The Scene (10 page)

CHAPTER 10

             
My mind immediately began running with the news I had just received.

             
The trio of losers left with a brunette last night. Could they have ditched her and coincidentally run across an attractive blonde, kill her, drain her, and dump her body sometime in the last six hours? Unlikely. There was someone else who was seen with a blonde last night, which very well could have been a coincidence. Right?

What did I get myself into here? Either Cyrus is a dick or a murderer. He can’t be both. Well, I guess he can, but I refuse to believe I allowed myself to be swept off my feet and plopped brutishly on my ass by a murderous, philandering, bastard. It has to be the third gunman. There is, obviously, someone else responsible for all of this. I have to be over-thinking this one.

              “Dylan? You there?” Mike’s voice snapped me from my inner monologue.

             
“Yeah, I’m here. The girl, stripper? Same as the others?”

Please say yes.

              “If by same, you mean bloodless and naked, yes. But a stripper, unlikely. She’s young, and well-kept, as far as we can tell. Not your typical hardened hood rat like the others.”

If it had been Tatum
, he would tell me.

He continued
. “I haven’t gotten to get a look at the body yet. She’s in a strange position. We have to wait for forensics to finish their photo shoot before we can move her.”

Damn it. Calm down
, Dylan. Chances are low your best friend’s dead in an alley.

             
“Could it be a different guy?” I asked hopefully. I know it’s horrible to hope for two separate murderers. But I wasn’t about to allow Cyrus to make a fool out of me again.

             
“Looks like our guy is becoming more selective. I gotta catch this asshole before he does this to someone who matters.”

             
“What the fuck does that mean, Mike? Everyone matters.” I allowed my hostility to flow freely.

             
“You know what I mean, someone who matters to the public, and more importantly to the media. No offence.”

             
“I’m a journalist, not a media hound. How are you certain it’s only one guy?” I thought then of the three boys Regina had pointed out.

             
“Hmm, I was wondering when you’d figure that one out. You know I can’t give out details to the media, I mean, anyone.” He was being an ass purposefully.

             
“I think I’ve figured out a lot more than you know. There are some people I think you should talk to.” I wasn’t quite ready to hand anyone over yet but bluffing makes for excellent bait.

             
“Nobody talks to pigs, Dylan. You know that. What do you know?” He was beginning to sound desperate.
Hook.

             
“You know I can’t talk to pigs, I mean you.  I have to figure shit out on my own, so do you.”
Line
.

             
“You drive me insane.” He sighed and I knew he was probably swiping a hand through his hair. “There may, or may not, be a file waiting in the passenger seat of my car at ten this morning. This file folder might contain the M.E.’s report, my findings, and certain crime scene photos. If only I knew a nosy little reporter who would be willing to give over their information, in trade for the passenger door to be…unlocked. Hmmm….”
Sinker
.

             
“Ugh, fine. Macabre Saturnine, Malcolm McTavish, and Embrace. That should get you started. I don’t know much, yet, but I think I am getting close to something.” I left out Cyrus and the three dildos. No need to show my hand just yet.

             
“You know these people?” He sounded surprised.

             
“It’s a long story. Will I have an open window or not?”

             
“Yeah, sure. You coming down for the sneak peek, before the vultures get here?”

             
“Maybe. Address?” I was finding it hard to believe he was bringing me in on the investigation with such little persuasion on my end. But far be it for me to turn down a fool’s information.

             
“More like alley, just south of Pico and Norton. Look for the flashing lights.”

             
“No shit?” My stomach sank into my butt.

             
“Yeah why?” The question was simple, but I knew he was on the verge of interrogation.

             
“Nothing. We’ll talk when I get there.” I hung up, closed my eyes, and prayed I was wrong.

             
Facing a serious moral dilemma, I knew I had to call Tatum. Firstly, I needed to make sure she wasn’t dead and secondly, I was in desperate need of her advice. I dialed her number from memory and waited for her call tone, nothing.  I hung up and tried back again. Straight to voicemail.

“You called me, who are you? Leave it at the beep.” Oh so eloquent, Tatum.

The line beeped and I spoke. “T. I need you. Call me as soon as you get this. Why is your phone off?” I hung up and sat in silence for a few moments. 

My heart began fluttering and my stomach was in knots.

             
Had I really been in the same room with a serial killer? Could I have been a target? Oh, yeah, right, Dylan. Not blonde, not a hooker, and definitely not skinny. I think I’m in the clear.

I dialed again
. “You called me, who are you? Leave it at the beep.”

             
“Ugh, Tatum, what the fuck? Where are you? Call me back. I need you!” I hung up and threw my phone across the bed, falling back with my head in my hands.

             
What have I gotten myself into? And where’s Tatum?

I
lay there for what felt like an hour, head in my hands, eyes closed tight, trying not to think. I finally mustered up enough courage to open my eyes. I glanced at the clock, five after eight.

I’d better get my ass in gear
.

I jumped in the shower and washed as fast as I could. Once out, I stood in front of the mirror, stared myself down, and questioned my sanity.

Two, now three days into my book research and I’m already in trouble, what’s new?

I threw on a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and flip-flops. I pulled my hair up into a wet ponytail and headed out the door.

The air outside was cooler this morning than the last time I left at eight in the morning to see a corpse.  I slid into my tiny car and flipped the ignition. Air instantly blasted out of the vents making the air inside the car hard to breath with stale heat.  I turned the knob quickly to stop the suppression of oxygen, via my shitty A/C. The vents now sat silent. I rolled the window down, lit a smoke, and threw the bitch into drive. 

Here we go.
             

I rounded the corner of Pico and Norton at eight-forty five. I made really good time. My eyes were alert looking for any sign of emergency vehicles; nothing. I crept down the street looking in every direction. About thirty feet ahead
, I could see lights: flashing red and blue, gleaming on the pavement, illuminating the entrance to an alley. I parked my Metro in the first spot I came across and sat; I was terrified. I don’t know why I cared so much.

So Cyrus might be our killer, go me, I discovered it. If it was him
, at least I knew where to find him. I could tell Mike and he could go nab him. No…I can’t tell Mike anything yet.
If Mike knows what I know, he will jump the gun and do something retarded. I can’t risk it. I have to be sure, positive, that this poor blonde girl is in fact the same blonde girl that exited Macabre Saturnine with dear Cyrus a mere seven hours
ago. Or, it could be Tatum. Ugh, shut up brain!
Suck it up Dylan, just go look. 

I opened the car door and stuck one foot out. I leaned forward and took a deep breath of the, surprisingly crisp, May air, held it for a moment, and slowly released it through pursed lips. I was ready. I walked exaggeratedly slow toward the flashing lights, searching the area for Mike; no luck. I didn’t want to go in
. I didn’t want to know, and more than anything in the world at that moment, I just wanted to go home and forget the whole damn thing. I would sooner give up the entire project completely than be forced to accept that the one hot guy that has ever paid any attention to me is a fucking serial killing, vampire wanna-be.

Of course he would be; what else is new.

Or worse, Tatum was the dead naked girl in the alley ahead. I couldn’t think about that.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring blankly down the way to the alley’s entrance, wondering what to do next. I could vaguely hear the murmuring of officers and detectives. No CSU yet, too soon.  This alley was under more cover than the last, more secrecy, making me wonder how one stumbled upon a body this morning. It had to have been fairly recent, or very hush-hush, for the crime scene to not be completely swarmed by media vultures yet.

I could hear faint footfalls echoing off the nearby buildings. They were strong and steady and moving nearer.  I glanced around and saw nothing. I could hear them well but the echoes created the illusion the footsteps were coming from all around.

Where could they be coming from?

I could hear them coming closer, getting louder, more steady, quicker, and with purpose. I spun around and around, looking in every direction. The quick steps pounding in my ears. Something was coming fast, and right at me. I began to panic; I couldn’t find the owner of the impending footsteps, nor the direction from which they originated. Louder, they were coming now, fast, almost on me. I ran. My legs moved fast toward the alley. I would be safe in the alley.  My eyes darted in every direction, searching for the danger. I could see the entrance to the alley only ten feet away now. I forced my legs to move faster. The footsteps grew louder, faster; they were right on top of me. I was only steps from the end of the brick wall that separated me from the hordes of armed policemen, ready to defend my honor. Something grabbed me. A large hand thudded down on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks, and spinning me around. I braced myself, tightened my hands into strong fists. I was ready to knock the shit out of someone. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. The force of the hand spun me around, and without looking, I swung
. Hard. My fist made contact with an extremely hard surface, and it hurt badly. 

“What the fuck?!” shouted the hard surface.

I opened my eyes and saw the hard surface hovering over me.

“Mike, shit, sorry. You scared the fuck out of me. What were you thinking?” I slapped his arm.

Rubbing his jaw, he said, “What was
I
thinking?
You
hit
me
!” His jaw wiggled back and forth as he squinted. Insinuating I really had hurt him. 

“Well, I’m sorry. What were you doing? Random running?” My brain was trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“I was right behind you. You didn’t see me? I saw you pull up from across the street. I was trying to get someone at the club you so graciously directed me to. No luck. I saw you turn around; you looked right at me.” He looked at me like I was retarded.

“I looked all over, Mike. Your humongous feet were causing a serious echo slapping the pavement like that. I couldn’t figure out where the footsteps were coming from. I never saw you.”
I haven’t felt right for days now. A bit jumpy and paranoid. Maybe I just need sleep, or coffee, or prescription medication.

“Hmm. Anyway, come on; get to gawking before someone sees you.” Mike took me gently by the elbow, as you would lead a blind person, and began moving toward the alley entrance.

My mind was running a mile a minute. I couldn’t focus on the task at hand. I was trying to think of ways to stall, alternatives for the possibility I had the hots for a murderer, and even tossing around the idea of blurting out what I thought I knew to Mike. I could feel my feet dragging, not moving swiftly enough to keep up with Mike’s six-foot four stride. Mike slid his hand up to my shoulder and began to push me forward, ever so slightly. Only a few dozen feet into the alley, there they were: the cops, the lights, and the body. I took a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.

Alright, fuck this joker. So what, he killed people. I’ll be the badass bitch who takes him down. That’s right, fuck him.

I stuck my chest out and threw my shoulders back. With a final nod of my head, I was off on my own. I walked with purpose toward the area where I knew the body would be located. I moved around the police cruisers blocking the action, gave a nod to the officers standing around doing nothing, closed my eyes, and walked straight ahead.

Bare legs stuck out from behind a dumpster no more than ten feet ahead of me.  From this angle
, it could have been anybody. Tatum included.