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And I'll stay up through the night / Let's be clear, won't close my eyes / And I know that I can survive / I'll walk through fire to save my life. --Sia, Elastic Heart

 




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.


               The peaceful way she laid across the tiny bed was in stark contrast to the ferocity with which she tried to free herself earlier. He stopped his work briefly to observe her. Her hair had long since escaped the confines of the knot she had pulled it into – it was now a wild halo of curls cast around her head. The worried crease of her brow was erased and the tight purse of her lips relaxed into a seductive pout. Her breathing had calmed; the gentle rise and fall highlighting the feminine swell of her breast. Even at rest his Nicole was calling to him, tempting him. Reaching out a hand, he stroked her face and swept an errant curl aside. Seeing his love lay there, making herself vulnerable and submissive to him, stirred emotions and desires within him that were becoming increasingly more difficult to control.

 

               “Patience, my darling. You will have me soon enough.” A chaste kiss on her lips sealed his promise. One final check of the room ensured that everything would be in place once she woke up. She would see and understand his devotion to her, and then nothing would keep her from fully accepting her place in his life.

 

 

 

#

 

 

 

               “I understand that it’s been a while, Mr. Gibbons. But anything you can remember about the story that you wrote or the interview you had with Cassie Marche’s sister, Veronica, would be helpful.” Quinn had a tenuous hold on his temper, and even that was beginning to give way. The reporter that had initially presented the police with what he thought should be a person of interest was now trying to stonewall the detective, claiming not being able to recollect any such information. He wasn’t going to beg the man for his help, but Quinn knew that if he walked away from this call empty-handed he’d be read the riot act by the chief and DA Dunn.

 

               The man on the other end of the phone sighed heavily, “I suppose there are a few things that I can recall. Of course, I’d expect to get an exclusive interview once the killer has been apprehended if my information is as vital as you say it is.”

 

               “Of course,” Quinn sneered. “I’m sure the DA would be more than happy to talk with you. That is to say, if what you give us leads to the killer. If not, you’ll just have to wait for the press release like every other reporter.”

 

               “Well, I can tell you that Veronica Marche assured me that her sister had met someone new, a new boyfriend. She couldn’t give me a name as she hadn’t met him herself, but she said that Cassie was practically glowing and seemed without a care in the world. So Ms. Marche didn’t press her sister too much for information in the beginning. When Cassie went missing, Veronica was quite certain that whoever her sister got involved with was the person responsible.”

 

               “I have to tell you, Mr. Gibbons, I’m not hearing anything suspicious or vital here,” Quinn cut in.

 

               “I’m doing you a favor, detective,” Gibbons said irritably. “If you don’t want to listen to all that I have to say, I’m sure your chief would be more than willing to hear me explain how a killer slipped through your fingers on account of your impatience.”

 

               “You need a story and I need an arrest. Cut the dutiful citizen bullshit and say what you’ve got to say.”

 

“I’m sure you’re already aware of Cassie Marche’s health and financial problems.”

 

“Yes. I spoke with Veronica. Cassandra Marche was a recovering addict with an eating disorder and she was drowning in debt.”

 

“I take it, then, that you were unaware of the fact that all of Cassie’s debts had been paid – credit cards, car note, and medical bills. Even her student loans were taken care of.” Quinn’s ears perked up at the information. Whoever this guy was, he had serious amounts of cash on hand and easily accessible. The fact that he choose to spend it all on a girl like Cassie, after only knowing her a short time, secured his spot on the suspect list. Why give a near perfect stranger a free pass like that, Quinn wondered.

 

“She was also getting gifts from this secret boyfriend,” Gibbons continued, “very expensive ones. Veronica said that she didn’t think to be concerned until her sister told her that the boyfriend wanted Cassie to quit her job and move into a condo he owned.”

 

“Why the red flags,” Quinn questioned.

 

“Veronica was seeing less and less of her sister. And the few times she did, Cassie seemed edgy and impatient. She never stayed too long to visit. Veronica said that it was as if she’d had to sneak away just to spend time with her family.” To hear Gibbons tell it, Cassie’s boyfriend had made the scary transition from Casanova to predator.

 

“If that was the case, why didn’t Cassie leave him? Why didn’t Veronica intervene? Why the hell didn’t she tell any of this to me months ago?” With each question, his voice grew more aggressive and insistent. Quinn knew they would go unanswered; he was asking the wrong person. True to his nature, Gibbons wasn’t going to give any more information than he absolutely had to in order to maintain control of his sources and exclusivity of the story. And Veronica Marche had been a mental and emotional wreck after what happened to her sister. Even now, trying to talk to her about it only resulted in tears. Lots and lots of tears.

 

“You find that out, Detective Quinn, be sure to let me know.” Before he could respond, Quinn heard the hollow sound of the dial tone on the other end of the line. With a weary sigh, he dropped the receiver and tried to wrap his head around what he’d just learned. Cassie was a sugar baby, for lack of a better term, whose boyfriend was controlling of her time and interaction with others. That would explain why Veronica had known so little about the relationship. It was also giving Quinn a clearer picture of the man he was dealing with. He was going after women in obvious need of being cared for or about.

 

Was there some kind of twisted knight in shining armor aspect at play? That argument could be made. Cassie was certainly in need of rescuing. She had put herself on a fast track to prison or an early grave with her drugs and anorexia.  Dulcie was a prostitute. If that didn’t warrant an intervention, what did? Only, she was killed immediately. Whatever Cassie had that pulled the killer in, Dulcie lacked it – and Cassie didn’t have enough to keep her alive. Quinn could feel pieces starting to pull together out of the hazy randomness. He’d need to review his victim board and check into the other murdered women. He was finally getting a pattern.

 

“Corwin.”

 

Of course, Quinn thought. Of course she would show up now. He dragged his hands over his face and attempted to mentally steel himself for what was to come.

 

“Pricilla,” he growled in reply. So far, he was failing at maintaining his calm.

 

“I understand you got some very promising evidence from the hooker’s murder at the Luxus. Do we have a suspect yet?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Care to explain why you’re napping at your desk instead of bringing him in for questioning?”

 

“No.” One word answers were all Quinn could manage. The woman was insufferable.

 

“Do it anyway.”

 

“There is no one to question, because you can’t see the guy’s face in any of the surveillance footage. And before you ask, there were no witnesses from the hotel either. All we have to work with so far is a tall, well-dressed male with graying hair.”

 

“So, the evidence is basically shit then? Honestly, Corwin, I’m beginning to think this case is beyond your abilities as a detective.” Pricilla pinched the bridge of her nose in mock frustration. “Is there anything you’ve managed to do that could be considered productive?” Quinn leaned into the back of his chair and studied the DA for a moment. She was perched on the corner of his desk, supporting herself on one hip while the other was flared out in an attempt to create a dramatic curve. The tight fabric of her skirt was pulled even tauter, and had slightly risen up her thigh. Quinn chuckled to himself. In the past, that would have done things to his libido.

 

“Actually, ma’am,” Quinn finally stated with a derisive smile, “I’ve gotten quite a bit done that I think is very productive. Unfortunately, constant interruptions seem to be preventing me from following up on them.”

 

Her lip curled up in a sneer at Quinn’s words. Without further response, DA Pricilla Dunn slid off of his desk and stalked out of the bull pen, pausing only briefly to berate a detainee who was stupid enough call her ‘baby’.

 

 

 

#

 

 

 

I woke up gasping and fighting against the emptiness. I couldn’t tell if I’d been asleep for minutes or hours. Could it have been days even? There was no way for me to gage the passage of time. Instead of searching again for an escape I simply lay on the bed with my eyes closed, resigned to my fate. Leigha was probably frantic and worried sick. That was to say if she was even at home. I had no idea how long her trip upstate was supposed to take. If it lasted longer than a day or two, she’d have no idea what had happened to me. No one would. I was going to starve to death in this box, if I wasn’t tortured and killed first, and all for some sick pervert’s enjoyment.

 

The thought of food made my stomach growl and churn. I was so hungry I could taste it. I could smell it. I paused. Sure, I hadn’t eaten in some time, but I couldn’t be going crazy this soon. Be realistic Nicole. Focus, I told myself. I opened my eyes. To call what I saw peculiar would have been to mild a description. Without question is was totally bizarre.

 

In the opposite corner of my cell was a small table covered by a white linen cloth and a solitary chair, pulled out in anticipation of its intended occupant having a seat. The table was decorated with a single white lily in a porcelain vase and a votive candle. Walking to the table, I found that it also held one place setting and a dinner plate laden with the most amazingly delicious looking meal. Before me was a golden roasted breast of chicken with a glistening buttery herb sauce, creamy risotto with baby Portobello mushrooms, and a salad of baby field greens, dried cranberries and almonds. Everything looked sinfully delectable. My mouth began to water and the temptation was almost too great to resist. Instantly I felt all of my frustration, fear, anger and confusion surge through me.

 

“You must think I’m stupid,” I whispered hoarsely. I turned my back to the table and yelled at my captor. “You think I’m going to eat this! Look at you, trying to be scary – bad enough to leave me in here chained, but you can’t kill me yourself. You want me to poison myself?” I picked up the vase and threw it at the door. The sound of the fragile container shattering as it struck metal was satisfying in a perverse way.

 

“You want me DEAD! HUH?” The candle was next to fly across the room, its wax splattered on the door. “You get down here and do it yourself! You fucking do it yourself! YOU HEAR ME?” I reached for the offending plate next, ready to show my captor what I thought of his deadly last meal. As I raised the plate, poised to hurl it in defiance too, an impatient sigh filled the room causing me to freeze.

 

“I hear you quite well, darling.” I spun around in the spot where I stood, my eyes wildly searching for the source of the voice.

 

“Honestly, Nicole,” the mystery voice continued, “the tantrums are not necessary. And I think we both know you’re better than that.”

 

               “Please,” I begged. “I’m sorry. Whatever I did to you I’m sorry. But you have to let me out of here. You can’t just keep me here.”

 

               “I know, sweetheart.  I know that you’re sorry. Believe me I do.” I let out an unsteady breath, not realizing until I did so that I’d been holding it in. I set the plate down. “But you’re here for your own good. Can you not see that, darling?”

 

               “No, no, no, no, no.” My vision blurred with tears. “NO! You cannot keep me here against my will. There are laws against this. YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” I was nearing hysterics again. My pulse accelerated and I began to break out in a cold sweat.

 

               “I CAN DO THIS,” the disembodied voice rang out in menace. The sound of it reverberated through the whole of the room. It was a deep and powerful baritone and I felt it vibrating in my very chest. Stunned into silence, I cowered against the chilled wall.

 

               “I tried, dearest. How hard I tried to be patient and understanding. I waited for you to bring yourself to me. You repaid my…courtesy by seeking out that, that mongrel of a police detective.” He saw me with Detective Quinn. How long had he been watching me? The wheels in my head began to spin struggling to put a face with the voice that now surrounded me. Was he a disgruntled client? Or a guy that I turned down at the bar?

 

               “And not only that,” he continued angrily, “you insult me further by destroying my gift and promise of eternal love and run into his arms to seek comfort.”

 

               “That was you,” I balked. “You sent me the flowers.” It was more a statement than any question.

 

               “You love calla lilies,” he crooned. I could hear the smile in his voice. The thought of it made me want to heave, but at least he wasn’t shouting at me. “I can understand why. Their soft, delicate curve reminds me of you. So graceful.” A chill ran down my spine and I instinctively covered myself, pulling my arms around me to shield myself. Could he see me? My eyes scanned the corners for a camera lens.

 

               “You deserve better than that filth,” he spat out. “You can’t see it now. You’re frightened. You’re blinded by your silly, anxious mind. Trust me, my love, it pains my soul to see you so distressed. But very soon you will come to see that this is exactly what you need, dear one. Now please, eat. It isn’t poisoned. I would never hurt that beautiful body.”

 

               “No, wait,” I cried. “Please! Who are you? Where have you put me?” Silence. “Wait! Please, come back! COME BACK!” The last bit of fight that I had within me slipped away. I was left with sheer despair at my situation. He knew me. He had watched me.  He saw me with Quinn. Now he was holding me hostage until, what? I fell in love with him? I dragged the plate toward me. Its scrapping along the cement floor filled the space. I picked up a piece of meat and set about the task of eating. I had embarked on the single most difficult yet most important fight for my very existence. I had to take care and be ready. This bastard had to show up and face me eventually. When he did, I’d be ready.

 

 

 

 

 

 






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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.