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He shoved his badge into his pocket, his gun into his holster and closed the file. “Going back to last year.”
“Ah shit. I was afraid you were going to say that. The kills are similar. Can she ID the female victim?” Grant snorted.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“Who is this ‘she’?”
Montana smiled. “Mistress Jade.”
“As awful as it sounds, I’ve heard of her. She’s well known in the BDSM world.”
“We’re going to have to talk about your extracurricular activities,” Montana teased.
“Funny guy. Let’s grab a beer. It’s already after nine.” Grant brushed his hand through his hair. “This crap can really get to you.”
“Later. I still have work to do.” The graphic images rolled through his mind and the bloody victims gaping mouths were moving. Talking. He wiped his brow and shook off an eerie sensation.
“You’re really going to try and talk to the doctor. Aren’t you?” Grant shook his head. “I know you far too well, partner.”
“She’s our only connection, other than Mistress Jade.” Montana’s mind was reeling, thoughts about a case long ago gnawing at his gut.
“There are no coincidences.” Grant looked down at the folder. “I have a terrible feeling this is just the beginning.”
“So do I, partner. So do I.” He glanced at his phone and smiled. “Speak of the devil. Let’s see what the good doctor knows.”
* * *
Destiny had remained unnerved since the phone call with the detective. While he’d merely asked her basic questions, red flags had risen sky high. She had enough friends on the police force to find out the names of the victims. Mark Ramos had been coming to see her infrequently over the last four years. Her immediate diagnosis had revolved around his time spent on the police force. His psyche had been unable to handle the volume of murders, given his jurisdiction in the city of Richmond, a location once highlighted as a murder capital in the United States. He’d been plagued with nightmares, creating difficulties in his teaching profession. Through working on his fears as well as medicine, he’d returned to a relatively normal life. Or so she’d been led to believe. His last visit had been over six months before. Now he was dead.
Shivering, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for the light to change. The second victim was something else entirely. Her background was one of abuse, but she’d managed to dig her way out of a broken home, earning a master’s degree in business. Still, the girl’s trauma had remained, manifesting itself in bouts of self-mutilation. She’d missed two appointments in the last four weeks. Her parents had been called but had yet to identify the body, however the picture her policy buddy had sent her was clear enough. Candace Williams had indeed been her patient.
Destiny heard the honk behind her and hit the gas pedal, heading for home. As she drove down Cary Street her mind wandered. Her midnight dreams moving into her consciousness was more than disconcerting. She’d always been able to hear voices from the dead, hearing their cries of help since a small child. They’d begged for salvation. They’d shown her the true beast living inside all of us. Shoving them inside a padlocked box hadn’t been easy. She feared her years of neglect were literally coming back to haunt her. Ghosts and demons refused to be denied.
She cringed and turned on the radio, trying her best to get her mind off the limited details of the murders. How could anyone kill so viciously?
You belong to me. Never forget.
“No!” Destiny slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “You aren’t real.” Yet she heard his laughter as well as his calling. He wanted her and would stop at nothing to have her. Images of women tied and gagged rushed into her mind’s eye. Their bodies writhed as they struggled, their bodies glistening with sweat and cum, saliva and urine.
Crack!
She jumped as the end of a whip slashed against the naked body of a woman. The visions were detailed, vivid in color and absolutely terrifying. “Leave me alone!” There was no doubt the women craved the pain. “Just go away. I don’t need you.”
After a few seconds, the images disappeared. She moaned and wiped her brow. The dead were calling out to her. Concentrating, she looked at the red light. She bit her lip and leaned forward. When the light turned green, she pumped the gas. The squeal of her tires forced her back into reality.
The night was teeming with activity, dozens of people frequenting the various bars aligning the sidewalks. The Fan was the only place to live in her mind. The mixture of gingerbread style homes, some built in the late eighteen hundreds, depicted a quaint yet colorful environment. When she turned on her tree lined street, she groaned. There were no parking spaces close to her house.
Finally securing a spot around the corner, she climbed out of the car, grabbing her briefcase. Her thoughts remained with the victims. Why were they killed? Was there a connection, other than they were her patients? What little she’d been able to glean from her buddy in the department was that there was some question about the BDSM community, something she knew but so much about. The details he’d given were sketchy, but she was able to connect the dots to a point. The murders weren’t random in nature.
Vanilla. Her entire life had been nothing but, especially her sex life. The draw of kinky and sinful she could understand, but the lifestyle? Sighing, she hugged her purse close to her body as she began the four-block walk to her house. The trees rustled as she walked, the wind whipping through the leaves. In the distance she heard thunder. She loathed storms, hated being alone during one. Ordinarily the trek down a pristine tree-lined street wouldn’t bother her. Tonight? Her skin crawled, her pulse and adrenaline kicking into overdrive.
Michael’s behavior continued to bother her. He’d never been like this before. Never. In the years she’d known him, and even through his various sexual overtures, he’d never acted on his desires until this afternoon. She pushed hair out of her eyes and continued down the walk.
Clink!
The noise came from across the street. Destiny glanced over. Other than the sound of a barking dog in close proximity, she couldn’t detect any other presence. She was surprised the street was as quiet, devoid of activity. She swallowed and picked up her steps, humming to herself as she crossed an alleyway. Another rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Even with the streetlights glowing from every corner, the darkness was foreboding. The moonless night held no stars.
Tick! Clank!
