Vigilare (5 page)

“Don’t get too comfy.” She looks at the clock, a quarter ’til ten. “You got fifteen minutes before my bedtime.”

“Oh, are we going to bed?” He jumps up, downs his drink and playfully grabs at his coat for removal.

“Ha,” Gina quips, as he makes his way to the sink, rinsing his glass. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll go see her again tomorrow.”

“You already struck out with her today. We’ll send in a new hitter tomorrow. Gotta get our RBIs up.” He walks to Gina.

“What are you up to?” She looks at him quizzically.

“Thanks for the drink,” he ignores her question, slipping his hand around the back of her neck, his thumb rests on her jawline. He bends his head to hers, meeting the fullness of her lips with his own. Her mouth warm, she tastes of whiskey. She moans with his contact, leaning into him, before pulling away.

She backs up toward the counter, needing it to hold herself up. “What the hell was that?” She pulls the back of her hand to her mouth, slowly sliding it across her bottom lip, attempting to extinguish the tingling sensation.

Tony smiles. “Just feeling you out, DeLuca.” He knocks playfully on the kitchen island, a knowing grin displayed. “If you didn’t like it, I’d be picking my ass up off your kitchen floor.”

“Pretty risky move,” she replies coolly, retaining her power.

Running his teeth over his bottom lip, his smile dissipates. “Some returns outweigh the risk.” He pivots, walking to the front door.

“Are you okay to drive? You can take the couch.”

“See, one kiss and you want me to stay,” he teases. “I cabbed it over. I’ll cab it back.”

“Who are you sending to Dr. Ryan’s office tomorrow?”

“No one who isn’t already on her books.”

“Gronkowski?”

“Can’t stand it, can you?” He chuckles. “Always gotta be in control. First in.” He shakes his head, letting himself out. Gina makes her way to the door, as it pops back open. “Silver,” he says, poking his head inside.

She looks at him perplexed, her mind working, swiftly coming to its own conclusion. “Ah. Let me guess, brass isn’t your color.”

His face lights up. “We’re getting there. Only took ya a few seconds. The same wavelength. Pretty soon we’ll be finishing each others’ sentences. Happens to partners all the time.”

She puts her hand over his smiling face, gently pushing him out of the space between her door and its casing. “Your
wavelength
is a rare and precious thing, Gronkowski. Better kept to yourself.”

“Lock up,” he reminds her as she shuts the door.

MIDNIGHT. AUBREY RAINES sleeps in her bed. A stack of law books lie scattered around her, after a rigorous week of studying for her Bar Exam. Having nodded off prior to her intention, the bedside lamp burns dimly, and the sheer sky-blue curtain shadowing her windowpane blows in the breeze. Her boyfriend has scolded her before about leaving her bedroom window open to her first floor apartment.

“You’re too trusting Aubrey, baby. People suck,” he has said.

“If somebody really wants to get me, my window isn’t going to stop them anyway. You’re sweet to worry though,” she consoles.

Her boyfriend is out of town this weekend, and she dwells in her apartment alone. A fact all too familiar to the man, a so-called friend, who has been watching her every move for the past two days, compiling the patterns. A real freak show, this one. He stands over her dressed in black from head to toe, accessorized with a Michael Myers mask. He runs his finger up the inside of her thigh, startling her from her sleep. Aubrey opens her mouth to scream, but before the sound comes out, her lips are met with a rag soaked in Chloroform. She resists, attempting to ward the man off, but is overpowered, as he sits atop her, waiting for the anesthetic to take affect. Her body gives in, falling limp beneath him.

She wakes groggily, her vision slightly blurred, tuning into her surroundings. Her bedroom lamp no longer burning, her room is dark. One ray of light streaks through her open window and bounces off the adjacent wall. Her arms and legs feel heavy, as she attempts to pull them back to her core. They will not give. She is bound to the bed, each limb securely tied to its respective corner by nylon ropes. A cool breeze pushes through her window raising goosebumps on her skin, alerted to the fact she is completely naked. Her only air exchange, fast and labored, is through her nose, her mouth secure with duct tape. She lifts her head, which seems to weigh a hundred pounds, to find the man kneeling between her thighs. Her eyes pop, startled, frightened. She pulls and kicks against the nylon restraints, her nostrils flaring. Her throat burns as she attempts to make noise, muffled by the tape covering her lips. He watches her through his ridiculous mask until her body relaxes, giving into the muscular exhaustion her struggle has caused.

“It’s about time you woke up, baby. I was getting tired of waiting.” He strokes the side of her face. “I want you to remember everything.”

His vile touch causes her to jerk her head away from his hand, exhausting her body once more fighting against the restraints. Her chest heaves up and down, attempting to fill her lungs with air. An impossible task having only her nose to breathe through. Physically incapable, she appeals to him with her eyes, tears forming in them, releasing down the sides of her face.
Please don’t do this
. She shakes her head from side to side.

“Don’t cry, baby. You don’t need to be afraid of me. I love you, Aubrey.” He removes his mask, leans his face down to hers and kisses the duct tape covering her lips. “I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every minute of it.”

Sick in the pit of her being and furious upon recognition of her so-called friend, she rears her head back and slams it into his face.

Her forehead makes contact with his lip, causing it to bleed. Again, she pulls frantically at her restraints, her frustrated cries audible now in the back of her throat, as her attempt yields no result.

He raises his hand as if he may slap her across the face. He does not. He wipes the blood from his lip, momentarily and sits back on his heels. He laughs, a low, sinister chuckle, rubbing the inside of her thighs with his cold touch. “I should’ve known you would do that. Always fighting what you want. I see the way you look at me, every morning at the coffee shop. You want me as bad as I want you.”

She closes her eyes, tears continuing to fall down her temples, attempting to take herself to a distant place mentally. Her wrists and ankles feel on fire as the unforgiving nylon rubs against her soft skin. The white rope encompassing her left wrist turns red in places, as it cuts into her flesh, drawing blood. Her mind delivering, finally, she feels out of her body. Opening her eyes, they now sparkle emerald green. She stares at the ceiling, the image of a young boy running toward her with a smile on his face, his arms outstretched. Her hearing, somehow incomparably keen, she hears distant footsteps, quick and light approaching. Unable to track the sound with her eyes, they are fixated on the ceiling, the imagery above. Her smile reciprocates that of the child.

“Ah, shit. Fuck me!” the man squawks, jumping off the bed at the sight of her eyes glimmering up at the ceiling. “What the hell?” He grabs at his pants pulling them up around his waist as he backs away toward the window.

“Going somewhere?” a voice sounds behind him.

He spins around to find a woman crouching, in black from head to toe, emerald green eyes staring him down. “Jesus! How’d you do that?” he cries, whipping his head back in the direction of the bed, as if he believes Aubrey to be the woman moving impossibly through space and time. Aubrey remains in the bed, tied up, her eyes locked in on the ceiling. Slowly he pivots back to the window, the woman remains between him and the square opening. Frantically, he jets for the bedroom door.

She tracks him, dropping her shoulder into the back of his knee, an effective chop block, causing his leg to give out beneath him. “Ugh!” his lungs forcibly emptied of air with his abrupt contact to the floor. He lands on one of his nylon ropes, tucking it into his hand. The woman makes her way up his back, as the two begin to grapple.

“Now, if you’d calm down, this would go much smoother...and faster,” she taunts between labored breaths.

The man takes the dominant position, outweighing her. He hurls the rope around the front of her neck, jerking the slack tightly. “You don’t want to do this,” the woman warns, her voice a whisper, the nylon ever-tightening. “Don’t make me bleed.”

His teeth grinding together, he warns, “You and your friend are gonna bleed out of every hole when I’m done with ya.”

Her body goes limp momentarily as her blood is exposed to the air. She lies on her stomach, the man crouches over her, pushing his pants down around his ankles, fully intending to rape her from behind.

Her ears ring and the pulse in her head feels so strong, rhythmic like a drum as her senses heighten to a supernatural level. With each beat of her heart and every consecutive breath requiring more oxygen than the last, her body begins to awaken, feverishly hot, aching for release. In one fluid movement, she pushes off the floor, spinning herself around underneath the crouching man. Her foot connects swiftly and severely to his offensive manhood, kicking him off of her, catapulting his body across the room into the adjacent corner. He whimpers with the contact. With the speed of light, she covers him with her paranormal frame, winding the same piece of nylon rope he used on her around his neck, rapidly concocting a slipknot at the end for more efficient use.

She crouches over his debilitated body, surely in shock. “Do you know what happens to a woman when a filthy pig like you touches her? Do you!” She tightens the cord, smiling down at the fear in his eyes. “She loses her soul. It dies a little more each time she has to shower to wash your filth away...and every time she wakes from a nightmare with the image of your sweaty body leaning over her...until one day she can’t find it anymore.”

He closes his eyes, tears trickle down the sides of his face.

“Oh, you’re going to try the crying bit,” she bites sarcastically. “Did Aubrey’s tears stop you? How many souls have you taken?”

He remains quiet, his eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” She roughly pats the side of his face. “That’s okay. You don’t have to answer. I’ll find out soon enough. Never ceases to amaze me how mouthy you guys are when you’ve got the upper hand, and how passive you become when you’re in their position. Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” She pulls tightly on the cord. “Open your eyes.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s retribution time my friend. I’m here to take what’s left of your soul. Let’s see if you have one. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!”

Startled, he does as she commands. At first contact with hers, emerald green and sparkling, he’s locked in, physically unable to close his eyes or divert them in any way. Image after image, her mind and heart take a beating, reliving all the nauseating deeds he’s done. Bodies abused, souls left scarred and broken, he has left his mark. With each innocent face that flashes before her, she tightens the noose until the life leaves his body. His soul finally extinguished. Retribution delivered.

Her eyelids close heavily, her body exhausted. She pushes off the man’s chest, even standing proves a laborious task. The circle of emerald green light and imagery on the ceiling evaporates in a flash from Aubrey’s vision. The woman opens her eyes, the sparkle is gone.

Chapter 4

EARLY MORNING, DOWNTOWN Vanguard. Detectives DeLuca and Gronkowski wait for their coffee from a local, well-known street vendor, Stavros.

“Tony...you not look, ah, so good this morning,” Stavros remarks. “You, ah, have woman last night?” He smiles.

“Something like that,” Tony refers to the 2:00 a.m. wake-up call he and Gina received to investigate the murder at Aubrey Raines’ apartment. Both of them are moving at an unusually slow pace this morning, in much need of a caffeine pick-me-up.

“And my Gina,” Stavros greets her with a kiss for each cheek, wherein lies a dimple, an attractive trait when she smiles. “You look, ah, beautiful, as usual. She’s easy on the eyes, this one,” Stavros nudges Tony, making his intentions clear. He cups her face with his hands. She smiles at him, her dimples exaggerated. “You blessed two times. The dimples. The mark of angels, they kiss you at birth.”

“Remind me, why don’t I come here more often? This is the way to start a day,” she stands, her arm around Stavros’ waist. They look at Tony, who is rolling his eyes. “Oh, don’t be so sour. The angel kissed you, too.” She traces his dimpled chin with her thumb.

“I thought that’s, ah, where the doctor drop him,” Stavros cracks himself up, his round belly jiggling with his laughter.

“I can go down the street,” Tony playfully rebukes, flinging his arm toward the neighboring vendor.

“I joke. I joke.” Stavros makes his way behind the cart. “You look, ah, good, Tony. Strong, like bull.” He makes a fist, pumping his arm, conveying virility, as he pours them each a cup of coffee.

“Alright, alright,” Tony ends his bid of flattery. “You’re still going to get a tip.”

Stavros chuckles, setting the cups in front of them, the steam rises, visible as it contacts the cool morning air.

Gina reaches into her pocket. Tony gently suppresses her arm. “My turn. You got the last round.” He wads some cash into Stavros’ tip jar.

“Chivalry too,” Stavros comments, smiling at him, raising his eyebrows. Tony pulls out a few more ones, shoving them down into the glass container. Gina snickers, winking at Stavros, as she and Tony walk away.

“It doesn’t make sense. I had them cross-reference Dr. Ryan and the woman from last night. Nothing,” Tony says.

“Aubrey?” Gina helps him with her name.

“Yeah...Aubrey and Dr. Ryan.”

“Why would you think they have to be connected?”

“DeLuca, that woman...Aubrey, knows more than what she’s saying. So does Dr. Ryan. It’s all too close.” He takes a drink of his coffee. “Holy, God.” He shakes his head at the strength of the beverage.