《The Art of Aquarius- A Mackey/Newsome Thriller》 Prologue: My Darling Rose Anderson struggles to see through the thin blindfold covering her eyes. In the background, water drips rhythmically from a pipe onto the floor. The air inside the room, wherever she is, is damp and rank. The humidity causes her skin to crawl, as if tiny insects are scrambling across her flesh. She can make out the sounds of her captor''s labored breathing. He has been breathing that way for quite some time. Every once in a while, Rose can make out other noises. She is sure he is painting something. What, she can only guess. If she really cared to. After a few more minutes of straining against the ropes binding her, Rose gives up. She allows her head to loll onto her chest and tiredly goes to sleep. Her slumber is full of nightmares. Rose is awakened by a hand under her chin. To her surprise, the blindfold has been removed. She yelps as she catches sight of the face hovering above her. The man holding her chin tilts his head to one side and studies her. "What? Do not like what you see?" the man questions in a high-pitched nasally voice. "That''s alright. Neither do I! That is why I make new faces. New faces for all of my darlings. You will have a new face too! It will be beautiful. A face worthy of my collection. So beautiful. My darling." This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Rose barely has time to react before the horrid man lashes out with a large knife, slashing her face. With both hands bond, Rose is unable to stem the bleeding. She whimpers softly, tears mixing with the blood on her cheek. The man''s cruel eyes bulge in his pallid face. He uses a gnarled finger to wipe at the blood on Rose''s cheek. Licking the blood from his finger, the man chuckles maniacally. "Yes, my darling. You will become part of my collection. You are already one step closer. Yes. Yes. My work of art. The art of Aquarius. You should be proud." Raising the knife a second time, the vile man prepares to make another downward stroke. 2 Days Later Deputy Newsome climbs heavily down out of his department issued Ford pickup truck. He pats the sturdy grill guard as he rounds the front of the heavy duty truck. He loves that damn grill guard. It''s saved his ass more than a few times during a long chase. If this case shapes up like most he''s worked on lately, he''ll probably be glad that grill guards there again. Newsome''s stomach lurches as he catches sight of the body. He covers his graying moustache with a large hand and glances up at the darkening sky. "Oh god! Yeah, it''s him. He''s struck again," Newsome mutters to himself. "Oh man. We have got to catch this bastard." Art of Aquarius-Chapter 1: Tickets to Pain Sabrina Engle wrenches the knob on her car radio to full volume. The raucous sounds of her favorite band blast throughout the entire car--and onto the empty highway. She energetically bobs her head to the music and reaches into a king-sized bag of M&M''s sitting on the passenger seat. Not much of a meal, but she is already thirty minutes late meeting her girlfriends for the concert. Angels of Pain are playing their first ever North American tour, and here she is being late...Again. The song abruptly ends and another slower song begins. Sabrina rolls her hazel-colored eyes and turns down the volume, disappointed that any radio jockey would play such a dud after a banging good number. Flicking through the radio stations, Sabrina finds another song to jam to. The wildflowers. Haven''t heard them in a while. Realization alters Sabrina''s face as she remembers the phone call she was supposed to have made to her mother. Damn. Doing her best to watch the road, Sabrina stretches to grab her purse. Snagging it with a finger, she rummages inside. Her cellphone has somehow made its way to the bottom, but Sabrina eventually finds it. Placing her Blackberry Storm on the car''s vent mount, Sabrina quickly dials her mother''s number. Again she struggles to multitask, trying to pay attention to both the road and the phone display. Mrs. Engle answers on the second ring. "Sabrina, baby...Where are you?" Mrs. Engle exclaims, anxiety in her tone. "Monique called me twenty minutes ago. She said they hadn''t heard from you, and that you weren''t answering your phone. Is everything okay, dear?" Sabrina rolls hers eyes again and shakes her head. A soft laugh escapes her deep red lips. "I''m fine, Mom. I just got held up leaving the dorm. I should have just carpooled. Won''t make that mistake again. At this rate, I might not even make it to the concert. $420...And I won''t even get to see them play." "Good riddance," Mrs. Engle chuckles. "Never liked you listening to that band anyway. Sounds almost sacrilegious. Angels of Death. It''s so disrespectful." "Angels of Pain, Mom. Not death. Pain," Sabrina laughs. "Although, there may actually be a band with that name. I wouldn''t know. Probably not my style." "Whatever," Mrs. Engle scoffs. "Just be careful getting there, okay. No concert...Or amount of money...Is worth your safety. Drive carefully, don''t put your drink down around people you don''t trust, and have fun. Call me when you''re there. Or, after the show. I want to know you''re safe." "Yes, Mom. I will. See you later." "Later, dear. And remember...Have fun. But not too much fun. Don''t be like me and your dad. We made you to Black Sabbath." "Mom! Whoa, whoa. A little too much information. And why am I just hearing this?" "I was only kidding, Sabrina. It''s just a name some of the ladies at work were floating around. My father would have skinned me alive if I had come home pregnant. You were conceived in our family home...After a decent wedding." "Right. The cat''s out of the bag now, Mom. Don''t try to put it back in," Sabrina chuckles. "I''m gonna ask Dad." "Go ahead. Ask your dad. He''ll tell you the same thing," Mrs. Engle replies between a genuine laugh. "God, Sabrina. Do you really think I would have listened to a band like that?" If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "People change, Mom. Maybe your tastes have just gotten worse over the years." "Now, what''s that supposed to mean?" Mrs. Engle questions, real hurt in her voice. Before Sabrina can offer a smart reply, a heavy downpour pelts the windshield. Visibility becomes almost zilch and Sabrina turns on her windshield wipers at full speed. The wipers do very little good improving how far Sabrina can see down the road. Adjusting her phone on the mount, Sabrina puts it on speakerphone. "Mom, I need to go. It''s raining really bad and I can barely see the road. I may have to pull over. I hope not." "Then, I am not getting off of this phone," Mrs. Engle insists. "My little girl...On the side of a road alone... During inclement weather? Not on this momma''s watch." "It''s not a big deal, Mom. I just can''t do both. It''s either, drive in this...Or talk. I''ll call you back. I promise. It''s not that far to my destination." "Okay," Mrs. Engles says reluctantly. "But call me the second you have any trouble." "I will, Mom. Now, I need to go," Sabrina says, before making a soft smooching sound. "I love you." "I love you too, dear. Be safe and have fun." "I will. Call you later. Bye." Sabrina presses the END button on her phone, ending the call. The rain has not let up. In fact, it seems to have gotten worse. Shaking her head, Sabrina eases her car onto the shoulder. "Great. I guess, I''m not meant to go to the concert. Damn." Sabrina uses one hand to massage her brow. She stares out through the windshield with a disappointed expression. At one point, Sabrina believes she sees lights ahead. She squints through the glass and rain to see. Nothing. Bored and mad as hell, Sabrina again cruises through the radio stations. She passes several sermons, some static ridden oldies stations, a political talk show, and a dedication hotline. Nothing she wants to listen to at the moment. She is too disappointed about the possibility of missing Angels of Pain''s first tour in the states. Sabrina finally shuts off the radio and folds both arms over her chest. A loud knock on the driver''s window causes Sabrina to shriek and whirl toward the sound. A tall figure stands beside her car window, wearing what looks to Sabrina like a long dark raincoat. Sabrina lets the window down about four inches and speaks to the stranger. "Do you need something?" "Uh, yes," the stranger says in a soft voice. The voice is not very distinct. Sabrina is unable to tell if the person in the raincoat is a man or a woman. Based on the size and shape of the person, Sabrina assumes it is a man. "The passenger tire on my truck blew a few miles the other direction. I was a dummy and don''t have a spare. I''ve been walking for about two hours. This rain started really coming down and now I''m soaked all the way through. Do you mind letting me dry off for a bit? It might even help if you let me use your phone. Please." Sabrina appraises the man from within the safety of her car. Something about the way he is behaving isn''t right. He is making sure to hold his head so that Sabrina cannot see his face. "Uh...Actually, I don''t think that''s a good idea," Sabrina says. "But look, I can call you a to--," Not giving Sabrina a chance to finish her statement, the man brings up his left hand. Clenched in his muscular hand is a large claw hammer. The window shatters mere seconds before the hammer slams into Sabrina''s face, fracturing her nose. Sabrina howls and grasps at her face, blood running between the fingers of both hands. She reaches to put the car in gear, in order to peel away from her crazed raincoat assailant. He grips her long wavy hair in a beefy hand and reclines her head back. Using his left hand to hammer the rest of the glass out of the window, the raincoat man stares down into Sabrina''s face. Once the glass is removed from the window, the man reaches into his pocket and retrieves a canister of pepper spray. He hoses Sabrina''s face down, causing her to spit and gag violently. With brute force, he slams her face into the steering wheel. Sabrina is knocked out cold. Reaching inside and unlocking the door, the raincoat man wrenches it open. He undoes Sabrina''s seatbelt and lifts her out of the car. As he carries her to his hidden vehicle, he plants a kiss on her open mouth. Forty-five minutes later, Sabrina''s Blackberry buzzes on the passenger seat of her car. Right where she left it, beside the giant bag of M&M''s and her purse. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 2- A Good Influence Four years later Davis Residence 7:13 PM "Oh, damn. Oh no. Not now! Ergh!" Bridget Davis groans and wipes at the splotch of coffee discoloring her beige tank top. She stomps a high-heeled foot angrily and slams down her coffee mug. "Oh, Bridget. Ergh. Maybe I should just wear a bib from now on. Oh dammit, dammit, dammit! So close to streaming time and this happens." Bridget reaches across the kitchen island and grabs her phone. With her other hand, she moves aside the offending cup of half-caff coffee. Bridget''s husband answers the phone after several rings, but he doesn''t sound happy. "Yeah, Babe? What''s up? I''m about to head into a management meeting soon." "Mark...Mark...I need you to do me a huge favor!" "What, babe?" Mark Davis says impatiently. He knows his wife''s usual voice. This is not her usual voice. The voice Bridget is using now is her ''I really screwed up and I need your help'' voice. Whatever she needs is something he won''t want to give--or do. If he''s wrong, and Bridget''s request is not too bad, he''ll exact the balance for the debt out of her later that night. He has plans to do that anyway, but it never hurts to have a good excuse. "What do you need?" Mark reiterates. "Mark. I need you to pick up Tyler from soccer practice. I''m fifteen minutes...No, thirteen minutes from my livestream and I just spilled coffee all over my damn blouse. I look like I''ve been in a mud pancake fight." "Bridget!" Mark groans. "It''s just a livestream. I''m sure they won''t care if you''re a few minutes late. I told you, I have an important meeting. I don''t have time to pick up Tyler." "Don''t...Bridget me," Bridget retorts, placing a hand on her shapely hip. She glares at the phone as if Mark can actually see her. "My livestreams bring in more money than your little grocery store management job. That''s how we''ve paid the rent for two months. I''ve got a roast cooking, a livestream in ten minutes, coffee is literally soaking my entire front...And you''re a lot closer. The ballfield is less than ten blocks away. You can pick Tyler up and he can stay in the food court until your meeting is over. Please, Mark. I need this." Bridget decides to put on the charm. She whispers huskily into the phone, placing her mouth almost flush with the speaker. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. "You won''t regret it, Mark. I''ll make it worth your while." Mark sarcastically rolls his eyes and groans deep in his throat. Bridget always finds a way to get to him, in any way, and in any situation. Her subtle dirty talk is the best part about her. She can make reading the back of a cereal box sound dirty as hell. "Okay. I''ll tell Bud I''ve gotta stop by the ballfield and grab Tyler. He won''t be happy...But I don''t give a damn. He should have given me that promotion last month." "Thanks, Mark," Bridget says, mock kissing the phone screen. "I owe you one." "You owe me a lot more than that, Bridge. Now, go change your shirt." "Blouse, Mark. Not a shirt. Blouse." "Whatever," Mark says between a loud chuckle. "Go change your...Blouse. Just make sure you have it off again when I come to collect my debt." "Ha ha ha. Bye, Mark." "Bye, Baby." Hanging up the phone, Bridget races out of the dining room. Her blouse is up and over her head before she reaches the hallway. At the large kitchen window, a shadow shifts in the approaching night. =================================== Bridget sprints back into the kitchen wearing a different blouse, a tight black tank top with turquoise beads decorating the collar. She has also changed into a pleated black skirt, which falls to just above her knees, and a pair of frilly black boots. A last minute change of wardrobe. Bridget adjusts the top of her tank top, revealing just a little more cleavage. Maybe the coffee spill was a blessing in disguise. This ensemble fits her style a lot better. Sort of a Julia Childs meets bad girl feel. The people at home will eat it up, as they watch her carve a tender roast right off the bone. Bridget goes to the kitchen island in search of her cellphone. Discovering it missing, Bridget glances to her right. Did she leave it in the bedroom? She hadn''t taken it to the bedroom. Had she? Bridget turns to go back to the bedroom and is hit across the head with her mother''s favorite stoneware frying pan. Bridget holds her face as her back slams into the kitchen island. The pain from both injuries is excruciating and she falls in a heap on the floor. Whimpering softly, Bridget looks up to see who has hit her. The man she spies is not one she recognizes. She has never seen him before. Blood runs down Bridget''s brow and into her left eye. She wipes it away with the back of one hand, staring up at the strange man standing in her kitchen. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" The man does not answer. He simple raises the pan again. Bridget yells and puts up her arms in defense. "No. No. Nooo. Please," Bridget pleads. The large man pays no heed to her pleas. He brings the pan down on Bridget''s right elbow. There is a crack as her elbow shatters from the force of the man''s blow. Bridget hollers out again and the man draws the pan up again. He brings it down on Bridget again and again. She finally goes down, lying unmoving and silent on the floor. The mysterious man looms over her, watching her for any signs of movement. After about five minutes, Bridget''s attacker straddles her midsection. He runs his large right hand down Bridget''s head, wiping blood from her brow and eyelids. He licks the blood on his hand like a hungry animal, making noises and faces to match the level of his intense arousal. He performs the same action over and over, wiping and licking the blood from Bridget''s face. Reaching peak insanity, the intruder licks Bridget''s skin, cleaning every trace of blood. So delightful. Roughly sitting Bridget up, and placing both arms under her armpits, the man drags her from the kitchen. Once they are in the living room, he positions Bridget on his right shoulder and exits through the front door. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 3- Interference on the Play Castle Cinema 6:46 P.M. "Megan! I''m gonna take my fifteen now. Will you watch the counter?" Priscilla Garth tosses her wavy hair over one shoulder and smirks at her fellow usher. She shoves the popcorn scoop deep into the mountain of buttery sacrilege and scrunches her face. "I think anyone who was planning to come to this lame ass movie has already walked through the doors," Priscilla scoffs, flicking the scoop so that it falls over. "So we''ve got another bin of overpriced popcorn just waiting to go in the trash. How nice?" Megan, Priscilla''s more reserved colleague, shrugs both shoulders and rolls her eyes. She glances over at the overflowing popcorn bin with secret longing. "I don''t know. It''s not so much the price of the popcorn. People love the experience which comes from going to an actual movie theatre. It''s...Nostalgic. And romantic. People like the idea of sharing a tub of popcorn and feeding it to each other. Same principle as those old 1920''s commercials with couples sharing a milkshake. People like what they like. Who are we to judge?" Priscilla slides behind Megan and pats her coworker''s left cheek condescendingly. She cuts her eyes at Megan, while grabbing her purse from underneath the ticket counter. Her cigarettes are in there. "That''s so cute, Megan. You actually believe in romance. Don''t know why. It''s not like..." Megan''s face falls as she considers what Priscilla had planned to say next. Priscilla course corrects, blinking very slowly, and offers Megan a coy smirk. "It''s not like there''s anyone around here to fall in love with. Castleton is full of creeps. I should know. The last guy I dated...Oh god. Anyways, I''m going to my break. Don''t let anyone sneak in or bribe you. Timothy got fired last week because he let some bimbo he wanted to date into one of the screenings. Forget about romance. That guy had mush for brains. See ya in fifteen. I need a smoke." Priscilla hustles through the lobby and out of the main entrance to the theatre. Megan looks after her with a forlorn expression. Walking over to the popcorn machine, Megan picks up the scoop and examines it, daydreams running through her head. "It is romantic. I think. Like sharing a strawberry malt milkshake." Imitating Priscilla''s previous actions, Megan shoves the scoop into the center of the cooling mountain of popcorn. She also knocks it over with a flick of her hand. Frustration causes Megan''s face to contort, her eyes narrowing. She mimicks Priscilla''s voice and mannerisms. " Huh. ''The last guy I dated was a creep''. Nah, nah, nah. Such a drama queen!" The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Priscilla races out of the theatre''s front doors and heads for her car. Once at her car, Priscilla leans against the hood. She stares across the street at the local 7-11 station. She''s gonna need a new pack of cigarettes, but $7.67 is highway robbery. Maybe the Casey''s store off the main road will have them cheaper. Priscilla is so absorbed in her thoughts of cheap cigarettes that she is unaware of the darkly clothed figure lurking on the side of the theatre. Reclining her head, Priscilla blows out a large puff of smoke. The miniature cloud of pollution is made bigger by condensation from the surrounding air. The temperature has dropped dramatically since she first arrived at work. She should have worn a jacket. Taking another long drag of her cancer stick, Priscilla smiles wistfully. Romance. That was what Megan had said. What did Megan know about romance? The girl probably hasn''t had a date since elementary school. Too awkward and annoying. Priscilla chuckles at her own cruel assessments, wrapping her left arm around her waist and swaying slightly. Poor Megan. She''ll probably have to hire a male escort to ever get laid. Or become one herself. Poor Megan. On the side of the theatre building, the dark figure has crept closer, head lowered but eyes focused on his intended target. She has no idea he is there, reveling in whatever fantasy now plays through her mind. In a matter of moments, she will be his. Her fantasies can become real. And they all will feature him. Priscilla is nearly blinded when a loud jaguar roars into the parking lot. Recognizing the unique vehicle, Priscilla chuckles a lot louder and takes an even longer drag off of her cigarette. She stands from her leaning position against the hood of her car, bends low, and snuffs out the cigarette held in her right hand. A rehearsed smile plays across her countenance. A tall man, wearing denim pants and a collared shirt open to the fourth button, strolls toward Priscilla. He opens his arms for a hug. Priscilla crosses both arms over her chest and smirks. This does not stop the young man, who embraces her anyway. He lightly kisses the flesh behind her left ear. "I knew I''d find you here, Prissy! Looks like I timed my entrance perfectly." "Uh-huh," Priscilla says, pretending not to be interested. The young man uses a hand to turn her head and kisses her intensely on the mouth. He grins into her face as they separate. "Why don''t you call me, anymore?" the young man says, studying Priscilla very carefully. "Really, Josh. You''ve conveniently forgot we''re not dating anymore? Again. Come on, Josh. Admit you''ve been following me." "Nope. Nuh-uh. Not this time. I promise. Every since we talked about how boxed in it makes you feel. I was just in the area and remembered you usually work on Thursdays. We used to meet up around this time. I just wanted to see you. I miss you. I didn''t realize you don''t miss me." "That''s not the case and you know it," Priscilla says, touching the right side of her ex-boyfriend''s face. "I''m just tired of the crap, Josh. I''m tired of the other women. I''m tired of the late nights with no explanation. I can''t deal with it anymore. You''re out of my league and I know it. So...Go find someone else." "Out of my league? I never said that," Josh protests. "You don''t have to." Josh caresses Priscilla''s face and offers her a playful smile. "My card is empty at the moment. I''m all yours. I''m hungry. Will you sell me some expensive ass popcorn?" Priscilla releases a soft sigh and pecks Josh''s lips. Romance, indeed. "Sure. Come on. Can''t guarantee it''s not stale though." Priscilla and Josh head into the theatre. On the side of the building, the dark clothed figure slinks back into the shadows. Anger boils his blood and he shoves the small canister of pepper spray back into his jacket pocket. In his other pocket, there is a thin blade. The blade he chose for an occasion which must now come at another time. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 4- Away From Prying Eyes A cozy secluded cabin- somewhere Hazel Northrop releases a deep sigh and squeezes both eyes shut. Senior Deputy Dave Newsome softly kisses her neck, while continuing to thrust inside of her. Nevermind that Hazel is the youngest daughter of Sheriff Northrop, his boss. A man his age doesn''t say no to an offer this good. Hazel''s fickle district attorney boyfriend has once again flown the coop. For likely the fifteenth time, Hazel had needed a shoulder to cry on, and Dave had answered the call. Without a second thought, or consideration for his own well-being. Sheriff Northrop is a gun man. Always has been. If the sheriff were to ever find out about Dave''s extracurricular activities, Dave is sure there will be a bullet somewhere with his name on it. Maybe a whole cartridge full. However, he and Hazel have come to an understanding, and at the moment they are reaffirming it with their unabashed passion. Hazel''s light brown skin is flushed from exertion, and she moans softly as Dave tenderly kisses her flesh. Hearing Hazel call his name with such passion, Dave shifts his attention to her full lips. Lips just like her mother''s. Before becoming Bernadette Northrop, Hazel''s mother had been Bernadette Simmons--Dave''s elusive and undercover girlfriend. Many hot summer nights, they had snuck off into the woods. And many nights he had undressed Bernadette by the light of the moon, her supple breasts equally as inviting as those of her daughter. The only differences being their firmness and color. The late Bernadette Northrop had been anything but your average girl next door. They hadn''t even lived in the same town. Bernadette''s father had been a handyman, doing odd jobs for most of the big wigs in the area. One day, Mr. Simmons had brought along his beautiful daughter, tattered coveralls and all. The job Samuel Simmons was working on required an extra set of hands. But Samuel only had a daughter and couldn''t afford to hire a helper. So along came Bernadette. Dave had thought Bernadette was the most beautiful thing he''d ever seen. Without being noticed, teenage Dave had often snuck glances in Bernadette''s direction. He found himself admiring her tiny waist; light brown skin; soft oval eyes; high cheekbones, dingy white tank top--which showed a small portion of her side and midriff; those temptingly large breasts; and her full pouty lips. The coveralls had done very little to hide Bernadette''s expansive bosom. When Samuel left them alone the next afternoon, Dave had enjoyed removing said coveralls. They''d made steamy love in the back of his father''s bright red ford pickup. The same pickup Bernadette''s father had been tasked with fixing. Bernadette had teased him wonderfully, doing things with her body Dave had never seen or experienced. He was hooked. Sometimes, he would go to Bernadette at her father''s place. Sometimes, she would sneak out to meet him. Each time, he found himself swimming in emotions he couldn''t understand. If they had been caught, his father would have lost everything. Bernadette''s father might have been run out. He certainly would have never worked in any of the surrounding towns again. Yet, Dave had gladly taken the risk. It was worth it to feel himself slide into her, and to feel her hands all over his body. More than thirty years later, almost to the day, he''d made love to Bernadette''s daughter. It''s a story few people know. A story he sure as hell won''t tell Hazel. He enjoys their sporadic romps under the covers. The first time she''d cried on his shoulder, and tenderly kissed his neck, Dave had been beside himself with worry. However, once Hazel''s blouse had come off, the worry was quickly replaced by raging hormones. Hazel seldom wore a bra. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Staring dumbfounded at Hazel''s exposed girly parts, Dave had watched her back slowly toward the cabin''s guestroom. She wore nothing but a sly smirk, and a pair of lace panties, tossing her blouse playfully across the room. They never made it to the guestroom. Dave had taken her against the living room wall, on the bearskin rug, underneath the 12-point buck Sheriff Northrop had bagged the previous summer. Thank goodness for prick boyfriends. One man''s loss is another man''s gain. No wonder Hazel had called him all the way out here. Him; of all people. This had been her plan all along. Eleven months after that first coupling, Dave has no regrets. Nothing, save early retirement and Hazel''s surly father, will jeopardize his place in her bed. Hazel places both arms around Dave''s neck. They are truly finding a rhythm when Dave''s cellphone rings on the nightstand. Dave groans and rolls his eyes. He reclines his upper body, reaching for his phone. "Damn!" "Dave," Hazel impatiently groans. "Why don''t you ever turn that thing off?" "You know I can''t do that, Hazel," Dave explains for the hundredth time. "I''m always on-call. The day I shut it off some serious crap will go down. I''ll lose my job faster than you can say job. Besides, it might be your old man." "Ooo...Which one?" Hazel says playfully. "Either one," Dave replies, leaning and kissing Hazel''s lips. "Give me a sec, honey. I gotta call whoever that was back." Sitting up on the bed, Dave scrolls through his call log. Finding the most recent call, he heaves another loud sigh and curses. "It''s the station. Damn!" "Damn...Is right," Hazel pouts, running a hand down Dave''s arm. "We were just getting to the fun part. No fair." Stifling a laugh, Dave dials the requisite number. He waits for the familiar voice on the other line. Sheriff Jeffrey Northrop is anything but happy when he answers the phone. "Hey, Dave. Where''ve you been? I tried to call you. Did you get my message? And why are you out of breath?" "Uh...Yeah. I...Uh...Subscribed to a gym a while back and finally decided to work out a bit this weekend. I can really use it. That''s where I''m at, right now. What''s up, Sheriff?" Sheriff Northrop sounds unconvinced, his voice low and dry. "Yeah, I believe that. Just get here as soon as you can, Dave. We''ve got something going down I don''t want to discuss over the phone." "Yessir," Dave mutters to a dead phone. Sheriff Northrop has already hung up. Dropping the phone back onto the night stand, Dave leans over and kisses Hazel on the mouth. She wraps an arm around his neck, hoping to keep him there. Dave politely removes her arm and scoots off of the bed. Hazel sits up, watching him throw on his clothes. "What was it, Dave? Where are you going?" Hazel says in a worried voice. Dave rushes back to the bed while attempting to zip his fly. He roughly kisses Hazel again, placing a hand behind her head as support. His expression is serious as he pulls away. "Let''s just say your old man isn''t happy," Dave says. Hazel crosses both arms over her chest and smirks. She throws her long curled hair over one shoulder. "So...What else is new? I''m beginning to think my father was born angry. Mom used to think so too. God rest her soul." "Well, there''s something really important going down. He wouldn''t talk about it over the phone. Gotta go. It''s almost an hour drive. Maybe I''ll put my flashers and siren on. Get there a little faster that way." "Until next time?" Hazel says, lowering her voice and her eyelids. "Until next time, honey," Dave replies, kissing Hazel one more time for good measure. Without another word, but with several glances back, Dave hustles from the room. Moments later, Hazel hears his Ford pickup start up and peel out of the gravel driveway. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 5-It Never Gets Easier Deputy Newsome brings his Ford pickup to a grinding halt. Climbing down from the cab, Dave hitches up the crotch of his pants. A quick shower at a well-known truck stop, some spare clothes, and a few tic-tacs later; Dave is sure all traces of his time with Hazel have been erased. He strolls confidently toward his superior, whose back is turned while talking to a female officer. "What''s going on, Sir?" Dave inquires. He eyes the pretty officer from his peripheral vision. She must be from one of the neighboring towns. Castleton maybe. Yeah. Castleton. Duh, Dave. It says so right there on her sleeve. Sheriff Northrop gives Dave a thorough looking over. The experienced law man curls his mouth into a knowing sneer, his grayish-blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "Glad you''ve finally decided to grace us with your presence, Dave!" "Uh...Yeah. Like I said, Sir..." "Cut the crap, Dave! I don''t even want to hear it. A man doesn''t get that out of breath unless he''s competing in a marathon...Has just run up a flight of stairs...Or is in the middle of screwing an extremely...Extremely gorgeous woman. And you''re not exactly the running type, Dave. That leaves only one possibility." Dave''s mouth falls open and the woman police officer shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She lowers her head and bites one corner of her lip, pitting the sheriff''s assessment against the tall pudgy man standing in front of her. Leave it to Sheriff Northrop to put his love life on blast. Along with being a gun enthusiast, Jeffrey Northrop is not a man known to mince words. "I wasn''t born yesterday," Sheriff Northrop quips, his sneer becoming a full-blown smirk. "And I''m just as much a man as you are, Dave." "Yep. Can''t put one over on you, Sir," Dave says sarcastically. "That''s right. Now, as you can see...They''re taking the body to the morgue now. We won''t be able to positively ID her for...Quite a bit. We''ll have to draw blood and comb through missing persons reports. The perp did a number on her. Destroyed pretty much anything else. Shaved her hair...Literally everywhere. Even her eyelashes are gone. He just...Plucked ''em out. I guess. Took her fingerprints. Damn near took the tips of her fingers off doing it. Smashed her teeth out of her mouth. So we can''t even use dental records. And he scrubbed her completely clean. You can smell residue from the chemicals on her. I haven''t seen anything this bad since...Well, since ever. This fella... He''s a bad one. I can feel it." Dave glances over at the woman officer, as she moves off in the direction of a crowd of reporters threatening to invade the police tape. Intertwining the fingers of his hands, Dave presses both index fingers against his mouth. Oh boy. And he was so close to a clean retirement. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Sometime later Climbing back inside his Ford pickup, Dave tries his best not to hurl. Against his better judgment, he had insisted on viewing what was left of the poor woman''s body. It hadn''t been a pretty sight. Oh man. That was someone''s daughter. Maybe even a girlfriend or mother. How does one look at another human being and do such horrible things? Dave''s personal phone buzzes and he yanks open the glove compartment. Hazel. He glances at the somewhat risque message and smirks, his mind temporarily on better things. Hazel, beautiful Hazel. Dave secretly wonders if the young lady they have just discovered, lying naked in the grass, was once beautiful too. Did she have someone who loved her, and who was loved by her? Who will be sleeping in a half-empty bed tonight? Will they miss her warmth? Do they even realize she is gone? The victim of a madmen''s crazed sex game. A knock on Dave''s window brings him back to reality. It is the pretty woman officer who witnessed his embarrassing scene with Sheriff Northrop. She smiles uncomfortably as he lowers the driver''s side window of his truck. "Are you okay, Deputy?" "Huh? Who, me? Uh...Yeah," Dave says, grateful that the screen on his burner phone has darkened. "It''s just that...You looked like you were gonna be sick back there. I was worried about you," the attractive lady cop says. "Oh no. I''m fine. Really," Dave insists. "It just caught me by surprise. The brutality of what that psycho did to that poor girl. Sometimes, I wonder if these perps are even human. Know what I mean?" "I sure do," the officer says, a dimple forming in her left cheek. She extends her hand forward and smiles thinly. "Names Blake. Officer Emily Blake. I was the officer who first responded to the call." Dave reaches out of the window and awkwardly shakes Officer Blake''s hand. "Miss. Blake...I am so sorry you had to be the one. That couldn''t have been easy...Seeing a young lady like that." "It wasn''t. But I''m told...It gets easier with time. The public counts on us to be...Strong in the face of such tragedies. We can''t afford to let people see us crack under pressure. Especially, guys like this. It''ll get easier...I hope. I guess. Then, you just don''t feel it anymore. You can go about your job, and answer these types of calls, and still sleep comfortably at night. That''s what I tell myself. That''s how I get through...Every day." Dave''s eyes narrow and he briefly stares through the windshield of his truck. Heaving a long deep sigh, Dave peers at Officer Blake from the side of his eye. "I hate to say it, Emily. But, I''ve been doing this job for over twenty years. It doesn''t get that much easier. You just...Learn ways to hide it....Deep down inside. But that''s where it really gets ya. You can''t just brush it off. Or it will eat you up inside. You''ve gotta deal with it. In your own way. Nobody can tell you what that is." Dave nods his head politely at Officer Blake and places his finger over the window button, signalling his desire to leave. Officer Blake looks down at Dave''s large hand and then back up to his reddening face. Her eyes search for meaning, but find only a blank stare. "I''ve gotta get back to the station or Sheriff Northrop will have my badge and my hide. It was nice meeting you, Emily. I''m just sorry we had to meet under this sort of circumstance." "Sure," Officer Blake says softly. "It was nice meeting you too, Dave." Deputy Newsome sighs heavily and allows Officer Blake to back up before raising the window. He peels out in a cloud of dust, tears threatening to spill from his moistening eyes. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 6- Dont Lie To Me Deputy Newsome knocks on the open door of Sheriff Northrop''s luxurious office. Northrop glances at Dave over the rim of his reading glasses and nods toward a chair. "Come in, Dave. And shut the door, will ya?" Dave obeys his superior''s command without hesitation. He is already on thin ice, being late for that call. No point giving old Jeffrey another reason to bust his balls. He quickly sits down in a chair across from Northrop, not giving the wily fella a chance to take a surprise whack. With a loud sigh, Sheriff Northrop removes his black rimmed glasses and draws in his bottom lip. This particular facial expression usually means the sheriff is mauling something over. Dave waits patiently for the slightly older man to spill it. He doesn''t have to wait long. "Like I said, Dave. I''ve got a real bad feeling about this murder. I don''t think we''ve seen the last of this guy." "What makes you say that, Sheriff?" Dave says incredulously. "We''ve found girls mutilated before. This one is no different." Sheriff Northrop roughly closes a folder on his desk and glowers at Newsome. He shakes the pencil in his other hand in the air threateningly. "But it is different, Dave. I can feel it," Northrop insists. "I''ve been doing this a little longer than you have, Dave. I''ve developed an instinct about these sorts of things. This guy...This psycho. He''s not finished. There are going to be more victims. Mark my words, Dave...More girls are going to be found. We need to catch this son of a bitch. And we need to catch him now!" "Until we get that girl''s blood work back, and until we get a lead on any possible missing persons...There''s not much to go off of. The sheriff continues to glower at Dave. He taps his upper lip with the eraser of his pencil. Dave can sense the evil thoughts zinging around in Jeff''s head without the man uttering a single word. "You think I don''t know that, Dave?" "No. No. Just stating...The obvious. I like to hear myself talk. Especially, when I''m stressed out about a really bad case." "I know that too, Dave. You''ve been the same insufferable bastard since the day I laid eyes on you. I don''t see as how that''s ever going to change." "Thank you, Sir," Dave says with a sarcastic grin. He shuffles his thick eyebrows up and down. "It''s nice to know I''m consistent." Sheriff Northrop leans forward on the desk, his eyes narrowing once again. Dave swallows the spit suddenly collecting in his mouth. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "And another thing. The next time you decide to get laid...Keep your phone close by." "Well...Sir--," The sheriff points his pencil at Dave again and Dave grows silent. Sheriff Northrop wags the index finger of his other hand in disapproval. "Nuh-uh. And don''t you ever show up forty minutes late to a call again. I''m a father. I expect people to lie to me. Tell me what I want to hear. But not having the guts to own up to why you''d be late...Is a whole ''nuther thing. Especially, in the line of work we''re in. You pull some crap like that again and I''ll have you strictly behind a desk for six weeks. And don''t even think about riding out in that big ole department issued truck you like so much. That privilege will be gone too. Do you understand me, Dave?" "Sure do. Clear as a bell, Sir." "Good," Northrop says with a cryptic smile. "Now, Gladys has some photos for me down at the lab. Will you swing by there and pick ''em up for me, Dave? I''ve got a press conference in a little over twenty minutes. Everyone is gonna be there. The mayor, and the Chief of Police in Castleton. Like I said, everyone...Who''s anyone." Dave blanches at the idea of picking up the sheriff''s crime scene photos. He grips the armrests of his chair and slowly stands up. A soft chuckle from Sheriff Northrop draws his attention to the elder gentleman''s face. It is the sheriff''s turn to shuffle his eyebrows. "Did you have a good time? Was she pretty?" "Very pretty, Sir?" Dave admits, his heart thudding in his chest. "Anyone I know?" Northrop prods. Dave pretends to search his mind, twisting his mouth to one side and peering sideways up at the ceiling. He shakes his head, hopefully not too enthusiastically, and rubs the prickly stubble on his chin. "I...I don''t believe so. No, Sir. But then again, I don''t know everyone you know either." "Hmmm," Northrop grunts, placing his rimmed glasses back on his face. Northrop pushes the glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose and reopens the file folder on his desk. He feigns disinterest in Dave''s continued presence, slowly turning the pages of the file. Dave winces, watching the sheriff lick his finger before every page turn. Yuck a million. "Well, uh. I''ll go get those photos from Gladys. Be back in a bit," Dave says. "Yeah, that''s a good idea," Sheriff Northrop agrees without looking up. Dave releases a loud sigh and strolls toward the door to Northrop''s office. He glances back at his superior one more time before opening the door and exiting the room. He doesn''t bother to shut it. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Darkness completely envelopes almost every inch of a large enclosed space with metal walls. Somewhere, water can be heard dripping. Very slowly. Drip. Drip. Drip. In a corner of the nearly dark room, a figure wearing all black stands before a large canvas. The figure''s strokes are jerky and erratic, going up and down seemingly with no particular rhythm. Against the chaotic background, the painting which has emerged on the canvas is a freakish version of a nude woman, her face distorted and streaked with blood. The woman in the painting lies on her side, the dark room behind her. She is completely devoid of hair, both arms are crossed over her chest, and her legs are also curled. She resembles a child in the womb, only much bigger. The figure stops painting and places the brush on a filthy countertop nearby. He chuckles sadistically and traces the curves of the woman in the portrait. "So pretty. I have made you that way. You are like me now." The figure moans as he imagines touching the woman who once was. But who is not anymore. "Yes. You are like me now." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 7- Some Space Northrop summer cabin Merrville County Hazel Northrop flops flat onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. She raises both arms above her head and gives a loud sigh. A secret smile turns up her lips. "Oh, Dave. Dave. Mmmm. If my father only knew. You''ve been such a bad boy. Ha ha." Hazel''s jovial mood is disrupted by the ringing of her cellphone. With another sigh, from exasperation this time, Hazel leans over and grabs her phone from the nightstand on her side of the bed. "Yes?" Hazel practically yells, recognizing the number immediately and pressing SEND. "Babe...Hazel? Baby, where are you? What''s going on? I tried to call you earlier, but your phone was turned off. My phone calls kept going straight to voicemail," District Attorney William Stranic breathes into the phone. "I don''t know what to tell you, Will. Maybe I turned it off by mistake. As you can see...My phone is on now," Hazel lies, her expression dull and unforgiving. "You''re still mad at me, aren''t you? Look, Hazel...I''m sorry. I''ve got some really burdensome cases right now, and I needed some space. Some time to sort things out. Sort of clear my head. You''re the daughter of a prominent sheriff. You can understand that, can''t you? Needing some space?" "Sure, Will. You needed space. What more is there to say? I''m giving you space." "Don''t be like that, Hazel. Damn...Hazel...You know I care about you," Will protests in a strained voice. "No, Will...I don''t. You run out on me every chance you get. And I''m supposed to be the loyal little girlfriend who lets you back in every time you need a shoulder to cry on or a bed to fall into. I''m sick of it. You wanted space, Will. You''ve got it. Don''t call me again...Until you''ve figured out exactly what it is that you do want." "Come on now, Haz--," Hazel ends the call before Will''s plea is completely out of his mouth. She gathers up her long wavy hair at the top of her head and leans against the headboard of the bed. Issuing another long sigh, she closes her eyes. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Will, you bastard! If only I didn''t love you so much!" $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Deputy Newsome is just grabbing his coat from the rack when Gladys enters the processing area. She smiles and waves a slender hand at Dave. Dave gives Gladys a respectful head nod and strolls in her direction. Gladys is a nice enough woman. But devote and married. Beautiful, but unavailable. Meeting Dave halfway, Gladys hands him a large manila envelope. The dreaded crime scene photos, Dave presumes. He takes the manila envelope and shoots Gladys a genuine smile, pairing it with a coy wink. "I was headed into town to pick these up. Thanks for bringing them by, Gladys. You saved me a trip." "Don''t mention it, Dave. I was headed this way anyway. My granddaughter has the flu. I''m going to look after her while my daughter-in-law is in the hospital." "The hospital? Is everything alright?" Dave inquires. Gladys reaches forward and lightly touches Dave''s forearm. A tiny giggle escapes the grown woman''s lips. "Oh. Yeah. I thought you knew, Dave. Ellen had our second grandbaby last night. A baby girl. She''s so cute. Looks just like her dad." "Cute must run in the family. I can definitely see where she gets it," Dave says, temporarily forgetting himself. Gladys shifts her gaze away from Dave''s face, she absently toys with the necklace around her neck. Dave''s eyes wander even further and he inhales sharply. Clasping both hands together, Dave tries to appear casual. "I just mean...Josh looks like you, and he''s a handsome fella. Good looks must run in the family. I always forget that you''re old enough to have grandkids, Gladys. You don''t look it." "Everyone married young in my family," Gladys says, casually reminding Dave that her husband exists. "Give it time." "And you''ll still be beautiful, Gladys." Gladys'' gaze shifts again and she glances around the processing area. After offering a female officer a kind smile, she returns her attention to Dave. "Thank you, Dave. That''s so nice. Now, I''ve got to go. My son is expecting me. Tell Sheriff Northrop that I''ll see him later. Bye, Dave." Gladys rushes off without another word or a glance backward. Dave puffs out his cheeks and then exhales loudly. No wonder he never got married. Too many choices and not enough time. And then, you have to factor in men like Gladys'' husband. If only he were the last man on Earth. Dave nearly chuckles at his own inside joke. He turns the giant manila envelope over and opens the clasp, deciding to take a peek. He will have to see them eventually anyway. Dave immediately regrets his decision upon glimpsing the top photo. The battered, toothless face of what was once a young woman stares up at him from the opening. Dave quickly closes the envelope back and takes another deep breath. "It doesn''t get that much easier," Dave hears himself say, reliving his conversation with Officer Blake. "No, it sure as hell doesn''t," Dave grumbles. "But you''ve gotta deal with it. Well, I''m dealing with it." Storming back in the direction of Sheriff Northrop''s office, Dave holds the manila envelope tightly clasped in his right hand. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 8- A Lurid Mess Deputy Newsome pulls into the gravel driveway of his secluded two-story home. For several moments, he simply stares off into space. Where exactly had his life gone wrong? It''s nice having Hazel around to scratch his itches, and he hers. But why was there never a Mrs. Dave Newsome in his past? Sure, he can kid himself that he just never found anyone he was compatible with. However, the truth is a bit more complicated than that. He would have gladly married any of the women who had once shared his bed. Problem was, none of the women he''d slept with were interested in actually marrying him. And it''ll be a cold day in Hell before he can convince Sheriff Northrop to allow him to wed Hazel. Hazel is Northrop''s favorite daughter--his pride and joy. Yet again, Dave gets the impression that he is spinning his wheels and getting zero traction. Raking a hand through his hair, Dave turns on the dome light in his truck. He stares into the rearview mirror, examining every angle of his scalp. After what amounts to a couple of minutes of close inspection, Dave heaves an exasperated sigh. Time for some more Just For Men. Maybe this time, he''ll even change up the color. Possibly dye his eyebrows too. It''ll take years off of his appearance. Except for the damn crow''s feet. Dave grumbles softly as he turns off the dome light and reaches for the vehicle''s door handle. He climbs heavily out of the truck and slams the door. Activating the alarm, and running a hand over the truck''s grill guard, Dave makes his way toward the house. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ A rerun of Wheel of Fortune is playing on the television as Dave naps, his head reclining over the back of the sofa. A half-eaten frozen dinner sits on the table beside the couch, a lone fly picking along the edges of the cold mashed potatoes. Dave''s dreams are filled with images of the mutilated woman. His brain struggles to reconstruct what she must have looked like in life. She''d had a beautiful body, that much could be seen. Was it a fit of jealous rage which led to her horrible death? Had her boyfriend found her cheating and lost his damn mind? What excuse could a monster have for such a heinous crime? Was there ever an excuse? The courts sometimes thought so. Five years ago, Dave had watched as a local boy was cleared of first-degree murder charges; after forcefully sticking his girlfriend''s hands in a garbage disposal. She''d bled to death at gunpoint, while he bargained with police. The murdering bastard was found, by a jury, to be temporarily insane. Served three years in an institution for the criminally ill, two years of house arrest, and is already a free man again. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Dave twitches in his sleep, turning his head to one side. The loud ringing of his burner phone wakes Dave from the nightmare choking his slumber. He sits up on the sofa and quickly grabs the phone. Even seeing Hazel''s number on the Caller ID isn''t enough to raise his spirits. He answers the phone as calmly as possible, his voice low and drenched in sadness. "Hey, Hazel." "Hey, yourself!" Hazel says on the other end of the line. Hazel situates the phone between her shoulder and left ear. She pooches out her lips and spreads her toes, using her right hand to apply matte black polish to her big toenail. She uses the most seductive voice she can muster. "You sound down in the dumps, Dave. Are you okay? Do you want me to come over and cheer you up?" Dave smiles wistfully at the offer but shakes his head. Remembering that Hazel would not have been able to see his gesture, Dave replies aloud. "Nah. I''m not feeling very--. We had a real bad situation today and I don''t think I want to bring that kind of energy around you. Have you spoken with your old man yet?" "Haha. You keep asking me that, Dave. Ha. Almost like you''re asking for trouble. But, no...I haven''t. Why?" "Oh, nothing," Dave says, reclining back into the sofa cushions. Hazel''s girlish giggle warms his heart. "It has something to do with that call you got, doesn''t it? The one that spoiled our fun?" "Yeah," Dave confirms, rubbing the left side of his brow. "It was...Pretty bad. Found a young lady mutilated beyond recognition. Don''t know how much the old man wants told to the public. He was pretty hush-hush during the press conference this afternoon. Thinks we may have a repeat killer. I''m surprised he hasn''t spoken to you about it. You being his prized lamb and all." "Very funny, Dave. He''s obviously been busy. I''ll call him later. If he doesn''t call me first. But really...How are you doing? I''m serious about coming over. It might do you some good. Get your mind off of things." "Oh...It would certainly be good for me. There''s no denying that. I just...I think the best thing for me to do right now is to take a ring check. I want nothing more than to cuddle with you, Hazel. I just don''t think now is the right time. I need to process some things." "Are you serious, Dave?" Hazel exclaims, setting her nail polish down on the nightstand and staring at the phone in disbelief. "That''s a first." "I need time, Hazel. If you had seen--. I just need some time." Hazel squeezes her eyes shut, reclines her head back, and pinches the end of her nose in a gesture of frustration. Her voice takes on a cold chill. "You are the second person to say that to me today, Dave. First, that asshole Will. And now, you. I sure do have great taste in men!" Pressing END, Hazel ends the phone call. It is Dave''s turn to stare at the phone. Oh man. Another romantic screwup. No wonder there''s no Ms. Dave Newsome. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 9- Not Quite Dave pulls his truck into the parking lot of the Castleton Iggle''s grocery store. Yet again, he is out of coffee and the only food in the fridge hasn''t resembled food in months. The entire day has been spent fielding calls from frantic relatives of teen runaways, missing housewives, and boyfriends of locals girls from the college. The best answer anyone could give these distressed persons was a sincere ''We''re working on it Ma''am or Sir.'' Followed by taking their phone numbers--after getting a full description of the lost or suspected missing person. Already Dave is growing wary. He hopes that sage Sheriff Northrop is wrong about this possibly being a serial killing. This is not a routine Dave wants to repeat any time soon. Or ever again. Dave puts his coin into the machine and frees his shopping cart from the cart rail. A woman nearby glances at him as she puts her cart back. An embarrassed grin parts her lips. "I''m sorry, officer," the woman says. "If I''d realized you were going to need a cart, I would have given you mine." Dave smiles reassuringly and shakes his head. Considering he''d changed his uniform before leaving the station, Dave wonders how the woman knew he was a cop. Glancing back, Dave remembers the bold words on the side of his truck. Duh! She must have seen what he climbed out of. "No problem, Ma''am. It''s only a quarter. I''ll get it back when I come out. As long as I''m a responsible citizen and put this dang cart back where I got it, that is," Dave says, laying on the charm. "Yes, that''s true," the woman replies, her grin widening. Dave is prepared to speak again when a thin man, in a jogging suit, races up to the young woman from inside the store. Stopping abruptly, the young man nods respectfully at Dave and then addresses the young woman. She turns to stare at him lovingly. Dave simply gulps. "Got the tumeric. They only had two of those little paper packets. So I got them both. Is that enough to make chicken for sixteen people?" "Sure, hon. That''s fine," the pretty woman gushes, pecking her agitated lover on the cheek. She returns her attention to Dave and performs a small wave. She wriggles her right hand into the left hand of her husband--or boyfriend. "It was nice meeting you, Officer" The young couple heads for their car and Dave mournfully pushes his shopping cart into the store. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Dave''s eyes nearly bug out of his head as he turns into the produce section. Standing next to the bin of Macintosh apples is none other than Hazel Northrop. It is obvious she has not seen him. She bends over to snag an apple which has caught her eye, her too small blouse riding up and revealing a portion of her midriff. Dave watches her silently for a moment and then pushes his cart in her direction. "Are you looking for something, Ma''am? Can I help you find it?" Dave quips. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. He grins like a Cheshire cat, expecting to get the same response from Hazel. Instead, she shifts her eyes coldly in his direction and then returns to her task of finding the perfect apple. "What do you want, Dave?" Hazel says in a dispassionate voice. Dave is taken aback by Hazel''s mood. He simply stares at his elicit lover as she positions a section of hair behind her ear. Hazel pretends he isn''t there. As long as he isn''t talking, or apologizing, he isn''t there. Not as far as she is concerned. "I...Uh...I saw you there and just wanted to talk," Dave says. "That''s a surprise," Hazel retorts sarcastically. "What about? The other night, you had nothing to say. What could you possibly want to talk to me about, Dave?" "Come on, Hazel," Dave pleads, careful to keep his voice down. He moves closer to Hazel, staring down into her furious face. If not for the questionable status of their relationship, and the obvious fact that news might get back to Sheriff Northrop, Dave would kiss Hazel right here in front of the apple bin. He settles for simply staring into her eyes. "I explained to you why I didn''t think it was a good idea to visit you that night...Or have you visit me. Too many bad vibes. I didn''t want to spoil the day you and I''d had together." "Sure," Hazel replies without overt emotion. "I hear you, Dave." Tossing her wavy hair over one shoulder, Hazel blinks rather slowly and puts a hand on her hip. Dave''s eyes begin to wander and he runs his tongue over his left incisor. He breathes in deeply, waiting for Hazel to speak again. "I''ve gotta go, Dave," Hazel says. "I''m cooking dinner for my old man. It''s been a rough couple of days for him, and I think he can use a nice cooked meal." Dave boldly slips a hand around Hazel''s waist, keeping his shopping cart positioned in such a way that his actions won''t be obvious. He gazes longingly down into Hazel''s eyes. How does she think the last thirty-six hours have treated him? "Which old man?" Dave quips, knowing full well who Hazel is referring to. "My dad, Dave. Of course," Hazel says. "Will and I aren''t seeing each other until he gets his priorities straight. I guess the same can be said of others as well. I''m single again. Goodbye, Dave." Shifting her midsection, so that Dave''s hand slides off of her waist, Hazel selects a few random apples and throws them in her produce bag. The bag is already overflowing with apples. Dave can only assume she is prepping to make some sort of pie or dessert. And she didn''t invite him. Not a good sign. "Hazel, please," Dave says, not wanting her to slip out of his grasp--and his life. "Bye, Dave," Hazel repeats. "I''ll tell my father you said ''hey''." Pushing her cart away from the bin of apples, Hazel heads for another part of the supermarket. Dave watches her go with a solemn expression. Later that night, closer to the next morning Hazel Northrop''s Home Hazel stretches lazily and strains her ears to hear. She glances over at the digital clock beside her bed. Was that a knock? At this time of the morning? What crazy sucker has lost his damn mind, beating on her door like that? Climbing out of bed, Hazel grabs her silk robe from its usual place-- drapped over her nightstand. She cinches the robe around her nude form as she descends the staircase leading from her room. She peeks through the peephole and sighs. Wrenching the door open, Hazel is prepared to launch into a tirade. She is surprised when Dave practically rips the porch screen open. "Dave...What?" Dave swiftly moves into Hazel''s personal space and cups her face with both hands. He kisses her passionately. Finally separating, Dave gazes down into Hazel''s wide brown eyes. "I didn''t bother trying to call. I knew you wouldn''t answer the damn phone anyway. It''s been a rough couple of days for me too, Hazel. I had to see you." Hazel only blinks. "You said earlier this evening that you''re single again," Dave continues. "Not quite." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 10- Fit As A Fiddle Rose Perry sprints into the spacious kitchen of her two-bedroom apartment, and goes straight to the table at its center. Snagging a large green apple, Rose wholeheartedly bites into it. The sour juices of the false fruit cause Rose to smack her lips. She sets the apple down and looks over one shoulder, drawing her opposite leg up behind her and gripping the ankle. "Mike, I''m heading to the gym! You coming?" "Nah. I wish I could, Rose. I''ve got tests to grade up the wazoo!" Rose''s fiance Michael Blaine says, entering the kitchen with a tan basket overflowing with papers. Setting the basket of ungraded papers on the kitchen counter, Mike strolls over to Rose and wraps his arms around her waist. Rose stops her exercising long enough to cradle Mike''s face with her left hand. She angles her head and kisses his cheek. Their eyes lock and Rose scrunches up her face. "Party pooper!" Mike chuckles and shakes his head. "Rose, you are a mess. A beautiful mess. That''s why I can''t get enough of you." Turning Rose in his arms, Mike presses their foreheads together. He continues to gaze down at her face. "I don''t understand why you''re in the gym so much anyway," Mike complains. "It''s not like you really need it." "Ah ha," Rose says, playfully pinching Mike''s nose. "You said, I don''t ''really'' need it. Which means I do need it. Make up your mind, Mike." "Rose, you know what I meant," Mike protests. "You look great. Sometimes, I think you''re overdoing it. I love your body!" Rose''s mood turns serious. She pats Mike''s left forearm with her hand, biting her lower lip. "Well, I don''t. I don''t feel comfortable in my own skin, Mike. So I work out. It makes me feel like I''m in control." "Are you in control, Rose? Or is this obsession with weight loss controlling you? I love you, Rose. I''m only looking out for you." Rose continues to bite her lower lip while averting her gaze. Her eyes have hardened when she looks at Mike again. "I''ve gotta go, Mike. I''ll pick up dinner on the way back. See you later." Rose lightly pecks Mike''s cheek. Wearing a thin smile, she politely removes his arms from around her waist. With resignation, Mike drops both arms at his sides and solemnly nods his head. Rose goes to the opposite counter and grabs her car keys from beside Mike''s basket of test papers. "I''ll see you later, Mike. I...See you later." Rose hurries out of the kitchen. Mike''s brow furrows and he peers at the pile of papers in his overfilled grading basket. If only he had time to join her at the gym, but those papers need to be graded asap. With over thirty students, it won''t be an easy task. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Rose arrives at the gym to find it mostly empty. Two women are taking turns using the gym''s only leg press, and a small group of men are gathered around the two bench presses. From the looks of it, the men are having some sort of competition, cheering the pair of guys currently on the machines. Rose settles for the elliptical trainer. She drops her gym bag beside the machine. Tying her hair up into a loose bun, Rose unzips the top of her bag. Once Rose finds her cooling towel, she wraps it around her shoulders. Before long, Rose is deep into her exercise routine. A pair of noise cancelling headphones rests on her head and she puckers her lips, miming to a song blasting in her ears. She watches the only other women in the gym with keen interest. The two women have since abandoned the leg press and are now using the hanging bars. One woman acts as a spotter and assister. The other woman, who is a lot more athletic in appearance, effortlessly pulls up on the bar. Both women seem to be having a good time. Rose considers her own gym experience. She isn''t here because she wants to be here. Not really. However the many harsh words of others will not let her rest. From her callous father, who was always picking at her weight, and telling her to push the plate away. To her former boyfriend, who would slap her as hard as he could and call her a pig. Mike''s kind words aren''t quite enough to erase those memories of hatefulness and abuse. She knows he means well, it just isn''t enough. Rose''s long hair falls loose from the bun she had affixed at the top of her head. She stops the machine long enough to try to get her hair back under control. She is surprised when a hand appears, offering her a rubber band. Glancing at the man offering her the band, Rose tries not to stare. How sad. An accident maybe? What else could have done that to someone''s face? Rose takes the rubber band with a grateful smile. As she puts up her hair, she notices that almost everyone has left the gym. Only one other person, a strong well-muscled man is in attendance. And he is preparing to leave. "Thanks for the rubber band," Rose says with a soft chuckle. "My fiance is a teacher. He has a million of these. I don''t know why I didn''t think to grab one. Thanks again." The man with the cut face and dark hooded jacket moves away with only a head nod. Rose smiles again and goes back to her exercise. Nice fella. Just goes to show, you shouldn''t judge a book by its cover. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ An hour later Rose has finished her exercising and is taking advantage of the communal showers. While the cooling towel kept her from overheating during her workout, there is something to be said about a nice cool shower. Rose turns in the spray, grinning as the water pelts her face. Her gym bag sits on a bench near the door. Unbeknownst to Rose, she has a visitor. A gloved hand worms its way into the pockets of her gym bag. Finding Rose''s cellphone, the hooded figure slides the phone into a nearby trash receptacle and buries it under debris. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Twenty minutes later Rose exits the gym and heads for the back lot, where her vehicle is parked. She is surprised to find it gone. Did Mike come by the gym? Why didn''t he tell her? And where is he now? Rose has little time to consider the answer. A strong arm roughly grabs her from behind, strangling her. Another arm appears from the opposite side, brandishing a black canister of pepper spray. Rose''s assailant douses her face with the irritating liquid. Rose''s body jerks as she struggles to breathe. Warm lips against her right cheek is the last feeling she is conscious of, before passing out. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 11- No Dinner Rose''s Apartment 7:37 P.M. Mike is seated at the kitchen table, several graded paper are spread out in front of him. However, the pile of papers has gone down very little. Mike drops his red pen to the tabletop and stretches noisily. He glances over at the analog clock on the wall. Almost seven-forty and still no Rose. Yawning and stretching, Mike climbs from his seat at the table. He shuffles out of the kitchen and into the living room. His cellphone is on the glass table where he left it. Mike grabs up his phone and unlocks it. He speed dials Rose''s number. The phone rings several times before clicking over to voicemail. Rose''s recorded voice greets Mike''s waiting ears. "Hi. You''ve reached Rose Perry. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message. I''ll get back to you as soon as I can. And if this is Mike, I love you. Thanks." Mike hangs up and calls twice more. Each time, he gets the same result. Voicemail. Trying one last time, Mike is relieved to hear a human voice answer. But it is not Rose''s voice. "Hello," a strange woman''s voice says. "Hi, this is Mike Blaine. Uh...This is my fiance''s phone. Who are you? And why do you have Rose''s phone?" "Well, excuse me for trying to help," the woman spits back sarcastically. "I''m the night janitor at Water''s Gym. We''re about to close up for the night and I was cleaning out the showers. I found your fiance''s cellphone in the trash. It was ringing like crazy. Next time, I''ll just leave something like that where I find it." "Oh...No, ma''am," Mike says, panic entering his voice. "That''s not how I meant it. I was only wondering why you had Rose''s phone. I wasn''t trying to be rude. In the trash? Why would Rose''s phone be in the trash?" "How would I know that, Sir?" the woman retorts, she is obviously still angry at Mike for his initial reaction. "People lose stuff in the trash all the time. Had a couple come back here last week accusing us of stealing a ring. Turns out the chick hadn''t even brought her engagement ring to the gym with her. It was safe at home in her underwear drawer. Another time, some guy lost his watch. Wanna guess where it was? The trash. People always wanna come out swinging without knowing the facts. It''s always ''the hired help'' that somehow stole your valuables." "Ma''am, I already told you. I don''t think you stole anything. Will you do me a favor though? Can you tell me if there''s a black Camry sitting in your parking lot? I''m worried about my girl Rose." This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "We close in less than thirty minutes, Sir. I have other duties. I don''t have time to be acting like an errand boy for you. I''ll leave your fiance''s phone in the lost and found. She''s probably retracing all of her steps looking for it. I don''t remember seeing any car in the parking lot when I passed by that way. Most of our patrons know we start to close down early. We open at eight in the morning. As long as either of you can positively identify the phone, you can take it home with you. See you in the morning. Bye." "No, please. Ma''am," Mike exclaims. The line goes dead as the gym''s janitor ends the call. Mike sighs and lowers the phone from his ear. He strolls back into the kitchen and glances at the clock on the wall a second time. Ten minutes until eight. Where had Rose said she was going to order dinner? Had she said where she was going? $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Rose struggles to see through the thin blindfold covering her eyes. She rotates her neck to get out a kink and nearly faints from pain. Rose''s throat hurts where the gloved man attempted to strangle her. Her nasal passages and mouth are extremely dry and raw from the pepper spray he used on her. Rose coughs softly, angling her head toward the ceiling. Somewhere in the background, water drips rhythmically from a pipe onto the floor. Rose is able to hear the water dripping. She licks her lips with thirst. The air within the darkened space, wherever she is, is damp and rank. The humidity causes Rose''s skin to crawl, as if tiny insects are scrambling over her. She can make out the sounds of her male captor''s labored breathing. He has been breathing that way for quite some time. Every once in a while, Rose can make out other noises. She is sure he is painting something. What, she can only guess. If she really cared to. After a few more minutes of straining against the ropes binding her, Rose gives up on her futile task. Exhaustion claims Rose, she allows her head to fall onto her chest and tiredly goes to sleep. Her slumber is full of nightmares. Rose is awakened by a hand under her chin. To her surprise, the blindfold has been removed. Rose yelps as she catches sight of the face hovering above her. The man holding her chin is familiar. The kind man from the gym. The man with the rubber band. The disfigured man tilts his head to one side and studies her. "What? Do you not like what you see?" the man questions in a high-pitched nasally voice. "That''s alright. Neither do I! That is why I make new faces. New faces for all of my darlings. New bodies too! It will be beautiful. You will be beautiful. A face worthy of my collection. I will paint you so marvelously. You will be made new. Like a babe in the womb. So beautiful. My darling." Rose barely has time to react before the horrid man lashes out with a large knife, slashing her face. With both hands bound, Rose is unable to stem the bleeding. She shrieks, and then whimpers softly, tears mixing with the blood on her cheek. The man''s cruel eyes bulge in his pallid face. He uses a gnarled finger to wipe at the blood on Rose''s cheek. Licking the blood from his fingertip, the man chuckles maniacally. Rose''s lip trembles as she watches his insane antics. "Yes, my darling. You will become part of my collection. You are already one step closer. Yes. Yes. My work of art. The art of Aquarius. You should be proud." Raising the knife a second time, the vile man prepares to make another downward stroke. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 12- Another Girl Two Days Later Mable Park- Just inside the Castleton city limits Yanking his Ford heavy duty onto the right shoulder, Deputy Newsome climbs heavily down out of the pickup. As he passes by the front of the truck, he pats the sturdy grill guard. Nothing can accurately describe Dave''s happiness when all of the department''s trucks had been updated and fitted with the guards. He''d expected the tightwads at the top to balk at the added expense. Dave loves that damn grill guard. It''s saved his ass more than a few times during a grueling chase. If this new case shapes up to be like most of the cases he''s worked on lately, he''ll be glad that grill guard is there again. Newsome heads for the middle of the park, where about a dozen officers, deputies, and emergency personnel are surveying the area for evidence or talking to witnesses of the gruesome discovery. Dave''s stomach lurches once he is close enough to view the body. The woman is nude just like before, her face beaten and slashed beyond recognition. And once again, the victim''s hair has been shaven. Not a single hair remains on her body. However, her positioning is slightly different than the last girl had been. The first victim had been found curled in a tight fetal position. This new victim''s body is bent backward such that she can grip her own ankles. A piece of wire is wrapped around each hand, and the ankle held by said hand, keeping them together against the will of advanced rigor mortis. Dave blinks and steps closer, his brain not quite believing what he is seeing. Another girl, another murder. So close to the first? What monster has made its way to Castleton? And how do they send it back to the hell it came from? Dave covers his graying moustache with a large hand and glances up at the darkening sky. He considers the implications of a serial murderer running loose in Merrville County. Absolutely none of them good. "Oh god! Yeah, it''s him. The sheriff was right. He''s struck again," Newsome mutters to himself. "Oh man. We have got to catch this bastard." $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ At the sheriff''s department, Sheriff Northrop agrees with all points of Dave''s internal monologue. The aged sheriff paces back and forth in front of a large bulletin board. Dave watches him pace for a few silent moments before daring to speak. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "You said we may have a lead on this new victim, Sheriff?" "Yeah. Castleton police got a call two nights ago from a man named Michael Blaine. He claims his fiance went to the gym and then went missing. Fiance''s name is Rose Perry. She works at one of the daycares in town. She''d promised to bring dinner. When no dinner arrived after about eight o''clock, Mike got suspicious. He called the gym...Janitor answers Rose''s phone. Said she found it in the trash. She also claimed people accidentally toss stuff all the time and didn''t take it seriously. Put Rose''s phone in the lost and found and told Mike to come by in the morning. Mike drove by the gym and Rose''s car wasn''t there. Spent all night driving around and then went to the police. They said wait forty-eight hours. Which is pretty standard. Based on what forensics is already saying...Our girl''s been dead close to forty-eight hours. It could be this Rose woman." "Pardon me, Sheriff. So...Are we checking out this Mike Blaine fella? Who''s to say he isn''t our guy?" Sheriff Northrop stares at the bulletin board, his brow creased. A photo of the first body is front and center on the board. Northrop studies the photo, his expression darkening even further. Someone''s daughter. Someone''s lover. Maybe this Mike guy''s lover. He doesn''t want to be the one to tell this man the wedding is off. "Dave...Because this is the second girl in less than a week. The feds are gonna be involved. As well as the Castleton police. Which means we''re gonna be inundated with a lot of outside influence. So far, the feds have only assigned one agent. I''ve checked her out. She''s real knowledgeable. And real professional." Sheriff Northrop whirls toward Dave with a fierce scowl. He wags a finger at Dave as if he is a small child. Dave''s eyes widen and he comically points at his own chest. "What did I do--?" "Can it, Dave! Hear me out," Northrop growls through clenched teeth. The sheriff makes his way to his wooden desk and sits down. He reclines back in his chair, narrowed eyes fixed on Dave. "Keep it in your pants, Dave. I don''t want you getting smart, getting fresh, or otherwise causing trouble. You go around pulling rank, and jurisdiction...Or swinging your--," the sheriff pauses as if the words he was going to utter are beneath him. Sheriff Northrop twists his mouth unfavorably and looks Dave up and down. Dave imagines melting into a puddle in his chair. If the sheriff thought any less of him, he''d probably be out of a job. Good thing retirement is around the corner. Just one murdering bastard to round up and Dave can start prepping for a life of ease and doing absolutely nothing. "You go swinging your junk around, and the feds are liable to do more than send one agent. We''ll be swarmed with them. Right now, they''re letting us handle this our way. Don''t screw this up, Dave! Be a team player." "I''m always a team player, Sir," Dave replies in a firm no nonsense voice. "Yeah, a team from hell," Sheriff Northrop spits back, his eyes narrowing even more. "Once you get to Castleton, you''ll be working with a... Detective James Mackey. Yeah, that''s his name. He''s not exactly a greenhorn, but he''s fairly new to Castleton. He replaced Detective Farmer as lead detective, when Farmer moved upstate. From what I understand, Mackey''s a wonderful detective. One of the brightest. He''s helped catch some real bad guys over the years. Like I said, Dave...Just go with the flow." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 13- City Slicker The next morning Merrville Sheriff''s Department After a brief check-in, Dave hustles from Sheriff Northrop''s office. With an upward sweeping motion, Dave throws his sheriff''s hat on his head. He snaps his fingers at a young deputy grabbing water from the dispenser in the far left corner of the room. "Hey, Chastain. You! With me," Dave yells and motions with his head toward the door. "Come on. We don''t have all day." "What''s up, Dave?" Morris Chastain says, eyeing Dave incredulously. "No time to explain," Dave bellows. "Just get your ass over here, on the double. Sheriff''s got a job for us." Almost every eye in the room is now trained on Dave and Morris. Morris'' brow creases and stops filling his water cup. He takes a small sip and then sets the nearly full paper cup on top of the machine. Reaching to grab his own hat from a nearby desk, Morris quickly follows Dave out of the processing area. "We got a lead on that poor girl? Where are we headed, Dave?" Morris questions. The young deputy straightens his belt, also making sure that his weapon is properly holstered and ready. Dave stares straight ahead as he marches toward his pickup. Morris makes a move to head to his own sheriff''s car, but Dave waves for him to come back. "We don''t need two vehicles to visit with the Castleton police. We''ll take my truck. Sheriff wants me to talk up some city slicker detective. The one in charge of investigating these murders. Guy''s sort of new to Castleton. He may not understand how we do things around here. I need a witness. Someone who can attest to Sheriff Northrop that I am definitely a team player. He''s afraid I''ll start busting chops and swinging balls." "Can''t blame the sheriff, Dave. You do have that reputation," Deputy Chastain says with a grin. Dave glowers at Morris as he deactivates the alarm on his truck and wrenches the door open. He uses a finger to illustrate Deputy Chastain going around the truck and getting into the passenger seat. "Get in the damn truck, Morris!" $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Castleton Police Department Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Dave and Deputy Chastain stroll matter-of-factly through the operations room of the Castleton Police Department. Deputy Chastain glances around the room, his mind memorizing every detail of this moment. Must be nice to be able to shoot the breeze while young women are being turned into ground meat. Senior Deputy Newsome is equally as pissed. His narrowed eyes are two pinpricks of disdain as he searches the large room for his detective contact. Spying two officers standing against a far wall, a man and a woman, Dave leads his colleague in their direction. Time to cut the crap and get down to business. "Where can I find Detective James Mackey?" Dave barks, without preamble. The two police officers leaning against the wall, and quite a few others, stop talking and give Dave their full attention. The woman officer pipes up first, her eyes dull and emotionless. "Detective Mackey''s not here right now. He stepped out to get the Chief some coffee. You can have a seat over there and wait for him." The woman officer points to a long wooden bench near the door Deputy Newsome and his fellow deputy just entered. Dave gives the woman officer and her companion a hard look. Is she trying to be funny? Dave is already peeved at this officer''s attitude. Hostile with a side of diva. Remembering Sheriff Northrop''s warning about playing nice, Dave inhales and then slowly releases the air. He stares at the woman officer in front of him, trying to find the silver lining somewhere. He falls short. This particular officer is trying too hard to fit into the boy''s club. Her appearance and professionalism is suffering badly for it. She has a voice made raspy from years of too many cigarettes, and a motorcycle tattoo peeks out from the bottom of her rolled up left sleeve. Her uniform is much baggier than it should be. Especially for a woman. Most likely to hide her still painfully obvious lady parts. "Okay," Dave says in a droll voice. "I''ll wait. When did he leave? And when can I expect him back? Any idea which coffee shop?" "Coffee shop?! I don''t get the Chief''s coffee from any damn coffee shop!" Detective James Mackey chimes in. The young detective closes the distance between himself and the two sheriff''s deputies in only a few long strides. Two steaming cups of coffee are balanced in a cardboard cupholder. Dave scowls at the woman officer, whose face now resembles the Cheshire cat. She simply resumes talking to her male coworker, ignoring Dave completely. Switching the cupholder to the other hand, Detective Mackey reaches out his right hand for a firm shake. Dave and Deputy Chastain take turns shaking Mackey''s hand. The detective''s face is just as much one wide grin as the female officer''s had been. He looks from one deputy to the other. Dave stares at Mackey quizzically. He wishes he knew what all of these officers believe is so damn funny. "Freddo...The guy who runs that wonderful food truck on the corner..." Detective Mackey continues. "...He makes wonderful coffee. Free coffee as long as there is still food on your plate. That''s where I always get my caffeine fix. And the Chief''s. That reminds me, I have to give the Chief his coffee. My desk is the one near the heater. Just wait for me there." Detective Mackey begins to walk away and then reconsiders. He shakes his head emphatically. Dave and Deputy Chastain exchange confused glances. "No. You know what? Nevermind that," Mackey says with a wide grin. "It''s a little loud in here. How ''bout we talk outside. I grabbed coffee but forgot to grab a sandwich. We''ll talk outside. We can even grab a bite to eat. I''ll pay. Give me a moment." Detective Mackey strolls quickly toward Chief O''Leary''s office. Dave and Deputy Chastain stare after him. "Are all big city slickers this...Juiced up?" Chastain questions with a smirk. "Probably," Dave grumbles. "I couldn''t care less. So long as they do their job." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 14- Feels Good To Be Needed Detective Mackey peels back the foil on his hotdog and grins. He inhales the aromas emanating from the processed delicacy with exaggerated delight. Deputy Chastain twists his mouth upward in bewilderment. Dave simply stares at his fellow law enforcement officer. He tries not to puke, observing the massive pile of onions on Detective Mackey''s hotdog. Indigestion much? Finishing his inspection of the hotdog, James plucks off a very large sliver of onion and pops it into his mouth. He chews slowly and methodically, silently scrutinizing the two sheriff''s deputies. After a moment, James lifts his left leg as if to sit on the hood of Dave''s truck. Dave puts an end to that cuckoo thought with a stern head shake. He points toward the ground with a pudgy finger. Detective Mackey visibly deflates. His smile wanes, eyes narrowing to tiny slits. He shoves another sliver of onion into his mouth and stares sidelong at Dave. "I still don''t see why we had to pile into that big truck of yours to go less than five blocks. I mean...But, whatever," Mackey says. "I much prefer to walk. Better for the posture." "Where are you from, Mackey?" Dave asks, curiosity tugging at his gray matter. "If you don''t mind me asking?" "Oh no. No. Everyone always asks me that," Detective Mackey states, winking energetically at Deputy Chastain. Deputy Chastain rolls his eyes away from the smarmy detective, feeling like he is going to vomit. Is this guy for real? This cartoonish excuse for a detective is the guy Castleton Police has put in charge of a possible serial murder case? Detective Mackey grins mischievously, his goal having been achieved. He stores his observations away for another time. Deputy Newsome is curious and a bit hard-nosed, with an unhealthy attachment to his oversized truck. This other deputy--Chastain--is an ignorant, arrogant, self-inflating prick. "Most recently, I worked out in Portland. That''s Maryland. Before that...It was Reno, Nevada. But I was born and raised in Oklahoma City," Detective Mackey says this last part with obvious pride. "I guess you can say...I''ve been damn near everywhere." "I wouldn''t say that," Morris Chastain mutters under his breath. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Both Dave and Detective Mackey shoot Chastain a blank stare. Deputy Chastain shrugs and glances away yet again. Newsome fixes his hawkish gaze on his new detective liaison. "Oklahoma, huh?" Dave says. "Do any police work while you were out there? Catch any really bad guys?" "No. Actually," Mackey says. "I left the academy and went straight to Reno. I did catch some low-level bad guys out that way. Remember Henry Treble? The guy who was going after little old ladies? I helped put him in the slammer. He died there. One of the inmates took an iron to his face. Wasn''t pretty. I think he owed the guy cigarettes or something. A waste of a life." Deputy Chastain perks up at news of Mackey''s endeavors into detective work. He crosses both arms over his chest and makes the mistake of leaning onto the passenger door of Dave''s truck. Dave snaps the fingers of his hand and motions for his colleague to think of doing otherwise. With yet another eye roll, Deputy Chastain reluctantly complies. Detective Mackey turns his full attention on Deputy Newsome. His eyes take on a strange glint and his grin grows even more devious. "What about you, Deputy Newsome? Where all have you been?" "Uh...I pretty much...I was born in Saddleberg. It''s a quaint little town on the other side of Merrville County. I''ve worked in a couple police departments here and there. But, I''ve mostly served with the Merrville Sheriff''s Department," Dave replies. He suddenly gets the impression that he is being interrogated. "So...You''ve lived and worked in Merrville your entire life?" Mackey asks. "Yeah, so?" Dave counters testily. "That supposed to mean something?" "Oh, nothing. Just asking. That means...You should know quite a few people around Castleton, right?" "Yes. Kind of. No. Merrville is a big county, James." Detective Mackey''s grin becomes even slyer. He waves his left hand at Dave in a demure gesture. He also alters his voice to sound less deep and more breathy. "Oh. So we''re on a first name basis already, Dave? My, my, my. You sure do move fast, Deputy Newsome." Dave glowers at Detective Mackey. Deputy Chastain barely manages to stifle a coarse laugh. Mackey is completely unfazed by Dave''s frustration. He takes a large bite of his hotdog and chews it methodically. "Relax, Dave. I''m only busting your balls," Mackey laughs. "Let a guy have some fun, why don''t ya? I haven''t been in Castleton long enough to build up a strong rapport with the local natives. It might help if they saw a familiar face. Someone they feel they can trust. People will be more likely to open up and share details they might otherwise want to forget. In other words, your Sheriff Northrop is right. I need you on this investigation, Deputy Newsome." Dave''s brow lifts and he appraises Detective Mackey more carefully. There is more depth to this skinny fella than meets the eye. Besides, it feels good to be needed. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 15- Not Slick Enough Merrville Sheriff''s Department Deputy Chastain departs and heads for his desk, leaving Detective Mackey to follow Dave alone. Both men are headed for the Sheriff''s office, the door of which is closed. To Dave''s thinking, Northrop must have someone of importance in there. Or he''s on a conference call. Dave detours and leads Mackey to his own desk. He sweeps aside some of the clutter with a beefy fist and motions for James to pull up a chair from a neighboring desk. James plops down on the edge of Dave''s desk instead. "So...This is where Merrville''s finest does its best work? Can''t believe this is my first time out here." "It won''t be the last," Dave says. "Unless you insist on sitting on my stuff. Grab a chair, Detective Mackey. Now." Dave points to the chair a second time. James rolls his eyes and unseats himself from the corner of the desk. He begrudgingly pulls up the chair Dave pointed to and sits down. "Now," Dave says, thumbing through the files on his desk. "This second girl...We all agree that in all likelihood...It is the unlucky missing Rose Perry. What we don''t know...Or agree on...Is who abducted her." "Yep," Mackey agrees. "And the matter is made more complicated by the gym''s failure to maintain working surveillance cameras. The camera for the back entrance hasn''t worked in years. The one near the showers went down about three weeks ago and was never fixed. Owners were too cheap. Now, a young woman is dead and we have no video to clue us in as to who committed the crime." "Our only option is to do a more in-depth interview with anyone who visited Water''s Gym that day," Dave replies. "I mean everyone. Even that damn janitor isn''t off the hook. She could be an accomplice. Who finds a woman''s cellphone in the trash...Near the showers...And thinks, ''oops, she did it again? Guess, I''ll put it in the lost and found?'' Talk about an asshat move!" "Well, she did say it had happened before, Dave. And the owners always came back for the missing phone." "That could have been a made up story," Dave protests. "Maybe. And maybe not," Mackey says. "We won''t know until we interview everyone. When do you want to start? I want to have another talk with Rose''s fiance...Mike Blaine." "As soon as possible," Dave volunteers, his eyes hardening. "Alrighty, then." James says, hopping up from his chair. "Let''s go." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Dave is just climbing to his feet when the door to Sheriff Northrop''s office opens. A woman''s laughing voice filters out of the room. Hazel''s voice. Dave''s eyes shift to Northrop''s office and he honestly tries not to stare. A nearly impossible task for him. Swallowing his spit, Dave watches Hazel wave to her father before drawing the office door shut. Detective Mackey watches Dave. Hazel catches sight of Dave and grins widely. In her hand is a partially eaten apple pie. Four delicately sliced pieces remain. Trying to remain inconspicuous, about her and Dave''s uncover relationship, Hazel offers a slice of pie to two other deputies before approaching Dave. However, her grin grows in size the closer she gets to Dave''s position. Detective Mackey grins too, shifting his eyes to look at Deputy Newsome. "Hi, Dave." Hazel says in as formal a tone as she can manage. "It''s nice to see you again. Who''s your friend? Oh...Wait. You''re with the Castleton Police Department. You''re here about those murders?" "Yes," Mackey says through his Cheshire grin. "I just came to get a lay of the land. I wanted to see where the big dogs hunt and all that." Dave''s brow creases deeply as Hazel throws her head back and utters a childish giggle. A laugh usually reserved for him. Detective Mackey seems over the moon, sliding his eyes over and observing Dave every few seconds. Hazel settles down somewhat and meets James gaze. "We were just heading out to interview witnesses," Dave interjects. Anything to get this smooth city slicker away from Hazel. "We may have a couple of leads on the last young lady who was killed. But the longer we wait, the trail will get colder and colder. People''s memories usually aren''t good to begin with. Time is of the essence." "I''m so sorry, Dave. Oh...Don''t let me hold you up!" Hazel exclaims. "Here, something to take with you. To keep your strength up. Have some pie." Hazel practically shoves the pie in Dave''s hands and offers him a quick smile. She rushes away before he can utter more than a surprised grunt. Dave looks after Hazel with a bewildered expression. Is she mad at him? Hard to tell when your entire relationship is built on carefully woven subterfuge. Detective Mackey places a hand on Dave''s shoulder and cuts his eyes to the side. Dave reluctantly meets the younger detective''s gaze. "A bit young and daring for you," Mackey whispers hoarsely, so that no one nearby can hear. He needn''t have bothered. The two nearest deputies are going to town on their slices of pie. Both have their heads down while chewing enthusiastically and filling out crime reports. Deputy Chastain has gone to the men''s room, and the other personnel are too far away to even hear a loud fart. "I...What are you talking about, James?" "Oh, Dave," Mackey coos. "You cut me deep. You think I don''t know what that little exchange was all about? I didn''t become Senior Detective because I know how to tie really great knots and collected a bunch of badges. I''m really good at reading people." Detective Mackey stops talking long enough to release Dave''s shoulder and lean closer into the deputy''s personal space. "And right now, your hot-o-meter is about to explode. Like a thermometer full of mercury in a hot water bath. If you could have undressed her and made love right here on the desk...You would have. You may not know your geography, Deputy Newsome. But I''m guessing you''re an A+ student when it comes to anatomy. Like I said, a bit young and daring. Even for you, Dave." Detective Mackey grins mischievously and chuckles. He strides away, headed for the door. For several seconds, Dave stands frozen to the floor. Is it that apparent he has the hots for Hazel? Does Sheriff Northrop suspect? Oh man. "Come on, Dave. Time is of the essence," James mocks from the door. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 16- A Little Known Detail Deputy Newsome and Detective Mackey climb the narrow steps to the third floor of Rose Perry''s apartment building. Dave''s attitude is all business. Mackey is more concerned with details; noting everything he can about the building, its people, and its condition. At the top of the stairs, Detective Mackey puts out an arm to stop Dave''s forward motion. Dave''s wide chest bumps James'' hand and he glowers at his youthful counterpart. "Sorry. Just wanted to stop you before you go knocking on the poor guy''s door like it''s World War Three," Mackey says with a shrug. "The poor guy? This man...Michael Blaine is a suspect," Dave grumbles. "He gets the same respect as any other person of interest. Which is...Nada." "Dave...Dave," Detective Mackey says in a mocking voice. "Have you ever heard the saying...You can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar?" "Yeah. But we''re not catching flies, James. We''re trying to catch a cold-blooded killer," Dave growls back. "A killer who has already taken the lives of two beautiful young women. I don''t have time for games." "Then...You really don''t wanna catch this guy... Do you, Dave?" Mackey challenges. Dave''s blood boils in his veins and he takes a hostile step toward Detective Mackey. The enraged deputy''s face reddens and his chest heaves rapidly up and down. To say Deputy Newsome is angry would be a gross underestimation. The deputy literally fantasizes smacking the smartass young detective so hard that his face comes off. However, Mackey''s face remains right where it is. He stares back at Dave with very little emotion, the ghost of a mocking smile on his lips. "You want to hurt me, don''t you?" James asks, meeting Dave''s fiery gaze. "I''d go so far as to say...You may even want to kill me." Dave remains silent as a pair of women rush up the staircase and offer the two lawmen a passing glance. He gives the women a chance to enter their apartment before continuing his conversation with Detective Mackey. Dave''s voice is deep and full of wrath. "Of course, I want to catch this murdering son of a bitch! You ever say anything like that again and so help me I''ll..." "Save that energy for our killer, Dave. And right now, we don''t know who that is," James says, rudely cutting Deputy Newsome off. "Going off on some grieving kid isn''t going to solve our case. And like I said, we''ll attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. It won''t hurt you to be a little respectful to the man. You think he''s guilty? Fine. He could also be innocent. You''ve worked enough cases to know...Never judge a book by its cover. Sometimes, what looks like a turd is actually chocolate. And vise versa. Besides, Sheriff Northrop wanted you along to get results. Not to push our witnesses deeper into hiding. Give the kid a break. A small one." A group of teenagers pass by Dave and Mackey, headed for the staircase. They stop one by one to offer awkward salutes. Dave shakes his head with minor annoyance. "Salutes are for the military, son!" Dave hollers to the last kid, who spins to face him. "Or during a funeral." The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The teen has a skateboard held between his side and his right armpit. The youngster twists up his face and nods. "Yeah. We know. It''s just that...We were pretty sure we saw him on the television the other night. We just wanted to show our gratitude," skateboard kid says. "My brother Shane is in the academy. He''ll be joining the force soon." Mackey nods to the skateboarder and then glowers at Dave. The kids amble off down the stairs. "What did I say, Dave? Honey...Not vinegar." Detective James Mackey proceeds confidently down the hallway. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Rose Perry/Mike Blaine''s Apartment Detective Mackey knocks rapidly on the front door of Rose''s apartment. He listens for any sign that someone is alive in there. A moment later, shuffling can be heard from inside. The deadbolt is sprung and the door is slowly slid open. A bedraggled Michael Blaine stares out at the two law enforcement officers. The man''s face is red and his eyes are puffy. It is obvious he has been crying for a long time. Mike observes the officers standing in his doorstep with a solemn expression. "Yes. Oh. It''s you, Detective Mackey. Please. Please, come in." Mike Blaine backs away from the door, opening it wider, so that the two men may enter. He nods politely at Deputy Newsome. However, Deputy Newsome does not return Mike''s head nod. The deputy follows Detective Mackey into the apartment and stands just inside the doorway with both hands crossed at the front of his belt. Mike hastily shuts the door and moves to address Detective Mackey. "Any word, Detective Mackey? Any sign of Rose? It''s been more than two days since she went missing. Is there any word at all?" "Uh...No. I''m sorry, Mr. Blaine. We''ve received a few calls from tipsters claiming they may have seen her. At the station, our officers are thoroughly checking out the validity of those calls right now. We came to talk to you about the night Rose disappeared. We were hoping you might have remembered some more details about that night. Something which could help further our investigation." "Oh. Yes," Mike says, his voice and bottom lip trembling. "Of course. I''ll tell you everything I can remember. I''m actually quite glad you came back, Detective Mackey. I do remember something I forgot to relay to your officers the other night." At this statement, Dave''s ears perk up. How convenient? The person of interest suddenly has more information. So helpful. But of course. How else do you throw the dogs off of your scent? Dave scowls suspiciously in Mike''s direction. The grieving man is too sad to notice, giving his full attention to Detective Mackey. "Rose...She had. On her back, she had a tattoo of a rose. It was about the middle of her back, to the left of her spine. She got it when her cousin died. They were named after the same aunt. Rosemary Robinson. Rose was always telling me how she missed them. She got the tattoo to remember them both by. No one would have noticed she had one. Well, not many people. Rose was very critical of her own body. Very self-conscious. She covered up herself most of the time. The woman you all found...Did she have a rose tattoo on her back?" Dave shakes his head emphatically, unable to get the images of the woman''s nude contorted body out of his mind. If there had been a tattoo, he would have remembered. Detective Mackey steps closer to Mike, a worried expression on his face. "Did you say...A rose tattoo?" Mackey asks. "Yes," Mike confirms. "It was a typical red rose. Only a tiny bit of green stem." Dave realizes that something is wrong. He stares hard at Detective Mackey. Mackey stares hard at Mike Blaine. "We''ll uh...Need to ask you some more questions about Rose. Her mannerisms, her appearance, routines, things like that," Mackey finally says in a droll voice. "Okay," Mike says. Deputy Newsome continues to share his glances between the two men. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 17- In My Domain Now Castleton Police Department Detective Mackey leans forward on his desk, studying notes dictated from his sound recorder. Dave stands beside the extremely tidy desk, arms crossed over his barrel chest. Out of nowhere, Detective Mackey claps his hands, startling Dave and a few others nearby. "So?" Mackey says, proud of himself. "Where do we find ourselves, Dave? What new information have we learned today?" Standing up from his chair, James heads over to a bulletin board situated on the back wall. Half of the board is intended for writing. Detective Mackey snatches a blue dry erase marker from the tray and begins drawing a venn diagram. Mackey peers back over his right shoulder, silently beckoning Deputy Newsome over. Newsome reluctantly complies. Mackey energetically scribbles on the whiteboard as he speaks. "We''ve gone back over the witness statements of nearly everyone. The gym''s owner...Mr. Talbert. The janitor...Miss. Holt. The seven other patrons of the gym...Who were there around the same time as the missing Ms. Perry. And Rose''s fiance...Mr. Blaine," Detective Mackey says, making hurried letters on the board. "We have learned...Firstly, that Rose entered the gym around five-thirty the evening of her disappearance. The other patrons remembered seeing her using the elliptical machine. The four men who left together stated she was still on the machine when they exited the gym. Only one patron, a man, remained." Mackey crooks an eyebrow at Dave, waiting for affirmation of his current assessments. Dave frowns and nods agreeably. "You''re doing good. Keep going," Dave says sarcastically. "The men''s stories are backed up by one of the gym''s two working cameras. The two women claim they left before the men. They say Rose was perfectly safe at that time and in no foreseeable danger. The final patron to leave did so just after six o''clock. Rose was seen walking alone towards the showers around seven," Mackey pauses to collect his thoughts. Dave watches the younger man closer. Mackey''s eyes have narrowed and he stares at the bulletin board with extreme intensity. "What are you thinking, James? Something is going on in that wily head of yours," Dave exclaims. "Spill it! You''ll feel better." Mackey breathes in deeply and then taps the dry erase marker on his upper lip. He turns to Dave with a crooked smirk. "We''re not looking for a regular patron of the gym," James says with confidence. "My point being...Someone knew which cameras were inoperable. None of the patrons who were seen on camera had an opportunity to accost Ms. Perry. And neither did Mike Blaine. All of the evidence points to the deceased having been murdered around the same time that Mr. Blaine was running around and making his frantic phone calls. His whereabouts that day have also been collaborated. If that is Rose Perry we have in the morgue, she wasn''t murdered by any of our witnesses. Or Michael Blaine." "You think someone else was in that gym?" Dave pipes up. "Someone not on the camera?" This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "Yep. I''m sure of it," Mackey confirms. "And that same person is the one who hid Rose''s phone in the trash and stole her car from the parking lot. Rose is seen for a short distance heading for the hallway leading to the lot. After that, nothing. No headlights, no car drives off, she just vanishes into thin air. The abductor knew their way around the gym. And the cameras. Possibly a regular. Possibly not. Could have been a repairman. My guess is...They scoped out the place long before they took our girl." "I don''t know, James," Dave says. "Just to be sure, we should go through the membership list for the gym. We compile our own list of repeat customers. Go through them one by one." "Alright. But first, we wait for confirmation that our girl is Rose Perry. Bertram down at the coroner''s office should be getting back to me about the autopsy pretty soon. I told him to check for a tattoo. I don''t remember seeing one." "Me neither," Dave confirms. "You''re so sure this Mike guy is innocent, James. What if he made up that story about the rose tattoo to throw us off of the scent? I mean, he kept insisting that not many people knew about it. A very convenient thing to say if the tattoo doesn''t really exist." Detective Mackey sighs heavily and places a hand on his left hip. He glowers at Dave, who glowers right back. "Why are you so certain that Mike Blaine is guilty, Dave? Why can''t you give him the benefit of the doubt?" "Because I''ve seen too many cases of tyrannical boyfriends chopping up their mousey girlfriends, or their pretty wives, expecting men like us to come behind them and clean up the mess. While they walk around claiming things like temporary insanity or crimes of passion," Dave spits back. "I''m tired of that crap, James. I''ve had lovers who made me want to shoot off my gun before. But never at them! Never could I have laid a hand on a single one of those ladies. I don''t give punks like Mike Blaine the benefit of the doubt. I''m not a judge or a juror. I''m here to whittle facts out of people who may not desire to give them. You wanna be the good cop? Fine. I''ll be the baddie. Sometimes, being the bad guy gets results." Mackey is prepared to respond when his cellphone rings. Grabbing the phone from his front left pocket, James glances at the screen. His brow raises and he presses SEND. "Speak of the devil, Bertram," James intones. "What new information do you have for me?" On the other line, Bertram stutters slightly, his voice low and uncomfortable. "Mack, I''ve got some...Great news," Bertam flounders. "Not great. I mean, great in terms of helping your investigation. Rose Perry...May be your girl. There''s no tattoo. However, in the same location on the Jane Doe''s back...Where the fiance stated there would be a tattoo...A patch of skin is missing. Accounting for skin shrinkage and other post mortem changes in composition of the flesh...It could be a rose." James groans and shifts his phone to his other ear. He presses a thumb and index finger to his brow. "Oh. Damn!" "But that''s not all," Bertam says, voice rising in pitch. "I found something rather odd inside the young woman''s stomach. I''d like you to come down here and see it. Please." James mimes ''let''s go'' to Dave and makes a walking scissor motion with his left hand. Dave shoots Mackey a confused grimace. "We''ll be right there, Bert. Give us twenty." James hangs up the phone and hustles through the operations room. Dave is right on the detective''s tail. Once out in the parking lot, Dave heads for his truck. Detective Mackey whistles loudly and does a whirling motion with his finger. "Nuh-uh. My car. The gold Crown Vic on the end. We''re not going to apprehend Bert. He just has something to show us. My car." Dave shrugs and follows James to his car. Both men climb inside and James fastens his seatbelt. He cuts his eyes over to Dave. "Buckle up, partner. You''re in my domain now." Dave is barely in his seatbelt before Detective Mackey peels out of the parking lot. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 18- Aquarius Detective Mackey speeds through several stoplights, siren blaring and lights activated. Dave glares at Mackey from the passenger seat, his arms folded across his chest. "I thought you said the welcome wagon wasn''t needed? ''We''re not apprehending him,'' you said. So what''s with the damn lights and the siren?" Dave roars. "You like big trucks. I like playing with all of my accessories. We all have our vices, Deputy Newsome," James says with a smirk. "Sit back and relax. We''re almost there." "How can I sit back and relax when you''re nearly throwing me into the dashboard with your slapdash driving?" Dave bellows. "Okay. Don''t sit back. Just relax. We won''t get there any faster with you passenger seat driving," Mackey says between a loud laugh. "Any faster? You silly bastard! If you went any faster...We''d break the speed barrier. Slow your maniac ass down before you kill someone!" "Nah. Not until you agree to stop riding my witnesses so hard...And that you''ll stop acting like a major pain in the ass!" Mackey yells. "Is that some kind of a threat?" Dave roars, his eyes flashing in anger. "No," Mackey says, turning his head slightly to wink at Dave. "But I am the one behind the wheel. We have a deal?" "No!" "You sure about that?" James says, slowly pressing down more on the accelerator. Dave watches the speedometer go up 1mph, then two, and then five. He glares at Detective Mackey from his side of the vehicle. "This is reckless endangerment!" Dave yells. "Ah. Only if something really bad happens. You are in full control of that, Dave. All you have to do...Is agree to stop being such an ass. Treat my witnesses with kindness. Stop endangering my investigation with your delusions of control. When we think we are most in control...We are actually very little in control. Make the deal, Dave. It''s not that hard. Live to plow your little honey bear another day." "What the hell? Are you sick?" Dave inquires, disgust on his face. "I was hoping that''d make you say ''yes''. Sorry old boy!" Mackey says. "Okay," Dave relents. "Okay, dammit! I''ll treat your damn witnesses with respect." "And...Stop fouling up my investigation with your even fouler attitude. Say it!" "And I''ll stop...Fouling up your investigation with my foul attitude," Dave finishes. "Are you happy now, Detective Mackey?" "Yes. Quite," Mackey says, bringing the speed of the Crown Vic down incrementally. "I knew mentioning your little honey bear would smooth things out. She is quite a catch. I''m sure Sheriff Northrop would think so too." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Dave seethes from his seat, eyes narrowed and staring straight through the windshield. Detective Mackey pulls into the parking lot of the coroner''s office a moment later. "We''re here!" James says in a singsong voice. "And you''re the weirdest detective I''ve ever met," Dave pouts. "Thank you," Mackey says proudly. "That wasn''t a compliment!" Dave growls. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "Hey, Bertram!" Detective Mackey says, knocking on the door to the autopsy room before entering. Deputy Newsome slowly follows Mackey inside. The expression on Dave''s face illustrates that he is in a pissy mood. The longest serving coroner in Merrville County, Bertram Isaacks steps out of a side room and hastens to remove his soiled gloves. Dave''s stomach lurches at the sight of blood on the coroner''s apron and gloves. "Hello, detective. Hi, deputy. If you will follow me over here...I''ll show you what I found in the victim''s stomach while performing the autopsy." "In her stomach?" Dave exclaims, incredulously. "What did you find in the girl''s stomach that would be pertinent to our investigation? Was she poisoned? We don''t want to know what she had for lunch!" "Now, Dave," Detective Mackey warns with an arched brow. "What did we say about respecting the investigation?" Bertam becomes confused. He looks from Dave to Detective Mackey. Exactly who is in charge? "Uh...Well," Bertram stammers. "I think it''s very important because it shouldn''t have been there. Here, see for yourself." Bertram removes a teal colored stone from a shiny metal tray. He hands it to Detective Mackey, who just so happens to be closer. Detective Mackey turns the stone over in his hand. On one side of the smooth teal stone there is a symbol resembling a bucket with water spilling from its top. Mackey studies it for a moment more and then hands the stone to Dave. The detective''s mouth is drawn downward, and his eyes take on a faroff look. Dave scrutinizes the rock from every angle, trying to make sense of what he is seeing. He fixes his gaze on the flustered coroner. "You found this in our Jane Doe''s stomach?" "Yes. But that''s not the only strange thing. I think we can conclude that the woman on the table is in fact Rose Perry. That missing strip of flesh on her back is very fresh. At first, I thought it might have been caused by an accident or something like that. But after my conversation with Detective Mackey, I knew what I was looking for. I started paying closer attention. Parts of the tattoo remain. Little spots of ink here and there. Some of the red petals and the green stem. This is likely Rose Perry." "Oh damn!" Mackey says, clenching his right hand into a fist at his side. "It gets stranger," Bertram continues. "I went back to check the other girl. She has a patch of missing skin too. Very recently taken. Behind her left ear. And another missing patch close to her navel. I found tattoo ink there as well. I think someone is removing their tattoos...For a purpose." "Oh god!" Mackey abruptly cries out. "Let me see that stone again, Dave!" Dave hands the teal stone back to Detective Mackey. Mackey studies it much harder this time. "Our guy is definitely leaving us a calling card," Mackey mutters nearly under his breath. "What makes you say that?" Dave questions. "This...Is an astrological sign. Well, not the official symbol...But a very common one. It represents one portion of the zodiac. The sign of Aquarius, the waterbearer. I thought something was eerily strange about how he shaved those girls. And how, the first Jane Doe was found curled up like that. It felt childlike...Fetal. That''s why he shaves them. That''s why he removes all blemishes. He''s claiming to give them a new birth. Under his sign. The sign of Aquarius." Bertram removes his glasses and rubs them on the front of his collared shirt. "You got all of that from looking at a stone?" James Mackey simply stares at the stone in his hand, mind too numb to respond. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 19- Going Public One Day Later Merrville County Courthouse Press conference Deputies Newsome and Chastain are ushering civilians into the courtroom. Whether reporter or layperson, each individual has been subjected to a thorough screening. Whatever happens at this conference today could have a profound effect on the serial murder case the police are building. No cameras and no mics, save the ones permitted to be at this conference. Morris Chastain is on one side of the double doors. An elderly woman, with tears running down her face, ambles slowly through the doors. Directly behind the old woman is Michael Blaine. Mike tenderly touches the elderly woman''s shoulder and whispers in her ear. "It''s alright, Memaw. I know you loved Rose. It will be okay," Mike consoles his grandmother, tears pooling in his own eyes. "Evening deputy," Mike says to Morris, before nodding at Dave. "Evening, Mr. Blaine," Morris says. "I am truly sorry for your loss. You may have a seat on the first row. To the far right. Thank you." "Thank you," Mike says, leading his frail grandmother to their assigned seats. "Still think he''s guilty, eh?" Morris says to Dave, when Mike is out of earshot. "What do you mean by that?" Dave whispers hoarsely, glancing around. "It''s written all over your face, Dave. He knows you secretly suspect him. Hell, I think everyone on the force does. I think you''re wrong. I knew Mike Blaine when we were kids. Mike wouldn''t hurt a fly. He''s one of those severely non-confrontational type of people. Almost cripples him. He''s too nice for his own good. You''re barking up the wrong tree, Dave." "What would you know, Chastain? You''re still green around the edges. I''ve seen people turn," Dave retorts. "It''s never pretty what they become." Deputy Chastain rotates his neck sarcastically and goes back to his task of aiding people to find their proper seats. Francis Cooper, the sign language interpreter, steps close to Morris and offers him her hand for a shake. Morris shakes her hand and directs her to the stage. Afterwards, he sneaks a glance in Dave''s direction. "I know a lot more than you obviously," Morris challenges. "You''re not the only one with experience, Dave. We''ve all seen things. Terrible things. Mike didn''t do this. You need to lay the hell off. You''re gonna foul up our investigation if you make all of the witnesses clam up." "You''ve been talking to that smarty-pants detective," Dave snaps. "Sounds like he farted out a theory and you ate it up." "And you sound like an ass!" Chastain hisses, turning his head slightly to stare at Dave. For the next fifteen minutes, deputies Newsome and Chastain admit civilians into the courtroom without a single word to each other. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ The last few stragglers are being led into the courtroom when Hazel Northrop appears in the doorway. Deputy Chastain has moved on to maintaining order at the front, along with another deputy in plainclothes. Dave''s heart leaps in his chest and his mouth goes dry. The sight of Hazel makes him sad and weary. They haven''t spoken since making mad love two evenings ago. He appraises her as she draws nearer. Hazel is wearing a white dress suit with black buttons descending from about the height of her bosom on either side. Like almost every outfit Hazel wears, the suit is too small, squeezing her in ways that should be rather uncomfortable. The skirt to her suit comes just to the top of her knees, her toned calves on full display. Dave pulls his attention away from Hazel''s legs and studies her face as she steps in front of him. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Hazel? What are you doing here?" "I''m here to support my father. That''s all, Dave!" Hazel says defensively. "I know that. I just mean...I''m surprised to see you here, that''s all." Hazel steps closer to Dave, her brown eyes searching his face. Dave stands still and allows Hazel to study him, afraid he''ll lose his mind from the scent of her. That damn perfume he likes so much. "I''m sorry, Dave," Hazel whispers. "I don''t mean to come off like such a diva. This case...It has everyone on edge. None of my girlfriends want to go out anymore. You and Dad are always so busy, and the news coming out of Castleton is so damn depressing. I figured, this might be the only chance I''d have to see you and my father in the same room...At the same time." Hazel''s lips part as if she wants desperately for them to kiss. Dave''s eyes narrow and his breathing accelerates. He wants to kiss her too. But not here. Maybe later. Dave decides to play coy. "Girlfriends? Should I be jealous?" Dave quips. "Should you?" Hazel replies with a wink. "I''ll just find my way inside. See you tonight." As Hazel passes Dave, she whispers very softly. So softly, it is easy for Dave to pretend he imagined her whispered phrase. "I love you, Dave." Dave''s eyes widen and he struggles to maintain his attention on the two men ambling into the courtroom. He directs them to their seats with wings on his feet. Did Hazel just say she loves him? On the stage, Castleton Police Chief Paul O''Leary and Sheriff Northrop are talking in hushed voices. Detective Mackey ascends the staircase stage left. He crosses the stage and stands behind the mayor. Mayor Gunther offers Mackey a thin smile, which James returns. At the back of the stage, the language interpreters are holding their own conversation. Dave''s eyes drift around the enormous room. Nearly every seat in the courtroom has been filled. It is almost time for the press conference to begin. A reporter near the front drops her microphone. Her cameraman reaches to grab the dropped mic, accidentally knocking an elderly woman''s Sunday hat from her head. The cameraman apologizes profusely and picks up the hat. The elderly woman is surprisedly good natured. She smiles and takes the hat from the flustered cameraman. Retrieving the microphone, the cameraman hands it to his companion; and business continues on as usual. Dave''s heart thuds in his chest as Mark and Tyler Davis enter from a side door and cross to their seats on the front row. The row opposite Mike Blaine and his grandmother. Tyler''s eyes are those of a haunted child. He glances around the room, as if hoping to find his mother''s face there. But Bridget Davis will never walk through a door again. Just this morning, the department received confirmation of the first victim''s identity. There is no longer any doubt that the first body found belongs to Bridget Davis; wife, mother, influencer, and lover of gourmet food. Dave nods to Deputy Chastain. Deputy Chastain shuts the double doors, barring anyone else from entering the courtroom. On the stage, everyone has taken their necessary place. Chief O''Leary, Sheriff Northrop, and Mayor Gunther stand directly behind the podium. Each of the three men wear solemn expressions. "Ladies and gentlemen...Members of the press...If everyone will take their seats...We''ll begin," Sheriff Northrop speaks into the mic on the podium. The last few persons standing make their way to their seats and sit down. On the stage, the sign language interpreter finishes signing the sheriff''s instructions. Dave glances over the crowd from his place in the middle of the aisle. He happens to catch Hazel''s eye. She quickly looks away. Sheriff Northrop begins the press conference, his voice strained but strong. "Thank you to everyone who has taken time out of their day to be here. Members of the community, state and local leaders, members of the press, and the countless law enforcement agencies which have partnered with us to bring closure to the families of the two victims," Sheriff Northrop stops talking and takes a drink from his bottle of spring water. "This morning...After many exhaustive hours of putting together the facts in this case," Sheriff Northrop pauses again, taking a deep breath. "We were able to positively identify the first victim...Of the killer we are now calling...The Aquarius Killer. The victim''s name is Bridget Davis. A member of this very community. Beloved wife and mother. She leaves behind a loving husband, who cared for her deeply. And a twelve year old son, who misses her greatly. For those who need a recap, the second victim--Rose Perry--was the first victim to be identified. She was identified using a rose tattoo, which the murderer cut from her body. DNA later confirmed our suspicions. I ask that members of the community approach the families of the victims with dignity and respect. It will not be an easy time. We have a tip hotline in place...For any who believe they have information which could further aid our investigation into these brutal murders. You can remain completely anonymous. Our goal is to catch this killer before they strike again. No fact is too unimportant or too small. And now, I will turn over the mic to Chief O''Leary...Whose detectives are overseeing the investigation. Chief...," Sheriff Northrop moves away from the podium before his voice cracks. Tears pool in the aging law man''s eyes and his bottom lip is tucked inward. Chief O''Leary steps forward and thanks the sheriff. Dave makes a point to peer in Hazel''s direction. She is staring at her father, tears streaming down her face. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 20- Honey Bear Several hours after the press conference Early morning Dave''s Home Dave and Hazel are mostly seated on the living room couch. Hazel is seated sideways on Dave''s lap, his lips repeatedly finding her neck, chin, and mouth. Using one hand to angle Hazel''s face, Dave kisses her forcefully. Once he finally separates their lips, he nuzzles his nose into the space behind her left ear and whispers huskily. "Watching that Michael Blaine fella break down today...I don''t know what I''d do if I lost you, Hazel. I think I''d lose my damn mind." Dave returns to kissing Hazel everywhere his mouth can reach. She reclines her head back and sighs, as he kisses the flesh under her chin. "Dave, it''s not as serious as all of that. Let''s not talk about it. Please. That''s all anyone wants to talk about these days. I don''t want to talk about it. Not tonight." Dave grips Hazel''s chin and kisses her deeply yet again. He nearly takes her breath away with the intensity of his kiss. "It is that serious, Hazel. You said you loved me today," Dave mutters between repeated kisses. "Did you mean that? Do you love me?" "Dave, please." "Tell me, Hazel" Dave insists, his kisses coming faster and with more intensity. "Do you love me?" Hazel''s eyes shoot open and she angles her face away from Dave. Pushing at his arm, which is around her waist, Hazel wriggles off of his lap. She quickly buttons up her blouse, anger evident on her youthful face. Dave watches Hazel with a stricken expression. What has he done now? Why is Hazel so sensitive all of a sudden? Maybe this case is starting to get to everyone. "Hazel, what''s wrong? You''re the one who said it. Today at the press conference. Why are you angry at me?" Hazel finishes buttoning her blouse and childishly stomps a bare foot. She glares down at Dave with narrowed brown eyes. "Because...You don''t know when to quit, Dave!" Hazel yells. "It was a simple request. I don''t want to think about dead girls and serial killers. Not when I''m making love. Not ever. I asked you nicely to stop!" Dave reaches out and grabs Hazel''s right hand. He cradles it between both of his own. "I''m sorry, Hazel. Truly. I won''t mention it again. I just. You said you loved me. I just wanted to know if...Nevermind. Please, Hazel. Come sit back down. Please." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Hazel''s eyes narrow further. However, she does as Dave asks, wrapping both arms around his neck as she sits on his lap. "Is it alright if I say...That I love you, too?" Hazel grows weary again and prepares to stand. Dave prevents this by wrapping both arms around her waist and kissing her throat. "I mean it, Hazel. Something about...This case and those girls. Something about...Watching you walk away from me in that grocery store. And what you said to me today. It got me to thinking...Could you be Mrs. Dave Newsome? Someday." "Dave, I think...Please, Dave. Just stop. I''ve been through too much lately. With Will. With you. I thought I loved Will too. Now, I''m just as confused about it as he is. While he''s out screwing his secretary, I''m...I don''t know." "Will is screwing Pamela? You know that for a fact?" "Yes," Hazel says with a solemn chuckle. "I followed him one night. They met up at a hotel in Worthing. You could hear the bedsprings from a mile away. It hurts, Dave. We''d been together since we were about knee high. Since he gave me that stupid Valentine''s Day card that got all soaked from the rain." A tear rolls down Hazel''s cheek as she remembers the past. Dave uses the tip of his nose to wipe the tear away, gently rubbing his nose across Hazel''s cheek. Hazel takes the opportunity to kiss Dave, her lips brushing the side of his mouth. "I thought I would one day be Mrs. William Delgado. I was wrong. That weekend I called you up here...The first time we made love...I was supposed to be meeting Will. He stood me up. That was after I found out about him and Pam. I seduced you to get back at Will, Dave. I shouldn''t have done that. I don''t know what we are to each other now." "It doesn''t matter," Dave says, returning to planting small kisses on Hazel''s bright red lips. "It doesn''t matter. We don''t have to think on it. We can do what we''ve always done." Dave again begins to unbutton the front of Hazel''s blouse. She leans into his kiss as he performs his task. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Later that same morning Hazel slides out of bed, making sure not to rouse Dave, who is snoring heavily. She goes around the room, collecting her various articles of clothing. Sneaking off into the bathroom, she gently shuts the door. Opening the medicine cabinet, Hazel retrieves her tube of bright red lipstick from the hidden compartment in the bottom shelf. She uses the lipstick to scrawl a solemn message on the mirror. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Sometime later Dave awakens to a half-empty bed. He sits up and leans against the headboard, running his left hand over the spot where Hazel once slept. The bed is still slightly warm. Hazel hasn''t been out of bed long. Peering to his left, Dave spies the thin stream of light seeping from underneath the bathroom door. With an elfish grin, he climbs from under the covers. Shuffling lazily toward the bathroom, Dave stretches and yawns noisily. He absently scratches an itch, while rubbing the stubble on his chin with the opposite hand. "Hazel?" Dave hollers out. No reply. Dave''s brow arches. Is Hazel sick? Is she taking a quiet bath? Or is she sitting on the side of the tub waiting for the results of a pregnancy test? Like they always show in the movies. In either case, why doesn''t she answer? "Hazel? Are you okay in there? Hazel?" Dave draws the bathroom door open, his eyes falling on the message scrawled on the mirror. A message scrawled in bright red lipstick. Hazel''s lipstick: "I''m sorry, Dave." "Oh, Hazel. No." Dave mutters softly. "I''ve lost you too." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 21- Claiming Another Life Castleton Police Department The sun has barely risen when Dave storms into the operations room. The deputy''s chubby face is beet red. He looks ready to snap the neck of anyone who dares defy him. Detective Mackey points to the chair opposite his desk. "Have a seat, Deputy Newsome. I''ve got coffee and donuts all ready for you. There''s also a couple of slices of old pizza in the fridge, if you want that as well," Mackey says with an ironic smile. Deputy Newsome grips the chair Mackey indicated and spins it around. He plops down on it, glaring at Detective Mackey with vengeful eyes. "You enjoy being a stereotype, don''t you? Coffee connoisseur, donut devourer, pizza purveyor. What other caricatures are you attempting to embody, Detective Mackey? Do they teach you all of that in the big city? While the rest of us are learning how to conduct real police work?" Newsome growls angrily. Mackey is unfazed by Newsome''s anger. He blinks slowly and then takes a sip of his warm coffee. Reaching across the table, James snags a donut with his right index finger. He nibbles on it while leaning back in his chair, smirking over the donut''s edge at the fuming deputy. "I''m not a stereotype, Dave. I just know what I like," Mackey says in a calm voice. "And it makes the families of the victims smile when I offer them a donut out of a fresh box. They like the image. Anything I can do, to make a grieving mother smile. After she''s just lost her whole world...Her little baby...Is good enough for me. It should be good enough for you too, Dave." "You''re serious?" Dave questions, brow creasing deeply. "I''m serious, Dave. The first case I was on...This was some years ago...A woman lost her only child to a fatal overdose. Her daughter was only thirteen. She''d been bullied excessively and wanted out of her life. Turns out, the bullies gave her the pills. Told her to go kill herself. I found that little nugget by offering some pizza to one of the girls responsible. There I was, nibbling on a piece of pepperoni pizza. I told her I hadn''t eaten that day. Which was a lie, but I like to eat. Opened the box on my hood and offered her a piece. The bully took it, nibbled on it, and broke down. Told me everything I needed to know. How they had obtained the pills, how long the bullying had been going on for, and how they''d convinced little Angela...That was her name...To take the pills. Each of the girls was charged. All five of them. The girl who talked received house arrest. The rest, went to juvie. Angela''s mother and I shared a pizza and some coffee the night those girls were convicted. Homemade. She said she wanted to spoil me out of gratitude. I''ve never looked back. If I have to be a television stereotype to get results...That''s fine by me. You should understand that, Dave." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. "Compelling story, James. But you forgot one thing," Dave retorts, shooting Mackey an incredulous stare. "Did you read her rights to her before or after the confession?" "She wasn''t in custody yet, Dave. You know how this works. But yes, I did. As soon as she stated she wanted to give a confession. I made it very clear...I would be taking her into custody at that time." Dave continues to scowl at Detective Mackey but the furrows in his brow lessen. Grabbing the cooling cup of coffee sitting in front of him, Dave takes a sip. Wincing, Dave opens the lid and spits the warm liquid back into the cup. He glowers at James. "What the hell is that? Is that hazelnut?" Dave barks. Mackey''s face falls and he shakes his head. "As soon as I took a sip of my coffee, I knew Freddo had messed up. He marked the wrong cup. I was supposed to have hazelnut. You were supposed to have the black coffee. Damn. But...Come on, Dave! Did you have to spit back into the cup? I could''ve drank that." "Oh. Whatever," Dave scoffs, reaching for a glazed donut. "I brought breakfast because I have some even worse news," James says, flipping his rolodex. "I''ve been in touch with Bridget''s mother. Mr. Davis has passed away. He went into cardiac arrest not long after being told his daughter was our first victim. He didn''t last long after EMS resuscitated him. Mrs. Davis is flying in tomorrow, to view Bridget''s remains and make arrangements. While also making plans to bury her husband." "Dammit!" Dave roars, pulverizing the donut in his hand and then dropping it back into the box. "The son of a bitch has claimed another life! Damn it!" "Sadly, you are correct. I don''t know how a woman copes with something like this. I''ve seen seasoned officers lose it when their loved one dies in a simple car accident. How do you cope with someone carving up the one you love? I''ll tell you, Dave. I''ve seen all kinds of things. This maniac...He''s not like other monsters I''ve dealt with. He has to have knowledge of the area. Extensive knowledge. How does he get the bodies into position without anyone seeing him? He knows exactly what routes to take, what times to be there, and how to avoid detection. And he''s very thorough. I hate this guy, Dave. I want him dead. But I''ll settle for clapping him in irons." Finally, Dave stares across the desk and sees the true Detective James Mackey. Not the persona which Mackey wears to cope. The real man inside the detective. The man who will do anything for the sake of justice. "Michael Blaine called," Mackey says, peering sidelong at Dave. "He wanted to thank us for the professional way we''ve handled what happened to Rose. He sent something along with a bouquet of flowers. It was marked for you." Mackey reaches in his desk and removes a four-by-six photo. It is a photograph of Rose smiling at the gym. The same gym where she disappeared. Dave takes the photo of the late Rose Perry and reads the message, pain tearing at his heart: ?????????????????????????????? To: Deputy Newsome, "I loved Rose. She was my everything." Signed, Michael F. Blaine. ?????????????????????????????? Dave looks up from the photo, fresh tears in his eyes. Mackey simply nods with understanding. "Honey, Dave. Honey." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 22- A Small Reprieve Freddo''s Food Truck Dave stares at the hotdog, with gratuitously dripping chili sauce, which the smiling street vendor hands to him. The chili piled on top of the processed cold cut looks positively heart attack inducing. Dave smiles back and folds the foil more tightly around his food. He probably won''t be eating it. However, Detective Mackey enthusiastically chows down on his own heaping chili dog. More than half of the hotdog is gone between only two bites. Mackey glances over at Dave and smirks. The two law enforcement officers wander away from Freddo''s food truck, heading for Mackey''s Crown Vic. The detective waits until they are out of hearing range before addressing Dave. There is laughter in James'' voice. "You''re not gonna eat that, Dave?" "Of course, I''m going to eat it!" Dave replies. "You keep your greedy paws over there! I paid four dollars for this hotdog." "So? I bought you coffee and donuts," Mackey says. "So what? I ate one donut. And I didn''t even drink the damn coffee." "You shouldn''t waste food, Dave. Although, from your appearance...I can assume that isn''t a usual occurrence. Unless, you only enjoy eating from the fingers of your oh so sweet honey bear!" Dave''s eyes widen and his jaw clenches. He stops walking and points a pudgy index finger at Detective Mackey. "Stop it! Just stop it right there," Dave orders, his nostrils flaring. "Why? You think I don''t know why you came barging into the station like a raging bull? You and your honey bear are having...Relationship issues." "You don''t know that!" Dave hisses. "Actually, I do. I dropped by your place this morning to tell you about the death of Bridget''s father. And who should I see leaving your beautiful rustic home...Looking scrumptious as ever? I swear, Dave. You should be glad I wasn''t Sheriff Northrop making a surprise visit. Seeing his daughter walk out of your house, with most of her goodies on display, would not have been the highlight of his day. Although, it was mine." Dave''s mouth twitches as he unhappily digests Mackey''s unprovoked diatribe. Had Hazel really left in such a hurry that she''d barely taken the time to properly dress? Or is this insane city kid pulling his leg again? "Ms. Northrop was in such a hurry to leave that she didn''t notice my car parked at the bottom of your driveway. Of course, I had my lights off and was hunkered down. But still. Very inattentive of her. Well, anyway. After deciding that wasn''t the time to give you bad news, I returned to the station. By the way, what did you do to make Hazel leave in such haste? Especially, so early in the morning?" Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "Why don''t you just shut up and butt out of my personal life?" Dave rages, face reddening. "Sorry. Can''t do that," Mackey counters. "Sheriff Northrop wants us working closely together. What affects you, affects me. And this case. You wouldn''t want to upset the sheriff, now would ya? Huh, Dave?" "You''re a self-righteous snake, James Mackey! You know that?" "Sure do. Last time, I checked." "Ergh!" Dave growls. "I''m going to go see Bridget Davis'' husband. You can go see that Mike character if you want to. I''ve had enough with the games. I want to find that murdering son of a bitch...This Aquarius. And I''m not gonna do that standing around here eating greasy chili dogs." With another growl, Dave tosses his four-dollar chili dog into a nearby trashcan. He stalks toward his pickup truck, rather than walk to Mackey''s Crown Victoria. Detective Mackey rushes to catch up, surprised that Dave can move so quickly considering his size and bulk. "Dave, stop acting like a little girl. We''re cops, for crying out loud! We''re supposed to bust each other''s balls and make light. How else do you get through the crap we see all day?" Mackey says. Deputy Newsome whirls on his police officer companion. Mackey stops sprinting in time to not plow into Dave. "Maybe that''s how you people do things in Castleton. Or wherever in the hell you come from? But not in Merrville County!" "You''re being a prick, Dave! And it''s because I saw your little honey bear sneaking away from your place at close to four in the morning. You''re angry. That''s fair. You wish I hadn''t been there. That''s fine. But going off like a freight train to badger witnesses won''t help. Maybe you should just come clean. Tell her father about your little rendezvouses. Get everything out in the open." "Hazel wouldn''t like that. I''ve approached her about it before. I made the mistake of trying to inadvertently propose to her last night. It didn''t go over well. She blamed this case. I think it''s just me. She''s holding out for her ex. She thinks he''ll come to the light and renounce his habitual cheating. She doesn''t know just how many women he''s cheated on her with. I do. I have deep feelings for Hazel. I want to protect her. Because of this case. I think I love her, James." Detective Mackey''s eyes narrow and he twists his mouth to one side. Studying Dave very closely, James offers his temporary partner a snide grin. "That wasn''t so hard...Now was it, Dave? Now, we can question our witnesses. Since the smoke has cleared." Dave rolls his eyes and sweeps his hand toward the direction of his pickup. James grumbles but goes along with the program. "I wish the wheels would fall off of this thing! My car is easier on the gas, the eyes, and the environment," Mackey says. "We''ve been driving around in your squished sedan for two days. I need room to move. Now get in the damn truck, Mackey. Before I change my mind." "Fine. You fat, bastard!" "What did you just call me?" Dave exclaims. "I said...Freddo forgot the mustard again. That man is always forgetting something." "You had a chili dog, James!" Dave says, staring over the truck''s top at Detective Mackey. "Mustard isn''t considered standard." "I always get mustard on my chili dogs," Mackey says, staring back. "Get with the times, Dave. Jeez." Detective Mackey climbs into the truck and shuts his door. Dave peers up at the sky and mutters softly. "Please. Let us catch this son of a bitch. And please help me to not kill Detective Mackey!" "I heard that!" Mackey yells. "I don''t care!" Dave retorts, climbing behind the wheel. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 23- A Widower and A Dad Davis residence Home of the late Bridget Davis Dave reaches up a large hand to knock, but the inner door is yanked open before he can. Tyler Davis, Bridget''s twelve year old son, opens the screen and peers up at Dave and Detective Mackey. After a moment, he turns and looks into the house. "Dad! It''s Detective Mackey and Deputy Newsome. I think they''ve caught the bad guy!" Dave opens his mouth to respond, but James puts a hand against his right forearm. Detective Mackey shakes his head in a negatory fashion. ''Let the kid believe that for now'', Mackey''s expression says. What they have to discuss with Mr. Davis is not for sensitive ears. Mr. Davis appears behind his enthusiastic son. He places a shaking hand on Tyler''s shoulder and peers out at the two officers. The grieving widower''s face is drawn and pale, dark circles making his eyes look painted. It is obvious he has experienced many a sleepless night. "Is that true? Have you caught the murderer?" Mark asks, hope in his voice. Detective Mackey steps forward and grips the edge of the screen door. "Mr. Davis, it might be better if we spoke inside. Away from the child." "No. No," Mr. Davis protests, shaking his head. "Tyler''s old enough to understand what''s going on. I want him to know what that monster did to his mother. I want him to know why...Why she can''t be with us anymore. You can explain that better than I can." "My partner is right, Mr. Davis," Dave says, making eye contact with the harried father. "It would be best if we spoke with you alone." Detective Mackey arches an eyebrow at Dave''s use of the word ''partner''. There''s a first time for everything. Mr. Davis nods silently and motions with his head toward the front yard. "Tyler, why don''t you go over to the Graham''s house while I speak with these fine officers?" Tyler places a hand on his hip and glowers up at his father. He shakes his head with an angry pout. "Nuh-uh, Dad. You always said I was a man in this house! I want to know what''s going on too. She was my mother." After days of trying to maintain his cool, Mark''s frustration boils over. He points toward the yard with a shaking right index finger. "Now, Tyler! I won''t tell you again!" "No, Dad!" Tyler yells, rearing up on his tiptoes. "She was my mom! I''m not going!" Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Deputy Newsome nudges Detective Mackey aside ever so slightly. He opens the screen door even wider and reaches a hand out to Tyler. The kid looks down at Dave''s hand and then up at his face. He seems unsure of what Dave wants. "Come with me, kid. Just you and me. Let me talk to you." A tiny wistful smile tugs at the edges of Detective Mackey''s mouth. Who knew Dave had it in him? "Okay," Tyler says, lowering his head. Taking Deputy Newsome''s hand, Tyler allows himself to be led away. Dave surprises James again when he lifts Tyler up and place him on the hood of his beloved pickup. Detective Mackey watches them for only a few seconds, before entering the Davis house--in order to pass on more terrible news. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Castleton Police Department Lounge "Hi. You''ve reached Hazel Northrop. If it''s Dad, I love you. If it''s Will, get lost. Anyone else, you know what to do. Bye." Dave listens to Hazel''s voicemail message for the fifth time. She has taken to shutting her phone off at night. Most likely to prevent him from calling. Memories of their last night together continue to crowd his brain. Hazel had been particularly giving that night--and into the next morning. She''d allowed him to take liberties she had previously rejected. Dave had thought it was some of the best sex they''d ever had. Just as their first meet and greet had been no mistake, Hazel had already planned her great escape. She''d been saying goodbye with her kisses and her touch. And he had been too stupid to realize it. Dave tries calling Hazel one more time and then ends the call. He stares across the lounge at the lone other occupant. A young officer is seated at a far table, eating a late dinner and filling out reports. No woman to go home to either? Dave grabs a sub sandwich from the bar and a packaged toss salad. He is just moving away when Detective Mackey slides in next to him at the food bar. Mackey grabs two sub sandwiches and a handful of ketchup, mayo and mustard packets. He grins at Dave mischievously. "Still no word from the honey bear?" "Will you stop it already? And the answer is no." "It''ll be alright, Dave. She probably needs time to think. She''ll come around. Mark my words. Women are funny like that." "How would you know, Mackey? You married? Got a girlfriend?" For a moment, James'' expression darkens. He averts his gaze and snags a package of chocolate chip cookies. "I was married. She died. Cancer," Mackey says. "Her illness was part of the reason I left Reno. We moved so she could be closer to her family. So they could help care for her. It was rough. She lasted longer than the doctors expected. She was a tough one. And I miss her." Shame causes Dave''s eyes to roam towards the floor. He mumbles an apology. "I shouldn''t have said that, James. I didn''t mean..." "Hey, no problem," Mackey says, a wistful smile returning to his face. "How could you have known? It''s not as if you''ve bothered to research me as thoroughly as I''ve researched you, Deputy Newsome." "Huh?" "You''ve never been married. Never been engaged. Never lived anywhere but Merrville County. I also know why you understood little Tyler Davis'' pain today. You know what it''s like to be without a mother. Your own mother died when you were sixteen. Father died thirteen years ago. He was a war veteran. He enlisted when he was actually too young to go off and fight. In other things, you used to drive Chevy''s. But now, you love anything Ford. You''ve owned a total of five Chevy''s your whole life. Drove each one of them until the wheels came off. You''ve got a beat up Ford Mustang in your garage. You never drive it. That''s why the truck is always parked out front. No space." By this time, Dave''s mouth is hanging open. He scrutinizes Detective James Mackey from head to toe. "What are you? My partner or my stalker?" Dave quips. "I''m a detective," James replies. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 24- Service The Day of the Funeral(s) Rose Perry and Bridget Davis are to be laid to rest the same day. Detective Mackey drives his Crown Victoria onto the grass. He parks beside Dave''s heavy duty Ford truck. Dave is still seated inside the pickup, staring blankly out through the windshield. Mackey doesn''t bother to lock the doors on his car or activate the alarm. With over two dozen law enforcement officers present, who in the hell would be dumb enough to try and steal it? James walks around the back of Dave''s truck and comes to stand beside the driver''s side door. Dave still has not registered Detective Mackey''s presence. Mackey knocks on the glass very lightly. Dave''s eyes focus and he turns his head to peer sidelong at James. Detective Mackey makes a winding motion with his hand, imitating an old-fashioned window lever. Dave uses the button to lower the window. He remains silent, staring at James with nearly vacant eyes. "What''s up, buddy? You okay?" James says. "No. No, James. I''m not okay," Dave mutters. "How many tips have we checked out so far? Too many to count. And none of them have led us to our guy. This...Aquarius Killer. I almost feel as if we''ve done these girls a disservice by naming this creep. He didn''t name himself. He just left us the clues. We should have left him in obscurity. I fear we may have validated this asshole. I feel deep down in my bones...That he''s gonna strike again soon. Once these girls are in the ground. He''s gonna be tempted to show us he''s still around." "I think you''re right, Dave. But we can''t worry about that right now. The service will be starting soon. Come on, Dave. Let''s go pay our respects." Leaning on the truck''s windowsill, and possibly breaking every Dave-decreed faux pas, Mackey pats his beleaguered colleague on the shoulder. Mackey''s voice becomes sweet as honey. "There''s one good thing to come out of all of this," Mackey says. Dave''s eyes narrow but a tiny smile tugs at his lips. "What''s that?" "Your love bug is here. This is a chance for you to patch things up." "Nah," Dave says with a headshake. He borrows Sheriff Northrop''s signature move and unconsciously tucks in his bottom lip with frustration. Reaching for the door handle, Dave waits for Mackey to back up before climbing out of the truck. Dave straightens his black tie, which matches the color of his brand-new suit, and carefully shuts the truck''s door with his other hand. "Now isn''t the time." Detective Mackey nods respectfully but doesn''t say a word. Together, Mackey and Newsome walk down the hill toward the donated plot where Bridget Davis and Rose Perry will be buried this day. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ???????????????????????????????? "We commit these two young women to the earth, from whence all flesh cometh. And unto which, all flesh will inevitably return. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Amen, " Reverend Leroy Taws finishes the committing prayer, his eyes staring up at the glaring sun. On the front row, Michael Blaine reaches over and pats Mark Davis'' hand. The latter is beside himself with distress. Tyler peers up at his father''s grief-stricken face, rubbing Mark''s right knee with a small hand. Mark''s lips move wordlessly, as he chides himself for self-proclaimed neglect of his husbandly duties. There is barely a dry eye amongst the attendees. The women are all sobbing or quietly crying. Many of the men have tears traversing their cheeks, but no sound issues from their mouths. Sheriff Northrop''s bottom lip is severely tucked in, a slight quiver evident by the small movements of his thick mustache. Dave observes most of this from his seat on the second row. Detective Mackey sniffles and Dave sneaks a glance in James'' direction. Like many of the other mourners, James Mackey is unable to withhold his tears. The detective crinkles his nose in an attempt to dam the salt water flowing from his eyes. The measure works for a brief moment. Yet, soon silent tears are flowing afresh. Somehow, Deputy Newsome manages to keep his composure throughout ninety-nine percent of the service. Afterwards, is a completely different story. ???????????????????????????????? Merrville County Dave''s Home Detective Mackey stands at the end of the driveway, leaning partially against the driver''s side door of his sedan. Dave is perched on the end of the hood, his head down between his legs. Retching sounds fill the air and Detective Mackey inhales deeply. "Breathe, Dave. Breathe," Mackey says. "It''s okay. The hard work has been done. Now, we get to the fun bit." Deputy Newsome peers up at James with an expression of pure exasperation. He holds his side and attempts to stand erect. "You have funny ways of putting things, James. Fun...Is not exactly how I would describe a manhunt for a brutal lady-killer," Dave says between gasping breaths. "Never said the hunt would be fun," James elaborates. "Although, I will enjoy putting this nutcase''s ball sack in a vise. In this game, we find ourselves in, you either play to win...Or you''re damn sure gonna lose. You said, you think he''ll strike again. Then, we''ve got some serious work to do. We comb through everything again. We get new statements from witnesses. We scour cameras again. We canvas neighborhoods. We do what we have to do to catch this bastard. Because...As long as he''s still out there. There is always the chance he will strike again. So we stop him. By brain, by brawn, or by bullet. But we stop him." Dave shakes his head and issues a very small laugh. He leans back heavily against the hood of Mackey''s Crown Vic. "I''ll say it again, friend. You have some funny ways of putting things." "And you''re close to falling over. Come on, Dave. Inside. Time to fatten you up!" Dave''s eyes narrow impossibly and he presses a hand firmly into his side. The pain from violent retching, with absolutely nothing in his stomach, is almost too much to bear. He waves his right hand energetically at Detective Mackey. "No more jokes, James. I know you''re trying to cheer me up, but I''m not in the mood for it." "Who''s joking?" Mackey exclaims. "I''m hungry as hell. Got any pasta? I''m a king at making spaghetti." Four hours later Dave turns over on the bed, he glances up at the clock and sighs dejectedly. He rubs the empty side of the bed with his left hand, remembering all he has lost--and how much more others have lost. He thinks back to that day''s funeral service. One memory remains front and center. A memory of two beautiful photographs, positioned upon caskets which no one dared open. Dave''s burner phone buzzes and his heart leaps in his chest. Scrambling upward in bed, Dave grabs the phone and checks the display. A message. Dave squints at the phone, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. No words. Only a tiny heart is displayed on the screen. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 25- In the Hour of Our Discontent Merrville County Courthouse Press conference "Chief O''Leary!" "Chief!" "Mr. O''Leary!" Several raised voices battle to be heard in the courtroom. Media personalities from all over the region have scrambled to be at the evening''s press conference. Castleton Police Chief Paul O''Leary glances over the faces in the crowd. He finally points to a young woman reporter sitting up front. Not once has she screamed at him or tried to shove her mic into the air to be heard. Her continued patience has won her the moment. "Yes. Young lady from Channel 68. You had a question?" Chief O''Leary says in the most polite voice he can muster. The young reporter meets the weary police chief''s gaze. Her pale green eyes narrow and she seems to falter. Chief O''Leary braces for the question to come. "Chief...It''s been almost two weeks and the public has seen no new developments concerning this case. How close is your department to determining the identity of the so-called Aquarius Killer? Do you have any new leads and information? And are you close to making an arrest?" The pretty young reporter inquires, her eyes never straying from the chief''s face. Chief O''Leary stares back, his brown eyes serious and full of hatred for the killer who has rocked his otherwise quiet community. The chief considers his answer for only a brief moment. "Right now, law enforcement agencies are combing through every single lead we have. Killers like the one we''re dealing with...Here in Castleton...Are stealthy and methodical. They''re the kind of person you could stand next to in a supermarket and not even remember. They''re unremarkable in almost every way. That''s how they slip by so unnoticed. This guy has managed to kill two young women, and dump them...Pretty much in plain sight. Question is how? That''s the angle my department...As well as others...Are trying to determine. Someone knows something. Even if they don''t realize they know it. That is why we are not giving all of the details of the murders to the public at this time. We don''t want to tip the scales out of our favor. To answer your question, Miss...We get new leads and new information every day. And we are working through all of it as fast as we can." The young Channel 68 reporter purses her lips and nods respectfully. She averts her gaze and pretends to adjust the volume on her microphone. A reporter behind, and to the young women''s left, shoves a microphone up into the air. Chief O''Leary lets out a soft sigh. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. "Chief O''Leary! Chief!" the middle-aged male reporter yells above the murmur of the crowd. "What are some of the new leads? What can you tell us?" Behind Chief O''Leary, Mackey and Newsome release their own collective sighs. Mitch Turner of Channel 8, their least favorite reporter. Three times, Mitch has stormed the Castleton Police Department with his crew of merry cameramen. And three times, Mitch has been thrown out on his ass. But like a cockroach infestation, the slithery bastard always comes back. "I''ll tell you the same thing I told you back at the station, Mr. Turner. There is quite a lot of information we cannot yet share with the public. You will know when the time is right to reveal such information. Because by then, we will have the suspect well in custody. Next question!" The chief is instantly hit with a barrage of questions from nearly every direction. Only one reporter remains silent, her eyes sweeping the crowd. A shiver courses her spine as she stares at the two large photographs displayed on the stage. The resemblance is uncanny. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ The Dark Place The man in dark clothes stares at a blank canvas. The slow drip which Rose observed, during her very brief time with the hooded man, has become a steady one. The sound of dripping water is now accompanied by a metallic ping, as large droplets quickly fall into a bucket underneath. The dark figure crosses to where the bucket sits on the concrete floor. He stands over the bucket for several moments, staring down into the water. Every droplet which falls disturbs the water''s surface, causing it to ripple. The man places his hand underneath the falling water drops, interrupting their flow. The reflection in the bucket stabilizes, allowing the man to see his own face reflected back at him. A low growl starts deep inside the man''s chest, like that of a feral animal. With an angry sweep of his foot, the hooded figure kicks over the bucket. Water goes everywhere and the bucket slams into the far wall. The bucket falls over on its side and rolls several feet. Stepping back towards the canvas, the dark figure grabs up his paintbrush from the filthy countertop. He dips his brush into a waiting can of dark paint and swirls it around. With a feral cry, the hooded man slaps paint onto the canvas without a thought for where the viscous sludge will land. Each hard slap of paint elicits its own animalistic wail from the furious man. Paint goes over, under, and around the surface of the canvas--splashing nearly everywhere. Another sound can soon be heard, sobbing. The hooded figure stops painting and pants loudly, sobs causing his breaths to sound jerky and erratic. As with the bucket of paint, the dark clothed figure knocks over the easel and canvas. He stumbles, more than walks, to another darkened portion of the room. His special art gallery. Three large paintings are lined up against the wall. Stroking the painted faces and bodies of the women in the portraits, the figure quickly becomes aroused. His touch becomes more frantic, as if he wishes to draw the deceased women out of the paintings. Another round of sobs ensues. To soothe his growing hunger, the hooded man takes to pleasuring himself. After a time, he moves away from the paintings and goes back to the other side of the room. By the time he picks up the easel and tossed canvas, he is laughing loudly and maniacally. For tonight, his appetite has been quenched. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 26- Giving In To Demands Three days after press conference Morgana Village Subdivision Carmen Asbury exits the idling Uber which delivered her home. Leaning into the vehicle, she yanks her humongous luggage bag from the adjacent seat and offers the driver a kind smile. "Thanks for the ride!" Carmen chirps in a polite voice. "Yeah, yeah," the unhappy driver says. The Uber driver activates the button which commands the side door of the van to shut and drives off. Carmen shrugs and grips the pull handle of her bag. She breathes in deeply and turns to go up the steps of her parents'' duplex. They will be gone for a total of thirteen days. Some conference in Brazil. A mini-vacation. Sort of. Thank god for Work from Home. Time for a little unfettered freedom. It''s a bit difficult to have alone time when you have three roommates, two of them male, without things getting a little weird. The only thing missing is her twin soul, Titus. A corgi-chow mix, Titus has been with Carmen since he was ten-weeks old. One of many dogs rescued from a depraved puppy mill. The tiny terror is almost never away from Carmen''s side. However, since going off to college, Carmen finds herself leaving Titus behind more and more often. A plane ride is more stress than an animal deserves. Poor Titus has been through enough in his short eventful life. Flouncing into the parlor, Carmen closes the front door and does a childish whirl in the middle of the floor. She crosses to the nearest window and pulls back the curtains. The street outside is pitch black--except for a lamppost nearly a block away. The streetlight in between the far lamppost and the Asbury residence flickers sporadically, staying off for long periods at a time. Shrugging a second time, Carmen lets down her mane of tightly coiled frizzy hair. Maybe she''ll give herself a glow up while she''s here. Make Max go really crazy when she CC''s him on Skype. He''s always going on and on about her mixed heritage--claiming they''d be a perfect match. Maybe she can slip him a little surprise. No one would believe it was anything but an accident. Not from little mousey Carmen. With a high-pitched giggle, Carmen unbuttons her blouse and heads for the kitchen. After a two-hour flight crushed between "Amos and Andy go to Newark," and a forty minute ride from the airport; Carmen''s lack of hunger on the plane is catching up to her. Once in the kitchen, Carmen makes herself a turkey and cheese sandwich. She grabs a can of lime soda from the fridge door and sits down at the table to eat. She shows very little concern for the fact that the window behind her is only partially obscured by curtains. There are only woods behind the duplex, and the nearest neighbors are five-hundred or more feet away. Tossing her long hair over one shoulder, Carmen shrugs out of her blouse. She prepares for a night of binging her favorite content creators. Soft laughter escapes Carmen''s lips as she leans over the table, staring fixedly down at her phone screen. She is oblivious to the tiniest click which issues from the back door as a metal tool is slid between the locking mechanism and the wooden doorframe. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Carmen finishes up her light meal and stands from the kitchen table. She unbuckles the belt holding up her pleated skirt and crosses to the adjoining hallway which leads to the master bathroom. She is completely unclothed by the time she reaches the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of her parent''s enormous tub, she gazes at the body washes and shower gels lining the edge. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Mmmm. Banana, melon, and mango," Carmen mumbles to herself. "Sounds like a tropical drink. Will it make me taste good? Ha ha. I wonder." With another childish laugh, Carmen decides to try the banana, melon and mango body wash. She turns the knob for the hot water on full blast, while turning the cold tap a third of the way. As water fills the tub, Carmen wanders in the direction of the medicine cabinet. She gazes at her reflection, turning this way and that, admiring her body and making selfie worthy faces. "Mmmm," Carmen moans, closing her eyes while tossing her head back. "This is going to be a heavenly thirteen days." The hooded man''s large hand grabs Carmen''s right arm and spins her around. Carmen''s eyes widen as she glimpses the man''s face. "What?" Carmen stammers, staring up at the scowling man. "What are you doing in here? Who the hell are you? Let me go!" Rather than answer her questions, the hooded man yanks Carmen to him. He bends to kiss her, but Carmen shoves her left hand between their faces. The hooded man responds by gripping her arm tighter, and twisting--threatening to snap it. Carmen''s response is equally violent. She risks removing her left hand long enough to grab her father''s rotary shaver from the sink edge. Carmen cries out as she slams the shaver into the side of the hooded man''s disfigured face. The blow has very little effect on Carmen''s assailant. She issues a surprised yelp as he forcefully kisses her. Altering her plan of attack, Carmen attempts to gouge out the attacker''s eye with a painted thumb nail. The hooded man grows steadily annoyed and reaches up to restrain Carmen''s left arm. She tries to wrestle free but to no avail. She screams around the hooded man''s mouth, which is pressed firmly to hers. Pinning Carmen''s arms behind her back, the hooded man pulls her tighter against him. The pressure of her firm breasts makes his heart smash in his chest. Deep frustration seizes the hooded figure and he releases Carmen. The frightened woman stumbles and her attacker uses a hand to push her forcefully away. Carmen sprawls and lands partially on the edge of the tub. She grips her side and places a hand on the tub''s edge. The man stands above her--scowling furiously. "Why are you doing this?" Carmen questions through her agony, still holding her injured side. The hooded man takes a step closer and Carmen trembles, eyeing his balled up fist. "Please. At least tell me why you are doing this," Carmen pleads. "I don''t even know you." The figure reaches down and grips Carmen''s right elbow. He yanks Carmen up and glares down into her stricken face. Carmen forces herself to meet his angry gaze. "I came here to save you. You''re so beautiful. You can never know the pain your beauty will cause you in life. I will take away your pain. You will be like me." The strange man gently caresses the right side of Carmen''s face. Her eyes widen as he pulls a thin knife from a pocket of his black hooded jacket. Her body trembles uncontrollably and her lips quiver. "Please don''t kill me. Please," Carmen tries to reason. The hooded man considers her words but does not put away his knife. He stares at her with an odd expression. Carmen continues to speak, hoping he will listen. "My parents will be home soon," Carmen stalls. "Please don''t hurt me. I don''t want my parents to find me like that. My mother...She''d never be the same. Please. I''ll do whatever you ask. If all you want is to have sex? We can have sex. There''s no reason for you to kill me." Carmen slides an arm around the black-clad figure''s neck, her eyes focused on his unfortunate face. She attempts to draw him downward, parting her lips for what she expects to be another forceful kiss. The man allows her to kiss him, but shows no outward emotion. However, he does put away his thin knife. With some relief, Carmen takes the initiative, hoping to distract her attacker long enough to get to the living room--and her phone. Her right hand trails down the front of his dark hooded jacket, stopping to trace his tightened pecs. The hooded man reaches up with his left hand and grabs her wrist. Carmen separates and stares at him, panic taking over her thinking. "What I want...I can never have again," the hooded man says in a cryptic tone. "You would try to deceive me? But don''t worry. Your parents won''t find you. No one will. Unless I wish them to find you." Before Carmen can respond, the hooded man releases her arm. He lashes out with his other hand and a stabbing pain shoots through Carmen''s left breast. She retreats a step, peering down at her chest. This gives the hooded man time to grip the back of Carmen''s neck and depress the plunger on the syringe. Her expression turns blank as the drugs begin taking effect. "I won''t do it here. Everything must be perfect," the hooded man says. He grabs a large towel from the hanging rack and wraps Carmen inside it. Throwing Carmen over his shoulder; the hooded figure carries her up the hallway, through the house, and out the back door. The silent trees, in the surrounding woods, are the only witnesses to his departure. Obligatory Note: Disclaimer Disclaimer: This is a story about catching a dangerous criminal using theories, proven methods, not so proven methods, knowledge of certain mindsets, and facts surrounding other known cases of serial murder. I''ve done a lot of research to get to this point. What is true of a serial murderer may not be true of the population at large. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. It is just a narrative. Point A must lead to Z eventually. Please do not be offended by commentary/suppositions within the work if it pertains to the serial murderer in question. -the author Art of Aquarius: Chapter 27- Spooked? 12 Days Later Detective Mackey leans back in his chair and absently nibbles on the eraser of his pencil. The detective''s gaze is fixed on the framed 4x6 photograph of Rose Perry situated atop his desk. Across the room, Dave stands at the whiteboard, studying notes he and James have scribbled there over the past several days. One column of the whiteboard is for leads which have proven false or fraudulent. A second column is designated for bored grandmothers or housewives seeking any form of attention. The third column is for the names of persons of interest. The last column is by far the longest column, spanning almost thirty names. The names in the third column are written much smaller than in the other two columns, allowing for more names to be added as needed. Only thirteen names have been scratched through so far. Today, Detective Mackey and Deputy Newsome hope to work through a few more. Mackey stops reclining and glances over at Dave. Dave spies James'' movement out of the corner of his vision. He angles his head in order to peer at his unusually quiet cohort. The suspicious deputy''s eyes narrow to tiny slits. "Did you remember something useful, James? I know that look by now," Dave says. "Not so much useful as disturbing," Mackey confesses. "Well, as far as the Aquarius Killer is concerned. There was hardly a break between the first two murders. Bridget and Rose were killed within days of each other. I initially got the impression...It seemed as if the killer couldn''t control himself. But since then, not so much as a peep. It''s been weeks." "Yeah, that is rather disturbing," Dave agrees. "I don''t blame the city folk one bit for being up in arms. Too much time passes and people are liable to become complacent. They assume we''re complacent. That we''re giving up. Nothing could be further from the truth." "Exactly," Mackey replies. "I''m worried about what this could mean for our investigation going forward. Witnesses may just stop giving a damn. Our information well could dry up before we get the tip we need. The tip which could help solve this case." Dave reclines his head back and stretches. He stares up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. Rotating his shoulders, and his neck, Dave tries to think optimistically. A difficult situation under the circumstances. Detective Mackey drums on the desk with the fingertips of one hand. "I also worry that the killer may have moved on," Mackey says. "Or, he''s building up to something a lot more unhinged. Most serial killings have a sexual underpinning. Whether it''s real or perceived ineptitude, some form of physical deformity inhibiting normal sexual function, or something as simple as basic infertility. Somewhere, this guy got the impression that he doesn''t quite meet the necessary requirements for a normal healthy relationship. He''s striking out at women he perceives as being above him. Out of his league. Whether that''s in the looks department, based on the damage inflicted to the young women''s faces. Or, he''s lashing out at women he perceives as more socially and sexually appealing. Possibly, because the victims remind him of someone else. At least, that''s how most of these serial cases go." Mackey leans onto the desk and grips the photograph of Rose Perry in one hand. He stares at her smiling face with a solemn expression. She had indeed been a beautiful woman, full of energy and life. What the Aquarius Killer had done to her body was cruel in the extreme. In life, Rose had been a very self-conscious woman. While possessing a wonderful figure, Rose had doubted anyone who told her so. Often being described by her peers as overdressing for nearly every occasion. In opposition to Rose''s wishes, the killer had made sure to display her naked body with overly flagrant disregard. A most evil slight. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Very few would have guessed at the inner turmoil beating inside of Rose''s forgiving breast. Rose had led a hard life, a life full of physical and emotional abuse. She''d later turned that horrible beginning into a fascinating love of children. Rose''s presence is already sorely missed; at the daycare where she worked with disadvantaged youngsters. Her grieving coworkers frequently stop by the police department to offer refreshments or warm meals, and to get updates on the case. Updates, which are slow in coming these days. Mackey places Rose''s photograph back on the desk. He traces the message underneath the glass with his right index finger. The message originally intended for Deputy Newsome. "But the killer doesn''t penetrate them," Mackey continues in a deep voice. "Well, not in the traditional sense. Although, you can get the impression he desperately wants to. He has a hangup about penetration. That, I think we can be sure of." "I guess you can scrub me from your mental list of suspects, Detective Mackey. I have no such hangups," Dave says with a sly grin. Dave''s tiny attempt at humor achieves its desired effect. Detective Mackey comes out of his deeply brooding mood. The detective blinks rapidly and turns his chair to face Deputy Newsome. "You''re right, Dave. I will have to cross you off of my list." Dave''s eyes widen and his mouth gapes. He places a hand on his wide hip and glowers at James. "Now wait just a damn minute! You mean...You actually considered me a suspect?" Dave hisses. "Calm down, Dave! Until we catch this bastard everyone is a suspect. Including me. It''s nothing personal," James says. "Wait, so you consider yourself a suspect?" Dave says incredulously. "Ever heard the saying...Crazy people don''t realize their crazy? Don''t tell me you don''t think I''m a bit unhinged too, Dave? You''ve said as much before." "That wasn''t a real assessment. I was...I was angry. I say a lot of things when I''m angry." "Well, imagine I am truly insane. Would I remember the things I''ve done? In some cases, the murderers disassociate from their crimes. Other murderers rationalize them away. They honestly don''t believe they''ve done anything wrong. That''s why even some of the most ruthless killers are able to pass a polygraph test. They aren''t lying. They believe what they believe. It becomes their own shaded version of the truth. That''s a major reason why those tests are inadmissible in court. Coach a guy enough...He''ll pass it. Believe in what you''re saying with all of your heart...You''ll pass it. A slimeball like the Aquarius Killer would slip through our hands if all we had to go on was a polygraph. Yes, Dave. Everyone is a suspect until the killer is safely behind bars. Everyone. Including me." "That''s just disturbing, James. I mean...Damn. Even yourself? Jeez. I can''t fault you for being thorough, though." Mackey issues a short laugh and goes back to staring at Rose''s photo. His brow creases and he tilts his head to one side, scrutinizing the picture more carefully. Dave''s department issued cellphone rings on his hip. He removes it from the bulky phone case and hurriedly checks the display. A second later, he presses SEND. "Yeah, Chastain. What''s going on?" Dave''s mustache droops as he digests the words Deputy Chastain word vomits into his ear. The younger deputy is speaking so quickly that Dave is only able to glean surface details from the conversation. Time, location, and another body. Ending the call, Dave sighs and squeezes both eyes shut. He reclines his head so that it looks as if he is staring up at the ceiling, a scream building up in his broad chest. At his desk, Mackey climbs to his feet. "Dave, what was that call?" When Dave opens his eyes they are filled with tears. He lowers his head and meets Detective Mackey''s gaze. "We spoke too soon. There''s been another murder. Some kids discovered another body!" Art of Aquarius: Chapter 28- Not Just A Theory Detective Mackey weaves carefully through the steady stream of traffic. All semblance of playfulness and joy has gone from his youthful visage. A third murder. Yet another young life snuffed out. If what Mackey fears is true, the Aquarius Killer''s reign must be brought to a swift end. If that end requires a hail of bullets, fired at close range, so be it. Not the justice the law prescribes, but the justice this creep deserves. Pressing down on the brake pedal, Mackey brings his Crown Vic to a halt inches from the crosswalk. A young woman and her partner grin and offer the detective a small wave as they hurry across the street. James nods politely and then moves on ahead. Deputy Newsome is already at the scene. Or he should be by now. James had insisted Dave go ahead of him. He''d needed time to process all of the information bouncing around in his brain. Unfortunately, Mackey is feeling no more enlightened than he did over twenty minutes ago. There is definitely something about this case he is overlooking. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Detective Mackey pulls his Crown Victoria directly behind Dave''s Ford pickup. Carefully shutting the door, he draws his trench coat tighter around his body. The light sprinkle of rain, which has been steadily falling all day has yet to let up. Mackey makes his way to where Deputies Newsome and Chastain, and the sheriff, are discussing their next course of action. Despite the light drizzle, there is not an umbrella in sight. The mood is very grim and somber. Across the crime scene, uniforms cling to all shapes and sizes of bodies. Many faces wear some variation of disbelief or disgust. In the back of an ambulance, a mother consoles her small daughter. Mackey''s best guess is that the crying girl is one of the three children who discovered the female corpse. The newest victim''s body is still being photographed. Deputies from the Merrville Sheriff''s Department, as well as local police officers, surround the perimeter--keeping back the curious public. Dave''s face is a mask of horror, his eyes straying to the body every few seconds. Mackey approaches the gruesome scene with some reluctance. He''d been warned that this scene was a bad one. How bad, had been an understatement. The young woman is naked, as per the killer''s M.O. Also like the two women before her, she is cleanly shaven from head to toe. What makes this victim different is her positioning, which varies by the level of its vulgarity. The victim is positioned as if in the throes of passionate coitus--or self pleasuring. Her back is arched, one hand pressed against her right breast. The hand is glued to her bosom by a clear adhesive or epoxy. Her left hand is pressed against her crotch and also glued in place. While her face shows the usual signs of battering, her lips have been forcefully turned upward--to simulate an expression of ecstasy. "The killer is escalating," Mackey mutters to himself. "Or is he? And if so...Why?" If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Slowly approaching the body, Mackey kneels when he is less than a foot away. Studying every visible inch of exposed flesh on the victim, Mackey finds what he is looking for. "Dave! Come here!" Mackey yells to be heard. Deputy Newsome politely excuses himself from the sheriff and Deputy Chastain''s company. He makes his way over to Detective Mackey and also kneels beside the body. Dave''s stomach lurches as an unnatural urge to stroke the victim''s cheek enters his mind. She cannot feel his consoling touch. She will never again know the familiar closeness of a lover''s caress. Pushing aside his dark thoughts, Dave meets James'' unwavering gaze. "I''m no coroner and no expert," Detective Mackey says. "But unless I''m going blind... There''s no missing tattoo, Dave. No tattoo, and no missing patches of skin. The tattoos may be a clue, but I don''t think they''re central to the killer''s motives. It''s like I was saying before. It''s something else. Something deeper." "You say that like you have some idea what that something is," Dave replies. "I have a theory. More than one, in fact. But that''s all they are. Theories," Mackey admits. "Well, theories are all we''ve got, James. I''d like to hear them," Dave says with absolute sincerity. Detective Mackey takes a moment to compose his thoughts. He turns so that he is completely facing Dave. Both men continue to kneel beside the victim''s body, eyeing each other intently. "The stone Bertram discovered in Rose Perry''s stomach. The stone with the sign of Aquarius...Everything points to the sick bastard being an arrogant narcissistic son of a bitch. Aquarians are widely considered to be some of the most volatile personalities...In regards to the zodiac. They''re considered more likely to go against societal norms. They hate rigidity. Even the idea of authority," James pauses and glances uneasily around. "The killer believes he is special. He believes he has been chosen for a task. With these acts of reclamation, he''s attempting to negate the other signs of the zodiac. Whatever has made him feel weak...By killing these women, he believes he is made strong again. Stronger than even the forces which ordained his birth. He is remaking these women over in his own image. His own sick version of what he''d call artistic design." Dave''s eyes widen and his mustache quivers with intense fear and disgust. He keeps his voice low, addressing only Detective Mackey. "You can''t know that!" Dave says. "No. You''re right. I can''t. But everything adds up," James says. "So...What does that mean? Why did he wait so long between the second girl and this one? Is there some significance?" "I''m not sure," Mackey confesses. "But think about everything surrounding Rose Perry''s abduction, and the discovery of her body. Water''s Gym, the teal stone with the engraving, Aquarius the waterbearer...He wanted us to know these things. Even Rose''s name could be a clue. Flowers need water to grow and stay alive. Why was there no stone in Bridget''s stomach? Because he didn''t need it. Where are bridges often built, Dave?" Deep furrows appear in Dave''s brow and he utters a low gasp. "Oh god...Over water. Or well...," "Don''t second-guess yourself, Dave. You''re right," Mackey says. "He knew we''d connect the dots after Rose was found. Whatever prompted him to kill again, we''ll discover the connection soon enough. Problem is...I''m absolutely certain the killer isn''t finished. The zodiac is composed of twelve different signs. I fear he has at least that many murders already planned." "Twelve murders?" Dave says in disbelief. "Twelve," Mackey reiterates, nodding solemnly. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 29- A Not So Pleasant Homecoming Climbing into Dave''s pickup, Mackey glances down at the ringing glove compartment. Peering sidelong at Dave, Mackey takes note of the imperiled expression on his companion''s face. "You gonna get that, Dave?" Mackey says with a thin smile. "Or should I?" "No!" Dave says, hurriedly reaching across James to press a hand against the glove compartment door. "No. Let it ring. They''ll call back if it''s important." "Ah. I get it!" James says. "It''s personal. Not business." Dave grumbles and starts up the truck. He eases away from the shoulder, leaving Detective Mackey''s Crown Vic and the numerous EMS vehicles behind, at the scene of the crime. "So, what do we know about these Asbury people?" Mackey inquires, skimming through his phone as Dave hurries toward their destination. "Mr and Mrs. Asbury arrived home this morning. Around the same time those kids were discovering the Jane Doe''s body. They''d been on some sort of business trip for almost two weeks. To Brazil. Came home and found portions of the house ransacked. Mostly the bathroom. They said, it looked like there had been a struggle. Daughter''s clothes and underwear were strewn everywhere about the house." "That doesn''t sound good. It also doesn''t sound like our killer. He doesn''t actually rape the victims. What are the officers on the scene saying? Any signs of forcible rape? Have they found any traces of semen or other bodily fluids?" "Don''t know. I don''t think so," Dave admits, his stomach tightening. "Okay. Well, the sooner we get there...The sooner we can answer those questions ourselves," Mackey says. "Right," Dave agrees. Deputy Newsome squeezes more speed out of his Ford pickup truck, while obeying all pertinent traffic laws. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Asbury Residence Thirteen minutes later Deputy Newsome and Detective Mackey step through the front door of the Asbury home. A female officer stands near the entrance to the kitchen, taking a statement from a sobbing woman. Newsome assumes the crying woman must be Mrs. Rachel Asbury, mother of the missing young lady. A giant teddy bear is crushed to the upper middle-aged woman''s chest. Carmen''s teddy? Mrs. Asbury catches sight of the two new lawmen and none too politely moves away from the woman officer. She rushes to meet Detective Mackey. Taking Mackey''s left hand in both of hers, Mrs. Asbury pumps it up and down in a gesture of solemn gratitude. "You''re Detective Mackey? The detective in charge of the Aquarius murders?" Mrs. Asbury says between jerky breaths. "Yes," Mackey confirms. "And this is my investigative partner, Senior Deputy Dave Newsome. From the Merrville County Sheriff''s Department." "Oh, yes. I remember you too, Deputy. You were at all of the press conferences. Pleasure to meet you as well," Mrs. Asbury stammers apologetically. Mr. Asbury exits the kitchen and strides in the direction of his wife. He places an arm around his worried spouse''s shoulder and meets Dave''s stern gaze. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Hello, officers. Do you have any news? We came home and found our little girl gone. She was supposed to be house-sitting while we were out of the country. Do you think it was this Aquarius Killer? Is that why you''re both here?" Mr. Asbury rambles in a deep rumbling voice. "We have yet to determine that, Mr. Asbury," Dave says. "I wish I could say we have more information to disclose. We simply don''t." "However, I would like to see the bathroom," Mackey interjects. "That is where you say you found signs of a struggle, Mrs. Asbury?" "Yes. That''s what I told the officers who first arrived. That''s what I found," Mrs. Asbury says. "Carmen''s blouse was in the kitchen. Her skirt, bra, and underwear were in the hallway. The bathroom was a total mess. Things were strewn everywhere and the tub was overflowing. The tap was still running when we arrived. We initially thought Carmen was taking a bath. But then, we saw that water had flooded the entire bathroom and the hallway. The carpets on that side of the house are a soggy mess. If not for the tub''s overflow drain, it might have been worse. That''s when we knew something was terribly wrong. Detective Mackey, I couldn''t find my baby." Dave and Mackey exchange a worried look. Any evidence, particularly DNA, which might have been inside the bathroom has most certainly been destroyed. "The bathroom? Please, Mrs. Asbury," Mackey reminds the grieving mother. "Of course," Mrs. Asbury says, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of one hand. "Thank you," Deputy Newsome responds. Mr. Asbury releases his wife''s shoulder. Nodding to the two law enforcement officers, Carmen''s father watches as Mrs. Asbury leads them up the hallway, toward the ransacked master bathroom. Carmen''s clothes, now water-logged and musty, are still on the floor. The carpet makes loud suction noises as Mackey, Newsome, and Mrs. Asbury make their way towards the open bathroom door. Reaching the door, Mackey moves in front of Mrs. Asbury and leans on the door frame. The bathroom looks as if a strong hurricane hit it. The tap has been shut off, but standing water still remains in the tub and on the linoleum floor. An orange bottle of body wash floats on the surface of the water in the tub. Various bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash are strewn all over the bathroom floor. A rotary shaver rests near the toilet, nearly hidden in the shadow of the medicine cabinet. Mackey observes everything, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Mackey once again climbs into Dave''s truck, his brow deeply knit. Accidentally slamming the door too hard, Mackey turns to Dave apologetically. Dave sighs and rolls his eyes toward the truck''s roof. "Break the lock cylinder on that door and I''m sending you the bill!" Dave threatens. "Yeah, yeah," Mackey grumbles. The detective peers back in the direction of the Asbury home. Mr. and Mrs. Asbury are watching the two officers from the porch, sad expressions on their countenances. Mackey quickly averts his gaze. "Despite what Mrs. Asbury believes, I don''t think we''re going to find DNA anywhere in that house. Even without the water destroying most of the evidence...I don''t get the feeling a rape actually occurred there. If it did...Then, this was most certainly not the Aquarius Killer. Our guy is impotent. For one reason or another. I think it''s more likely that Carmen was playing out some form of sexual fantasy when she was taken." "A sexual fantasy? Come on, James. How do you figure that?" Dave says between an uneasy laugh. "Think about it, Dave. Pretty young girl like Carmen Asbury comes home to a totally empty house...After spending all of her time cooped up in a stuffy apartment with three roommates and a dog. She starts to undress...Making a rather big show of it. Sits down at the table to eat a small meal. Takes off the rest of her clothes on the way to the bathroom. That explains the blouse in the kitchen, the bra near the kitchen entrance, the belt and panties a little further up the hallway, and the skirt soaking up water near the bathroom door. She was stripping as she went along. I''m thinking someone was already there...In the house. He caught her unawares. I''m hoping it wasn''t Aquarius. But until we get an ID...We can''t be sure of anything." "Hmmm," Dave grunts, his mind coming to the same conclusions. "Sounds plausible. I am just getting so sick of giving parents bad news. I''d rather it wasn''t Aquarius. I''d prefer if she ran off with some boyfriend, decided to elope in Vegas, and told her parents to go to hell. I know I shouldn''t say this...But finding Carmen Asbury on the side of a highway, butt naked and delirious, would be better than finding out she''s another victim of this Aquarius freak." "All of her belongings were still in the house. State ID, school badge, makeup bag, her luggage, everything. She didn''t elope in Vegas. Can''t rule out the delirium, though. Things like that have been known to happen. Especially, if she had a real bad fall while in the tub. I have my fingers crossed, but with another body already found...I don''t have much hope." "No hope," Dave mutters bitterly. "What is hope but a four-letter word?" Art of Aquarius: Chapter 30- Connections Castleton Police Department Detective Mackey is seated at his desk, a tablet computer propped up on a foldable stand in front of him. A pair of reading glasses is perched on the brim of the detective''s nose and he types furiously on the tablet''s screen. There are numerous tabs open and Mackey alternates between reading each one. He is searching for clues. Clues from the past. Dave enters the operations room, nodding politely to the female officer with the motorcycle tattoo as she exits. She offers him a tiny smile and goes about her duty. Dave grins as well. After weeks of subtle pressure, Sargeant Phyllis Emerson, has finally cracked. Detective Mackey''s voice plays back in Dave''s head: "Honey, not vinegar." Pulling up a chair, Dave straddles it and shakes the brown bag containing their food. Detective Mackey does not even bother to look up. He is too engrossed in his research. Dave lowers the bag to the desktop and leans over to see what Mackey is doing. "What are you looking for, James? And my god! What''s with all of the open tabs? How can you even make sense out of any of that?" "I''m used to it," Mackey says without much emotion. "I''ve learned to multitask. Unlike you...Who can''t even walk and talk at the same time!" Mackey slides his eyes craftily over to Dave. Dave rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Ha ha. Whatever. I can do plenty of things at the same time. Ask any of my former girlfriends. I''m just not neurotic enough to try and read two-hundred online tabs all at once," Dave quips. "It''s not two-hundred. It''s fifteen," Mackey corrects Dave. "And every one of them is pertinent to our investigation. That is your new favorite word, isn''t it? Pertinent." "Like I said...What have you found?" Dave presses. "I''ve been looking over the case details...What I can find online, anyway...Of a case I remember hearing about when I was still working out of the Portland Police Department. It involved a young lady who was found brutally murdered. The victim was also shaved clean. However, there were no other signs of outright desecration. I''ve been scratching my brain for weeks, trying to figure out why these murders in Castleton seemed so familiar. I''d nearly forgotten about this other case because it was never tied to any known killer. The killing stopped after only the one woman. The authorities thought it was a one-off thing. Case remains unsolved to this day. I''ve been in contact with the detective who was in charge of the investigation. A detective Robert Bennett. He''s out of Lich, Montana. Don''t worry, if you''ve never heard of it. Very few people have. It has a population of less than three hundred." "Will you stop with the geography lessons, James. I told you I misheard you about the Portland, Maryland thing. I knew Portland meant Oregon." "Okay, yes. But back to what I was saying," Mackey interrupts. "Anyway, Detective Bennett is faxing over some additional details about the case. Details not released to the public. However, he has also extended to us a personal invitation to visit him in his natural habitat. I''ll have to run it by the chief, but I''m sure he''ll be cool with it. Especially, if it means finally cracking this case." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "A personal invitation?" "Yes. Turns out the Lich Police Department is having a charity shindig this weekend. To raise money for their bedraggled department. It''s in dire need of updating. They''ve managed to snag a few celebrities and some well-known political officials. They want to add our names to the guest list. Costs about five-hundred dollars a person to attend, but I''m sure they''ll have some great food. At that price, they''d better," Mackey says with a thin smile. "Five-hundred dollars a head?" Dave exclaims in disbelief. "To go to some party in the middle of the desert? No thanks. They can save me the trouble, the grit in my teeth, and the strain on my wallet. Just have them fax everything over!" "Why?" Mackey protests, eyes widening. "I''ve already bought our tickets. The plane...Dinner. I''ve paid for everything! Why wouldn''t you want to go, Dave? It''s a chance to get out of this hellhole for a day or two and find some...Pertinent information...While we''re at it." "We''re still waiting on confirmation of the latest victim''s identity. We can''t go galavanting across the country right now! Besides, why would you buy the tickets if you weren''t even sure the chief would say ''yes''?" Dave hisses through clenched teeth. Detective Mackey snatches the brown paper bag of food from the tabletop and rummages through it. He glowers at Dave as he slaps a sub sandwich on the table and refolds the bag. "Because either way, I''m going. I''ve got plenty of vacation time saved up. I''ll make it a personal trip to scout out information. I can''t sit around on my ass when the clue to this case could be in Lich, Montana. Five-hundred dollars is a small price to pay to catch this sack of crap." "O''Leary could refuse your vacation. We are in the middle of a serial murder case, Mackey." "Then, I''ll tender my resignation. I''ll pass on anything I find out to the new detective in charge. And to you. I trust you''d do the right thing by these girls." Mackey lowers his head while taking a bite from his sandwich. Grimacing, James unfolds the bag and grabs out a pack of mustard and a mayo. He opens his sandwich and spreads the condiments on. Dave stares at the young detective in disbelief. "Did I hear you right, James? Did you just say...You''d quit?" Dave says, not believing his ears. "If the chief forbids me to do my job...Which is to find any and all clues which could lead to the apprehension of a dangerous criminal...I will have no choice. At that point, my ability to bring this case to a hasty conclusion will be sorely hindered. You will have to continue where I left off. You and whatever replacement they choose." "Like hell!" Dave growls. "Excuse me?" James responds, arching his left brow. "What did you say, Dave?" "I said...Like hell! I don''t care if I have to have Sheriff Northrop breathing down the chief''s neck. I''ll even get the mayor involved. You know how much Mayor Gunther hates bad publicity. We''re not starting over from Square One. We can''t afford to. Not with three girls murdered in less than two months. If what you theorize about this psychopath is accurate...Nine more girls are gonna die. Not on my watch. Or yours." Detective Mackey''s eyes soften and he lowers his sandwich. "Well, well. And here I was thinking you didn''t care, Dave," Mackey teases. "I care about this case getting solved. You can go eat dog crap!" "Uh-huh," Mackey says with a sidelong glance. "Well, while I''m eating dog crap...I think I should inform you. The charity dinner is a black-tie affair. So remember to wear your fanciest duds. I''ll talk to the sheriff about our little plan. You talk to Chief O''Leary. Do your best to make it seem as if Northrop is already on board. A little...Divide and conquer. We can''t lose." "Why do I get the impression you already had this whole thing worked out, James?" Detective Mackey grins and takes a bite of his sub sandwich. "Was that a compliment, Dave?" Art of Aquarius: Chapter 31- Fancy Duds Lich, Montana Needlemeyer Hotel, Bed and Breakfast Dave exits his room and uses the old-fashioned key to lock the door. He stretches noisily, getting the kinks out of his back. It''s been quite a few years since he''s slept on a mattress that uncomfortable. That sorry excuse for a bed must be what passes for fine living in Dustbowl, Montana. Detective Mackey peeks his head out of the room next door. He whistles loudly and offers Dave an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Looking good, Dave," Mackey says. The detective studies Newsome from head to toe, admiring the deputy''s black cashmere suit and shiny black patent leather shoes. Dave has also taken care to dye his hair, mustache and eyebrows. Leaving only a small section of gray hair near his temples. James supposes the remaining grays are meant to make the deputy look more distinguished. Or perhaps to remind Mackey, and others, of his age and seniority. "Who would have guessed you clean up so nicely, Dave?" Mackey says. Adjusting his bowtie, Dave fully turns to thank Detective Mackey and receives a shock. Mackey''s suit is very similar to his own. And the detective now sports a fake black mustache. Dave''s face crinkles and he places a hand on his wide hip. "Just what the hell do you think you''re doing, Mackey? What''s with the damn mustache? And where did you get that suit? You been stalking me again? Watching me?" Dave hollers. Detective Mackey fully exits his hotel room and locks the door. Down the hall, a woman with bright red hair opens her room door and glances in the two dapper men''s direction. Liking what she sees, she smiles and offers James and Dave a tiny wave. James nods politely and Dave returns the woman''s kind smile with a chin cant. The woman pulls her head back into the room without uttering a single word. Once the door shuts, Dave rounds on Detective Mackey again. "What''s with the getup, James? You look ridiculous!" "I look ridiculous? We look almost identical!" Mackey responds. "I know!" Dave hisses. "That''s why you look so ridiculous! Why? Is something wrong with you, Mackey? Everything you do is so over the top! It''s not natural!" "We''re in the wild west, Dave. A lot of people dress like this all the time. And besides, it''s supposed to be a night of music, games, and dancing. Why not go a little over the top? Whoever said that work and play don''t mix...Never met me. Remember what I said about honey, Dave? That''s what tonight is. We''re not just here to party. But almost no one here knows that. With this getup...As you call it...Who''s gonna take me seriously? But tonight''s fact-finding mission is as serious as a heart attack." If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Okay. I hear ya," Dave says, appraising Mackey. "But take off the damn mustache. You look like a rat crawled on your face and died there." "Oh, Dave. Why doth thou insult thyself?" Mackey sighs, strolling away from Dave and toward the hotel exit. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dave roars, staring at James'' retreating back. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Later... Parker-Grant Gymnasium and Sports Arena Detective Mackey and Deputy Newsome arrive at the main entrance to the gymnasium with more than twenty minutes to spare. Dave studies the layout with less than marked enthusiasm. The gym''s bleachers have been folded up like an accordion and pushed against the walls. Golden streamers hang from the ceiling and are draped across the entire room. Somehow, Dave gets the feeling that they are severely overdressed for the occasion. Despite the fancy trimmings, this place is nothing more than a dust bowl. A beautifully decorated dust bowl, but a dust bowl all the same. Dave can already feel the dust and dirt trying to invade the sanctity of his underwear. He shakes his head wearily at the thought. What kind of person purposely moves to a place like Lich, Montana? A serial killer maybe. A tall woman wearing a beige dress, which is entirely too tight, ambles uncomfortably toward the double doors. She extends a white-gloved hand to Dave and Detective Mackey in turn. The woman''s voice is low in pitch and deeply accented, reminding Dave of Ms. Kitty from Gunsmoke. "Howdy, gentlemen," the woman says with a wide grin. "You must be Deputy Newsome and Detective Mackey? Detective Bennett said you''d be coming by." Dave smiles warmly at the slightly younger woman, enjoying the abashed look on Detective Mackey''s face. How dare someone greet him first! Well, it''s about damn time. "If you''re looking for Ms. Northrop...You can find her in the main dining hall," the woman continues. "That''s where we''ll be hosting the dinner. The gym is where we will all congregate at the end." Dave''s face immediately straightens and he gives the woman in beige a stern look. He tilts his head to one side as if he is severely hard of hearing. "Excuse me? Did you say Miss Northrop?" Dave inquires, eyes wide from his growing unease. "Are you sure you don''t mean, Mr. Northrop? As in Sheriff Jeffrey Northrop? I had no idea he was coming down...I mean, up here." Detective Mackey pats Dave gently on the right shoulder. The detective is now grinning from ear to ear. "Nope. She means...Miss," James says. "You didn''t think you were my plus one, did you?" "Well, no. But why Hazel?" Dave stammers. "You know she and I are--" "Because she''s the daughter of a fine upstanding sheriff. She understands the need for discretion and diplomacy. And besides, she''s cute as hell!" The woman in beige laughs at James'' statement, startling the two law officers and reminding them that she is still there. "She is a cute one," the woman chuckles loudly. "You should have seen all the boys when Hazel first arrived. And I do mean all of the boys. Old, young, it didn''t matter. Haha. Even little Timothy Rand was following her around like a puppy for a bit. Probably trying to look up that skirt of hers. Sheriff Taylor had to escort the poor little fella back to his mother. It was so funny." Dave''s face darkens and he glances around the room. The main dining hall, the woman had said? "Well, I won''t hold you two up any longer," the woman in beige says between another loud chuckle. "Main dining hall is through the door on the right. Straight down the hallway...You can''t miss it. Follow the laughter." The woman in beige strolls past Dave and James, a sly grin plastered on her face. Mackey glances over one shoulder. "She''s kind of cute too!" "Shut up, James!" Dave growls under his breath. "The main hall is that way, you ass. Why did I ever agree to come to this godforsaken dust bowl?" Art of Aquarius: Chapter 32- Information Sure enough, as soon as James and Dave enter the hallway, soft laughter greets their ears. The laughter grows louder as they approach the main dining hall. Dave enters the dining hall and gets another huge shock. The decor in the dining hall is much fancier than what adorned the gymnasium. Giant lit candelabras hang from the ceiling and are present on every table. The tablecloths in the enormous dining hall are much nicer as well, crisp folds running down the exact center, giving the cloths a professionally ironed appearance. Several men and women are already seated at the tables. However, the bulk of the elegantly dressed crowd is milling around the center of the large room. A tiny childish laugh issues from the middle of the dense crowd. Hazel''s laugh. "Not bad," Dave mutters. "For a dust bowl." Mackey releases a short laugh. His laughter is cut short as Hazel catches sight of them and waves from behind the wall of masculine bodies nearly blocking her from view. Dave stares in Hazel''s direction, unmoving. More than ever, he wants to wring Detective Mackey''s thin neck. He can almost sense the corrupt thoughts banging around in the other men''s heads, their eyes subtly scoping out Hazel''s voluptuous form. "Well, well. If it isn''t your lil honey bear, Dave?" Mackey teases. "I think she''s trying to say ''hello''. You might want to go and save her from the natives." "Ah...Eat it!" Dave grumbles. Despite his grumbling, Dave moves in Hazel''s direction. The group of men part and allow Hazel to pass through their midst. Her eyes narrow, red lips drawing upward into a wide smile. "Dave?" Hazel coos in a sweet voice. "James said you might be coming. I wasn''t sure you would." "Huh?" Dave sputters. "You and Detective Mackey...You planned this together?" "Planned what?" Hazel asks, glancing at Detective Mackey in confusion. "James, I thought you said..." "You know what? Let''s not worry about the details right now. We''re here to get information about a case. Where''s Detective Bennett? Is he here?" Mackey says, quickly steering the conversation in a different direction. "Yes. He went to the men''s room. He should be back momentarily," Hazel replies. To Dave, she says, "You look really nice, Dave. I rarely see you in a suit. It fits you very well." "Thank you," Dave says, his eyes appraising every inch of Hazel and finding much to be grateful for. "You look really nice too!" "Have you been able to glean any information from the local population, Hazel?" James interrupts. "Any of the witnesses still around?" If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "Um...Yes. Sort of," Hazel says. "I spoke with one of Sabrina''s roommates from back then. A Lisa Glenn. She moved to Lich not long after Sabrina went missing. She helped Sabrina''s family for a bit. Ended up staying here in town even after the murder investigation was concluded. She mentioned that Sabrina was kind of a rebel. Did things her own way. Liked rock music, dyed her hair a different color every other week, and dated some really colorful local characters. She even had...Get this...A tattoo. An extremely naked mermaid, on her left forearm. I''ve seen some photos Lisa has on her phone. The tattoo makes even me blush. It was actually very beautiful. If not, a little risque. Like the coffee shoppe mermaid. Except with bigger...Um." Hazel stops talking and glances over at Dave, whose eyes are narrowed to thin slits. She slides her gaze over to Detective Mackey. The detective''s face is nearly one big grin, the fake mustache over his lip making him appear even more crafty. Hazel sighs before continuing. "And what the mermaid was doing with her hands? Oh god...Definitely not child''s play. However, the tattoo was missing when Sabrina''s body was found. Her whole arm was so mangled and mutilated...If I remember correctly, the poor girl''s arm was partially burned. The local police thought the tattoo might have been destroyed during transport of Sabrina''s body by the suspect. Or possibly during a failed attempt to get rid of evidence. We now know, that probably wasn''t the case. I think you''re right, James. It''s the same guy. He simply changed locales." "Wait a damn minute!" Dave growls, waiting for Hazel to finish talking. "You''re using Hazel as a damn spy? Does Sheriff Northrop know about this little wrinkle in your ethical fiber, James?" "Not a spy, Dave?" James protests. "I only asked Hazel to root around a bit. Try to pick up little details here and there by mingling with the locals. She''s here of her own accord." "It doesn''t matter how you try to spin this, Mackey! You''ve got my girlfriend acting as an informant for you?" Dave hisses. "Do you realize what kind of danger you could be putting Hazel in? What if the killer is here in Lich?" "Doubtful," James says. "No one can be in two places at once, Dave." "Dave?!" Hazel says at the same time, her surprised voice drowned out by James'' protestation. Before Dave can respond, a wide man steps forward out of the crowd. The big man wears a fancy western suit and black cowboy boots. He eyes Mackey and Newsome in a suspicious manner. "Detective Mackey?" Detective Robert Bennett enunciates in a thick accent. "That''s me," Mackey says with a wide grin, extending his right hand to his detective counterpart. "Detective Bennett, I presume?" "You presume right," Detective Bennett says with a serious expression. "Follow me and we can talk, Detective Mackey," Detective Bennett says. "It''s been quite some time since I''ve revisited that particular case. But I''ll fill you in on what I know and remember." Detective Bennett turns to Dave, giving the deputy a thorough looking over. "Enjoy the party, Deputy!" Detective Bennett nods politely at Hazel and then walks with James to the other side of the huge dining hall. Dave''s face contorts into a confused scowl. "What the Sam Hill? I did not come over four-hundred miles to dance in dust bunnies and get dirt in my underwear. I came here to get information about a case," Dave growls. "Excuse me, Hazel. I''ll be with you shortly." Dave storms in the direction of where Detectives Mackey and Bennett are holding conference. Hazel watches him go with a sinking feeling. "But, Dave. Wait," Hazel exclaims in a soft voice. "You called me your girlfriend?" Art of Aquarius: Chapter 33- A Nice Girl Detective Bennett crosses both arms over his barrel chest and fixes his gaze on Detective Mackey. The obviously fake mustache on the young detective''s face serves as a distraction. More than once, the older detective nearly bursts into laughter, but he somehow manages to keep it together. "Sabrina was a real nice girl," Detective Bennett says. "Despite a lot of the rumors going around. She was an honor roll student, very helpful around the community, and a truly kind and decent person. But even if she hadn''t exactly been a sweetheart, no one deserves what happened to that poor young lady. I''ll never forget arriving on that scene...The day Ms. Evans found the body. Francine Evans was head librarian of the public library, about four years ago. She was taking her early morning jog and saw what she thought was a homeless person or an accident victim lying in a ditch. It had rained heavily the day before, so the ditch was pretty full of water. Sabrina''s body was found floating on the top." Detective Bennett pauses and places an open hand over his eyes, drawing it downward in a gesture of disbelief and despair. It is as if he hopes to wipe away the memory he is now being forced to recall. "Sabrina was a beautiful young woman. Every young fella in town wanted desperately to date her. We don''t have many youngsters in Lich. Quite a few of the older gentlemen desired her too. What that monster left behind in that ditch...Hardly resembled Sabrina at all. Sabrina had beautiful hair. It reached past her butt and she usually wore it in a thick braid down her back. She was proud of her hair. The bastard shaved her from head to toe. And what he did to her...How he violated her. I can''t see how anyone could do a thing like that." Detective Mackey folds his arms over his own chest and leans against the wall. He steels himself for the answer he doesn''t really want but is fated to seek. "How exactly was Sabrina violated, Detective Bennett? Was she raped? None of our girls have been. I suspect it''s because the murderer possesses an emotional hangup which renders him impotent." "He didn''t have to rape her!" Detective Bennett grumbles in a deep voice. "He shoved things in her body that ought not to be in a body. He even left some of them in there. One of the items was a...A rock. A blue rock with two squiggly lines on it. Our coroner found it while doing the autopsy. She kept trying to rationalize how it got there. Until she found those other things. Lynn called me in tears. I''ll never forget that day. But no, Detective Mackey...There was no DNA and no sign of forcible rape. Only the assault." Deputy Newsome steps forward, interrupting the two detectives for the first time. He pulls a small notepad from an inner pocket of his suit jacket. Detective Bennett arches an eyebrow as if impressed. "A blue rock with two squiggly lines? Care to draw what that looked like, Detective Bennett? For the sake of evidence." Stolen novel; please report. "Sure," Detective Bennett says, taking the notepad from Dave''s hand. Detective Bennett quickly draws what he remembers and hands the pad back to Dave. Dave hands it off to Detective Mackey, who studies it with marked intensity. "This...This is the true sign of Aquarius. The symbol recognized by most astrologers. He''s definitely our guy," Mackey says. "Question is...Why did he stop? Why just Sabrina? And why did he move his operation to Castleton?" "That I can''t tell you, Detective Mackey," Detective Bennett sighs. "You now know pretty much everything I do about this case. The files I faxed over to your department are as thorough as they can get. I left nothing out." "On the phone, you said your department found no other signs of mutilation outside of the shaving of the victim''s body," Detective Mackey says. "What about Sabrina''s burnt, mangled arm? Did you not think a rock...As well as other things...Being shoved inside her orifice was a pretty huge sign of mutilation, Detective Bennett?" "I did," Bennett replies, his voice rising. "It was my idea to suppress those details. I wanted to avoid creating copycats. Boys with an axe to grind looking to make a name for themselves by chopping up innocent girls. If the murders continued, I wanted to be sure we nabbed the right guy. But the sick mutherfreaker never killed again. Not in Lich. Eventually, I was pressured to close the investigation. Sabrina''s parents wanted closure and the department had no new evidence to speak of. Believe me, Detective Mackey...I know what happened to Sabrina was horrendous. No one would deny that." Detective Mackey averts his gaze, staring down at the drawing in his hand. Dave watches James for a brief moment before extending his right hand to Detective Bennett. The older detective takes Dave''s hand and firmly shakes it. The ghost of a smile returns to Detective Bennett''s lined face. "Thanks for speaking with us today, Detective," Deputy Newsome says. "I know it couldn''t have been easy for you." "Yeah," Bennett agrees with a sigh. "For the last two years, I''ve put that case behind me. I went to school with Sabrina''s mother. Natalie was adamant that Sabrina should stay here in Lich. She never wanted her little baby to leave town. It''s just so strange. Sabrina was supposed to be on her way to a concert. But her body ended up back here. No one could make sense of it. Except that the killer knew her. He knew she came from Lich. He brought her home. We never figured out why?" "Will you do me a favor, Detective Bennett?" Mackey says. "Sure." "I need you to discreetly open up the investigation again. I mean...Unofficially. Just a little discreet fact finding. Whatever you manage to dig up could help us wrap up our investigation in Castleton. We can both get our killer." "I have no problem with that, Detective," Bennett says. "Like I said, Sabrina didn''t deserve what happened to her. I''ll help you in any way I can." "Thank you, Robert," Mackey says. "Don''t mention it." Deputy Newsome nods in Detective Bennett''s direction. "Take care of yourself, Sir," Dave says. Detective Bennett offers Dave a wistful smile, his eyes low and haunted. A violent shiver courses Dave''s spine. This is the look of a cop defeated. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 34- The Life You Live The lights in the huge dining hall have been dimmed and soft music wafts from the speakers overhead. Three frenzied waiters dart between tables, taking orders and setting down plates of steaming food. So far, Dave has only met one celebrity. A has-been writer from maybe two decades ago. With a wry smile, Dave acknowledges that Detective James Mackey has likely been duped out of over fifteen-hundred dollars. Dave''s eyes sweep the entire dining hall. There is only one face he wishes to see right now. He finally spies her on his second visual pass around the room. Hazel is seated alone at a table in the far back of the hall. Several men, who are seated at nearby tables, shoot casual glances in the young woman''s direction--hoping to catch her eye. However, Hazel is deeply absorbed in thought. She absently runs a finger along the rim of her wine glass. She has yet to take a single sip of the red wine the glass contains. Dave cautiously approaches the table. Unsure of Hazel''s present mood, he chooses to play it safe. Deputy Newsome slides into the chair directly across from Hazel. He gently places his right hand on top of her left. Hazel''s eyes refocus and she shifts her gaze, a tiny smile drawing her lips upward. "A penny for your thoughts?" Dave says, offering Hazel his own smile. "I was thinking about Sabrina. And those other young girls...Well, young women. They were all so beautiful. To be murdered with such casual brutality. It''s sick, Dave. It''s horrible." Dave''s mouth droops beneath his darkened mustache. He pats Hazel''s hand tenderly and their eyes meet. The oldest of the victims, Bridget Davis, was only thirty-one years old. Not much older than Hazel. How scary this whole Aquarius situation must be for a young woman like Hazel. Climbing to his feet, Dave takes the chair with him. He plants it directly beside his careworn lover. The deputy reclaims his seat, studying Hazel''s youthful face. He cups her right cheek with his left hand. Hazel releases a soft sigh, eyelids fluttering with pent up emotion. Dave considers kissing her but thinks better of it. Not in front of all of these strange people. "I''ll ask you again, Hazel. Would you even consider marrying someone like me?" Dave questions. "What''s that supposed to mean, Dave?" Hazel retorts, her brown eyes widening. "What do you mean...Someone like you?" "You know what I mean, Hazel," Dave laments. "I''m old, and I''m fat. Hell, I''m pretty damn close to retirement. I don''t have much to offer you. If I get a second glance from any woman...It''s usually because of the uniform I wear. They respect the badge. They''re not seeing me. I know, I''m no great catch. I''m jaded and I''m tired as hell. Is that why you can''t bring yourself to say you love me again? Was it a mistake when you said it the first time? Did you mean it? Or were you just trying to make me feel better? I don''t blame you, Hazel. Really I don''t. If I were you, I wouldn''t want me either. You''re beautiful too, Hazel. You have your whole life ahead of you. You deserve someone a helluva lot better than me. William doesn''t realize what he''s giving up. I love you, Hazel!" Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Hazel''s brow knits and she refuses to look at Dave. When she makes eye contact again, there are tears pooling in her eyes. "You know that''s not the reason, Dave! I don''t give a damn what you look like! If I was that vain...That petty...Would I have invited you into my bed as many times as I have?" Hazel chides Dave in a stern whisper. Dave''s heart flutters and he stares hard at Hazel''s gorgeous face. Now, they''re getting somewhere. At least, she isn''t shutting him out anymore. "Then, what is it?" Dave presses. "It''s this life we all live. The constant barrage of negativity, day in and day out. The brutal murders, the stories of violent abuse, the drug addicts and the traffickers. Long hours spent mopping up the messes which constitute other people''s lives. It''s all so bad. I''ve had to live with it all of my life. From my dad and William. And now, you. It follows all of you around wherever you go. Like an eclipsing shadow. I don''t know if I can commit to a life like that, Dave. It''s depressing. I don''t want it anymore." Dave leans forward and kisses the flesh behind Hazel''s right ear. She reaches up her left hand and cups his face. "I''m sorry, Hazel. I didn''t realize. I won''t ask you again." Hazel plants a small kiss on the corner of Dave''s mouth as they draw apart. She peers deep into his eyes. "It''s not your fault, Dave. I''m the one with the weak stomach. I can''t handle death like I used to. I think it started when Mom died and when Chrissy left us. Dad was all alone. He needed me. So I stayed. Now, I wonder..." Hazel''s words trail off and she blinks rapidly, pushing down tears. Dave squeezes Hazel''s left knee, above the hem of her short black skirt. She looks down at his head. Placing a finger under Hazel''s chin, Dave raises her head level again. He leans in to kiss her but Hazel shakes her head. "Not here, Dave. That might not be such a good idea. Since learning about the new murders, Detective Bennett has become my dad''s number one fan. I''m staying at the only other motel in town. The D?nhoff. I believe it''s German. I love the way it rolls off of the tongue. D?nhoff! Haha. Room 118. Wait until after nine p.m. though. Most of the regular boarders will be in for the night. My plane doesn''t leave until eleven in the morning. We''ll have plenty of time." "Ooohoohoo!" Dave whispers impishly. "Too bad William isn''t here. Then, we could let him hear our bedsprings for once." "Dave!" Hazel hisses playfully, slapping Dave''s arm through his sleeve. Dave''s response is to slip his arm around Hazel''s middle. He uses his fingers to toy with the belt cinched around her waist, the belt holding her flowing silk blouse in place. It won''t take much to remove said blouse. The belt is merely for decoration. And what little material there is to Hazel''s blouse hides even less than it should. "This is supposed to be a night full of music, fun, and dancing. Shall we dance?" Dave cajoles Hazel. "I don''t see why not," Hazel says, smiling. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 35- Maybe, Someday (incl. talk intimacy/mostly fade to black implied) D?nhoff Hotel Hazel enters her hotel room and quietly shuts the door. She throws the deadbolt and secures the bottom lock. Crossing to the beautifully decorated bed, she leans on the wooden footboard and removes one high-heeled shoe at a time. Raking the fingers of one hand through her long hair, Hazel chuckles softly. She uses her free hand to unbuckle the gold-colored belt around her waist. Carefully drawing the thin belt through the dual loops on her blouse, she tosses the belt aside. As Hazel is preparing to pull her blouse up over her head, there is a soft knock on the room door. "Oh damn!" Hazel hisses mainly to herself. "Room service?" Straightening her clothes, Hazel rushes barefoot to the room door. Another soft knock. More insistent this time. "Okay. Yes. I''m coming," Hazel says. She considers putting her shoes back on but quickly decides it isn''t worth the time or effort to do so. Not for room service. Pressing her right hand against the door, Hazel lifts up on tiptoe and peeks through the peephole. Her eyes widen, and she hastens to open the deadbolt and bottom lock. A very happy Deputy Newsome waits on the other side. As soon as the door is open, Hazel grips Dave''s right hand and tries to yank him into the room. Not an easy feat considering he is almost double her size and much taller. "Dave?" Hazel pouts. "I told you to come by after nine. What if someone had seen you?" "I don''t care!" Dave whispers as he enters the hotel room. "You should!" Hazel insists, shutting the door and locking it. Before she can go deeper into her explanation, Dave grips Hazel''s face in one large hand and fiercely kisses her lips. Hazel puts both arms around Dave''s neck, adding her own passion to their elaborate french kiss. Dave drops his hand, surrounding Hazel''s waist with his big arms. He lifts her off of the floor and pivots toward the queen-size bed. Or at least, he assumes it''s a queen-size. The bed is smaller than the king in his own house. Yet, bigger than the twin bed in his hotel room at the Needlemeyer. Logically, a queen. Pushing aside unimportant details, Dave focuses on the task ahead of him. He carefully lowers Hazel to the mattress, so that the backs of her bent knees are over the bed''s footboard. Placing one hand against the mattress and leaning down, Dave alters the position of his mouth in relation to Hazel''s. He kisses her chin, working his way downward to the flesh of her neck. Dave uses his free hand to reach for the bottom of Hazel''s golden blouse. However, he quickly changes his strategy. Not bothering to fully remove Hazel''s blouse, Dave settles for merely peeling back the silk material covering her chest. The large opening at the front of her blouse makes his job so much easier. Hazel sighs and allows Dave to have his way. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Twenty minutes later, they are both completely undressed and under the covers. Hazel''s head rests on Dave''s hairy chest. A sad expression alters her usually flirtatious countenance. She tilts her head to peer up at Dave. The faint smile on his lips brings tears to Hazel''s eyes. "Dave, I can''t live like this. I don''t want to be confused anymore. I want to say I love you. I think I do love you. But, I''m...I''m afraid to love you. I don''t want to be hurt again." Tears begin to stream down Hazel''s cheeks and her body trembles, not from ecstasy but from fear and anxiety. Dave removes his arm from around Hazel''s shoulders. He angles on the bed so that he can wipe her tears. "I won''t hurt you, Hazel. I love you too much. I think...I''ve loved you since just after your mother died. She was a good woman. I remember watching you...Trying so hard to be brave. I saw the way you cared for your old man. You were there when he needed you the most. But who will be there for you, Hazel? I can be that man, if you''ll let me. I won''t let anything happen to you. I promise. On everything I hold dear. I''m tired of being just your friend with benefits. I want you all of the time. I want to wake up next to you every day. From now until the day I die. I want you to marry me, Hazel." Hazel narrows her eyes and sits up on the bed. She leans against the headboard, staring sternly down at Dave. "You don''t understand, Dave. My father... Doesn''t know about you and me. But he does know about you and my mother. He wasn''t exactly happy about that little revelation. He''ll blow a stack if he ever learns about us." Dave''s mouth falls open and he stares aghast at Hazel. She continues without prodding. "It was one of the last things my mother told us, on her deathbed. She begged my father not to be angry. Mom said it was over and done with before she and Dad were even married. She just needed to come clean. She told Dad that she still loved you. That''s sort of where I got the idea to seduce you, Dave. I was hurting so badly. Oh, Dave. You don''t want to marry me." Dave reaches up with his left hand and cradles Hazel''s face. He looks straight into her brown eyes without blinking. "But I do want to marry you, Hazel. I truly do. And if you''ll have me, I will." "Dave, please," Hazel sighs, shutting her eyes. "Please stop saying that." "I won''t," Dave replies. "Because I believe that''s what you want too. You can try pushing it down and away. But, you''re only lying to yourself. That''s the source of your pain, Hazel. William doesn''t love you. He hasn''t loved you for a long time. It''s a game to him. He didn''t just cheat on you with Pamela. It was Laura before that. And his intern, Gabrielle, before her. Then, there was Denise and Sheryl. You''re wasting your time, Hazel. He doesn''t deserve you. Move on. Even if it''s not with me. Move on. You deserve better." Hazel''s chest rises rapidly and her cheeks grow warm. She lowers her furious gaze to Dave''s face. "You knew? You knew he was cheating on me for that long? And you didn''t say a thing? You could''ve at least told me, Dave!" "We weren''t an item back then," Dave argues. "I didn''t think you''d believe me. I thought you''d think I was a crotchety old man trying to control your life. Like your father. Once we were together, I didn''t want to hurt you. I was satisfied with being your occasional bedroom friend. I''m not satisfied with that anymore. Not with everything going on in Castleton these days. I love you too much for that. I won''t watch some self-righteous, cheating bastard ruin your life. Marry me, Hazel. Make me that promise. Not now, but maybe...Someday." Hazel breathes in deeply and slowly exhales the breath. She runs both hands over Dave''s hairy chest and leans forward. He sits up, in order to meet her halfway, and they kiss passionately. "I promise. Someday," Hazel says. Dave is so overcome with emotion that he quickly reverses their positions. Hazel releases a loud giggle as Dave''s mouth finds her ruby-colored lips again and again. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 36-Positive ID on the Girl Lich, Montana Needlemeyer Hotel, Bed and Breakfast Room 43 Dave sighs heavily and turns over on his back. He glances up at the clock on the nightstand. Five in the morning. Time to get moving. He and Detective Mackey have a plane to catch. Climbing from the bed, Dave yanks a fluffy white hotel robe from the chair where he threw it only an hour ago. Has it really been an hour since he and Hazel said their passionate goodbyes? He and James will be arriving in Castleton at nearly the same time that Hazel will be boarding her own flight. They really should have considered updating their travel arrangements. Then, they could''ve spent even more time together. But no, the case must come first. He and James have been away from Castleton too long already. As if on cue, there is a knock on Dave''s hotel room door. The disgruntled deputy throws on his fluffy robe and moves slowly toward the door. Detective Mackey''s voice greets Dave from the other side. "You awake, old buddy? You''d better be. I heard you sneak in this morning, you sly devil. Open the damn door! We need to talk. It''s important." Dave groans and unlocks the room door. Detective Mackey enters the room fully dressed and ready to go. He looks Dave over from head to toe and grins. "Ooo...Davey, Davey! What have you done?" Mackey teases. "Shut up, James! You little pervert. I did what any man is capable of doing. If he wants to. Now, bug off!" Newsome barks. "Such confidence," James gloats. "You must have had a very adventurous night, Davey Wavey!" "Ergh! You are...My god, James! What are you sixteen? What the hell is wrong with you? You are in serious need of a woman. I know you said, it''s been a long time. And I understand your loss. I truly do. But, maybe you''re out of practice about what constitutes odd behavior surrounding the opposite sex. Do you wanna go to a club one night? I''m open to the idea anytime. There''s plenty of women to choose from, if you''re bored. I''m not a page out of some racy romance novel, James. I just wanna love who I love and...Yeah. Just cut it out, okay? It''s creepy!" Detective Mackey''s eyes narrow and his lips turn up in a wolfish grin. He sighs heavily. "Okay. If you insist, Dave. I''ll stop pestering you about sneaking around with your boss'' daughter. I''m only doing it to get on your nerves and encourage you to come clean. Preferably, before her daddy shoots your nuts off." Deputy Newsome swallows down the lump in his throat and averts his gaze from Detective Mackey''s face. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Turns out, I can''t do that. Not yet, anyway. Cause her father is liable to shoot my nuts off either way," Dave confesses. "Why''s that?" James says with a crafty smile. "More than thirty years ago...Hazel''s mother and I were a thing. Hazel informed me last night...That her father isn''t too happy about that juicy detail. Seems Bernadette came clean on her deathbed. If I mention my intentions for Sheriff Northrop''s precious daughter...It''ll be my deathbed too." Mackey''s grin widens and he slaps a hand against his right thigh. Dave peers sidelong at his detective partner, anger building up in his chest. "Are you sure you''re not Hazel''s father, then? I mean, are you really sure, Dave?" "Yes, I''m sure!" Dave growls. "Bernadette married Jeffrey Northrop almost two years after we stopped seeing each other. She was five months pregnant with Hazel''s sister when they eloped. Besides, Hazel even looks like Jeffrey. She doesn''t look anything like me. It''s impossible anyway." "Oh, Dave! I knew you were a little...Over indulgent. But, how does a man screw a mother and her daughter? Was it some odd attraction? A secret deathwish perhaps? I am thoroughly perplexed." "You know what, James? You said, you had some important information! Spill it or get the hell out of my hotel room! I''ve got to shower before we go." Detective Mackey''s face straightens and he exhales loudly. He drops his head, wishing the words he has to say were merely a joke and not a reality. "It''s her, Dave. It''s Carmen. She''s the Aquarius Killer''s third victim. No tattoo, but she still had her wisdom teeth. A partial dental record and DNA confirmed the Jane Doe is in fact Miss Asbury." Dave is speechless as Detective Mackey crosses to the window and leans against the wooden sill. The sun will be coming up soon. Yet, the darkness poking at the detective''s heart continues to grow. What have they really learned by coming to Lich? Except that they may now have a fourth victim? The truly first victim of a homicidal nutjob. A murderer who has been killing, and hiding in plain sight, for many years. "I know I can be a pain, Dave! I''ve been told that before. But making light of things which deeply bother me...Is how I make it through this job. Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to be a detective. I watched every movie and episode of Sherlock Holmes. I studiously read every story about the world''s greatest detective. I stayed up at night watching reruns of Dragnet and other cop classics. I wanted to be those cops. I wanted to make a difference." James turns to Dave and his brow is deeply creased. Dave stares back at James, a concerned expression on his face. Something about the detective''s stern countenance tickles the back of Dave''s brain. It doesn''t help that Mackey''s face is partially obscured by shadow. "But then, I grew up," James continues. "I learned that no matter how many bad guys you put in the clink...Ten more will rise to take their place. Because the world is a bad place, Dave. The batteries it runs on are made with the blood and bones of the innocent. You and me...We can only do so much against so much evil. And this Aquarius piece of crap...Is one of the most evil things I have come across in my fifteen years as a cop. He scares me, Dave. Because he isn''t afraid. He''s getting bolder because he doesn''t believe we can stop him. Carmen...What he did to her body. The way he put her on display like that. I hate the mutherfugger. I hate him. I want him deader than a doorknob. I want to be the one to kill him. And that scares me too!" "Are you okay, James?" Dave questions, casual concern turning into genuine worry for his cop companion. "I will be...When Aquarius is dead!" Detective Mackey says in a deep voice. Dave grimaces, watching the uncharacteristic transformation which has come over the young detective. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 37- Worried About You Two hours later Trans-Con Airlines Flight 69 Dave reclines his head into the provided neck pillow, the steady drone of passenger voices lulling him into a comforting sleep. The chime of a message causes Dave to drowsily open his eyes. More time sleeping, and less time making love, would have been a good idea the previous night. Beside Dave, Detective Mackey is uncharacteristically quiet. The young detective has said very little since baring his soul in Deputy Newsome''s hotel room. Dave''s phone chimes again and he discreetly pulls the burner device from his left jeans pocket. Glancing sidelong at James, Dave unlocks his phone and peers at the received message. He is grateful that the man behind him is fast asleep and snoring. Hazel''s less than prudish message is no better than the mermaid tattoo she claimed had been present on the late Sabrina Engle''s left arm. In fact, Dave is certain Hazel is attempting to emulate it. And doing a fabulous job. Dave quickly closes the message and sneaks another glance at Detective Mackey. James is still staring forward, his mouth drawn downward in a solemn expression. Dave shoves his phone back into his pocket and forces a soft cough. James'' brow arches and he turns to the deputy. He speaks in a low and emotionless voice. "Don''t worry, Dave. I don''t care about your secret phones and your secret love affairs. I won''t mention it again. You have my word. And I won''t disclose anything to the sheriff. It wouldn''t be my place anyway." "Come on, James," Deputy Newsome says. "I wasn''t serious about what I said before. It''s like you said, we''re cops. If we can''t bust each other''s balls, what the hell are we even doing? And I shouldn''t have brought up your late wife. That was...Real low. Truth is...I''m a bit worried about you, James. You''ve been acting weird since our conversation back there. It''s like you''re a completely different person. I don''t know if I like this person." "Well, you didn''t like the other me either," Mackey replies, turning his head to frown at Dave. "You can''t have it both ways, Dave." "I know," Dave admits, shrugging both shoulders. "It''s just that, I''m not used to working closely with anyone. This is still kind of a new thing for me. I''m used to breaking up drug rings, busting down crack and meth house doors, doing stakeouts in my truck, watching the local malls during Black Friday rushes, and otherwise just keeping order. I''ve only worked a few seriously bad homicide cases. I mean, like murder-suicide type cases. Usually, cases like that are cut and dry. It''s not real hard to find the clues to what happened. This Aquarius thing is very different. And...I''m now certain it will require a special kind of detective to solve this case. The Detective Mackey who traveled with me to Lich, Montana...Is just the kind of detective this case needs. The moping pile of dog crap sitting next to me...Won''t cut it." Detective Mackey''s eyes flash and he increases the intensity of his scowl. Leaning close to Deputy Newsome, James lowers his voice to a menacing growl. "At least, my woman...Never told me ''no''. And she never ran out on me at four in the damn morning. She knew I was just that good!" Mackey hisses. "Huh?" Dave says, eyes widening. "What the hell is your..." Mackey''s face becomes one big grin and he slaps Dave on his right shoulder. Dave is unsure which James Mackey he is dealing with. He looks around uneasily, making sure that the other passengers are not staring. "It''s cool, Dave. I told you, my wife''s death doesn''t bother me anymore. We had a nice life together. The best life, really," Mackey exclaims. "I tried to make Samantha''s last days on this Earth some of her most memorable. The day before my wife died, the hospice nurses agreed we could all take a trip out to her favorite spot on the river. She wasn''t able to eat solid food by that point. We pretended to have a picnic anyway. It was a struggle for Sam to speak, but she managed to tell me she loved me. I told her I loved her too. She died the next morning. I don''t regret the time I spent with my wife. And when I''m ready, I''ll move on. I''m not there yet, Dave. But I won''t tease you anymore." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Dave averts his gaze and twists his mouth into an uncomfortable grin. James reclines back in his seat and closes his eyes. "Won''t be long before we land," James says. "Gonna catch a quick nap." $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Detective Mackey opens the manila file folder on his desk. He carefully studies the first photograph of Sabrina Engle''s brutalized body which happens to be on the top. The condition of her left arm is of most concern. Any sign of a sexy mermaid tattoo has been burned away by what looks like a strong acidic substance. The arm is badly mangled, as though a powerful animal or machine had attempted to wrench it from the socket. James removes the photo and holds it up for closer inspection. After a moment, he places the photo on the desk and takes up another. The second photo is a closeup of the bruises and lacerations on Sabrina''s once gorgeous face. Mackey finds no use for that particular photo and puts it aside. He has seen enough mutilated faces to last a lifetime. The third photo is more intriguing. It is a closeup photo taken from the phone of Sabrina''s former roommate. The infamous sexy mermaid. Mackey''s eyes widen and he stares transfixed at the image. For all intents and purposes, the mermaid is nothing more than a fantastical version of the dead Sabrina Engle. Maybe with a breast augmentation or two, and very lifelike. The few pictures James has seen of Sabrina, before her tragic murder, do the young woman slightly less justice than the mermaid tattoo which once decorated her arm. James quickly shuts the manila folder as Chief O''Leary exits his office. No good can come from admiring the imaginary tits of a dead girl. Maybe he does need to get out and see the world. A familiar voice wafting across the operations room chills Detective Mackey to the bone. Mitch Turner, reporter for Channel 8. Oh great. Chief O''Leary intercepts Mitch and his camera crew as they attempt to enter the unauthorized area. Chief O''Leary extends an arm to prevent their passage, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Nope. Cameras back outside!" O''Leary barks. "You have no right to impede our search for information, Chief. The public has a right to know what''s going on. Why did Detective Mackey fly to Montana, Chief? What did he expect to find there?" Mitch yells. Detective Mackey climbs from his seat and approaches where Mitch is putting on his dramatic performance. He scrutinizes the reporter with slitted eyes. "I found what I was looking for, Mitch. And astronomers have known there''s water on Uranus for decades. Why don''t you wait like everyone else? We''re not going to endanger the lives of countless more young women because of one little pissant looking to make a name for himself. The Aquarius Killer is dangerous. We need to get him off the streets. Impede my investigation anymore, Mr. Turner...You''ll be behind bars. That I promise you." Chief O''Leary shrugs behind Detective Mackey, a thin smile on his lips. Mitch''s face twists into a scornful grimace. "The public has a right to know, Detective Mackey," Mitch growls. "And they will. When the time is right," Mackey says. Mitch whirls on his heels and storms up the hall, his three-man camera crew in tow. Chief O''Leary shakes his head at Detective Mackey. "Water on Uranus? Really, James?" "It was the best I could come up with on such short notice, Chief! I tried," Mackey says. "Right," Chief O''Leary mutters with a soft laugh. James grins as the Chief returns to his office and shuts the door. Few people can make crotchety O''Leary laugh. Yet another ability James can add to his growing list of accomplishments. Detective Mackey turns back to his desk, eyes wandering to the manila folder sitting smack dab in the middle of it. He briefly closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and ballooning out his cheeks. Releasing the inhaled breath after a ten-count, Mackey walks back to his desk. He opens the folder and sighs heavily. Using the tattoo as a reference, James tries to imagine Sabrina Engle''s face the way it should be--not the way it looked after Aquarius got finished with it. How much more beautiful her body must have been; before being allowed to rot--and left in a watery ditch for nearly twenty-four hours. "Oh, Sabrina," James whispers, his mouth twisting in self-recrimination. "Oh, Mackey. You''re in love with a dead woman. Or...Part of her, anyway. What is wrong with you?" James quickly closes the manila folder a second time. He hastily climbs to his feet, throwing on his trench coat as he hustles out of the operations room. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 38- A Better Man Than He Merrville Sheriff''s Department Dave glances up to find Detective Mackey descending on his desk. The detective holds a manila folder in one hand and a cardboard drink carrier in the other hand. A brown bag, Dave can only assume contains some variety of food, hangs from Mackey''s closed mouth. When James is close enough, Dave frowns and takes the cup carrier from his overburdened partner. James immediately uses the freed hand to take the brown bag from between his tightly squeezed lips. "Thanks, Dave. I''ve got some new information. Well, old information. But news to us." James pulls up a chair and sits down at Dave''s desk. Dave inspects the two cups and locates the black coffee. He takes his coffee cup out of the beverage carrier and slides the half-empty drink carrier over to Detective Mackey. Mackey has already begun to rummage through the bag of food, setting a sub sandwich in front of Dave. "Here''s your nasty tuna melt. Yuck." "It''s not yuck! Now what info do you have, James?" "Well...Before her murder, it was reported that Sabrina had a stalker on her college campus. Reports from the college said she never saw the man''s face. At one point, she even thought she was going crazy. That is, until one of her roommates saw the guy too. He wore dark clothes and always stayed in the shadows. Watching her, leaving things in her car, even slipped a weird note under her room door once. Sabrina''s college dorm had a faulty camera. Just like at Water''s Gym. No way to identify who left the note. This proves Aquarius is a very methodical son of a bitch. He watches his victims for long periods of time before he strikes." "Uh-huh!" Dave murmurs, biting into his tuna sub. "Did Sabrina have any bad breakups before going off to college? Any boyfriends with separation issues?" "It''s like Detective Bennett said, lots of the boys wanted Sabrina. And she dated quite a few of Lich''s bachelor population. And a couple of not so bachelors as well. One unhappily married guy shot himself in the face after he and Sabrina broke up. He survived the suicide attempt but died a couple of years ago. She was quite a character. Beautiful, but quite a character. For only twenty-two years old...Our Sabrina got around." "Hmmm," Dave says, reaching for the manila folder Detective Mackey put on the desk. "What''s that?" "No," Mackey cries out. With embarrassment, Detective Mackey remembers that the very awkward photo of Sabrina''s siren mermaid tattoo is still on top. He instinctively tries to grab the folder first. Dave manages to snag it and gives James a hard look. "Oh, ho! What''s wrong with you, Mack?" Dave mocks. "Something I shouldn''t see? Then, why did you bring it to my desk?" "Um. It''s not that you shouldn''t see it, Dave. It''s just that...I didn''t have a chance to...Um. There''s um..." Without letting James finish, Dave opens the folder. He only stares at the top photo for a moment before shutting the folder back. No wonder the young detective''s boxers are in a bunch. Jeezus! The rumored mermaid tattoo. Literally in the flesh. And so damn real looking. Damn Aquarius for taking such natural beauty out of the world. "Well, yeah. That," Mackey stammers. "Oh wow. Hazel wasn''t kidding. That''s some tattoo for a woman to have on her arm," Dave whispers. "Wow. And it looks so real. You think it was one of those photographic tattoos, Mack? Like an actual photo put on her arm? That is just too damn real." If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "Agreed. And that''s why...Uh, Dave, I have a confession to make," Mackey says, leaning forward on the desk and whispering. "Sort of makes me feel very ashamed." "Yeah." "I''m wondering if it''s because of how these young women have been put on display. If it''s messing with my mind. I''ve worked with dead bodies before. And I''ve never felt anything like this. The first thing I thought, when I saw that picture was...Damn, she''s fine!" Mackey confesses with a shameful expression. Dave blinks rapidly. He hesitates to admit having nearly the same intense reaction to the photo. However, he has already seen something similar. Thanks to Hazel''s elaborate attempt at roleplay messaging. He will have to warn her about that. It''s way too easy for such images to fall into the wrong hands. Dave decides to inform Detective Mackey of his humanity as nicely as possible. "Uh, well. Same here. I think you''re being too hard on yourself, James." "Am I?" James questions, deep worry lines appearing in his brow. Dave twists his bottom lip and scrunches up his nose. He is putting on his most teacherly face. "I don''t think there''s a man alive who wouldn''t have had that initial reaction, James. Every single one of the victims was quite a looker when they were alive. Our brains remember that. Imagining undressing a pretty woman is natural. Sabrina''s tattoo just means the work has been done for you. Sort of. What that Aquarius freak has done is the unnatural part. The fact that you felt any shame at all...Proves you''re a thousand times more human than that bastard could ever hope to be. You refuse to give in to your baser instincts. That''s what sets you apart from an animal. It makes you a better man, James. It''s okay. You''re not a freak." "It did feel pretty awful though," James admits. "Everything about this case is awful, Mackey!" "Yeah. But it got me thinking about what you said. About me needing a woman. I don''t think I need a woman. But, you could be right. Seeing that very racy tattoo, and having such a strong reaction to it, made me wonder if I''m just as depraved as the killer. If I could ever become that depraved. Sabrina was extremely gorgeous. Her death doesn''t change that." "Eat your food, James. And put that picture on the bottom of the stack so we can get to work. Forget about it. You''re fine. For about ten milliseconds...You felt what it''s like to not be so perfect all the time. Welcome to the League of Ordinary Humans," Dave chuckles with a grin. "O-kay," Mackey says, rolling his eyes. Without opening the folder completely, fearing another glimpse of Sabrina''s temptress tattoo, Mackey shuffles the photos. Temptation safely tucked away, Mackey opens the folder and draws out the picture on top. A picture of the small flattened stone, and various other odd things, which were found crammed into Sabrina''s very secret place. For the next few hours, Dave and James go over witness reports from the days leading up to the discovery of Sabrina Engle''s battered body. Dave squints at a photograph of a handwritten note. He turns the photo with one splayed hand so that Detective Mackey can also see it. "You see what I see, James? In the bottom left corner." James pushes his reading glasses higher up on his nose and studies the photo. A surprised expression explodes onto the detective''s placid face. "It''s no longer a suspicion, Dave. It''s him. He actually left his signature on the note. The two squiggle lines. The sign of Aquarius. How did no one notice this?" "They didn''t know what they were looking for. We do. It''s so tiny and out of the way. It could''ve very well been some misshapen letters or a goof. They didn''t realize those lines were important." "The stone found in Sabrina''s privates has squiggles carved into it. The handwritten note also contains squiggles. Oh Jeez, Dave. The two bobby pins. If you laid them out on a piece of paper...Parallel to each other...Two squiggly lines. Dammit, this guy is one sick freak. So...Why the switch to the bucket of water? Because he thought it would draw more attention? Did he believe he was being ignored?" James wonders aloud. "Maybe. The cops in Lich withheld most of the crime scene details. Yes. I think this bastard felt ignored." "Then, we''ll have to do something about that," Dave says, staring at Mackey over the top of the witness report he is thoroughly reading. "And we will. But I want to visit the Asbury''s again. We need to find out if there was ever a time when Carmen felt she was being followed. We might get lucky checking a few cameras." "Now that is a plan," Dave agrees solemnly. "All we''ll need is a search warrant." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 39- Bringer of Death Hamilton Inn and Suites Room 102 The Asbury''s temporary home during renovations Mr. Asbury paces back and forth in the suite''s enormous living room. Mrs. Asbury is seated at the room''s ornately decorated table. Detective Mackey''s right hand is on the sobbing woman''s left shoulder. "Carmen did have a guy who was seriously into her once," Mr. Asbury says. "Freakishly into her. An older guy named Max. He met her at a job fair. She said he was always going on and on about them being a match made in heaven because of their mixed heritage. He told her something weird like ''a half and a half equals a whole''. Or some weird damn thing like that. But Carmen hasn''t spoken about him in a long time." "How long is a long time, Mr. Asbury?" Mackey asks. "From some of what we''ve been able to piece together...The Aquarius Killer stalks his victims for a long time. He plans his kills perfectly. We need to know what you know about this Max fella." "I don''t know much," Mr. Asbury replies, whirling in James'' direction. "They met at a job fair. They both got the job. He used to hit her up on Skype, sometimes in the middle of the night. Asked her to do things for him. Inappropriate things. She refused. That''s all I can tell you, Detective Mackey." "We''re just trying to get to the bottom of what happened to your daughter," Deputy Newsome says in defense of Detective Mackey. "Yes, Henry. Calm down," Ms. Asbury mutters, wiping her nose and eyes with a thin pink handkerchief. "They''re only trying to find out who murdered our little baby, my Carmen." "Well, they''re not going to find out chasing ghosts hundreds of miles away. You gonna chase after this Max character too? Run halfway across the country again?" Mr. Asbury roars through clenched teeth. "I know you may not agree with my methods, Mr. Asbury, but I have to go where the leads send me," James says. "And where exactly are your leads leading you to, Detective?" Mr. Asbury spits back. "This murdering freak killed three girls...Including my daughter...In two months. Maybe it''s time this case had a new detective. One who actually knows what the hell they''re doing!" "Mr. Asbury," Detective Mackey utters softly. "Henry, stop! Just stop it!" Mrs. Asbury sobs at the same time. "No, Alison! I won''t stop! If memory serves me, Sheriff Northrop and the mayor are both up for reelection soon. I''m sure the handling...Or mishandling of this case will have a major effect on our leadership going forward. I want my daughter''s killer found, Detective Mackey! I don''t care how it has to happen. If you''re not up to the task...I''ll bring down pressure on your department...And the sheriff''s department to replace you. You''ll wish you never crossed me." "Henry...Shut up!" Mrs. Asbury screams, jumping out of her seat. "Just shut up! We never would have taken that damn trip if you hadn''t insisted. Carmen would be safely in her apartment cramming for exams or watching that dumb mutt of hers...If it wasn''t for you! It''s your fault my little baby is dead. They''re doing the best they can! So just...Shut up!" Dave and James exchange uncomfortable glances. Dave motions with his eyes toward the front door of the hotel room. Mackey nods almost imperceptibly. "We''ll come back at a better time, Mrs. Asbury," Mackey says. "We are doing the best we can." Detective Mackey moves past Mrs. Asbury, lightly touching her left shoulder. The grieving mother is now consumed by sobbing. Mr. Asbury goes to her side, but she wriggles free of his grip and walks away. Mrs. Asbury quickly disappears into the large bathroom. Detective Mackey peers back over his right shoulder once before shutting the hotel room door. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Across Town Laverne''s Seafood, Bar and Grille Madison Kelley removes her apron and balls it up, using the strings to keep the apron small and compact. She tosses her hair over one shoulder and grins at a passing customer. The older gentleman nods and then continues on toward his seat at the end of the bar. "See ya tomorrow, Jackie. My shift is over. I''m gonna find Nick and clock out. I have to work my other job in two hours," Madison says with a tiny wave at her coworker. "Okay. See you later," Jackie replies, typing a customer''s order into the register. "Nina''s already in the back. So I''m good if there''s a sudden rush. Careful getting home, okay?" "Yeah, sure," Madison says, hurrying to find the manager and grab her things. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Twenty-four minutes later Hamilton Inn and Suites Room 69 Madison arrives at her tiny efficiency apartment tired and ready for a few minutes of slumber. She enters the room and locks the door behind her. Shuffling toward the small kitchenette, Madison turns on the stove. The tiny pot on the stove''s surface will soon contain her dinner, a couple of boiled eggs. Madison groans as she realizes she forgot to buy a loaf of bread before coming home. She wrenches open the mini-fridge and becomes even more depressed. She is out of almost everything. Except ketchup, relish, a couple of slices of cheese, and four hotdogs. Maybe she''ll make an omelet instead. "I''ll never get any sleep if I spend fifteen minutes making damn omelets. Just eggs. Screw everything else," Madison mutters to herself. She places two eggs in the pot of water and sets the stove''s temperature. Dragging her feet, Madison returns to the other side of the apartment and drops down onto the twin bed. She is asleep within three minutes. Madison awakens to subtle motion on the bed. Blinking drowsily, she opens her eyes to find a large figure towering over her. Madison''s eyes grow wide and she utters a surprised yelp. "Hey! Get the hell off--" Madison begins to say. Her words are cut off as the large man presses a gloved hand to her face, pushing her head into the pillows. His other hand grips the front of her blouse, as he straddles her middle. Madison thrashes on the bed, hitting the much larger man with her balled up fists. She screams around his gloved hand, which slips upward as she continues to thrash. "Help. Someone help me! Get off! Please. GET OFF OF ME!" The large man chuckles and removes his hand from Madison''s face. He settles for making every attempt to undress her, since his cover is already blown. Madison bends her right knee and rams it into the large man''s back. The hit barely fazes him. He removes one hand from the front of Madison''s blouse and slaps her across the face. The shock of the slap is enough to make Madison gasp, but she continues to wriggle madly under the giant man''s bulk. Reaching into a pocket, the man retrieves a knife. He waves it threateningly before lowering it to the third button on Madison''s blouse. A loud knock on the door freezes his hand as he draws the knife upward, displacing the third button. A thickly accented voice wafts through the door. "Hello. Is everything okay in there? Miss, are you okay?" "Help!" Madison cries out, against her better judgment. After all, the man does have a knife at her chest. The large man''s face contorts and he places the knife against Madison''s throat. For the second time, he covers her mouth. "Me and my lady are just having a discussion! Go the hell away!" the man growls through clenched teeth. "That doesn''t sound like a discussion, Sir! Maybe I should speak to the lady," the voice behind the door says. "Go the fug away! Or I''ll give you a little of what she''s getting, you dumb fug!" the man growls. "That''s it! I''m calling the police!" the accented voice says. Hurried footsteps are heard as the person behind the door retreats. The large man removes the knife from against Madison''s throat. He traces it down the side of her face and hovers the knife over her bosom, just under the fourth button of her blouse. A dour expression distorts the attacker''s features and anger flashes in his eyes. "Good! But in the meantime..." Madison shivers violently as the large man lowers his upper body and kisses her. Using his free hand, he grips Madison''s chin, his kiss growing more desperate and hungry. Madison remains completely still as the large man slakes his appetite for her lips. Remembering the Aquarius Killer, and the other mutilated young women, she hopes the police will find anyone alive when they come. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 40- A Lucky Shot Detective Mackey fumes in the passenger seat, as Dave drives back to the Castleton police station. Dave glances sidelong at James, debating whether or not to add his own two cents. "You''re still upset about what Mr. Asbury said? You think he''s gonna try to have you taken off the case, don''t ya?" Dave ventures. "Boy, the arrogance of some people," Mackey snaps. "After all of the hours we''ve spent on this case. The nerve. Believe me, Dave. I feel Mr. Asbury''s pain. I even understand his anger. But to threaten my reputation...My job...When I''m literally doing my job. It''s bull crap! I''m doing everything the law will allow me to do. Now, if the law allowed me to start cracking skulls, or busting down doors at random...I might be doing that too. But that wouldn''t solve our case. The man''s a prick." "He''s hurting, James. And he''s really mad at himself. You heard what his wife said. The way she tore into him. He''s punching down, and lashing out at the only person he thinks he can. The only person he thinks is responsible for the Aquarius Killer still being on the loose. That just so happens to be you...And me. It''ll pass. Let him stay mad for a little while. Then, we''ll talk to him again. Just do your job. You''re doing okay." James'' countenance brightens somewhat and he peers at Dave with the hint of a smile. "I''m doing okay, huh?" James says. "Yeah. That''s what I said!" Dave replies without looking at James. He doesn''t dare. "How nice of you to say, Dave. I''ll have to remember this moment," Mackey jokes, picking under his left thumbnail with the lid of a pen. Both men are silent the rest of the way back to the station. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Castleton Police Department Dave and Detective stroll into the operations room and go in separate directions. Dave heads for the whiteboard, in order to scribble notes about their visit with the mercurial Asburys. James heads for Chief O''Leary''s office. A call comes over the radio just as Mackey raises his hand to knock on the chief''s door. Dave whirls and searches for Detective Mackey. Mackey does the same. Their eyes meet from across the room. Even from that distance, Detective Mackey can see the blood drain from Dave''s face. The dispatcher repeats the urgent message. Detective Mackey takes off at nearly top speed, navigating the operations room like an obstacle course. Dave moves nearly as swiftly, passing grim-faced officers along his route to the door. Mackey and Newsome race out of the operations room and down the corridor, headed for the exit and their vehicles. "Hamilton Inn and Suites? We just left there!" Dave bellows. "Yeah. A real coincidence that the Aquarius Killer would choose a target in that very hotel. Something about this doesn''t smell right, Dave," Mackey says. "Only one way to know for sure, James. We have to get there before he takes another girl!" "If what the hotel manager said is correct, this is Aquarius'' last stand. There won''t be any more girls. Something set him off. If this is even our guy at all! Could be a copycat." "Like I said, buddy! Only one way to be sure." Dave and Mackey burst through the double doors at nearly the same time. They take the steps two at a time and hustle toward the parking lot. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "My car!" Mackey says without looking back. Dave glances woefully at his truck, but quickly decides Mackey is right. He follows James to his Crown Vic. Dave is not even in his seatbelt when James puts the pedal to the metal. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ "Tell them....Who...I...Am!" the large figure in dark clothes says. Pulling Madison tighter against his chest, the man whispers softly into her ear before planting small kisses up and down her neck. Madison shivers every time his lips touch her. However, the knife held to her throat spurs her to action. "Aquarius. You''re Aquarius," Madison says, her voice shaky due to shock and fear. The man sighs lustfully and drops his mouth to her exposed shoulder, brushing more of her blouse aside with a tiny motion of his head. The arm wrapped around her waist tightens and he pushes her closer to the outward facing window. Lights from multiple law enforcement vehicles send red, white, and blue ribbons dancing across the walls and ceiling. The large man grins as he takes in the police presence which has arrived to view his final act. He inches the hand not holding the knife up Madison''s stomach, halting it above her left breast. "I don''t think they can hear you, sweetheart. Tell them. Much louder this time. Tell them...WHO...I...AM!" Madison begins to sob, and the large man presses the knife deeper into her flesh. "Tell them, you whore! Tell them who I am!" "Aquarius!" Madison yells between her sobs. "He''s the Aquarius Killer!" Outside the hotel, Team Leader Montel steps forward. A giant tattoo of a cobra eating its own tail stands out in sharp relief on his muscled arm. The SWAT leader casually raises a stenciled bullhorn to his lips. He nods ever so slightly, giving advance notice to the sniper on the opposite roof. "Let her go, Mr. Aquarius. Whatever your grievance may be...The young lady has nothing to do with it. Let her go...And I will ensure you get the best help possible. No one will harm you. You have my word. We can work this out so that no one gets hurt. Please. Just let the girl go." "You really don''t understand, do you?" the killer yells, pressing the knife into Madison''s flesh so hard it draws blood. "She''s mine." Madison whimpers as the large man frantically gropes her. His hot breath tickles Madison''s neck, causing goosebumps to rise on her flesh. She flinches each time his hand roughly enters the front of her blouse. The psycho is quite enjoying himself, exposing her body for the onlookers and cameras to see. Embarrassment induces a deep sense of shame within Madison and she squeezes both eyes shut. "They''re all mine! I''ll prove it to you!" The man temporarily lowers the knife and whirls Madison around. He pulls her to him. Bending forward, and gripping Madison''s chin, the dark figure kisses her with aggressive savagery. After a long period, during which he nearly tries to swallow Madison''s lips and tongue, he raises his head with a crazed expression. "See? She''s min--," The top of the killer''s skull explodes in a spray of blood, bone, and gore. The broken window is the only clue as to what occurred. Madison falls to the floor along with the body of her dead attacker, his arms still wrapped around her waist. Madison pushes at the strong arms surrounding her waist, screaming at the top of her lungs. Officers converge on the room, kicking in the door and breaking out the remaining glass in the window. Two officers do a sweep of the room, a third moves to free Madison from the killer''s dead grip. The panic-stricken young woman is still screaming, tiny speckles and streaks of blood marking her face and neck. She makes matters worse by running her hands across the blood, smearing it. Dave and Detective Mackey rush through the crowd of onlookers blocking the hotel, and the SWAT team, from view. By the time they arrive at the scene, Madison is on her feet. Three EMS professionals are leading the shaken young woman toward a waiting ambulance. Team Leader Montel strolls in Detective Mackey''s direction, a smug grin on his face. "You''re late, Mackey! The threat has already been neutralized. Aquarius is dead." Mackey''s nostrils flare and his jaw clenches. "He''s dead? You dumb pricks killed him? Without making sure there weren''t more victims? You can''t get information from a dead guy. This isn''t like anything we''ve seen from the Aquarius Killer so far. He doesn''t take hostages. You may have killed the wrong guy! You killed him without making sure?!" "Yeah," Team Leader Montel responds with a haughty chuckle. "Which is a lot better than what you''ve been doing for almost six weeks. Sitting on your ass, making up wild theories, and pretending to be this brilliant detective. Why don''t you go back to Portland? Leave the real work to us big boys! We get results. This guy had already killed three girls. We weren''t going to give him an opportunity to kill a fourth. Have a nice night, Detective. You''ll have a copy of my report." Team Leader Montel nods at Deputy Newsome in a statement of camaraderie. "Deputy!" Detective Mackey watches the big team leader''s back as he strolls cockily away. Dave watches Detective Mackey. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 41- Case Closed Castleton Police Department The Following Day Detective Mackey stares intensely at the whiteboard, his mind going over details of the Aquarius case. The detective''s arms are folded across his chest, and Rose Perry''s framed photo is gripped in his right hand. Deputy Newsome enters the operations room and light clapping can be heard. Detective Mackey inhales sharply, not bothering to look in that direction. What is there to celebrate? Three young women are dead. Even if the perp at the hotel was the Aquarius Killer; the devastation he has left in his wake will have a lasting effect on this community. Detective Mackey can find nothing to celebrate about that little detail. Sargeant Emerson strolls to Dave and offers him her hand, a wistful smile on her lips. Dave takes the Sergeant''s smaller hand and shakes it warmly. She lightly pats the sleeve covering his left forearm. "We got him, Deputy. We got Aquarius. You fellas did good. You drove him out of hiding. You never gave up. And you saved that young woman''s life. You probably saved a great many lives. Congratulations, Deputy Newsome." Newsome''s eyes narrow as he truly appreciates Sargeant Emerson for the first time. Since their initial meeting, nearly two months ago, Phyllis has changed quite a bit. Firstly, the woman officer''s lips are now tinted with color. Also, her uniform is no longer baggy and ill-fitting. The sleeves of Sargeant Emerson''s new uniform are crisp, and bear signs of meticulous ironing. The motorcycle tattoo Dave glimpsed is now fully on display, made more noticeable by the toned muscles of Phyllis'' arm. Not only does she appear more professional, she looks more desirable as well. Too bad he is already spoken for. "Thank you, Sargeant," Dave replies with genuine gratitude. "That''s means a lot coming from you." Phyllis laughs uncomfortably and purposely meets Dave''s gaze. She studies his face with intense eyes. Dave''s brow arches, sensing there is something hidden within the sargeant''s deep stare. "We''ve known each other for two months, Dave. You can call me, Phyllis." "I think it would be better if we remained... Professional about things," Dave responds with a thin smile. "I don''t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Thank you, for the compliment. My partner and I worked really hard on this case. It wasn''t exactly solved to our satisfaction. But at least, Aquarius isn''t roaming the streets anymore. Again, it''s good to feel appreciated. Thank you." Dave gently touches Sargeant Emerson''s shoulder as he moves past her. Phyllis watches him go with a sinking heart. Walking to the whiteboard, Dave stops beside Detective Mackey. He observes James from his peripheral vision. "So...What you looking at? The case is closed," Dave says. "I thought you''d be happy, James." "Happy?" Detective Mackey exclaims, pivoting to face Deputy Newsome. "Happy? You thought I would be happy about a team of numbnut gunheads shooting a guy who may or may not have been the Aquarius Killer?!" "Oh, come on!" Dave complains in a low whisper. "You saw what was carved into that creep''s chest. He had the tools, the shaving kit, the knife. He was going to kill that young woman." Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "Okay, Dave." Detective Mackey says noncommittally. "He had a symbol carved into his chest. Anyone could have done that. I want to know how anyone could actually believe this was Aquarius. His face for one thing. There was nothing wrong with his face. The brutality with which the killer destroyed all of the victim''s faces...Indicates he is probably disfigured as well. The man killed at the hotel was anything but disfigured. In another life, he might have been considered quite handsome and charming. With a shower and a good shave. It doesn''t fit." "That''s because you don''t want it to fit, James." "No. No! You''re not listening, Dave." "No, you''re not listening...James. The case is closed. There''s nothing else to discuss. Pack this stuff up and try to forget about it, Mack. Before you drive yourself insane. I can''t think about this anymore. I''m glad the bastard is dead. You should be too. Anyone can be wrong, James." "It''s not over, Dave!" Mackey says. "Chief says it is. The community needs to move on. So do you. I''ll see you around, Detective Mackey." "Dave, please. Don''t give up on this!" Mackey pleads. Deputy Newsome shrugs and solemnly shakes his head. He finds it difficult to meet the younger man''s gaze. "Nothing to give up on, James." Without another word, Dave turns and heads up the aisle. As the deputy exits the operations room, another soft round of cheers goes up. Detective Mackey watches Dave go and then turns back to the whiteboard. He gently brushes his left hand over the four pictures of young women arranged at the bottom of the board. A sad sigh escapes the detective''s lips and he bows his head. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Later that evening Detective Mackey pulls his trench coat tighter around his body and descends the steps leading to the side parking lot. A loud cough to Mackey''s right alerts him to Deputy Newsome''s presence. James turns to see Dave leaning against the side of his gargantuan pickup. In a no-parking zone. "All of these empty spots in the parking lot....And you choose to park in a no-parking lane, Dave?" "Ah. We''ve all got to live a little, James. Besides, you gonna write me a ticket?" "Maybe. If you force me to look at that eyesore of a truck one more time!" Mackey jokes half-heartedly. "Really, James. At least my truck was created this century. Your car is so old...Well. It''s old." Detective Mackey shakes his head but remains quiet, observing his former investigative partner with narrowed eyes. "I was wondering...If you wanted to grab a bite to eat? We could...You know, go somewhere. Find you a nice lady. Especially, now that the case is all wrapped up," Dave says, studying James as intently as the detective is studying him. "Uh. Nah. I think I''m just gonna head home," Detective Mackey says, surprising Dave. "I''ll eat some old ice cream out of the fridge...Or something...And crash out on the couch. This will be the first real night of sleep I''ve gotten in a long time. Thanks for thinking of me, though." Dave''s brow arches. Since when does James Mackey turn down food? "Oh. Okay. Just thought I''d ask. See ya." "Yeah. See ya," James says. Detective Mackey heads toward his Crown Vic. Dave watches Mackey climb into his car before getting into his own vehicle. Something about the detective''s behavior seems odd, even furtive. However, Dave lacks the mental fortitude to try to figure out why. Turning over the engine of his pickup, Dave follows Mackey''s car out of the parking lot. At the exit, they both turn in opposite directions. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Even later that evening Castleton Mackey Residence Detective Mackey is seated at the kitchen table. His laptop is fired up and open--and so are numerous online tabs. Mackey''s mouth moves wordlessly as he studies each line of text or heading. Pushing his reading glasses higher up on his nose, Mackey settles in for a long night of fact-finding. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 42- Story of My Life Seven years earlier Reno, NV Samantha Mackey creeps silently down the stairs. Sam heads for the kitchen, knowing she will find her mildly distracted husband there. As expected, James is seated at the kitchen table. A can of root beer sits open next to his left hand, a large sandwich on a plate by his right hand. The youthful detective is reading through a small assortment of newspaper clippings. He is hoping to gather extra clues, from various sources, which will help with his current investigation. Samantha sneaks up behind James and wraps her arms around his neck. The younger Detective Mackey chuckles and tenderly pats his wife''s forearm. She bends and kisses the top of James'' scalp, tousling his hair with one hand. "Errr, Mister!" Samantha playfully growls. "When are you coming to bed? I''m lonely." "Haha. In a little bit, babe. I''m almost done," Mackey says. "That''s what you said two hours ago, James," Sam coos softly in James'' ear. "I''ve already showered and everything. I miss you." Detective Mackey puts down the clipping in his hand and turns in his chair. Samantha lowers herself onto his lap, staring down at him with the equivalent of puppy dog eyes. "Oh, Sam...Cut it out! You know I can''t resist that face." "I do know," Samantha says, planting a kiss on James'' waiting lips. "Why do you think I did it?" "You''re so crazy, Samantha. I love you," James mutters, returning Samantha''s kiss. "Did you go see the doctor today?" "Yeah," Sam replies. "What''d he say?" James asks, concern written on his face. "I won''t know for a couple of days. They may need to schedule more tests," Sam answers. "Okay. Well, in the meantime..." Detective Mackey makes a show of swiping the pile of newspaper clippings off of the kitchen table. Samantha lets out an exasperated gasp as papers fly all over her tidy kitchen. A sly smile creeps onto James'' face. "You said...You missed me. How much?" "James?! Who''s gonna clean up that mess?" "We''ll worry about that later," James says, his smiling growing even larger. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Present Day 3 Days After the Killing of Aquarius Detective Mackey''s eyes shoot open and he stares up at the popcorn ceiling. Sitting up on the couch, he throws off the covers. It had seemed so real. Samantha''s touch, her body, and her scent. But it wasn''t real. Samantha has been dead for nearly six years. Damn cancer. Running a hand through his thick brown hair, James climbs to his feet. He trudges into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. This represents the first full day in over six weeks that he hasn''t lived and breathed the Aquarius case. It''s a strange feeling. A sigh escapes the weary detective''s lips and he turns on the cold water tap, in order to fill the coffee carafe. He nearly drops the glass container as a thought pushes its way into the front of his brain. Abandoning the carafe, and any thought of freshly brewed coffee, James hurries to get dressed. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Mueller Mobile Home Park If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Castleton Madison wipes both hands on the apron around her waist and rushes to the front door. The sound of another soft knock causes her to walk even faster. "I''m coming," Madison says. Reaching the door, Madison checks the peephole. Her eyes widen and a smile builds on her face. She hurriedly opens the door to find Detective Mackey. The young woman is beside herself with joy as she unlocks the screen and pushes it open. "Detective Mackey?! I''m so...It''s so good to see you. Come in, please." "I''ll only be a minute," James says. "I need to ask you a couple of questions. Kind of unofficially." "Nonsense," Madison insists. "Come in. Don''t be a stranger. My home is your home. Come in. Please." Detective Mackey offers Madison a wistful smile and climbs the last step. He moves past Madison into the cozy trailer she now calls home. Mackey''s hawkish gaze takes in everything. A portrait of two gray doves in flight hangs above the brick mantle. The poem written in cursive, on the foreground, is one James knows very well: "Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" by William Butler Yeats. How appropriate. Madison shuts the door and swiftly moves toward Detective Mackey. She hugs him fully, slender hands rubbing and patting his shoulder blades. James allows Madison to hug him, as tears stream down the young woman''s reddening cheeks. She finally separates from the detective, staring up into his face. "They told me you put down the money for this place, Detective Mackey. You really shouldn''t have. It''s too big. I can''t afford this." "You don''t have to worry about that, Madison," James says. "It''s all been taken care of. You just focus on getting better. Hell...None of this would have happened, if we''d caught that murdering Aquarius bastard sooner. I''m so sorry, Madison. That''s one of the reasons I came by. To apologize. And because, there are a couple of things I need to know." "You don''t have anything to be sorry for, Detective Mackey. You couldn''t have known he would do that to me," Madison says, her gaze fixed on James'' grief-stricken face. "If it wasn''t you...It would have been someone else, Madison." "But it wasn''t anyone else, Detective. It was me. And I''m still alive. I really think you all spooked him. That''s why he slipped up. I''m grateful to you. You have nothing to be sorry for." There is an uneasy pause as James and Madison study each other. Slipping an arm around Mackey''s neck, Madison hesitates only a brief moment before drawing him into a warm kiss. Closing his eyes, James breathes in Madison''s scent--a mixture of baby powder, perfume, and cinnamon rolls. For what seems like forever, they share a passionate kiss in front of the living room door. In truth, it has been less than a minute when Detective Mackey withdraws. He absently runs his tongue across the backs of his teeth, remembering the taste of Madison''s mouth. Listerine and cinnamon. Someone has been sampling the baking. Not a wise thing to do, so soon after brushing one''s teeth. "I''m...I''m sorry, Madison. I can''t. This...It''s not right." "What isn''t right?" Madison says, staring deep into James'' eyes. "This...You and me," James replies. "You''ve been through a tremendous shock. You''re latching on to the first...Hero...You see. That isn''t me, Madison. I''m not a hero." "What makes you say that?" Madison protests. "You''re a hero to me." "You see, Madison? And that''s the problem. I just do my job. That''s all. I do my job! My job is to protect people and get bad guys off of the streets. I''d do the same for anyone. You don''t need to worship me, Madison. I''m just a man," Mackey explains. "I know that!" Madison says with slight irritation. "But, I do like you...Anyway." "You only think you do, Madison. For now. Because of what happened at the hotel, because of this case, and because of the money I put down on this trailer. You think you owe me. You don''t." Despite his brave words, Mackey finds his gaze wandering to Madison''s lips. She is very attractive. And it''s been quite some time since James has held a woman in his arms. Not to mention, kissed one. Not since Samantha. Madison is so very attractive. Perhaps, it''s like Dave suggested. Maybe he is just out of practice. Things happen for a reason. One kiss can''t be so bad. Madison is aware of the detective''s inner turmoil, watching him with knowing brown eyes. So far, neither of them has stopped embracing the other. Detective Mackey''s Adam''s apple slides up and down as he swallows hard, fighting an urge he has denied for over half a decade. Releasing a weary sigh, James leans in for a second kiss. Madison doesn''t so much as flinch. The second kiss lasts much longer than the first, the detective''s arms encircling Madison''s aproned waist. Madison''s hand reaches into the back of James'' trench coat. Detective Mackey grows stiff as Madison places her left hand on his buttocks, while rubbing the nape of his neck with her right hand. He shakes his head and releases the surprised woman. "No. No. I''m sorry," James says. "This isn''t right." Madison nervously adjusts her clothes and looks down at the floor. Deep stirrings of insecurity and inferiority battle within the young woman''s psyche. Unlike the other victims of Aquarius, she isn''t quite as lovely. Nor is she very useful to society. She isn''t an influencer, a beloved childcare worker, or a socialite''s daughter. She''s just a hostess in a restaurant. Not a very well-known restaurant either. Maybe that''s why Aquarius had spared her. Maybe the killer had realized he''d made a mistake by choosing her. No one would care if she were to die. The famously vile killer had even been willing to die for that realized mistake. She hadn''t been worth the trouble of continuing on. "I think...I understand," Madison mutters dejectedly. "It''s the story of my life. I should have known better." Mackey rushes to apologize, his skin growing warm. He takes Madison''s left hand in both of his and peers down into her face. "No, it''s not you. I''ve explained that. I think you''re beautiful, Madison. It''s just not appropriate. You''re in shock. Once the shock wears off, you''ll be able to see things more clearly. Like I said, you don''t owe me anything. I got you this place so you don''t have to stay in that crummy hotel anymore. Here, you can be safe. You can adopt a dog. A big dog. You can even adopt ten dogs. It''s yours, Madison. I need to know that you''re safe." "You''re helping me...Out of guilt?" Madison queries, her bottom lip trembling. "It''s not that either. I just know...We can''t be together. Not right now. Not until I''m sure you''re okay...Mentally. I don''t want you jumping into something you''ll regret later." There is a pause before Madison speaks again. Tears stream down her face as she lifts her eyes to look at Detective Mackey. "So what did you come here to ask me?" Art of Aquarius: Chapter 43- What Arent You Telling Me? Merrville County Deputy Newsome''s residence Dave pulls into his driveway after a night of celebrating with the boys--sans the alcohol. No designated driver for him tonight. He is the designated driver. Finally, after two months, Merrville County can breathe a collective sigh of relief. Aquarius is dead. Dave carefully shuts the driver''s side door of his truck and heads for the house. His mouth turns up into a wide grin when he spots Hazel''s Mercedes parked under the trees beside the garage. Hazel, Hazel, Hazel. Shaking his head, Dave walks with renewed vigor towards the front porch. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Sometime later Hazel drops down beside Dave on the mattress, her body moist with sweat and trembling. Dave angles his head to kiss Hazel''s right shoulder, simply grateful for her presence. "I''m proud of you," Hazel says, cupping one side of Dave''s face. "You never gave up. No matter what that damn case was doing to you. No matter what you had to do. You never gave up. A dangerous man is dead. And I think you and Detective Mackey have a lot to do with that. I love you, Dave." "I love you too, Hazel," Dave says, taking one of Hazel''s hands between his own and kissing it. "You don''t know how much it means to me to hear you say that. I know you''ve said it before, but it means a lot more now. I don''t care how angry your father gets, baby. I want to marry you. Right now." "Dave, please don''t start. I told you, I can''t do that to my Dad. Not now." "What does your dad have to do with this, Hazel? He''s not the one who will be marrying you? I am. I want you, Hazel. More than just sexually. I want you to be my wife. I''m tired of sneaking around. I want to kiss you, and hold your hand, in public. I want to drive you around in my shiny big truck, and not give a damn who sees us. Well, maybe not the truck. I might lose my job. I can''t live like this forever, Hazel. It''s tearing me apart. It''s also a dangerous tightrope to walk...In regards to my job. If your father finds out the wrong way...There could be trouble. I want to be the one to tell him. Or, we can tell him together. But we have to tell him." "Dave, no. I can''t," Hazel says, her eyes growing large. "I can''t." "Why not? Why can''t you tell him? It''s not as if I''m some kind of drug kingpin, Hazel. It''s me. Your father knows me. We''ve worked with each other for years. What happened between me and your mother was many years ago. It''s ancient history. I could have said ''no''...That day, out at the cabin. I should have. But like I told you...I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. I was just afraid to say so. People in this county are funny about certain things. They expect to see old men running around with young women on their arms. But it wasn''t about that for me. I like you, for you...Hazel. I know that sounds corny, but it''s true. I love your style, and the way you dress. The clothes you wear drive me wild. I love your walk, your body, and your face. Your voice and your laugh...I don''t think I can live without them. And the way you make love to me. Oh jeezus, Hazel. You have no idea what you do to me. Before we got together, I was seriously considering retirement. I was gonna put some money down on a boat and fish my life away. Buy a little summer cottage, somewhere out of the way, and live off the land. I wanted to disappear from it all." Dave pauses his soliloquy long enough to grasp Hazel''s chin and kiss her deeply. Hazel wraps both arms around Dave''s shoulders, anchoring him to her. Dave separates their lips and peers down at Hazel''s perplexed face. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Then, Aquarius showed up. That murdering bastard showed me what I''ve been missing in my life. What I''ve taken for granted. Rose Perry and Bridget Davis were both someone''s lover. And Aquarius took them from those they love. He took away their love. Madison was lucky. Mackey''s theory was that the killer was gonna try to murder twelve girls. We all got lucky that he lost what was left of his mind before that happened. He snapped. And that allowed our team to take him down. I''m not gonna miss out on the best thing that ever came my way. Either you tell your father or I will." "Errr, Dave! Just...Errr!" Hazel moans, her bottom lip trembling. "You don''t understand. You can''t tell my father!" "Why, Hazel? Why?" Dave says, grasping Hazel''s shoulders and lightly shaking her. "What are you so afraid of?" "You wouldn''t understand!" Hazel yells. Climbing hurriedly from the bed, Hazel scrambles to grab her clothes. Dave''s face contorts with his surprise and bewilderment. He climbs out of bed as well. Hazel is halfway across the room, when Dave catches up to her. He pulls Hazel against his chest, the sobs racking her frame tearing his heart into pieces. Dave spins Hazel to face him, his eyes studying her face in the dim light. "Hazel, what is it? Every time, I bring up marriage...It''s another excuse. What aren''t you telling me?" Dave says in a hoarse whisper. "No, Dave. I''m sorry," Hazel says, wriggling out of his grasp. "I''m sorry." Dave''s brow creases deepen as Hazel rushes into the bathroom with her clothes. Even with the door shut, he is able to hear the loud sobs issuing from her throat. Minutes later, when Hazel emerges, Dave is once again lying in bed. Hazel glances in his direction before leaving the room. Dave lets out a deep sigh and lies back on the pillows. The soft purr of Hazel''s Mercedes, as it meanders down the driveway, stirs sadness in Dave''s breast. He waits until Hazel is truly gone before climbing out of bed. Fully dressed, Dave grabs his truck keys from the nightstand. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Clark Cemetery Dave slowly drives his Ford up the winding road leading to the cemetery entrance. The truck''s headlights are turned off, so as not to alert Hazel to his presence. Stepping out of the cab and quietly shutting the door, Dave makes his way to where he believes Hazel will be. Sure enough, he is correct. Hazel is seated on the ground in front of her mother''s grave. Once again, the young woman is sobbing uncontrollably, one hand braced on her mother''s headstone. "Why, Mom? Why did you do it? I''m...I''m all he has now. We haven''t seen or spoken to Chrissy in years. She hated you for what you did. I never could. She hated the idea of being trapped here. Chrissy was always looking for a reason to leave us. You gave it to her. I guess...She was meant for better things. Better things than silly Merrville. I really miss you, Mom. I wish you were here. Then, I could marry Dave. And Dad...He wouldn''t be so alone." Dave walks as quietly as he can. He stops only a few feet behind Hazel, staring at her trembling back. He contemplates whether or not to speak. In the end, he decides it is better to at least say something. "Hazel?" Hazel turns to look at Dave, a shocked expression on her face. Dave goes to her and drops down onto his knees. He wipes the tears from Hazel''s damp cheeks with his thumbs. When that is done, he kisses her forehead. "You followed me?" Hazel gasps in astonishment. "How long were you there, Dave?" "Not long," Dave reassures her. "But long enough. Why did you run out on me again? And why are you visiting your mother''s grave at two-thirty in the morning? What did Bernadette do, Hazel? Tell me." Hazel tries to shift her gaze away from Dave''s face. However, the deputy brings her head back straight, forcing Hazel to make eye contact. He plants tiny kisses on her red lips over and over, coaxing her to open up. "Tell me, Hazel. I''m not letting you go until you do," Dave sighs. "My mother," Hazel says between kisses. "She became...Lonely. She had an affair. Before Chrissy was born. My dad isn''t Chrissy''s father. Mom was very clear. She told Dad that it couldn''t be you. It was someone else. But, he didn''t believe her. Because she said she''d loved you. That she still loved you. He believes she was covering for you. That''s why he''s such a hardass. He really hates you, Dave. I''m so sorry." Hazel sighs as Dave moves on to her neck. Without warning, Dave stops kissing Hazel''s throat and rises to his feet. Hazel looks up at him in surprise. Scrunching up his face, Dave reaches down and scoops Hazel into his arms. Hazel opens her mouth to protest, but Dave puts an end to that with a firm kiss. "We''re going to see your dad," Dave says resolutely. "Now?" Hazel gasps. "Yes, now. I can''t think of a better time." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 44-Common Knowledge Merrville County Sheriff Northrop''s Main Residence Loud rapid knocking on the front door jars Sheriff Jeffrey Northrop from his fitful slumber. He takes a peek at the glowing red digital clock on his nightstand. Three o''clock in the damn morning. Who knocks on someone''s door at three o''clock in the damn morning? Somebody with a serious death wish. Opening the top drawer of the night table, Sheriff Northrop checks his handgun for readiness. He rises from the bed and makes his way downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, Jeffrey peers at the front door. Through the glass upper half of the door, he is able to make out the silhouette of a large man''s head and torso. Sheriff Northrop grumbles aloud and rolls his eyes. He would know that dollop head anywhere. Even in the dark. Newsome. That jackass. Crossing angrily to the front door, Northrop unlocks it and wrenches it open. He glowers at Dave, looking the dumpling of a man over from head to toe. "What the hell do you want here, Newsome? And why the hell are you waking me up at three in the damn morning? I''ve got an early day just like you do. I''d like to get my beauty sleep. Although, I can see why you don''t share the sentiment. It''s too damn late for you!" Dave allows Sheriff Northrop to say his piece before issuing a small laugh. The unhappy sheriff looks Dave over again. Has Deputy Newsome finally lost his freaking mind? "What the hell is so funny, Dave? I oughta..." The sheriff''s words are cut short as he spies Hazel standing behind Dave. Hazel''s eyes are extremely wide, brown orbs darting between Dave and her thoroughly incensed father. The young woman''s mouth is twisted to one side, and she bites her inner jaw in a gesture of unease. Sheriff Northrop''s expression becomes one of genuine concern. "Hazel? What''s wrong, honey? Did something happen?" Sheriff Northrop says. "No, Sir. Not yet anyway," Dave boldly asserts, taking a step closer to the porch screen. "Keep talking," Sheriff Northrop responds, suspicion building on his face. "Sir...Sheriff...I came here to ask your permission to marry your daughter. I want to marry Hazel." Sheriff Northrop''s face reddens and his steely blue eyes narrow. An edge creeps into the older man''s deep voice. "Say that again," Sheriff Northrop says, tilting his head as if he didn''t just hear what Dave has said. Although, he heard every single word. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "I want to marry, Hazel," Dave repeats without hesitation. "I came here as a formality, Sir. But I intend to marry Hazel with or without your consent." Sheriff Northrop straightens his neck and glares at Dave through the screen door. A sudden smile breaks out on the old sheriff''s face and he utters a loud laugh. "Hahaha. Whoo hoo hoo. Wow. It seems I was wrong about you, Dave." Sheriff Northrop laughs. "You do have a good set of balls on you after all. Haha. I never thought you''d get around to it, son." "Huh? What? You mean you knew...About us?" Dave stammers, his face growing warm from embarrassment. "Of course, I knew. What do you think I am, an idiot? I knew my little girl was sneaking around with somebody. And Little Willie Delgado... Everyone''s favorite little whiny bitch...Told me he saw your truck out at her place one night. I put two and two together. I was just waiting for you to be a big enough man to come and tell me yourself. Now, I see you''re as big as you want to be. I''m surprised at you, son. But it''s a good surprised." Dave steps even closer to the screen door and places one hand on his wide hip. He shakes his head emphatically. "And can you stop with the ''son'' business? You''re only seven years older than me, Jeffrey!" Dave protests. "So what? You''re gonna be marrying my daughter. She''s less than half your age. That gives me double seniority, you old sack of crap!" Northrop says with a laugh which ends with an impromptu snort. The sheriff''s loud snort draws laughter from everyone present. Hazel climbs the porch steps and casually puts her arms around Dave''s neck. She kisses him with great passion. Their passionate lip lock prompts Sheriff Northrop to stick a finger in his mouth and pretend to gag. "Okay. Okay. Enough of that," Northrop says. "Get a room. But you''d better not ever make love in my cabin again." "Dad? You knew about that too?" "Of course, Sugar. My favorite bearskin rug was moved about three feet. You hate that darn rug. Won''t even touch it. And the maid knows just where I like it. So I knew something had happened. William was out in Worthing screwing the brains out of Pamela. So it couldn''t have been him. When he told me about you and Dave...Well..." "You put two and two together," Hazel finishes her father''s statement. "Yep. Father''s are kind of like that. We learn to fill in the blanks," Northrop says with a wily grin. Dave drops his head onto his chest and stifles a laugh. "What''s so funny, Dave?" Sheriff Northrop says for the second time that night. "All this time, we''ve been sneaking around..." Dave quits talking as laughter threatens to take away his words. "I could''ve been getting laid a lot more if I''d just come out and told you the damn truth." "Dave?!" Hazel exclaims, her eyes wide from shock. For several moments, Sheriff Northrop and Deputy Newsome share a hearty laugh. Hazel crosses both arms over her chest, glowering from one man to the other. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Elsewhere At the same time A figure in dark clothes stands shrouded in darkness. One gloved hand rests on the gnarled trunk of an old tree. Soft broken laughter issues from the figure''s throat. After a moment of intense observation, the dark figure turns and leaves. Art of Aquarius: Chapter 45- Titus 3 Weeks Later Mueller Mobile Home Park Madison''s Residence- 8:21 p.m. Madison returns home from work via a yellow taxicab. She climbs out and politely pays the driver, doleful eyes scanning her immediate surroundings. With a kind smile, Madison shuts the rear driver''s side door. Struggling with several bags of groceries, she makes her way up the porch steps. The cab slowly backs out of the driveway. A curse word escapes Madison''s lips as she is forced to readjust her bags to reach in her coat pocket for the house key. An owl hoots in the nearby woods and Madison jumps almost a foot in the air, placing a hand at her bosom. Gradually calming down, Madison opens the screen and unlocks the front door. She hurries into the trailer. With only a single glance at the darkness outside, during the split second it takes to draw the screen closed, Madison slams the trailer door and secures the three locks on the inside. She drops her grocery bags on the floor and leans against the wooden door. A shiver courses her entire body and she begins to cry. How long is this feeling of hopelessness going to last? Regaining some measure of resolve, Madison counts to ten and straightens up. She picks up her bags of groceries and heads for the kitchen to put them away. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ Detective Mackey stealthily pulls up at the edge of Madison''s driveway. The lights on his Crown Vic have been turned off for over several blocks. So as not to alert Madison of his continued surveillance. He has been observing her for three weeks now, ensuring she comes to no harm. Despite what officials may believe, and despite what the evidence on the dead suspect''s chest may suggest; Mackey believes the real Aquarius is very much alive and well. Rarely, have James'' instincts about a deadly predator been wrong. The Treble Case had been equally baffling. But Mackey had solved it with time, patience, and a bit of ingenuity. Like the vile cobra tattooed on Team Leader Montel''s bicep, the Treble snake had eaten its own tail. Henry, raper of lonely elderly women, had been struck down by his own lust and stupidity. Believing Mackey to be a vulnerable old lady, Henry had arranged a meeting--aka a hookup. Before any clothes could come off, Henry was in irons. And ironically enough, Henry''s face had met another type of iron. At the hands of a fellow inmate. There hadn''t been much left of Henry''s face. Most of his flesh had melted into the holes of the industrial sized iron used to bring the former rapist much deserved pain and agony. Henry''s just dessert. Sitting in front of Madison''s new home; Mackey finds himself remembering her frightened eyes, her kind voice, and her gentle touch. His mind goes over the exact details of their first kiss. The quickening of his pulse, the subtle parting of Madison''s moist lips, the softening of her delicate features, and how she had gently rubbed the nape of his neck. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Guilt pulls at James'' heart as he considers the implications of wanting to make love to Madison. It has to be this damn case. Staring at nude bodies and photographic images of what had once been beautiful young women. Viewing the aftermath of what that horrid beast had done to their faces and their pleasant forms. For James, the discovery of Carmen''s body had been the worst. Besides the obvious damage to her face, Carmen could have easily been posing for a magazine. And she had once been beautiful beyond compare. While not as affluent or socially adept as the other three victims, Madison retains a strongly feminine aura. Her walk, though humble, is full of womanly swagger. James had watched her rush into the kitchen, to grab his coffee and save the cinnamon rolls from burning, with marked interest. The idea of finding Madison''s naked body beside a road, or in a ditch, sends chills through Detective Mackey. Madison has been through a lot. Nearly getting raped and murdered by even a copycat killer would undoubtedly have some effect on the poor woman. The short visit they''d had, while Madison was recovering in the hospital, had opened up a new idea in the detective''s heart. A need to protect this brave woman, the only known survivor of a prolific serial murderer. In the likely chance that he is correct about the real Aquarius Killer not being dead at all. Mackey looks down at his watch and checks the time. Settling back in his seat, Mackey crosses both arms over his chest. Two more hours of this and then he will return to the station. These days, he also has other cases and duties to perform. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ The Next Afternoon Madison applies a thin coat of gloss to her lips and smacks them together. A knock on the front door yanks the young woman out of her present daydreaming. She lowers the tube of gloss to the countertop and strolls out of the bathroom. Reaching the front door, she checks to see who is outside. Her eyes light up when she views Detective Mackey. Madison hurries to undo the triple locks and nearly yanks the front door open. She eyes the small bundle of canine cuteness in Detective Mackey''s arms. Detective Mackey takes a step back from the screen door and grins. "Do you mind if I come in? This dog is kind of heavy," Mackey jokes. "No. I don''t mind. Come in," Madison gushes, her gaze remaining on the plump chow-corgi mix James is holding. The excited woman unlocks the screen and moves out of the way, allowing James to enter the home. He smiles down at her as he passes by. Out of habit, Madison shuts the front door and secures it. Mackey watches Madison''s activities with a healthy measure of approval and concern. It is good that she is being proactive about her safety. However, too much caution can lead to hypervigilance or paranoia. Today''s gift may help with that. "And who is this you''ve brought with you, Detective Mackey?" Madison coos, coming close and ruffling the hair atop the dog''s reddish-brown head. "His name is Titus," Mackey says in a soft voice. "He belonged to Carmen Asbury. The last victim of Aquar..." Detective Mackey''s voice trails off as he considers omitting a few details. A little too late. Madison nods solemnly. "I know who she was, Detective Mackey. I understand," Madison says, staring into James'' eyes. Madison goes back to petting Titus, her eyes filled with sadness. James watches her for a moment before continuing to talk. "Mrs. Asbury couldn''t handle looking at the poor dog anymore. And I couldn''t stand the idea of Titus being adopted out to anyone else...But you," James explains. "Titus has had a hard life. He spent the first months of his life in a puppy mill. Mr. Asbury says...Titus was so scraggly, starved, and flea infested...No one expected him to survive. But he did. With Carmen''s love and help. And now, Titus is yours." "Detective Mackey, you really didn''t have to," Madison whispers, her gaze settling on James'' solemn face. "I know," Detective Mackey replies. "I wanted to." Art of Aquarius: Chapter 46- Long Time No See Deputy Newsome whips his souped up Ford pickup around a corner, slowing down less than a block from Freddo''s food truck. The wheels have barely stopped turning when Dave hops down from the cab. Straightening his uniform, Newsome heads toward the smiling man behind the food truck window. "Hello, Deputy Newsome. You are looking well. Do you want the usual special today?" Dave sticks his thumbs into the top of his belt. He is barely able to suppress the excitement coursing through his veins. Yesterday, he and Hazel picked out an engagement ring together. Today, is the day they prepare to send out invitations. Dave''s mind is only partially on the impending invites. Last night had been one of the best nights of his life. No worrying, no rushing, all fun and games. "I feel well, Freddo. I feel great. Yeah, give me your Freddo Special. Make that two. And some extra curly fries," Dave says. "Ah. You are buying lunch for Detective Mackey as well? He has not been by here as much. He comes and goes at odd hours. Not even so much as a word when he passes me by. It is strange, you think?" "He probably has a lot on his mind. Oh, and give me two coffees. One black, one hazelnut. Make sure you mark which one is the hazelnut this time. We always get our coffee cups mixed up." "Yes. I will do," Freddo says. A young man wanders up to the food truck and stands uneasily behind the towering deputy. Deputy Newsome glances over his shoulder and grins. The young man replies with a polite smile and chin cant. Dave returns his attention to Freddo and leans over the counter. Freddo leans in, observing the cunning expression on Dave''s face. "Yes, senor?" Freddo whispers. "You are beginning to look and act like Detective Mackey. I think you have spent too much time in his presence. What is it you wish for me to do?" Dave''s eyes narrow and he withholds judgment against the good-natured food vendor. All manner of ills can befall a person who besmirches the maker of their food. "I want you to add whatever that guy''s having to my order. He looks like he''s had a rough day. Whereas, I''m having a wonderful day. Time to pay it forward. Know what I mean? Good vibes only." "Ah, yes. I see. This, I can do. Do you not wish me to tell him?" "No. I''ll slip you a little extra when I pay my bill. If it''s not enough, I''ll catch you when I come back out later." "Okay, Deputy Newsome. I understand. It will be enough." Dave pays for his order and waits to receive his food. Burdened down with styrofoam trays and a drink carrier, Dave offers the young man behind him a return chin cant. The man smiles a bit bigger and nods. "Have a good day, officer!" the young man sincerely exclaims. "Deputy...I''m a deputy," Dave states. "You''re technically correct, but...It''s sort of like calling a marine a soldier. You seriously wouldn''t want to do that. You have a good day too, son!" Having given the kid his free lesson of the day, Dave turns and walks toward the police station. $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ After almost three weeks away, cheers erupt when Dave enters the operations room. Dave glances around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the formerly glib Sargeant Emerson. However, Phyllis is nowhere in sight. A tall lanky officer approaches Dave. He politely relieves Dave''s burden by taking the drink carrier. He claps Dave on the back, while shaking the deputy''s hand energetically. "Deputy Newsome? Pleasure to finally meet you. I''ve heard a lot about you from Detective Mackey. Congratulations on catching that psycho bastard." Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Dave has no idea who he is talking to. His reaction to the officer firmly gripping his hand is self explanatory. The middle-aged officer grins uneasily and chuckles. The black man''s eyes seem to sparkle despite his obvious discomfort. "My apologies. I''m Sargeant Mills...Sargeant Emerson''s temporary replacement. As I said...I know who you are, Deputy Newsome." "Pleasure meeting you, Sargeant Mills," Dave says. "I had no idea Phyllis was leaving." "In a way," Sargeant Mills says. "She took leave to help care for her pregnant niece. Pamela, is expecting a baby boy. Seems frisky Pam finally got knocked up by her district attorney boyfriend." "Huh?" Dave says, eyes widening. District attorney boyfriend? You mean...Will Delgado?" "One and the same," Sargeant Mills laughs. "My, my. Small world. Will sure gets around, doesn''t he?" Dave says. "That he does," Mills says. "I''ll let you get back to your business, Deputy Newsome. It was nice meeting you." "Yes. You too. Thank you." Sargeant Mills returns the drink carrier to Dave and strolls back in the direction he came. Deputy Newsome shakes his head in bewilderment. "Sargeant Emerson is Pamela''s aunt? I never would have seen that coming. Damn," Dave grumbles. "Looks like Hazel dodged a bullet. Damn numbnuts can''t even be bothered to wear protection." Approaching Detective Mackey''s desk in the far back of the operations room, Dave is surprised to find the usually tidy space a mess. Detective Mackey pours over several documents situated on the desktop. Dave''s eyes wander to a stack of photographs on the top right corner of the desk. The top photo is of Sabrina Engle''s very provocative mermaid tattoo. "Hmm," Dave says, by way of introduction. "I see you''ve gotten over your unfounded fear of admiring beautiful women, Detective Mackey." The slightly peeved detective glances up at Dave over the rim of his reading glasses. Dave nearly melts from the emotion behind the glare. It almost feels as if he is standing in front of Sheriff Northrop''s immaculate desk. "Have a little respect, Dave. Sabrina Engle is dead. And there is nothing beautiful about what happened to her." "Yikes!" Dave says. "My mistake. I just happen to remember a time when you couldn''t even look at that picture without blushing or having a panic attack. Something has obviously changed. Breasts are nothing new, buddy. The late Sabrina Engle knew that, rest her soul. I don''t think she''d be mad at you for admiring how she chose to immortalize them. There''s no shame in saying she was once a beautiful woman....With a very beautiful rack." "Uh...Okay. What brings you down here, Dave?" Mackey says, changing the subject. "Does a guy need a reason to visit his good old detective buddy?" Dave quips, putting the food down on a relatively clean portion of the desk. "Long time no see, Mackey. And you never return my calls." "I''ve been busy," Mackey responds. "Lots to do these days." "I can see that," Dave says. The deputy pulls up a nearby chair and opens up the food containers. "Any interesting cases?" "Not really," James says. "Then...Why does your desk look like a hurricane came by, took a dump on it, and trotted about its way?" Detective Mackey removes his reading glasses and reaches for one of the coffee cups in the carrier. He shakes his head at Deputy Newsome. "You have funny ways of putting things, Deputy Newsome," Mackey says. "I learned from the best," Dave replies. "What I really came down here for is...Well, I need that photo you took of me and Hazel in Montana. The one from the charity party." "I remember, Dave. Believe me, I remember. Your honey bear was very...Uh...Beautiful that day. I look at that picture often. I call it exposure therapy." "That''s not funny, James," Dave replies, eyes narrowing. "I''m not joking," Mackey says. "I would say that''s another rack which definitely deserves immortalizing." "Okay...Enough," Dave says. "I need that photo to use for our wedding invitations. Afterwards, I''d appreciate it if you deleted that picture off your device...If you''re gonna act like a jackass." "So jealous, Dave. You really should learn how to tell when someone is joking. No, I do not stare at your fiance''s rack every..." Mackey''s brain finally catches up to what information it has been relayed. He gives Dave a quizzical look. "Wedding invitations? When did this happen? Does she know you are both getting married? Or are you going to spring it on her at the last minute? Last I heard, you said she still wasn''t biting the marriage bullet." "Hazel and I told her father together. Sheriff Northrop already suspected. Not to mention, District Attorney Little Willie ran whining to Daddy Northrop about his own suspicions. The sheriff was actually pretty chill about it. We''re getting married in a year. To give us both time to get in the right headspace. After being friends with benefits for over a year, it''s going to take some adjustments." "Uh-huh!" James says. "Well. Congratulations, Dave." "Thanks, Mack," Dave replies. "It''s good seeing you again."