Dark Illusion: A Psychological Thriller Novel (2 page)

Gloria picked up her pen. “Where
do I sign?”

“
O
h goody! I’m glad you woke up,”
a jubilant, feminine voice echoed in the background.

Julie did not know where she was
or what was happening to her. Her eyes were blindfolded and her arms and legs
were tightly chained to a chair. She could feel the blood draining from her
joints, a sensation of excruciating pain. She ran a dry tongue over her parched
lips, wondering how long she had been immured by her agony, and for how much
longer would she have to suffer until she was rescued.
If
she would ever
be rescued.

Half of the time Julie was
unconscious and did not realize what was happening to her; and when she was
conscious, the pain overwhelmed her so much that she felt like she would pass
out any minute. She had cried and begged, but it just didn’t stop.

She was trapped like a helpless
animal, dreading her huntress.  

“What’s going on here?!” Julie
yelled with every last bit of strength left in her. “How long have I been here?
Why are you doing this to me?” she screamed in tears.

“You don’t have to yell,” the
same female voice answered. “No one is going to hear you anyway. You’ve been
here for two days, and no one has come to save you. But don’t you worry, it
will all be over soon.”

Julie couldn't see the malicious
smile on the woman’s face when she said that.

Julie did not understand how she
had gotten into this situation in the first place. The past week had seemed to
be one of the best in her life. It had started with her coming back from the
bachelorette party of the first one of her friends to get married. They had
partied in Atlantic City, and Julie had even won two hundred dollars. Of course
the very next day she had spent it all on a gorgeous dress that she had been
wanting to buy for a long time. And then her mother had begun prying for
present ideas for her upcoming birthday, which only further improved her mood.

Winter was in progress, but the
frosty atmosphere had suddenly transformed into pleasant weather, and Julie
felt like this had happened just for her. The highlight of the week had been
when she met an important magazine editor who had told her that she had a really
unique look and that she should give her a call if she were interested in
modeling for the magazine. She had given Julie her business card. Julie had
exclaimed in excitement that her lifelong dream was to be a model, and the
editor, Kelly Danes was her name, had nodded and smiled. She’d only asked Julie
not to tell anyone yet, because she did not want to be bothered by other girls
craving the same incredible opportunity; it would be better if she told
everyone only after everything was officially settled.

Julie had called Kelly the very
next day, and they had agreed to meet at the editor’s townhouse on the Upper
East Side. Kelly had brought up the possibility of Julie having her portfolio
photos taken, implying that she should dress up. Julie’s enthusiasm grew with a
burst of happiness when she thought about the new dress she had just bought,
which would be perfect for the occasion. She really hoped she could impress
Kelly.

That night, Julie had hailed for
a cab rather than take the subway, like she usually did. She could not afford
to be late to such an important meeting and ruin the great first impression
she’d obviously left on Kelly. She had preferred not to take a chance and miss
her train, or somehow not be able find her way from the subway station to
Kelly’s home. Anyway, she figured, although it got a bit warmer, the nights
were significantly cooler; and she wasn’t intending to show up on Kelly’s
doorstep with a frozen handshake while sniffing her nose. She wanted to look
her absolute best.

The taxi had stopped in front of
an impressive row of townhomes. Julie had made sure she was at the right
address before paying the driver. The moment she had shut the car door behind
her, she felt her heart pounding. By the time she had gotten to the door, it
was racing. She had forced herself to take a deep breath and then pressed the
doorbell. Kelly had answered the door right away and welcomed her in. She had
explained that the studio was located in the basement floor and gestured with
her hand toward a heavy looking door. Julie had automatically headed inside
while Kelly locked the main door and then followed her downstairs.

The last thing Julie could
remember was a violent blow to her head and her body plummeting down the
stairs. She was still sprawled on the floor when she felt the texture of rough
fabric, like a used kitchen towel, covering her face and a weird smell that
quickly filled her nose. Then everything had turned black, just as it was doing
once again, as Julie reluctantly gave in to the pain and slipped out of
consciousness, yet another time . . .

When she finally regained awareness, God only knew after how
long, she was awakened to a complete darkness that enfolded her eyes. She felt
the ropes brush against her skin as she tried to move her hands. She was
strapped to a chair, hazy and suffering terrible pain.

“What the hell is going on here?”
Julie asked. “Kelly, is that you?” she called in helplessness.

“Patience, my dear,” said Kelly’s
calm voice. “Soon it will all be as clear as day.”

After several long minutes, Julie
sensed how the coarse ropes binding her to the chair were being loosened, but
she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed with fear. She experienced a horrible,
salty taste in her mouth. Had she been drugged? Julie moved her tongue over the
corner of her cheek in an attempt to wipe out that poisonous flavor. Her eyes
were still blindfolded, but she did not have enough strength to uncover them:
she felt defenseless.

Kelly gripped her brutally and
knocked her to the ground.

Julie felt every last bit of her
bruised, naked flesh being dragged across the cold, rough floor and then tossed
aside like a piece of meat.

“Oh Julie, you are so pretty!”
Kelly cheered. “Let me just put on your new dress and some make-up, and then
you can see for yourself that you are indeed . . . well . . . breathtaking!”

“What’s going on here?” Julie
asked again. She tried to scream, but her voice was already too hoarse from
crying and yelling.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, save your
energy for later. You see, I just had to make a few minor adjustments before I
could let you be photographed for my magazine. You probably understand that not
just anyone can show up and instantly become a model. The secret all the
breathtaking models keep is that the path to beauty is tied up with pain.
A
lot of pain
.”

Julie felt her bare body being
stuffed into a tight dress that pressed against her wounds, and then she was
seated back on the chair. Cruel hands pulled her up mercilessly, without any
consideration for the amount of pain she felt, so that she would sit up
straight. Then the blindfold was removed from her eyes.

The entire room was lit, but it
took a few minutes for her eyes to get used to the brightness before she could
see clearly. Then she saw that all of the walls in the room were actually
mirrors. She saw a woman with platinum shaded hair and carefully painted dark
red lips, Kelly, standing proudly next to a woman sitting on a chair. She did
not recognize the woman, but she was wearing her clothes. Julie stared at the
eyes of the woman looking back at her and then she suddenly realized.

It was
her
.

She was overtaken by pure terror.
No, it’s not possible!
Julie told herself and then stared again at her
reflection. She shuddered when she saw herself in the mirror. Maybe this was
all just a bad dream. This couldn’t have happened to her. No, it had to be one
of those horrible nightmares and she was going to wake up any minute now in her
warm, comfortable bed, laughing at herself for having such a gruesome
imagination.

But the nightmare didn’t stop,
and she was already awake.

“What the hell did you do to me?”
Julie screamed, as the tears began pouring down her cheeks, burning her wounded
skin.

“Look at you, all dressed up in
your new dress. Julie, don’t you think you look beautiful?”

Julie’s entire body was peeling.
Some of the wounds had begun to heal a little, but the ones on her face were
still raw and painful. Her long chestnut hair, which she had been growing
diligently ever since she was a child, had been chopped off and ripped out
until her scalp was exposed, and the blood trickled down into her eyes,
blending with her tears. It trailed through where her eyebrows once had been
and were now torn out completely. Her nose seemed broken and twisted, covered
with gore, and she had trouble breathing. Her mouth felt so parched and dry,
yearning for some water, but all she could taste was that salty mix of blood
and tears. She battled with herself not to throw up. It was an excruciating
vision.

 “What did you do to me?”
Julie sobbed, staining her new dress with red tears. “Why did you do this to
me?”

“It doesn’t feel nice to be ugly,
does it?” Kelly asked venomously. “When you’re beautiful, you think you are
above all, truly worth more than everybody else. Parading around like a queen
no one can refuse. Oh, what vanity it takes to want to be a model! You trust
your beauty to make life easier in an instant, without learning or working,
without struggling for a livelihood, without doing anything but smiling and
being perfect.” Kelly’s eyes narrowed at Julie.

“But it’s not my fault that I am
. . . was . . . beautiful,” Julie reasoned.

“Maybe so,” Kelly replied, “but
you are the only one to blame for your pride. Don’t you remember that your
lifelong dream was to be no less than a model? For this you deserve the
punishment you were given.”

“But what about you?” Julie
asked. “You’re beautiful, too. Why aren’t you punishing yourself?”

“Oh no, I’m not as beautiful as
you are, well,
were
. In any case, I did not always look like this.” As
she spoke, Kelly remembered those godawful days. “You see, because of women
like you, I’ve suffered all my life. I was never pretty enough. Girls like you
always made fun of me.” Deep in her heart she thought about one girl in
particular, the one she had really wanted to see sitting on that chair. “I
couldn’t use my looks to get where I have gotten now. I wasn’t arrogant enough
to think that my beauty would open doors for me; rather, I relied on my
devotion and talent and hard, very hard, work. And that is exactly your
downfall,” Kelly proclaimed in a firm voice. “If you don’t understand yet,” she
added, “your sin is not beauty, but pride. You are not being punished for the
way you look but for the way you allow yourself to behave.” Kelly hurled the
harsh words at her, leaving her speechless.

The last thing Julie saw was
Kelly pointing a gun at her. She never heard her say, “It’s so hard to be
beautiful, don’t
ya
think?”

                              
      * * *

The industrial garbage bag that concealed Julie’s body
waited impassively in the dark room where she had found her death. Kelly was
too smart to try to dispose of the evidence in broad daylight.

It was morning now and she was on
her way to work, but her mind drifted to other places. She wondered when the
cops were going to find the body this time. Kelly wanted those who had more
beauty and vanity than actual brains to know that they'd better watch out.

Kelly decided to take a quick
detour through the offices of Ford Models on West 57th street near Central
Park. As she drove past one of the most established modeling agencies in the
city, she noticed a beautiful girl, about twenty years old, with golden locks
and hazel eyes, gazing up at the building with an expression of amazement
blended with hope. She pulled up next to her and rolled down the window.

“Hello, I’m the Editor in Chief
of Inner Beauty magazine. We are currently looking for new models. Here’s my
business card. Give me a call, I think you have a bright future ahead of you.”

T
he NYPD was baffled by the
mysterious series of murdered beautiful women all over Manhattan. Among the
many young women who had been found lifeless, there was no common ground other
than their stunning appearances, which had been brutally deformed. Nobody knew
who could be responsible for these horrendous killings. There were no clues
leading to the killer’s identity.

Over the six years that Sharon
had worked in the homicide squad of the Midtown South Precinct, she had faced
dozens of murder cases, but this was proving to be especially difficult. It was
clear that they were dealing with a skilled criminal who did not leave any
footprints behind. Sharon even wondered whether the killer had prior experience
or perhaps connections to unsolved cases in other jurisdictions. She had
contacted other squads and searched for similar cases in the police database,
but no matches were found. It seemed as though the murderer had launched and
groomed his ghastly career in New York City – and nowhere else.

Well, I guess even Killers
believe that The Big Apple is the place to be.

Working with police psychologists
had enabled Sharon to assemble a vague profile of the killer. They were looking
for a person who was very clever, a perfectionist, and probably behaved that
way in his day-to-day life. As for the unsub’s gender, both options were
considered, though the fact that over ninety percent of serial killers were men
was heavily taken into account. One possibility that seemed plausible was that
the killer was a man who had suffered abuse and humiliation by a female figure
and that the distortion of the faces likely symbolized a grand victory and
revenge for his past. However, there were no signs of sexual assault, which was
usually associated with male criminals, especially in light of the victims’
striking beauty. But it could also relate to a sense of castration, Sharon
reminded herself. Another profile, though less likely, suggested that the
killer was a woman who was making amends with her own sense of inferiority by
making other women, whom she deemed threatening, subordinate and uglier than
her. Since statistically only a small percentage of serial killers were women,
that lead did not seem very promising.

In any case, thus far there had
been no evidence found which could confirm or refute any speculations, so they
remained completely theoretical – not good when you’re trying to solve a murder
case. Sharon sighed inwardly: she was in desperate need of a lead.

The autopsy reports consistently showed that the injuries
sustained on the bodies had been made during the forty-eight hours prior to
their deaths, and that the joint damage indicated that they had been forcibly
tied. Residual Chloroform and GHB, also known as a date rape drug, had been
found in the victims’ systems, though Sharon knew there was no evidence for
sexual assault. It appeared that the killer wanted to make sure his victims
couldn’t fight back, which pointed out to a plausible physical disadvantage.

But how did they end up in
this situation in the first place? Did the killer jump at them from behind? Or
perhaps he slipped the drug into their drinks? So that could mean they met him
willingly, and if so, then why?
Different speculations came to Sharon’s
mind in an attempt to answer these questions. But she knew that there was no
point trying to take a stab at all of these vague conjectures. She should be
focused on actual facts. Only the problem was there weren’t any. Time was
breathing down her neck, and she definitely felt it.

Suddenly she heard the voice of
her boss, Midtown South Precinct Captain, Rob Jackie.  

“Davis, into my office, now.” His
icy voice dominated the room, imposing utter silence. A few officers, mostly
Probies
, glanced up in fear but then realized it wasn’t
their names being called.

Sharon crossed the hall in a
speed that could have rivaled a marathoner, while gathering her long champagne
blonde hair into a round bun at the top of her head. She stepped into the
Captain’s office and closed the door behind her.

“Is there something new?” she
asked, pushing strands of golden hair away from her ocean green eyes.

“That’s exactly what I intended
to ask you, Davis, as the detective who is supposed to be in charge of this
case,” he answered rigidly.

Supposed to be in charge?
It looked like her situation was getting worse by the minute.

He ignored her questioning
expression. “It’s been two months since the last murder. I would expect you to
have found something by now. Anything,” he sighed. “Do you have any leads?”

“Well . . .” Sharon tried to
stall a little as she wondered what she could say that would distract her
commander from the fact that she had no news for him. “We’ve put together two
predominant profiles of the killer, and now I’m using them to find proof that
confirms one of the descriptions. I’m planning on going through the files
again; perhaps there’s something we missed.”

“We already did that,” Rob
grumbled. “Goddammit, Davis, we need to show some kind of progress, and you’re
not delivering. Do you want us to wait until it’s too late and we have another
body on our hands? You don’t understand the kind of pressure I’m under. You
know this is one of the most covered events in the last two and half years,
which means if we don’t solve it soon our asses will be on the line. I can’t
continue covering for you anymore.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “If you
think you can’t handle it . . .”

“Rob, we both know I
can
.
And you know nobody else could have gotten further with the slim evidence we
have,” she answered with confidence, though she didn’t feel it. In the last
year alone, four bodies had been found, and it was clear that the killer was
gaining more confidence and experience. Each time a new body was discovered,
Sharon felt the depth of her failure.

But she was never a quitter.

“Listen, I know it’s a lot of
drudge, but we need to go back in order to get to the bottom of this. There is
no doubt that we are dealing with a professional; therefore, if there are any
mistakes, they will be found in the first murder. We need to go back to square
one. That’s the only way to track this
nutjob
. We
already know the guy’s methods and his motives. All we need is one little
mistake, and I am going to find it. I’ll do whatever it takes. And that’s a
promise, Captain.”

Sharon felt entranced by her
brave speech. She had won Rob over and had managed to calm him yet again. She
already saw the beginning of a smile forming on his lips and was waiting to
hear his usual, “
Okay, Davis, counting on you, God knows why. Get moving
.”

But she did not hear those words.
Rob’s cell phone rang. He answered but did not say a single word throughout the
duration of the call. Sharon noticed that the vein next to his forehead was
beginning to stick out – a very bad sign. When he hung up, he said only one
thing.

“We have another body.”