Addicted In Cold Blood (15 page)

Jayme started her car and drove away, feeling invigorated that she now had something to pour her energy into, someone that caused her radar to flash and zoom into overdrive. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach and her gut was never wrong. She would not tell the FBI just yet, and make more of a fool of herself with a false lead. That had happened several times before, when she’d been certain she had something tangible only to watch it fall to pieces like grains of sand in her palm. More information was warranted first, but this was not anything to chalk up as a fluke or to ignore, and she wouldn’t...not now, not ever...

*
***

“Well it’s about time,” Wanda teased as she laid out two outfits across her pink bedspread. “So what time is your date?”

“No, not that type of date.” Jayme grinned. “I’ve got a lead date. Please keep your fingers crossed. I’m going to scope this guy out and Wanda, if I don’t get something and soon, I just know the FBI is going to let me go and I’ll go back at the precinct with egg on my face.  I can’t let that happen, so I have to handle this a bit outside protocol. This is important to me...I wish I could tell you more, but...”

“I know, it’s top secret.” Wanda rolled her eyes.

Jayme plopped down on her friend’s bed, looked indolently over her shoulder then pointed to one of the ensembles. “This one,” she said mildly.

“The yellow one?” Wanda reached for it, then looked back at Jayme, who was staring at the blank wall. “Jayme, I know you’ll get what you need. Don’t be so hard on yourself. This is a tough case and you expect to catch the guy after just a few short weeks.”

“It’s been almost two months...that is a lifetime when people are losing their lives.”

“And you aren’t responsible for that! I know you can’t tell me any details, but no one is expecting you to do anything other than the best you can,” she reassured as she reached for the yellow dress and slid it over her tan bra and matching lace panties.

“Well, the only problem with that is that he keeps killing at an exponential rate. Panic rules the streets. It looks like he is a vigilante killer, which doesn’t garner much sympathy from some societal factions and we need public support, not just from scared dealers and uptight users. Nothing ever gets accomplished out here without the public support.”

“Yeah.” Wanda sighed. “That’s true. It’s hard though, you know? I mean, all of us have dealt with someone that was on drugs, friends and family or even dated someone that was dealing or using. For most us, it really hits close to home and the people applauding this ‘XXX’ murderer, you know it’s because that is exactly what happened. Drugs destroyed their lives on some level, and they want these guys off the street, Jayme. You can’t expect everyone to be upset about this.”

“But that’s just the thing, Wanda. You know, as hard as I fight to help keep the streets clean, that I am not okay with this, but the way this guy is doing it—I’m swear, he is more dangerous than the dealers. I can’t tell you...the media doesn’t know yet...but...” Jayme looked away, trying once again to desperately tuck Owen’s dead image from her mind.

“But what?”

“He has gotten worse. I don’t know if he is feeding off the attention or not.” Jayme rose from her seat. “In any case, I have to get going. I hope you have a good time tonight.” She embraced her friend tightly, enjoying the comforting, sisterly warmth of the woman and needing the hug more than the chat.

“I will and I’ll let you know how it went. Can you zip me up?” Wanda turned her back toward Jayme. Jayme pulled the zipper up until her friend was put together and an image to behold. “Thank you!” Wanda smiled in the mirror, checking herself out from various angles.

“You look really nice...” Jayme said sadly as she turned to walk out of the bedroom to the front door.

“What was that about?” Wanda came after her, clutching a wooden bracelet and dangling gold earrings.

“Nothing, I’m just tired girl.” Jayme showed a weak smile.

“Well, I know you are.” Wanda patted her friend’s shoulder. “But knowing you, you will barely rest until you get this guy.”

“I know...I have to, it’s personal now.”

She turned the front knob, waved to her friend and stepped out the door, car keys in hand, along with determination and an iron-clad game plan.

****

Xzion rolled his neck slowly back and forth as the ice cold water enveloped his pores. He ran his fingers through his hair, saturated and cool to the touch. Finally, he was able to make his move. It had been a few days since he had to kill the boy, and now Mr. Lennox was wide open for his business. He’d found his whereabouts, and was excited to get him off of his ‘To-Do’ list.

She slowed me down...derailed things. Won’t happen again. I wasn’t born and trained to fail.

He exited the shower, his naked body gleaming under the sapphire glow of the expansive bathroom lights. He moved with firm steps on the cool floor to his bedroom and promptly reached for a long sleeved green shirt and a pair of black slacks. His hair had grown out quite a bit as he lay about, waiting, in the safe confines of his home for the pain in his ass to go away. That pain was in the form of a 5’10, slender, soft cocoa brown woman with a slightly muscular build, full lips he wanted against his own, an axe to grind and a chip on her shoulder.

He knew off the top that she was high off power and somehow, she’d been assigned to babysit him. He realized it as soon as he parked his car and noticed her sitting across the street after she followed him home. He also knew not to panic—they didn’t have anything on him, but he also understood she wante
d that to change, and quickly. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. The cop had been to his house several times, and he fought the urge to blast her away. He let her follow him to the grocery store, to a clothing store, an art gallery and several cafes. He now expected her at every turn but then, she vanished. To say that he felt relief was an understatement. Aton kept repeatedly asking what was taking so long, and for the first time in Xzion’s life, he lied. It upset him for he’d lied to someone he trusted and respected, practically worshipped.

He
almost
lied to himself as well—trying to convince himself that the reason for the deception was because he disliked wasting ‘innocent’ people when the truth was, he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t want to do it, but he also didn’t lose sleep over it either. However, he
was
losing sleep over this cop, Officer Jayme Knight. He woke up in cold sweats, his body hot, his erection long, strong and hard as steel while realistic, intoxicant images of sex with her repeatedly haunted him. For sure, sex would take care of it. From all of his contacts over the past year, he’d ran into his share of escorts and the like, and in order to remove the cop from his system, he was certain a romp in the hay with some proficient pussy would take care of all of his woes. He was wrong.

He called the woman; she came to the hotel he’d chosen and as soon as he looked at her, he slammed the door in her face. From the hallway, she hurled colorful expletives his way, but he wasn’t moved or swayed. It wouldn’t help—
nothing
would help, except to get off the damn planet, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. He still had twenty-six hits scheduled for Baltimore alone and in typical fashion, he always had to slow down toward the end, as suspicion and paranoia grew.

He grabbed his duffle bag, dark coat that hung by the door and his leather winter gloves and negotiated his way through the cool snow,  all the while, pretending to be back home...

*
***

Jayme sighed and leaned back in her car seat, the heat blasting. It was only four degrees and layers of treacherous ice covered the slick city streets. This slowed the crime quotient, but didn’t cease it all together. She’d seen her share of illegal transactions that evening while she laid low, waiting for her suspect to leave his house. She was following in a different car and a brilliant, brand spanking new disguise, feeling confident with the new game plan.

He wasn’t doing anything for quite some time, and it added to her frustration until she realized that he very well may have been aware of her presence. Utilizing her theater make-up contacts, she was now a light-complexioned woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Though the skin tone was a bit off, from a distance, she was definitely believable. Her black Camry had been temporarily traded for a red Avalon...no one trailing anyone would drive a red car, or at least, she hoped he bought the new get-up. She watched as he wove in and out of traffic, taking his sweet time. This went on for over forty minutes while they travelled through notorious manufacturing areas, void of anyone, but perfect for a plot to kill...

*
***

Xzion was angry. Beyond angry.

She’s back...

He glimpsed in his rear view mirror, and then casually slid his arm over the passenger seat, as if a hot chick was sitting there and he’d been waiting to put the moves on her. The dark ripped leather of the seat bowed beneath his stiff body as he readjusted his weight. He slicked his tongue over his upper teeth, glancing at her once more.

Silly blonde wig...great make-up job though, almost had me fooled. Theater make-up no doubt, like actors in the big-budget movies. Good try. You’re not fucking this up for me, Miss Officer.

And with that, he suddenly took a turn against the curb, putting his car in reverse—and causing her to have to slam on her breaks. Acting on reflex, Xzion put the car in park, jumped out of his car, and raced toward her. The look of shock on her face as his shoes pounded the slick street without losing traction despite the ice, was priceless. There was nothing snow or ice could do to him—it was a welcoming reprieve and she was now trapped in his playground. Before he reached the car, he waved his arms in the air and put on a smile.

“Are you lost, ma’am, like I am?” he hollered out. “I’m trying to reach this address, and can’t find it.” He waved a piece of paper around in his hand. The cop just sat there, as if frozen. As she gripped her steering wheel, he sensed her anxiety.

Good. You’re fucking with the wrong person. You wanna play games, woman? Let’s play then!

****

Holy shit...

The man’s steps grew closer and closer to her. She looked at his feet...the motherfucker appeared to be gliding, as if he were ice skating up the damn hill. She didn’t miss the scowl on his face. His words were warm, but his body said otherwise. Reaching for her gun, she kept it pressed into her upper thigh as she quickly grasped at slippery ideas. The last thing she expected was happening, and her body wanted to bolt. Every pore of her being screamed DANGER.

Okay...calm down. You can work this in your favor...

She rolled her window down.

“I’m not lost. I live close by here,” she offered a cheerful smile. A spiral of cool air escaped from between her lips as she spoke. “Where are you trying to get to? I can probably help you.” Her heart beat out of her chest. If this man was the murderer, he’d be prepared to kill her right there on the damn spot. For the first time, she hoped he wasn’t...

I better shoot faster than him...

She cautiously raised her hand. “Can you stop right there?” She grinned. “I don’t know you and I’d like to help, but it’s dangerous out here.”

The man nodded, his dark sparkling eyes, especially the right one, seeming to twinkle just a bit more. A street light caught the bridge of his nose, illuminating the knobby length—proud, Rubenesque. He flashed her a grin, or was it a smirk? He slicked his tongue over his upper lip, then smiled, his face shrouded on one side and the other in full view. Flipping the hood from his coat over his head, he drowned out his features even further. Falling snow drifted past him diagonally, making him appear like a figure in a strange, urban scene snow globe.

“I understand! It’s dangerous out here, you’re right, especially for someone as pretty yourself.” He paused briefly. “The address is…” He peered at something, clutching the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand. “My friend lives in Federal Hill, on Ducane Avenue.”

“Yeah, that’s near the railroads. You’re not too far,” Jayme said coolly. She knew better than to appear unraveled; it could cost her her very life. She watched as he stepped a bit closer to her—gripped her gun tighter.

I hope he doesn’t think flattery is going to get him somewhere? Make me feel okay... Please don’t take another step! Please! Don’t make me shoot you!

“So, do I just keep going this way?” He pointed back toward his car. “They told me they moved near the old Domino Sugar factory. I have no idea where that is.” He shrugged and smiled. “Um, do you?”

The snow seemed to swirl around his body, as if he, too, were a snowflake amongst the others. And there was that eye again...shining extra bright. Jayme swallowed harshly, her hand still on the trigger as sordid and inappropriate thoughts came and went.

If he is a killer, he is a damn good looking one...you know better than that!

Jeffrey Dahmer was attractive, too...and look where it got his victims.

She chastised herself as the cold air from the outside clutched her skin in its prickly grip.