A dark, sexy suspense mystery by DL Edwards.
The last thing Megan Montgomery wants to do is go to the police and tell them she's having horrible nightmares again that just happen to be coming true. But she hesitated to believe and a woman died. She hesitated to act and another woman died. Now she sees no other choice but to go to the police, even if that ends up being a nightmare in itself.
Detective David Stark doesn't really believe the psychic who called him with information concerning a murder that has yet to happen, but for some reason he just can't get the things she told him out of his head. And when he finds a victim's body, exactly as she said it would be, he knows she is the only real lead he has in the most important case of his career. What he doesn't know is how he's going to keep his hands off her until the madman from her nightmares is behind bars.
Can a woman who's not sure life is worth living and a cynical cop who doesn't believe in anything he can't touch work together to find a monster before he adds the last piece to his grotesque creation?
The man stopped halfway up the narrow staircase and looked around. The only person in the lobby of the old hotel was a ragged, unkempt little man with his back to the stairs, absorbed in the wrestling match that flickered on the small TV screen behind the counter.
The woman he was following up the stairs, abruptly turned around and tapped the toe of one of her shiny vinyl black boots. She watched him for a few seconds, her fiery red hair shimmering in the harsh white light thrown from a bare overhead bulb, before she grabbed the grimy handrails on either side of her and swayed her hips into a squat just above him on the stairs. “Ain’t no refunds, honey,” she told him, offering him a good view of what he had paid for. “So, you comin’ upstairs with me or not?”
The man’s fingers tightened around the handle of the black briefcase he was carrying and, without a word, he followed her up to the second floor. Using her key, she opened the door to room two-sixteen, turned around and crooked her finger at him. “Come on in, sugar.” The hoarse croaking that spilled from her painted red lips was an ill match for the sexy body that housed it. “Don’t want ya to waste a single penny of that fifty bucks.”
She walked to the middle of the dark, boxy little room, slowly slipped off her once white fur coat and tossed it on the rickety old bed that sagged in the corner behind her. Her short, skintight black dress plunged deeply in the front, barely covering her small round breasts.
She smiled at him as he closed and locked the door before carrying the black case across the room with him. “So? Did ya bring some toys for us to play with, honey? You know, I expect a nice tip, if ya get too wild on me.” She coughed out a hardy smoker’s laugh.
Upon closer inspection, her face looked much older than her body. It was worn and hardened and there was no spark left in her almond-shaped green eyes. It was obvious that perhaps, not so long ago, she had been an extremely beautiful woman, but the time she had spent in her chosen profession seemed to have taken its toll on her. Her empty eyes told the tale of a rough life.
The man placed the case on the floor beside him and reached for the thin straps of her black dress. He slid them off over her shoulders and peeled the dress down to the floor around her ankles. Then his wrinkled old hands carefully began to examine his latest investment.
After a few minutes, she began to fidget and then after a few more, she sighed loudly. “Listen, honey, I ain’t got all night.”
Completely ignoring her, he slowly twisted fistfuls of her beautiful auburn hair into his hands and yanked both handfuls away from her scalp.
“Son of a bitch!” She stomped her foot and rubbed her head. “I told you I wasn’t wearing a wig, damn it. Didn’t you believe me?” Her faded green eyes narrowed for a moment, then suddenly her expression softened and a thin smile slid across her face.
“You like it rough, sugar?” She leaned forward and nipped his ear with her teeth. “Go ahead, honey, it’s your nickel,” her cracked, chapped lips whispered next to his ear. “Do whatever you like. I won’t tell nobody. Whatever you want, baby. You paid for it. But let’s just get going, huh?”
He nodded a couple of times as his fingers delicately made their way up her arms to her rounded shoulders. He kissed her left shoulder, then ran his thick, wet tongue up her neck and nestled his face in her hair. His nose immediately crinkled up. Her hair stunk of cheap perfume and even cheaper cigarettes, so he made a mental note to be sure and wash it real good when he got it home. Brushing the long red curls away from her face and neck, he studied her beautifully shaped shoulders. He felt a smile pull at his lips as he lifted his hands and wrapped his long fingers around her throat.
“You do like it rough, don’t ya, baby?” She bit at his neck. “I thought so. I can usually tell. Well, don’t be shy. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
The man didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened around her neck.
“Not quite so tight. Ok, honey?” She slid her hand down his chest to between his legs and squeezed him. “My, what a big boy you are. Can it come out and play now?” She looked up into his eyes and as his grip continued to tighten, panic slowly filled her face.
“Hey! You know what? That’s….that’s enough, asshole!” She slapped at him with one hand while the other tried its best to pry his fingers off of her throat. “I said, stop it,” she croaked, clawing at his face and neck with her long, red, store-bought fingernails. She gasped for air while his large hands effectively squeezed the last bit of life out of her.
He seemed quite unaware of anything going on around him. Anything but how beautiful her red hair looked and how it sent tingles to his groin as it brushed against his hands and arms and delicately lay on her golden tan shoulders.
Her shoulders were a bonus. He had only picked her because he loved that long red hair of hers. It was beautiful the way it sparkled under the streetlights as she stood on the corner of Prospect and East 9th every night. It was exactly what he’d been looking for. But he just couldn’t believe his luck when he saw what lovely shoulders and arms she had. He would take those, too.
With each passing second, the woman’s pitiful attempt to stop him became less and less effective. Her once hard slaps became nothing but soft, weak touches before she stopped struggling altogether. Limp and motionless, her body looked not unlike a rag he twisted in his hands. Her bowels and kidneys spilled out over the light tan carpet just before her empty green eyes closed for the last time.
He held onto her neck, savoring the feel of every tendon, every muscle and vein crushing under the strength of his old, yet powerful hands. Finally, he released his hold and allowed her to gently fold to the floor.
The man stood there, above her, rubbing his chin as he analyzed the situation. Making up his mind about where to begin, he knelt down and opened the black case that had waited patiently on the floor beside him. Removing a pair of yellow, rubber kitchen gloves, he slid them over his hands and wiggled his long round fingers to check the fit.
He reached back into the black case, rummaged through it a bit, and pulled out a straight edge razor. Carefully unfolding it, he held it up to the light. The polished silver metal of the blade reflected the brilliant orange neon light that fell into the room through a small window. He studied the blade as he twisted it in the light. It needed to be very sharp to get every bit of that beautiful red hair. He had worked too hard finding it to leave any of it behind.
The first handful came off her scalp effortlessly. He held it in front of his face, fascinated by how the light danced off of it as he turned it in his hand. Beautiful and perfect. He put it to his nose and inhaled. It smelled awful! He couldn’t wait to get it home and wash it in the shampoo she always used, then it really would be perfect.
Rubbing the silky lock of hair against his cheek, he felt the familiar twitching deep in his stomach and between his legs that he always got when he thought about her. But that would have to wait, he had work to do. Returning to his task, he shaved every last hair off of her head, leaving nothing but a bloody scalp behind.
Careful not to lose a single strand, he placed all the hair in a clear plastic bag, pinched it closed, and slid his fingers along the top of the bag, to seal it. He laid the bag in his case and patted it with his rubber glove, quite pleased with his newest acquisition.
He turned his attention back to the bald, naked woman lying on the floor in front of him and inspected her shoulders. Oh yes, they were perfect, too. He was so happy to have found them. Now he wouldn’t even have to bother with that blonde receptionist who worked for his doctor. And that would save him some valuable time because he was, after all, in such a terrible hurry.
He wiped the straight edge off on the woman’s black dress, folded it and returned it to his case. The metal instruments clinked out their objections, as he clawed through the assorted knives, blades, scissors and saws, until he removed an odd shaped hacksaw. Like the razor, he held it up to the light. Once he decided it would work just fine, he went straight to work.
. . . .
4:52 a.m.
4:52 a.m.
“No!” Megan screamed and bolted straight up in bed, trying to catch her breath as her eyes darted around the room. Jade green walls, black wrought iron nightstand, a flowered ivory comforter over her legs. A dark purple night gown, damp with perspiration, plastered to her body. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
She was back in her own bed.
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