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Ooooo it's gettin gooood!!!




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


 

 

I reluctantly dragged myself from a deep, dreamless sleep. I could sense the light before I could see it and it made my head hurt like hell. Leigha must have forgotten to turn off the hallway light because it was shining directly in my face. I felt as though I was on the receiving end of a hangover the likes of which I hadn’t experienced since college. Then I paused. I was working last night. There was no way that I could have had anything to drink, right? Trying to retrace my steps throughout the evening, I remembered starting the event. I remembered Byron showing up unannounced and uninvited, and then there was the thing with Quinn.

                Shortly thereafter, I had a brief conversation with Sadie. What came next? I left. No, I had to clean up and do a quick review of my daters’ follow-up cards. Didn’t I? What did I do? Oh God, what did I do? I felt the tell-tale burn of bile rising in the back of my throat. The dull throb behind my eyes became a blinding white pain. I had to get to my bathroom. I had to get to Leigha. Even if I came home plastered, she’d know what happened to me. Or at the very least, how I got home.

                Rolling myself out of my bed, which felt a lot lumpier than usual, I blindly stumbled in the direction of my bedroom door. In slow, measured steps I moved forward until my left foot was snatched out from under me and I slammed face first onto the cement floor. Cement? I may not have been able to remember much, but I knew for a fact that my bedroom had hardwood floors.

                “What the..,” I whispered as I palmed my now bruised face. Pulling myself up to kneel, I heard a dragging, clanking sound. Ignoring the pain, I snapped my head hard to the left and I looked wide-eyed at my side. I was chained.

                “What the fuck? What the fuck!” Now the hangover, if I could even call it that, was a forgotten detail.

 

*

 

                She was his.

 

*

 

                Quinn hadn’t left the precinct in two days. The clothes that he wore to Nicole’s dating event were now rumpled and ill-fitting. His usual scruffy five o’clock shadow had grown into a full beard and mustache. He looked and felt like shit, but it was worth it because they now knew the true identity of their hotel victim, BB Poule.

                “Glad you’re finally up princess,” the chief boomed as he came stomping into the quiet room where Quinn had slept for the last three nights. “The AV tech finally came back with the security footage from the hotel. She says she’s got something for you to see.”

                “Yeah. Alright.” With a groan Quinn rolled to the edge of the threadbare cot and let his feet, still weighed down by his heavy boots, drop to the floor. The fact that it had taken another body for them to finally get near the killer was a hard pill for Quinn to swallow. Sure, the girl from the hotel didn’t appear to be as wholesome as the other women but that didn’t make her expendable.

Someone started pounding on the door, and it mirrored the throbbing pain he was beginning to feel behind his eyes. “I’m up,” Quinn shouted.

“Hurry up, old man!” Marconi was the worst wakeup call ever. “This chick’s got a bug up her ass. Keeps saying stuff about having other cases. You gonna get out here or what?”

“Gimme a minute. I’m coming.” Quinn thought he heard a snicker and what might have been ‘that’s what she said’ but he couldn’t be sure. Not that it’d be surprising to hear something like that from Marconi. Avoiding his reflection in the mirror by the door, Quinn made his way into the bullpen. Why the hell would anyone put a mirror there, he mused. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of how weathered and worn he was getting. Dragging his scattered thoughts back to center, he wove his way through the maze of desks and file cabinets towards Marconi and the video tech.

A leather clad slip of a woman was bearing down on Marconi, and the guy looked beyond terrified. “Next time you wanna talk about my ass, I put a bug up yours! Got it?”

“Lover’s quarrel?” Marconi’s eye’s darted to Quinn and seemed to be pleading for help. The woman, whom Quinn assumed was the AV tech, spun around and looked at him squarely with her hands fisted at her side.

“Are you Detective Quinn,” she barked at him. Eyes wide with amusement, Quinn stole a glance at Marconi. His partner was attempting to silently roll his chair back to his desk and away from the force of nature.

“Yeah. You the tech?” Unlike his wimp of a partner, Quinn was not intimidated by aggressive women. He simply handled them the same as he would any guy.

“I’ve got your footage here.” Quinn noticed that she didn’t answer the question, instead taking a small, flat box the size of a deck of cards and a cord out of her bag. “You mind?” She pointed to his chair, to which Quinn motioned for her to proceed.

“It took some time to weed though the usual hotel lobby bull but I was able to finally catch about a minute of your vic’s ‘John’.” With a few clicks, the woman pulled up the video file on his computer and Quinn was able to get his first glimpse of the killer. “See,” she tapped on the black and white image on the screen. “That’s him against the wall with his head ducked. I don’t know how he managed it, but none of the other cameras caught him entering.”

Quinn leaned over the desk and studied the screen. The image was grainy. “That’s the best you can do?”

“Not my fault. The place makes you fork over a kidney to pay for one night, but they can’t get a decent surveillance system. I cleaned it up the best I could. If I go any further it’ll start messing with the integrity of footage and the DA won’t be able to use it as evidence.”

“Did she tell you that?” Pricilla strikes again, he thought.

“I have a criminal law degree,” the tech snapped back. “I don’t need to be told what happens during a trial.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. “Anyway, I was also able to get him leaving the room and heading down the hall towards the stairs. That’s why I wasn’t able to track him leaving the lobby. The camera by the stairs in the lobby was out for repairs or something.” She opened up a second file. Just as she had said, Quinn was able to watch the killer close the door and hang the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the knob. He then walk to the stairwell door and disappeared behind it as it closed. His head was bowed the entire time. The quality, however, was marginally better. The man had grey hair and a well-tailored suit jacket.

 

*

 

                The initial shock of finding that I was chained to a bed in a cement room quickly gave way to panic and fear.

                “HEY! LET ME OUT! GET ME OUT OF HERE!” I screamed nonstop. I banged the rusted metal headboard of the bed against the wall. I wrenched my ankle blindly hoping the chain would give out. I carried on like that for several hours with no response. Hoarse, sore, and tired I slumped onto the bed and looked around my tiny, isolated prison. The room couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve feet square, with a cement floor and cinderblock walls on three sides. The fourth wall was earthen. I was underground. There would be no point in calling out for help anymore. The only person who would hear me, if anyone at all, would be whoever put me down here. The likelihood of getting any assistance from them was nonexistent.

                There was a door opposite the wall where the bed was, but the hinges and knob must have been on the outside because all I was presented with was a cold metal break in the stony wall. The only other object in the room was a large white bucket with a lid. Was that my toilet? How long was I going to be down here? My stomach heaved for a second time since I’d woken up and my head began to swim. Then I was enveloped in darkness, falling into an endless abyss.

 

*

 

                Quinn kept staring at the grainy image on the computer screen. He’d made the AV tech go through the entire footage frame by frame, not that she was at all pleased to have her work questioned. This was the closest he’d come to the killer and it was eating him up inside that he couldn’t see the man’s face. He never turned toward the cameras. Quinn wasn’t even lucky enough to catch the guy standing in front of a reflective surface. It was a start thought. That, of course, was only if the overly general description of a tall man with a medium build and salt and pepper hair could be considered a start. Frustration mounting, Quinn tossed his computer mouse at the monitor. It was time to attack this from a different angle.

                He spun in his chair to face Marconi. “D’you get anything from Vice yet?” After showing the girl’s picture to a few of the ‘working girls’ in holding, he was finally able to find one who recognized her. She was called Dulcie, but none of them could tell him where she usually worked or who she may have worked for. Asking Vice for help with anything was something that most homicide detectives avoided at all costs. DA Dunn, however, didn’t care about department politics; she wanted an arrest. So, the call was made in order to get the background they needed. And for their troubles, Vice wanted in on the case, calling it a ‘sex crime’.

 The other detective held up a hand, telling Quinn to wait. He was on the phone, listening intently to the person on the other end and scribbling something on a scrap of paper. When the call ended he hurriedly replaced the receiver of the phone and jumped out of his seat.

                “I just got off the phone with them. Get this; she was working out of a local bar. They said more and more of the girls with ‘executive’ clients set up shop in an upscale restaurant or hotel. Usually someone on staff will point out the Johns, and get a cut after the date.”

                “Do we know what bar she usually worked?” Quinn.

                “Yeah, hang on,” Marconi responded as he shuffled papers around. “The Terrace.”

                “Well, hell.” He’d just been there Saturday night for that dating thing Nicole forced him to attend. Quinn then realized that he hadn’t heard from her since that night. Sure, he’d said some things – some not so nice things. In his defense, though, she was being absolutely impossible. Who the hell stands up for a womanizing slim ball anyway? If not for the obvious difference in skin tone, Quinn would have pegged ‘What’s-his-name’ as the killer. He was slimy enough. And possessive. And aggressive. He had all the makings of a stalker. He’d have to talk to Nicole about that guy. That was assuming, of course, that she’d still talk to him.

                “So you ready to go or what,” Marconi looked at him expectantly as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. Quinn cursed silently. How long had he been staring at the empty chair across from him?

                “Yeah. You drive; I’ve got a few calls to make.” Quinn pulled himself out of his chair and grabbed his jacket off the.

                “Hey, Detective,” a uniformed officer ran up to Quinn. “You just got a call from some newspaper reporter. He says you’ve been looking for him.” Quinn looked at the young officer trying to make sense of what he’d just said. He couldn’t recall being in contact with any reports, newspaper or otherwise.

                “That’s mine, kid,” Marconi broke in. He took the slip of paper the message was written on and waved the younger man off, dismissing him.

                “You care to explain why you’re talking to the press? Dunn won’t be too happy with you trying to steal her spotlight.” Quinn started walking out of the bull pen and towards the elevator.

                Marconi scoffed, “She doesn’t scare me. Besides, this is the reporter who talked to the second vic’s sister. You know, the one with the new boyfriend.”

                Quinn spun around, “We talked about that a week ago!”

                “It took that long to find this guy. Apparently he made it big and moved down the coast to work at some national paper.” Marconi pressed the elevator button, and then turned to face Quinn. “I’ve been working this case just as hard as you have. In fact, I think I should take over as lead detective.”

                Quinn rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his knows. “I tell you what, you keep thinking on that while you go to the restaurant and try to find Dulcie’s pimp-bartender. I’ll stay here and call the reporter.” The doors to the elevator slid open and Quinn all but shoved Marconi inside.

                “But I did all the work to get that number! I should be…”

                “You should be out there proving you’re lead detective material. Not stuck behind the desk making phone calls. Good luck. And make sure you report back to me with what you find.” Quinn smiled and waved at Marconi’s reddened face just as the doors were sealing shut.

                “But…” Marconi’s argument was cut short as the doors finally separated him from Quinn.

With a sigh, Quinn slumped slowly back to his desk. First, he’d call Nicole and warn her to stay away from the d-bag from the other night as well as the Casey she mentioned. Then, he was going to call the reporter to see what information he’d gotten from the sister of the second victim, Cassandra Marche. After that, he’d need to call the other victims’ families to see if perhaps there was a new love interest or friend that emerged in the days leading up to their murders as well.

Quinn pulled out his phone and scrolled though his calls to find Nicole’s number. Once he found it, he hesitated to press the button to call. She’s probably still pissed, he decided and opted to call the reporter first instead. What would it hurt to delay the inevitable a couple of hours?

 






Chapter End Notes:

So, there you have it. I know the cliffhangers are probably killing you, but if i kept giving you more the chapter would never end. And nothing is ever really resolved in a mystery until you know 'who done it'. Thanks for taking the time to read :) please continue to review and comment, it keeps me moving in the right direction...completion!







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.