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The Orchid Strangler II
Itappedonthedashboard of my car as I slowed down, circling the street where I knew she spent most of her time. If she had simply been a prostitute, she wouldn’t have been in my sights, but she was more than that.
She brought girls–young girls, not women, sometimes as young as twelve–onto the beat with her and she seemed to have no issue making them work with johns she didn’t want anything to do with.
The violent type. The bad type. The type that wouldn’t pay.
She wasn’t a pimp, not exactly, because she still did most of the dirty work herself. But she outsourced what she wasn’t willing to do to children, and the very sight of her made me sick to my stomach. Once, years ago, I would’ve called this in. But investigations were slow and the longer I took, the more girls she could ensnare into her trap.
She was tall and stylish, pretty but not young. When I drove past her for the first time, I noticed the new black extensions on her long straight hair, the strappy heels clicking on the hot pavement as she chased an approaching car.
I was in the civilian car I used for things like this, a nondescript old beater I’d bought from someone off craigslist for nine hundred dollars and I’d simply never registered it in my name.
I knew if I was in my patrol car, even the unmarked one, a seasoned sex worker like her would have been able to spot it. I rolled the window down and she leaned over, looking into my eyes.
”Hello, handsome,” she said, her voice a practiced croak. ”How can I help you today?”
”What will you do?”
”The works, as long as you keep it vanilla,” she said. ”Kinky will run you a pretty penny and it needs to be preplanned.”
”Nothing kinky. Get in the car. What’s your name?”
”Show me the cash.”
I flashed her a wad of hundreds and her expression softened. ”Star,” she said. ”What’s your name?”
”One rule. Tell me your real name, not your sex worker name. I like to…”
”Pretend we’re on a date? Sure, daddy. My name is Ana.”
Good. I knew that, but that was all the confirmation I needed. ”Great. My name is Brock, Ana,” I leaned to the side, opening the passenger door to let her in. ”Hop in.”
It didn’t take long to drive us somewhere secluded–to get her in the backseat. She thought it was a game when I put my hands around her throat, even reminding me the kinky stuff cost extra.
She didn’t realize I was serious until it was too late.
My hands tightened around her throat.
Crunch.
Finally…some peace and quiet.
The picture was off when I dumped the body, something inelegant about the whole thing. So I added an orchid–a pretty white flower, perched in her lips like a place-setting. Orchids meant innocence, a reminder of all the innocent lives she’d ruined.
I was a good person.
And this bad woman wouldn’t hurt anyone else.
Chapter Eleven: Sofia
Myheadwaspoundingwhen I finally got out of bed. I dragged myself to the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the mirror, my own face staring back at me, the bruises on my skin turning a dark purple.
I pressed my fingers softly against my face and exhaled heavily as the pain spread from my cheekbone to my temple. Groaning, I splashed my face with cold water. A few things had been left next to the sink for my convenience; a hair dryer, face wash, a face cloth, a disposable, wrapped toothbrush and unopened toothpaste. I uncapped it and brushed my teeth, thinking about my next step.
Escaping was pointless. I knew they would find me. But I had a clue I didn’t have before I was kidnapped and taken to Neon. Clearly, the Blades had something to do with the killings. I had thought that they were simply the work of a serial offender, but this made a lot more sense. The volume of murders alone should’ve clued me in to the fact that this was the work of multiple people.
I had to be very careful. These were dangerous men, and if they realized I was onto them, I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. I knew I didn’t have my phone or my laptop or any of my notes so I would mostly have to rely on memory to confirm any of my hunches.
