her old room still painted mauve with butterfly motifs adorning the walls from her teenage years. Her white canopy bed draped with sheer curtains looked inviting as always. Remembering her suitcase, she turned to retrieve it from the car and paused when she saw it on the seat by the window. Probably brought up by Bradley. She smiled.
As she prepared for sleep, she tried to ignore the memories of Wes. They troubled her most in this room. She recalled their last visit together when he’d proposed to her on the balcony, under a star-filled sky.
After the family celebrations, they had laid together on this very bed. His broad shoulders were facing her as he propped up on one arm beside her, staring at her with his pale blue eyes. His straight blonde hair fell over one eye as he grinned at her in his boyish, charming way. How they’d gazed at each other filled with love, unable to contain their happiness and excitement about the prospect of a life together.
If he wanted a life with you, why did he leave? Why can’t I forget him? It’s been a year. I’ve gotten on with my life, run the shop, kept busy but he just keeps creeping back in. Stop it, Chelsea, he’s gone, get over it.
Feeling fatigued, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the memories.
* * *
Lucas
Friday
Her hug was warm and he brimmed with comfort and love. She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. He scoffed a little but he loved her attention nevertheless. She waved goodbye, her eyes filled with motherly love as she told him not to be late.
As her face began to fade, the house disappeared and as he spun around, he realised where he was. He rushed to where she lay crumpled on the floor, her blood so dark it looked black. Her hazel eyes stared lifeless while he held her cold hand. His clothes became soaked with her blood as he drew her close. He hoped in vain her heart would still beat or her eyes would fill with warmth. He never wanted to let her go, even as the kind voices urged him to do so. He didn’t want them to take his mother away.
Lucas jolted upright, bathed in sweat. The dreams had returned after years of silence, the horror re-emerging. The memories fresh as though it happened yesterday. His chest ached and his eyes stung. He breathed deeply, trying to slow down his rapid beating heart.
Now that his dreams were haunting him again, he began to doubt, for the first time since receiving his badge, his capacity to continue with the case. He was beginning to lose focus, his edge. When conscious he could escape but now the nightmares had returned and sleep was no longer his friend.
Chapter 4
Hope
Saturday
The sun streamed through the window and the birds chirped their morning songs. Chelsea sat up and stretched languidly. She gazed out the window and the colourful spacious back garden greeted her with its assortment of annuals and perennials along with the numerous hedges edging the yard. Pottering around in the garden with Sarah and Charlotte would be just the therapy she needed today. Filled with sudden enthusiasm, Chelsea went down the hall to shower.
The smell of waffles and pancakes intoxicated her as she descended the stairs. As she followed her nose, she heard her mum singing along with the radio blasting from the bench and smiled.
She spotted Hayden first, slouching on a stool at the breakfast counter, scoffing down a pile of pancakes. Charlotte sat in her pyjamas next to him, drinking coffee, and attempting to wake up.
Her pa and dad were sitting at the table discussing issues from the newspaper and not agreeing. Sarah swung her hips in time to the music, which accompanied her humming and singing as she flipped pancakes at the stove. Chelsea grinned at the welcoming scene.
“Well this is a sight for sore eyes,” Chelsea said as she entered the kitchen.
She was greeted by her family in various fashions.
Chelsea slid onto the stool beside Charlotte. When her stomach growled she discovered she was as hungry as her brother appeared to be and devoured her awaiting breakfast.
“Thanks, Mum, that was great.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Why don’t you head out to the garden while I clean up in here?”
“What are you up to today, Charlotte?” asked Chelsea turning to her not quite awake sister.
“Give me another half an hour and I’ll help you.”
“Good, we can catch up some more. What about you, Hads?”
“What?” he said glancing up from - was that more pancakes? “Um, I have to do some study otherwise I can’t go to the movies tonight with Josh,” he mumbled looking at Sarah with distaste.
“Don’t look at me like that, Hayden. The rules were the same for the girls.”
“You bet they were,” Charlotte grumbled.
“I’d better get started, then. It looks like you two have been a bit neglectful of the garden lately.”
Chelsea’s mind drifted back to Wes again as she attacked the garden and pulled out stubborn weeds. She remembered him doting on her as she completed the very same tasks. He’d fetched her drinks, wiped her sweaty brow and lovingly made and brought her lunch. She thought they’d been so happy together.
They’d spent the afternoon hours chatting in relaxed comfort until she’d finally, after almost three years, asked about his family. He’d never spoken of any living relatives and she’d thought, now they were engaged, she ought to know this much about him. When the subject was broached he’d become very touchy so she hadn’t asked again.
Wes had always been awestruck by the Summerville’s wealth and rightly so, she supposed. She wondered whether this had anything to do with his family. She’d received a privileged life but never took anything for granted and understood how fortunate she was. Chelsea, Charlotte and Hayden never went without or wanted for anything. Her entire family had and still worked hard. Her parents and her grandparents before them were dedicated to providing the best possible upbringing they could for their children. Chelsea was well aware of how daunting it could be to some.
Many people over the years resented or were jealous of her birthright and while at school the taunts were prevalent. Chelsea was often hurt by the derision, nonetheless it made her more determined to go out on her own and rely less on her parents. Despite the fact that her parents owned the house where Chelsea and Elle lived, she insisted on paying her half of the rent. She knew them to be proud of her independence and her need to pay her own way, although they didn’t want or need her to.
When Charlotte and Sarah joined her, Chelsea shook away the painful memories and settled into the tasks ahead. The women spent the remainder of the fine, warm day catching up and Chelsea began to feel lighter in her heart. Being around her family always lifted her spirits. As usual, Charlotte did more talking than weeding and Chelsea was warmed by the familiarity of her perpetual entertainment.
That night, exhausted after a day in the garden and full after a nice dinner with numerous debates, the girls settled in the large sitting room, with a bottle of wine and their favourite movies.
Hayden completed his studies as promised and had gone to the movies. Harold and Bradley had settled in the study for the evening. It was just as it had always been. Chelsea thought perhaps the last of her scars were finally beginning to heal.
* * *
Lucas
Saturday
Lucas couldn’t sleep again, afraid of what the night would bring. His mind swirled with images of their lifeless bodies. The familiarity of the case was troubling him and sleepless nights were doing little to help.
He considered blocking out the images which were refusing to leave him alone with a sexy brunette. Lucas wondered whether getting up and going out to pick up any random girl to occupy his mind and fill his bed would help. He couldn’t remember the last girl he’d brought home to his near-empty apartment when he thought a roll in the hay might relieve some stress.
He finally decided against the idea as another girl with a name he wouldn’t remember or would never see again would be a pointless waste of energy. Besides they usually wanted to experience the re-run and he was not in the mood to deal with any strings or scorned women. He couldn’t be bothered to be polite as he refused a second round. He was too tired to be nice.
Did he crave someone to share his life and burdens with, or was he just lonely? With haste he shook off the whimsical notions. He didn’t get involved. Being too close to anyone, and then losing them, hurt way too much.
Wandering around his barren apartment like a lost child, Lucas considered a walk to the corner shop, falling back on the old habit. Cigarettes brought the burn to his lungs, brought the physical pain which masked the emotional one, even if was only for a few minutes. Lucas decided against this too. He’d kicked that habit and wanted to leave it behind, so he tried the next best thing.
First, he did push-ups till his chest burned and the sweat stung his eyes. Turning over he did crunches until the pain washed over him and all he could think and feel was the ache. Chin-ups and more push-ups followed until his body protested and sweat drenched his skin. It didn’t help. Nothing seemed to stem the hollowness in his chest, the empty feeling as though something was missing. He was used to feeling numb and for years had stumbled through his life without feeling.
An icy shower prolonged the ache in his muscles but didn’t alleviate the empty hole in his soul. Did he really want to be alone? His thoughts drifted back to the possibility of letting someone into his life, so he stuck his head under the cold water and buried his longing.
Fatigued, Lucas fell into bed, attempting to clear his mind and obtain some much needed rest. But he knew it would simply bring the demons.
* * *
Sunday
After having breakfast the following morning, the sisters decided to do some window shopping. Neither Chelsea nor Charlotte could ever say no to a relaxing Sunday, walking the streets and perusing the local wares.
“So how’s your love life?” Charlotte asked in her typical inquisitive way.
“Fine thanks.”
“Meaning you have none, right?
“I don’t have the time or inclination. I have family, Bloom and friends. I don’t need anything else.”
“Chelsea hasn’t it been a year? Just get over it already.”
“It has nothing to do with Wesley. I’m just not interested,” Chelsea said a little too bitingly. “Oh, Sylvia’s shop looks great. I love the bag in the window. It would go great with my brown boots.”
“Yeah, it’s great. I get the hint, Chels. I’ll butt out.”
“Thanks. So who’s your new guy?”
“Well, he’s not mine yet, but give me time. His name’s Scott and he’s in one of my classes. He’s really smart and so cute. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him before.”
“You were pretty wrapped up in Evan.”
“Yeah I suppose, but I don’t usually miss someone so hot.”
They both laughed, which turned into a fit of giggles and Chelsea couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard with her sister. The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up and walking through the quiet streets.
* * *
Later that day, Chelsea sat in the study reading her favourite book from the collection when her Pa sought her out. When he sat in the chair opposite, she closed her book and waited. She knew this meant there was something he wanted to say. Harold had been a psychiatrist before retiring many years before and Chelsea appreciated and trusted his advice, as did the rest of the family.
“Chelsea, you still don’t appear to be your old self yet.”
“No, Pa, I’m not quite there yet. I still miss Wes. I realise it’s been a year but I loved him. I wanted to marry him more than anything in the world. I don’t understand why he left and like he did.”
“Chelsea, his soul was troubled. I don’t believe he would have made you happy, not long term anyway.”
“Yes, he was sometimes very edgy, but it added to his charm.”
“Time heals, Chelsea, and I believe you will find the right man for you.”
“I thought that was Wes.”
“No, I don’t believe that to be so. You are a beautiful, sweet, lovable girl and you will know when the time comes.”
“I hope so, Pa. You know it has always been hard for me to trust. There have been a lot of people in the past who only befriended me because of all this.”
“Yes it is hard to know whether people’s intentions are always the right ones. You can’t close yourself off just in case though.”
“I’m scared of being hurt again.”
“I know you are, but we just want to see you happy. It’s time to let go.” He smiled and left her with her book.
Chelsea wondered whether her Pa wasn’t right after all. She had always blamed herself for Wes’ walking out on her without a word of explanation. There must have been something she had done. She must have made him feel bad in some way, maybe asked too many questions about his family that one time. It must have been her fault.
But maybe it was more that Wesley’s soul had been troubled, as Pa had put it. Maybe he had been intimidated by her family and become envious, resentful, angry. Had he only been after her money and walked out when he realised she was too independent to take money from her family. She had always believed that it had been something she’d done, that she hadn’t been enough, but perhaps there had been more to it.
Either way, it was time to stop the self-pity. Maybe Wes wasn’t her only chance at love after all.
* * *
Monday
“Well the cause of death is the same. Bled out from a cut throat,” Lucas read from Kate Miller’s report. “Ligature marks are consistent with being tied at the wrists and ankles with what appears to be a nylon rope, which of course can be bought anywhere. Her injuries were inflicted using some type of thin blade once again.”
“The cuts were all made over the period they were missing and there are signs of multiple sexual assaults. This guy is patient.” Maggie paused. “The question still remains about the ID too. How is he getting his hands on it when their handbags are left at home?”
“I still think he is knocking them out first or threatening them with a weapon, and then takes the ID with him.”
“Yeah, maybe or he somehow gets his hands on it before. Something we need to consider. So where do we go from here - Kate’s friends?”
“Yeah, I think so. Libby’s friend. What was her name?” he asked Maggie, who looked over Libby’s report in front of her.
“Kelly Bradshaw.”
“What did she say about Libby’s new man?”
“Kelly told me according to Libby he was charming and handsome but shy and that was why she hadn’t introduced him to anyone. She thought Libby seemed pretty keen.”
“Maybe Kate met the same guy and he used the same excuses. Obviously he didn’t want anyone to meet him so no-one could identify him.”
“Looks that way. I’ll go through missing persons now and find all girls around twenty-five who match the victims’ description. If our man is true to form, he may have already grabbed another.”
Lucas nodded in agreement before returning to Kate’s file. He looked up suddenly.
“Did Libby have trace evidence on her body which came back as flour?”
“Um,” replied Maggie once again scanning the report. “Yes, a flour substance from transference, either from his hands or the location.”
“I’ll check out all abandoned warehouses and factories that would’ve used flour.”
Lucas began his search hoping there would only be a few to check out. The database located four possible warehouses within the metro area but spread out over the city. Two were in bread and baked goods production, the other two were flour mills. None of the locations was in close proximity to the two scenes where the bodies had been dumped. It would take a while to conduct a search.
“Lucas, I’ve found two possible missing girls who fit the description. Maybe we should talk to the people who reported them missing, see if they had a mystery guy. We might get a description, something.”
She proceeded to tell him their names and last known address.
“One of the factories is nearby. We can check it out on the way. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
* * *
When it came time for Chelsea to leave on Monday, Sarah started with her standard lines.
“You should come home more often.”
“You work too hard.”
“We just miss you so much.”
The more Chelsea protested the more it continued. After a final goodbye, she headed off on her journey back home. She used the drive to reflect on the last three days and how much better she felt. It was time to move on, to stop wallowing and wipe away the painful memories. Was it pure loneliness that caused her to dwell in the past? Was this why she couldn’t let go? Did she miss Wesley or just the idea of him? If only she could forget his beautiful face.
Three and a half hours later, after a delay getting back into the city, Chelsea pulled into her drive to discover the house dark. She decided Elle was probably asleep and forgot to leave the light on or, more than likely, she was out. Elle spent many nights away from home so Chelsea wasn’t concerned.
After lugging her suitcase up to her room, she decided to sit and reflect on the balcony, her favourite haven. While gazing at the lights over the city and listening to the hum of city commotion, she vowed to give herself a new beginning.
Chapter 5
Missing
Tuesday
Chelsea woke feeling refreshed and ready to make some changes in her life, starting with Bloom. Naturally, she would continue to work with diligence, as she always did, however, she resolved to open her life to new opportunities and stop burying herself in work.
After showering, she swept her hair up into a neat pony tail and wondered whether Elle was home. She looked out towards her room to discover the door still closed.
She's probably asleep.
Chelsea hurried through breakfast and a kick-start coffee, knowing there was a lot to get through today. She walked into the garage to discover Elle’s car parked next to hers.
She must be home - her car’s here. Was it here last night? Chelsea couldn’t remember. Of course, she’s in bed, don’t worry.
On the drive over to Bloom, she tried to go over the arrangements to be completed but her thoughts kept drifting back to Elle. Should she have checked on her? I’ll ring when I can.
When she pulled up at the back of the shop, her delivery driver, Gavin, arrived in his van.
“Morning, Chelsea,” he called as he hopped out. “Did you have a nice weekend?”
“Very relaxing thanks, Gav. How was your weekend away?”
“Great. It was nice having the extra day off with my family,” he replied with a grateful smile.
“They all well?”
“Yes, they’re growing up fast. I’ll start unloading so you can get started.”
“Thanks.”
While Gavin loaded the van, she prepared arrangements for sale and display. Bloom, her home away from home, filled Chelsea with contentment. It was a quaint shop with displays lining each wall and a counter in the rear. Although the lighting was low, it didn’t detract from the overall visibility. It merely set the ambiance. The walls, painted in cream, were adorned with hanging baskets containing flowering plants which were also for sale.
The large front window displayed her favourite collections of the day. ‘Bloom’ was painted across the top with artistic flair and bordered by a creeping vine. In the back storage area were two large industrial fridges to keep all her flowers fresh. Being surrounded by the wonderful aromas and colours always soothed and lifted her spirits. As she opened the front door, Mrs. Nelson, a regular customer, breezed through the door.