NIGHT STALKER

By

Paula Beaty

© copyright November 2005, Paula Beaty

Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright November 2005

ISBN 1-58608-761-4

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

She felt his hot breath sticky on her neck, smelled the rancid stench emanating from him. Her skin crawled as his hands slid over her body. Nausea rolled through her belly.

“Take anything you want, just please don’t hurt me.” She whispered her plea, forcing the words over the terror, but he made no sign that he heard her. Bending down, he trailed his tongue from her jawbone up her right cheek to the tear at the corner of her tightly squeezed eye.

The knife in his hand glistened overhead. It was too late to scream. He plunged the knife deep into her chest, piercing her lung and making it impossible for her to cry out for help. She felt the life drain from her body.

Soon she floated high above the man, staring down at the beautiful face of a woman, a face that wasn’t the one she saw in the mirror every day.

Taylor wanted to scream, to run from the scene before her, but she knew it was impossible. The only way out was to go forward. To focus on what her eyes were seeing. To find some detail to help nail this piece of scum. She watched in horror as he drew the knife out of the woman’s body and wiped the blood down the length of her torso. Taylor cringed in horror.

“Take the mask off and let me see your face, you lunatic!”

Willing him to listen, to hear her, she yelled again. This time louder. Anger and fear seared through her at the wasted effort. It was useless, he couldn’t hear her. She really didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

The killer untied his victim’s hands from the headboard and placed them over the bloody pool marring her chest. Taking a single red rose out of his sweatshirt pocket, he threaded it through her limp fingers.

Taylor wanted this sick maniac behind bars, so she tried to burn into her memory everything she could. His blurred image gave her the impression that he was around six feet tall, maybe two hundred and fifty pounds, and dressed completely in black from his black ski mask to his leather gloves. He seemed like an angel of death. For all that this vision showed Taylor, it still wasn’t enough to go on. It wasn’t enough to catch him before he killed again.

The freak always whispered, making it hard to pinpoint an accent or speech impediment, anything to give the police a lead. No fingerprints were ever found and since he didn’t rape his victims, no DNA samples were found either. He was meticulous, a murderer prepared for anything, and Taylor was at a loss as to what to do next. Fear settled like a lead brick in the bottom of her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she recognized this victim.

Leaning over his victim, he whispered in the young woman’s ear, “Sweet Evita, you were too lovely for this world to bear. Please forgive me.”

It was always the same thing. He always said they were too lovely for this world to bear. He always asked for forgiveness. What did it mean? If only she could figure it out so no one else would have to die.

He rose from the bedside and began to look around the room. This was different. Had he dropped something? He turned and looked up at Taylor. Usually he disappeared into the night without a trace. This time though, he stood and stared right at her. He couldn’t hear her and had never acknowledged that he was aware of her presence in any way. But now he was looking right at her. Can he see me? Taylor felt a chill run through her as the thought took hold.

He reached out a gloved hand towards her just as a loud bang pulled her from her dream, followed by the smooth, silky voice of her sister Lana calling out her name.

She jerked awake and stared into the worried eyes of her sister, brown, soulful eyes that were filled with fear. “It happened again, didn’t it?” Lana placed a cold rag on her forehead. “He struck again?”

Taylor nodded. Tears were streaming down her cheeks at the thought that another woman’s life had ended because this lunatic was still free. She hadn’t asked for these visions, and most days she sure wished that whoever gave them to her would take them back.

Taylor allowed herself to be wrapped up in the loving arms of her older sister. These dreams took so much out of her. Ever since this crazy person had started killing young women, Taylor’s life had been plagued with nightmares of terror and death.

Taylor found control again, her sobbing subsiding enough for Lana to release her and grab a pad and pen from the end table. Lana made herself comfortable on the matching sofa across from the tan leather recliner Taylor huddled in.

“Okay, give it to me straight. What happened this time, did you see any clues as to who this guy could be?” Lana seemed to wait with bated breath, her pen poised over the pad of paper.

Taylor pulled in a deep cleansing breath, squared her shoulders, and recited every detail she could recall about the scene that had played out before her, even mentioning that she had a fleeting notion that she might know the young lady. Her voice came out as a monotone, as if she were reading the instructions to setting up a stereo system. She left out the part about the killer noticing her there, reaching for her. Taylor needed to mull over those details before scaring her big sister. What could it all mean?

“Taylor ... Taylor, are you okay?” Her sister’s strained voice floated through the air.

What she wouldn’t give for a full night’s rest. With no nightmares.

Dragging her hands through her tangled, mousy brown curls, Taylor blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m fine. I just, well, to tell the truth I’m exhausted. Even the sleeping pills don’t stop the dreams long enough anymore.” She met her sister’s worried gaze.

Lana gave a quick nod and stated encouragingly, “We’ll beat it, sis. We’ll figure it out, and then you can sleep for a week if you want. I promise.”

Taylor barely managed to smile at her sister’s attempts to help. She knew it was a promise that couldn’t be kept. If not this crime, it would be something else. She wondered exactly how long it would take for her to go as crazy as the criminals in her visions. A few more months of little to no sleep ought to do it.

Her life had been normal up until eight months ago when a hit-and-run accident left her in a coma for two weeks. Before that, she’d had a boyfriend and friends who considered her one of the sanest people they knew. Now she was the crazy woman in apartment 2B.

Her boyfriend, Tommy, deserted her a month after she came out of the coma when she first started having these “dreams.”

The vividness of the visions frightened Taylor at first, but the dreams were harmless, just brutal to her peace of mind. They were haunting images of a girl being abducted from a playground or of vicious pit bulls mauling an older woman out for an evening jog.

When the newspapers later depicted exactly what she saw in her visions, she approached the police with what she knew. They, of course, had looked at her like she had grown a second head on her shoulders. That was when Tommy said he “needed some alone time, but he still wanted to be friends.” Yeah, that had happened! He took off for parts unknown and didn’t even bother leaving a forwarding address.

Gradually, the police began to believe her. They even came to her for information she might have concerning any other crimes. She’d been proud to assist in bringing two young girls home safe after being kidnapped from the school bus stop.

The police agreed never to mention her involvement to the families or reporters. Taylor didn’t want to be labeled a head case, but something obviously leaked out to her neighbors, because they avoided her like the plague.

Even Lana had thought her a little crazy at first, but eventually she came around. They’d only had each other since their parents’ death. If not for Lana, Taylor didn’t know if she would have made it through these last few months.

* * * *

Closing her tired eyes, Taylor rested her head against the bath pillow. Trying to remember her life before the powers-that-be slapped her with the crazy lady label proved harder and harder each day. She used to have a good job that she liked--well okay, she tolerated--but it was a regular job. She had led a normal life.

Now it was all she could do to make it through the day without losing her lunch because of these bloody visions. Thankfully their parents had left them with more than enough money to make a comfortable life for themselves, but that didn’t mean she wanted to stop working. Keeping busy was the way to enjoy life, not being locked up in some apartment.

Unable to stay awake at work, she eventually quit her job as an administrative assistant at a very prestigious advertising firm. The dreams had never publicly embarrassed her, thankfully, but her boss constantly eyed her suspiciously. With the accident coming only a few months after losing her parents in a house fire, he politely suggested that she take some time off.

Could life possibly get any worse?

Lana barged into the bathroom and plopped herself down on the toilet seat. “I called Richard and told him about these new visions. He said he’d get the detective assigned to the case to meet us at the café in two hours.”

Taylor groaned as she took in what her sister had just said. Just wonderful. Now she’d have to prove herself to another skeptic.

As it turned out life could get worse.

Richard Blanchard was a great detective and had become a wonderful friend in the past few months. He believed her, but he worked in the Missing Persons Division. Taylor hated the fact that he wouldn’t be able to work with her this time. She knew there would be another attack soon. They didn’t have the time to convince someone else of her ability. The killer still ran loose. Too many women had died already.

Taylor merely smiled up at her sister, snuggled down farther into her warm bubble bath and stated as cheerfully as she could, “Thanks for handling everything for me, Lana.”

Lana waved off her gratitude. “Hey, that’s what big sisters are for. Besides, I can’t get enough of Richard. He’s a hunk and a half.” She fanned herself in that innocent, southern-belle-with-the-vapors way.

Taylor laughed at her sister’s antics. “Hey you, leave poor, sweet Richard alone. I think he has a girlfriend anyway.” Something akin to fear passed over her sister’s face. That couldn’t be right though, Lana wasn’t afraid of anything, so Taylor ignored the tingle of suspicion.

“Really, how can you be sure?”

“Oh, it was just something he said the last time we talked. It sounded like it’s pretty serious, so don’t you go making plays for him.” She shook her finger at her sister as if she was a mother scolding a young child. “I will not have a home wrecker for a sister.”

Lana looked taken aback. “Me, a home wrecker? What ever do you mean, sister dear?”

Taylor just splashed water at her and gave a stern look. “Don’t make me have to take you over my knee, young lady.”

They both burst out laughing when they realized Taylor sounded just like their mother that time they had done some not-so-nice things to the neighbor’s cat when they were young girls playing dress-up.

Lana left Taylor to finish her bath. A warm bubble bath always helped relax the tense muscles she had after a vision. She loved relaxing in the big garden tub. A few lavender scented candles, some soft music and she could probably drift right off to sleep. But it was dangerous to fall asleep in the bathtub, so she resigned herself to just having relaxed muscles. Sleep would have to come later. Climbing out, she pulled the plug and wrapped herself in her pink terry cloth robe.

Grabbing the towel off the rack, she wrapped it around her hair and headed for her room. Better try and make herself more presentable. She was bound to be under extreme scrutiny when she met the homicide detective.

Taylor had the fleeting vision of her wearing her gypsy dress from a few Halloweens back to meet the man who would most definitely be looking at her like she belonged in a mental hospital. She eyed it up and down skeptically before deciding on just a comfortable pair of jeans and her ‘Have a nice day!’ T-shirt. No need to scare off the poor guy before she revealed the extent of her abilities.

* * * *

Taylor and Lana sat across from Richard and Detective Cade Wills in a booth at Marge’s Café down the street from their apartment complex. If only this were a double date.

Marge’s was a great little hole in the wall place Taylor loved. The sixties diner meets Planet Hollywood theme suited her perfectly. The black and white checkered vinyl floor, dark pink bar stools, and the disco ball hanging from the ceiling always made her smile. Hand-drawn pictures of Hollywood stars adorned every inch of wall possible and each table had its own small working jukebox. It might not be the most fancy of restaurants, but the food was good and the people were extremely friendly.

The perfect place for a first date, if this were one.

Both of the men sitting across from them were handsome. Richard reminded Taylor of a brawny barbarian. He wore his shoulder-length, sandy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he never grew an actual beard, but always seemed to have a five o’clock shadow. He was tall, broad shouldered, with narrow hips, strong legs and he packed a gun, which upped his dangerous bad-boy image loads. On top of all that, he was actually a very nice guy.

Upon inspection of Detective Wills, Taylor decided he definitely qualified for her hot and juicy award. He had short brown hair and piercing blue-green eyes and stood a few inches taller than her five-foot-four frame. He was not quite as muscular as Richard, but just as imposing. He made his presence felt in the room, which was apparent by all the females turning to glance and smile his way. Taylor gave him brownie points for ignoring the stares and giggles.

Richard had learned to trust her after all these months of working closely together to find missing kids, but Cade was meeting her for the first time. His lack of enthusiasm clearly stated he could find something better to do with his time. Taylor prepared herself for the usual lack of trust and skepticism.

“So Richard tells me that you’ve been having, um ... visions ... of my murder victims.” Taylor held his scrutinizing gaze even though every muscle in her body was screaming for her to look away. He seemed almost eager to hear what she had to say.

She took a bite of the barely touched hamburger she’d ordered, chewed slowly, mentally counting to ten. She plastered on her best smile and replied, “Yes, I’ve had visions of the women that were killed. Seven, to be exact. Is there something you’d like me to tell you that wasn’t released to the press, Detective Wills?”

After being doubted so much in the past it was hard not to be defensive when discussing her visions. She didn’t want to fight with the yummy detective; she wanted to solve these murders so no one else had to lose a loved one and maybe, just maybe, she could live a normal life.

Lana placed a hand on Taylor’s arm and gave a gentle squeeze. She was glad for the extra support. Between the lack of sleep and her hormones going stir crazy at the nearness of so much wonderful smelling male essence, she was feeling completely drained. She didn’t think she could take being looked down upon like she was the sideshow freak at some traveling carnival anymore.

She felt Detective Wills’ stare all the way down to her toes as he considered her question. She hoped he didn’t notice the dark circles under her eyes. His blue-green eyes gave away no clues as to what he was thinking.

Impatience resonated in his words as he said, “Okay Ms. Cole, why don’t you tell me something that no one outside of my department should know.”

When her smile disappeared, a small smile appeared on his gorgeous face. Heat crept up her neck, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. Was that attraction she felt? No way. It couldn’t be ... could it? She shook her head. That grin meant he thought he had her stumped.

Her grin matched his as she silently enjoyed the fact that she was going to be able to provide him with an answer that would prove she wasn’t some headcase. She whispered, “He places their hands over their wounds and gives them a rose to hold.”

Cade’s eyes became almost as big as the platter in front him that held his untouched hamburger. He stuttered, “I ... I, yes, that’s right. How did you know that?”

Richard slapped Cade on the back and disintegrated into a fit of laughter. Cade looked from Richard, who could barely contain his laughter, to a smiling Lana, then finally came to rest on Taylor. His jaw worked up and down. Their eyes locked and Taylor felt her heart do a somersault. She was right, his eyes told her so.

When Richard’s laughter finally died down, Taylor continued, “He breaks in while they’re sleeping, ties their hands to the headboard, cuts their clothes off, then when they awaken he licks...” A light bulb sizzled to life in her head. “Oh my gosh. DNA!” Taylor suddenly had the urge to dance naked on the table. She had it, it had been niggling her in the back of her mind this whole time and now bam! there it was.

“What do you mean, DNA? He licks what?” Cade nearly came out of his seat.

Taylor turned to Lana, gripping her hands tightly as she began bouncing in the booth. She felt herself beaming with discovery. “I did it, Lana. I got him!” Turning back to face Cade and Richard, she blurted out, “He licks his victims’ cheeks!”

Several customers’ heads turned to observe the outburst.

“Well, Ms. Cole, that could be an important piece of information. If it’s true. I’ll get with my Captain on that.” Detective Wills shook his head. “Wait Ms. Cole, earlier you said seven victims? There have only been six bodies found.”

The smile slipped from Taylor’s face. All the joy rushed from her just as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m sorry, but you’ll find another one. Her name is Evita.”

Cade opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. Taylor watched as he muttered an apology then grabbed his phone from the holster on his hip and flipped it open, barking, “Detective Wills.”

Taylor watched the play of emotion on his face as his eyes clouded over and became unreadable. “What was her name?” He blew out a long breath and raked his hand through his hair. “Damn. Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Closing the phone and placing it back in his hip holster, he looked hard at Taylor.

“They found her.”

Those three words rocked her to the core, but nothing prepared her for what he was about to say.

“She lived in your apartment building, Ms. Cole.” Suspicion colored Cade’s words.

Taylor felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. Someone had been murdered in her apartment building. She couldn’t recall any of her neighbors being named Evita.

Time was a blur until they pulled up in front of her building. When Taylor saw the police cars and yellow crime scene tape, she knew he’d been right. She held tight to Lana’s hand as the detectives led them inside.

Richard tried his best to assure them everything would be okay, but nothing penetrated the loud humming noise echoing through Taylor’s ears. The victim’s apartment was right next door to hers.

Her stomach lurched.

She whispered, “Consuela.” She’d been wrong. How could she have been wrong about the name?

Lana gasped loudly, and Cade told her to wait outside with Richard.

When Cade grabbed her hand, Taylor was suddenly surrounded in warmth. Cade’s strength snaked through her giving her the nerve to continue into the apartment. She was almost inclined to let go, but held on for dear life, knowing that she might need the support since she’d never seen a real dead body up close and personal before.

Cade flashed his badge to the officer standing at the front door, who lifted the yellow crime scene tape to allow them access. They ducked under and Cade squeezed her hand while asking if she would be able to recognize the body from her vision. Her brows drew together in confusion, because he already knew who it was, but nodded her assent. Taylor drew upon Cade’s silent strength and was suddenly glad that he was there with her.

They walked past several police officers snapping pictures of the apartment and putting things in big plastic bags. When she stepped into the bedroom, the smell of death hit her hard. She placed a hand over her mouth to keep what little she had eaten of her lunch down. Cade pulled a blue and white plaid handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She immediately placed the handkerchief over her mouth and nose, breathing in a distinctively male scent.

“Are you okay to do this, Ms. Cole?” Cade grasped her shoulders and began to turn her away from the bed.

“I’m fine.” Taylor’s muffled reply seemed to echo throughout the room.

When she finally appeared to have a hold of her emotions, she stepped forward to see the body on the bed. Consuela’s pale, lifeless body lay just as the killer had left her. Her hands were folded across the wound Taylor knew lay beneath. The red rosebud clasped between her fingers served as a reminder of the devastation that had ended her quiet neighbor’s life. Her comforter lay crumpled in a heap by the foot of the bed.

Except for the people snapping photographs, everything was as Taylor had seen in her vision. Each detail she’d tried so hard to remember. Everything. Except....

“That wasn’t in my vision.” Taylor pointed to the words written in what appeared to be blood, on the wall above her neighbor’s bed.

Cade read them aloud, “‘I see you.’ What the hell does that mean? He’s never written anything before.”

He was definitely confused, but Taylor knew exactly what it meant. The killer had seen her. She hadn’t imagined it. He knew she had seen what he’d done. Oh God! In a panic she turned and fled the room.

Taylor darted out of the apartment, dodging police officers left and right and sped out the door, past Richard and Lana. She vaguely heard them calling her name, but she couldn’t stop. She had to reach the comfort and safety of her own home. She unlocked her door and flung it wide with a loud resounding bang, then sprinted towards the bathroom. Finally, she did what she’d wanted to do for the last hour ... she lost her lunch.

She felt Lana’s hands pulling her mass of unruly curls out of her face and heard her whisper soothing words. A cool wet rag was placed on her neck to help cool her body temperature.

Taylor hated that her sister had to see her like this. Hell, she hated that the detectives had to see her like this, but she was helpless to stop the nausea that flowed through her.

He knew I was there!

How is that possible?