He tapped his fingers as he waited impatiently in the moonlight for the light in the penthouse apartment to dim. As he drummed away against the rough denim fabric of his black jeans he mentally prepped himself for the act that was about to occur and readjusted his long leather coat around him to ward from the non-existent chill. From his position leaning against a light pole, he could see that the doorman still wasn’t completely out yet from his nightly television shows so again he gazed into the blackened window of the top floor and pondered how it should have been.
As the man’s head nodded off and finally fell back against the chair, he made his move and carefully stalked up to the double doors, making very little sound. Standing behind the prone man he debated whether to slit his throat or go in for the kill. Mere seconds had his victim’s eye bulging from their sockets as he plunged his fangs into the older man’s neck, sucking and pulling at the blood he found there. Dropping his victim to the floor, he sauntered to the elevator and waited for the tell-tale ding before lounging against the side wall as he waited for it to arrive at the top floor, careful to keep his head down at all times to avoid the cameras. As he waited, he occupied himself by humming an old tune his mother used to sing him when he was a child.
Early one morning, just as the sun was rising
I heard a maid sing in the valley below
"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use, a poor maiden so?"
Remember the vows that you made to me truly
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me
With little preamble, he unlocked the door with his own key and calmly walked into the back bedroom where he knew she would be waiting for him. As he had predicted there she was in ivory lace and a smile as she laid back against the pillows on the bed. Her hand sprawled across her belly as she beckoned him to her. Clothes were stripped from his body as he made his way to the bed and crawled up the length of her to settle between her hips.
Twenty-seven hours and eleven minutes later…
Lieutenant Eddie Taylor made his way up the backstairs of the apartment building as he mentally braced himself for the scene he was about to embark on. He had already seen the body of the first victim, Charlie Marshall, propped in the squeaky office chair and drained of his blood before being hauled away for an autopsy. In the small town of Sunnydale, there had been four other murders like his this month alone and it didn’t bode well for the young cop that the spree would be over with.
As he reached the top of the stairs and turned into the apartment crawling with some of Sunnydale’s best cops he noticed two things. The first being that for a crime scene the rooms were remarkably clean and the second was that he had yet to find his partner. He moved swiftly from room to room until he came upon the master bedroom and the dead bloodied body of Margaret Adamson.
Laying as straight as a board on the bed with the pillows propping her head up, she looked as though she might have been sleeping if not for the knife wounds to the chest and punctures on the side of her throat. The normally ivory sheets were stained red with her blood and a single white rose lay nestled in her crossed arms with the very tips of the petals tickling her chin. Next to the bed lay a thick rope, knotted into a noose, and a bottle of bleach. Looking back over the body, Eddie found there were burned patches of flesh dotted along her thighs and over her…
“What are you thinking about Ed?” Andrea Tate, Detective with the Sunnydale police department for seven years, stood up from her place inspecting under the bed as she gazed at her slack-jawed partner.
Anything he was going to say was interrupted by the appearance of a wiry little man in the doorway to the bedroom.
“MARGARET! Oh my dear Margaret! What has that bastard done to you?” The petite brunette man crumbled in the doorway in tears as the officers rushed to usher him out of the room. The tears in his eyes doing nothing to block the gruesome scene before him from his memory.
“Sir, you have to leave. You can’t be in here. We haven’t processed this room yet sir.” Andrea led the screeching man from the apartment and in the hallway as Eddie stood glancing between them and the dead woman, unsure of where to start in the bloodstained room.
Deciding there was nothing he could do about the body, he set out to find clues to the poor woman’s killer in the room around him. Donning a pair of latex gloves he grazed his index finger over a picture of the victim sitting with a handsome older gentleman in the park. They were embraced like an old married couple yet he saw nothing in the room nor on the victim to suggest that she was still married. Continuing through the room, Eddie found nothing out of the ordinary except a rolled up life-like drawing of the victim, drawn when she’d been sleeping if he guessed correctly. The artist had taken great lengths to draw her at peace and was dated the 5th of October, her death day.
Out in the hall Andrea was having no luck calming the effeminate man down as he continued to sob in her arms, thrashing against her in an attempt to reach his ‘poor Margaret’.
“Sir, can you talk to me?” Andrea waited semi-patiently as she resisted the urge to throw the little man off of her and step back away from the close contact. “What’s your name?”
“J-Jack Fletcher, ma’am. I was Margaret’s assistant. H-how could he murder her like that? It was him, wasn’t it?” His bright blue eyes drowned in tears as he tried to meet her hardened gaze. Years of working with victim’s families had given her the hard edge needed to deal with the pressure of crying men.
“Andrea,” Eddie stepped out of the apartment into the hallway and had to stifle back a chuckle at seeing his normally callous partner holding the weeping man. “Need to talk to you for a minute.”
Untangling herself from Jack, she made a quick getaway to Eddie’s side, eager to be away from the hugging and little bit of groping the tiny man had done.
“We need help. This is the fourth one this year and we’re no closer to solving this thing than we were then. I think we need to contact Summers.”
“Summers? As in Buffy Summers? As in your ex-girlfriend Buffy Summers?” Andrea’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head at her partner’s statement.
“Yeah. She knows about vampires and I’m thinking that’s why we can’t get a lead on this guy. That and the puncture wounds to the victims neck. We need Buffy.” Eddie shrugged and ran his hand through his slightly tousled dark hair before straightening his suit jacket.
“I’ll admit that we probably would be better having your creepy ex helping us but just admit it…”
“Admit what?” His crystalline blue eyes met her own brown ones in confusion.
“You are still completely and totally in love with her.”
“Well yeah but we’re not meant to be. She’s still pining away for that vampire…”
[Reviews - 17]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2932 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
This fic is completed and will be updated every 1-2 days, depending on my schedule.
Chapter End Notes:
Please review