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Authors: Alysia S Knight
Beauty and the Chief
BEAUTY AND THE CHIEF
By
Alysia S. Knight
Beauty and the Chief
By Alysia S. Knight
Published by Heart Dreams Press
Layton, Utah
Copyright © 2015 Alysia S. Knight
ISBN 13: 978-1-942000-02-0
ISBN: 10: 1942000022
Cover design: by Kelli Ann Morgan @
www.inspirecreativeservices.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may reproduced in any format or in any medium without written permission.
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place and events are product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or events are purely coincidental.
The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not represent Heart Dreams Press or any of its affiliates.
“That’s my girl. Ready for your walk?” Jillian struggled to snap the leash to the excited yellow Lab’s collar. “Down,” she reprimanded with a smile, while dodging the wet tongue. “Sit. That’s a good girl.” She stroked the dog’s honey-white fur which was only a couple shades lighter than the hair that hung in a ponytail halfway down her back.
The instant the door opened, the Lab lunged forward. At thirteen months old, Abby didn’t look much like a puppy anymore. Her head reached Jillian’s thigh and, even though she still had the leanness of youth, it took quite a bit of Jillian’s strength to hold back the eighty pounds of four-legged muscle.
“Abby stay, sit,” Jillian ordered as she struggled to lock the door. Turning from the lighted porch, she peered into the misty darkness common to the coast this time of year. “Let’s make this fast tonight. We’re late.” Jillian suppressed a shudder, grateful for the soft comfort of her well-worn sweat suit.
Starting out on a slow jog, they made it through the security gate and across the street to the park. Jillian smiled at the dog keeping stride beside her. Getting Abby was one of the best decisions she’d ever made in her life. She needed the companionship, and Abby was a wonderful dog; smart and full of love. A little too lively and liked to chew on things, but she was still young. Their walks and runs were especially satisfying now that they were no longer pulling matches. The thought hardly crossed her mind when Abby lunged forward, tugging Jillian off the path.
“Abby, heel,” Jillian commanded breathlessly but, for once, the dog totally ignored her, dragging her over the slippery grass. “Abby!” The leash dug into her hand. To Jillian’s relief, Abby stopped, looking back a split second before returning her gaze to the fog.
Apprehension filled Jillian as she ran her hand over the dog’s rigid body. Suddenly, the night felt too black, too quiet. Why am I out here this late? “This isn’t smart, Jillian, you know better.” The words said aloud died in the fog. She had always made it a practice never to go out running alone after dark, even with Abby, but tonight she’d worked late, trying to please a customer and then she had stopped at the store for milk, and her car wouldn’t start when she came out. Her brain was rambling, she realized.
She was frightened.
“Let’s head back. It’s been a long day,” she said softly as a shiver ran through her body. She gave a light tug on the leash. Abby turned to follow but only made it a few steps.
A muffled whimpering snaked out of the mist.
Abby spun, jerking Jillian around. Her body rigid, she growled into the darkness.
“Abby, what is it?” Her voice went up several octaves. Not knowing what the sound was, but the fact that she had only heard Abby growl playfully before, frightened her.
Abby’s lunge came so fast it pulled Jillian off her feet, ripping the leash from her hand. The park light glistened off the golden coat just before the dog disappeared between two trees. “Abby!” She sprang after her dog without a thought. A branch appeared out of the mist striking her across her face. Jillian slowed her pace an instant before she stumbled into a small, secluded clearing.
Abby’s growl, joined by a muffled curse, caused Jillian to turn. A scream broke from her lips at the same time an agonized whine pierced the air. The mist-diffused streetlights were some distance away, but there was still enough light to define the sharp, metal edge of a knife before the dark figure turned to her. Jillian stumbled back into a picnic table. Going down, she hit the ground only a second before a monstrous hand snaked out, locked in her hair, and hauled her up.
Hot breath assaulted her face. Bulging skin and deformed features loomed at her. It took a second to realize that only the dark, wild eyes were real.
“Beauty.” The word dragged out in caressing syllables. “Scream, Beauty, scream.” The harsh words taunted her − she was indeed screaming. Jillian lashed out. Her hand contacted with the spongy rubber of a grotesque mask. Digging her fingers in, she struggled and fought but couldn’t do any damage to the face beneath.
A deep-throated laugh rumbled in her face. Jillian felt the attacker’s excitement as he pulled her around by the hair and forced her down to the table, pinning her with his heavy body. “Love me, beauty, love me.”
“No!” Jillian’s denial erupted in a pained gasp.
With his savage hiss, she caught sight of the knife coming at her.
“No!” She kicked out, missing with her foot, but her knee connected with the soft tissue of his thigh. With a grunt, the hand holding the knife came down, hard knuckles connecting with her cheek instead of cold, sharp metal.
Lights flashed in front of her eyes as her body was jerked around like a rag doll. Jillian could no longer move to stop the assault.
“Beauty.” The word rasped against her cheek.
A snarl filled the air that didn’t come from the beast. A deep-throated cry echoed in Jillian’s foggy mind and morphed into the wail of a siren. Released, she dropped. Her fall ended with the hard impact on the ground.
Through the fog, voices joined the sirens. Jillian struggled to move. Her hand bumped soft fur. She received a faint whine.
“Abby,” Jillian’s whisper flooded with tears. She sank her face into the golden coat, ignoring the sticky wetness on her cheek. She felt the damp tongue touch her fingers, as the lights and voices surrounded her.
Police Chief Mark Richards hunched over the file open on his desk. The last two months, it had become a nightly routine. Praying that, if he looked long enough, he’d find some shred of evidence that would give them a lead to go on. Unfortunately, he knew the reports inside out and there was nothing. The only similarity was that a stab wound to the heart had killed the two women.
Leaning back in the chair, he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He should go home and get some rest. Mrs. Morris, his housekeeper, would’ve long since left his dinner in the fridge, where it would be waiting to be warmed up. Jordan, his ten-year-old son, was at a movie with friends. He smiled at the thought of Jordan, the best part of his life.
Pushing on the floor with one foot, he turned his chair to the window. The fog was thick tonight. The perfect scene from a horror movie, but this was no movie. The villain was real and lurking in his city. Preying on young, beautiful women he had sworn to protect.
“Chief, we got lucky.” Edward Samuelson’s voice came through the office door behind him. “It looks like he struck again.”
A hiss broke from Mark’s lips as he spun his chair toward the door to the burly officer, his second in command, and friend. “What do you mean, lucky?” Mark’s words were brusque. He didn’t ask what Edward referred to.
“The victim’s alive, and we have a witness.”
Mark was out of his chair, across the room and snagging his raincoat from the rack in one second flat.
Edward fell into step beside him, well used to working this way. “The call came in from Roseland Park, not five minutes ago. They’re combing the area now.” He continued to give details.
Roseland Park, not even a mile from his home. A quiet, beautiful park where he’d taken his son since Jordan was a baby.
Lights and policemen flooded the area as Mark pulled his car to a screeching halt. The single red flashing light on top of his car blended with the myriad of others. To one side, an ambulance was being closed up. The Chief of Detectives came toward them flipping through pages of a small notebook.
“Mark.”
“Andrew, what have we got?” Mark looked over the scene.
“A call came in. A lady heard screaming in the park. Luckily, we had a unit about three blocks away. Our suspect fled. We have teams searching the neighborhoods for him.”
“We know it was a man?” Mark cut in.
The police captain nodded. “The witness gave a partial: male, approximately six feet, wearing a baggy dark sweater or sweatshirt. The rest is kind of shaky. She’s in shock.” He led the way to the crime scene. “It appears our witness was out jogging with her dog and interrupted the killer. He then went after her and the dog got in the way. We have this.” He motioned to a rubber mask in an evidence bag. “Our witness managed to pull it off in the struggle. And, you ought to like this.” He held out a bag containing a knife with a six-inch blade. Fresh blood marked the steel and the bag.
“Maybe it is our turn to be lucky.” Mark turned toward the ambulance pulling away. “I want photos of every inch of the area, and go over it more thoroughly than with a fine tooth comb.”
“Knew you would. It’s already in progress,” Detective Andrew Hamilton assured.
“Good, what can you tell me about the victims?”
“In the ambulance, we have a female. Caucasian. About twenty-two years old. Looks like he was following his MO, but either because the jogger and the dog interrupted him or possibly the girl struggled, he missed his mark. One stab wound to the chest. Paramedics are still trying to get her stable. They weren’t sure if it nicked the heart, but appears there’s blood in the lungs. Can’t give us odds on whether she’ll survive or not, but at least she has a chance.”
“That’s more than any of the others have had so far,” Mark reminded grimly. “Do we have a name?”
“No ID as yet.”
“Her name is Sandra.” The voice was faint, unsteady.
Mark turned. “You know her?” He assessed the woman who stood before him wrapped in a blanket from a cruiser. She was slightly taller than average, between five foot seven and five eight. Her hair was a mixture of gold and light blonde. At one time that night, it would have been pulled back into a ponytail, but now the better part of it had been ripped free to tangle around her face. Floodlights glistened off the tears in her blue eyes, which were bright with fear.
She winced slightly as she nodded her head, struggling to swallow. “Not well. She works at Delaney’s Market. We always spoke. She’s very nice. Was the employee of the month last month, had her picture in the newspaper. She saved a little boy in the store that choked on a piece of candy. I don’t know her last name.”
Mark recognized the rambling tendencies as a sign of shock.
“Miss Taylor, this is Police Chief Richards,” Detective Hamilton said.
There was another slight grimace as she made a motion to nod her head.
“Chief, Jillian Taylor.”
Mark stepped forward. The woman appeared unsteady on her feet. Close up, he noticed a faint redness on her left cheek. The suspect was probably right-handed. He made a mental note. Mark didn’t notice the heavy silence in the air until it was broken by one of the officers calling Andrew’s attention.
“I’ll go with Hamilton.” Edward turned, going after the detective. The woman’s eyes followed the two men in the direction of a picnic table and the large area cordoned off with yellow police tape. Noticeable shudders ran through her body as she hugged the blanket tighter around her.
“Why don’t we move over here?” Placing a hand on her elbow, he directed her to a nearby police car. From Mark’s six foot two height, the woman at his side seemed small. Another shudder shook her, pulling at something deep within him. An urge to shelter her hit him. He shoved the thought away. He was tired. Relieved, when he reached the car, he opened the front door, motioning for her to sit.
“Does the police chief always handle investigations?” Jillian Taylor looked up at him.
“In this case, yes. Besides, we’re not such big a city that I don’t get involved.” He forced a smile. Reassurance was what she was seeking.
Sliding his hand into his pocket, he pushed the button on the small recorder he had placed there before leaving the car. Squatting down in front of her, he laced his fingers together. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Fear deepened in her eyes but, with a deep breath, she nodded.
The lady has courage.
“I was taking my dog, Abby, for our nightly walk.” She caught back a sob. “Actually, we were jogging tonight. I was late getting home.”
“So you usually don’t go out this late?”
“No, normally it’s around six to six thirty.”
“All right. Continue.” He kept his tone soft, reassuring.
“Abby stopped and started to growl. Then she broke away, and ran off into the trees. I went after her. It was probably a foolish thing to do, but I didn’t think.”
Mark didn’t think either before laying his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze.
“There was a whine. I knew it was Abby’s this time.”
“This time?”
“There … there was a sound before … before Abby took off.”
“Okay, so you heard Abby’s whine. Was it close?”
She nodded. Her eyes filling with tears, her breath becoming ragged. “When I turned, Abby was on the ground. There was this big shadow, then it moved, and I could see a woman. Then the shadow was in front of me. It was so … it was gross. He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me toward him.” Tears flooded the words now.
Mark again touched her hand to keep her grounded. “It’s all right now. Take your time. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe.” He kept his voice low and reassuring.
“He called me ‘Beauty.’”
Mark couldn’t hide his shock, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, as she continued, “‘Scream, Beauty, scream. Love me, Beauty’. I don’t think I realized it was a mask until I tried to dig my nails into his face. He laughed. That was when he said, ‘Love me.’”
“Love me, Beauty?” Mark asked to clarify.
She looked at him, gathering a little more composure. “Yes. ‘Love me, Beauty, Love me.’”
“That’s exactly what he said?”
“Yes.”
“You’re doing fine, go on,” he encouraged.
“We were struggling. He had a knife in his hand. He was going to kill me. That’s all I could think over and over again. He was going to kill me. I tried to kick him, but he hit me, then Abby was there. I think she bit him. He was gone, and there were sirens, red lights, and police.” The last few words came calmer.
“Good. Now, I want you to describe him. You said it was a man, around six feet. What kind of build?”
“I don’t know, I …”
“I know it’s hard, Jillian,” using her first name for familiarity, “but I want you to try. He was about six feet?”
“Yes, when he breathed, his breath hit me in the face when he pushed me against the table.”
“Good, that’s about right for six feet. How was he built?”
“He was … he was strong, big, not really burly, but not lean like you. His muscles were not hard, but he was still strong.” Shudders ran over her.
“It’s all right.” Again he rested a hand on hers.
“Can you tell me what he looked like? You pulled off his mask.”
Instantly, her trembling multiplied, and her breathing became erratic. Her hand pulled away from his, going to her mouth to stifle a sob.
“It’s all right.” Breaking his cardinal rule, he put his arm around her. Her head tipped down to rest on his shoulder. He wanted to pull her closer, but fought the desire. He wished he didn’t have to continue the questioning. That he could make it all go away. But for it to go away, he had to stop this monster, and to do that he had to have answers.
Wanting to protect someone had never been this pronounced. What was it about the vulnerable look of Jillian Taylor that tore at him? He started to ease her away when the dam which had been holding back her tears broke free, letting the hot drops burn his skin all the way to his heart.
“He was going to kill her. He was going to kill me. All the blood,” the woman sobbed. “So …”
Mark tightened his hold on her, letting her cry until the sobs faded, turning into muffled hiccups.
He sat her back from him. With one hand, he wiped away the tears.
“I’m sorry.”
He almost smiled at her apology. “It’s all right. You’ve earned it. I’m sorry but I have to ask you again. Can you describe him?”
“He … he was backlit.” Her trembling started up again.
“Okay.” He pressed on. “Let’s start with his hair. If you couldn’t tell what color, was it long or short?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t have any hair. He was bald.”
“Bald! You’re positive?”
She gasped, to hold back tears, nodding again. “His –,” she put her hand back to her mouth, covering her trembling chin, swallowing hard several times. “His head was awful. The scalp was rough. I felt it when the mask came free. It was scarred or something.”
“All right. What about his face?”
“I didn’t see his face. It was in shadows or turned down toward Abby. She attacked him. She saved me. How is she? How’s Abby?”
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “One of the policemen was going to take her to the vet.”
He hadn’t thought of the dog, but he wanted – needed − to do something to give her some comfort. “Wait here just a minute, and I’ll find out?”
She nodded.
“You’ll be all right?”
She nodded again.
Mark stood and motioned a nearby policewoman over.
“Watch her.”
He walked across the wet grass to his second in command. “Edward?”
“They completed the search of the surrounding area.” Aggravation hung heavy in the man’s voice. “No sign of our attacker. Mackey’s dog had a possible scent, but it dead-ended in a driveway a block and a half away. The people in the house are gone on vacation according to a neighbor. No one saw anything, but a kid did hear a car start up just shortly after the sirens. Looks like our guy got away.”
“Anyone see anything earlier?”
Edward shook his head. “The fog and mist kept most people in. The lady that called just happened to be letting in her cat when she heard the screaming. Both women are very lucky.”
“Tell me about it. All right. Keep a couple patrol cars in the area tonight.” Mark pulled his collar up around his neck. The mist was turning into a light rain. “Tell Stuart I want a copy of all the photos and his report on my desk as soon as possible.”
“Like yesterday,” Edward returned.
“I’m taking Miss Taylor to the hospital. She should be checked out. Have you heard anything on her dog? She’s asking.” Mark looked over to the cruiser where the woman sat huddled in the front seat.
“Hamilton said they sent it over to Mountain View. Two cuts. Hopefully not bad. That dog deserves a medal.”
“Or at least a steak, cooked medium-rare. I’ll see you in the morning.” Mark watched the criminologists bending over the ground inside the yellow taped-off area, and offered a silent plea that there would be more clues to this maniac.