Chapter 14: Making Contact 

Anya stared at the front of the diner through the windshield of her SUV, fighting the urge to drive away. What she planned to do, the consequences would be severe once word got around, and there was no way of keeping it quiet. But there was too much that didn't add up. Too many holes that needed to be filled which no one seemed to care about. But they would care when it got out that she disobeyed orders.

The building was nothing to write home about. Calling the lack of decorations bland was a compliment. It was a simple brick building with large windows, the large sign which read Daley's Diner in large bold, black letters the only thing to look at. The building appeared to be well taken care of despite its age. Anya had ridden past the place twice before she found it; she thought it was abandoned until she saw people moving around inside.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it did nothing to lessen her anxiety. She tried to peel her hands from the steering wheel, but her fingers wouldn't budge. She thumped her head against the steering wheel as she repeatedly reminded herself of what she was doing and why she needed to do it.

When the reporter Alex Fields had called her and requested a meeting, she was skeptical. Alex was known for declaring many police detectives, “incompetent fools who couldn't find a toy hidden in a cereal box." Even without slamming the police department, Alex's mannerisms and the way she ripped people's lives apart made Anya dislike her. Alex was cutthroat and couldn't be trusted giving directions to a bus stop.

But Anya also knew better than to let her personal feelings get in the way of doing her job. She spent plenty of hours in the interrogation room mere feet from murderers and pedophiles. She's met people so cold-hearted, no one would shed a tear if they died. If it meant swallowing her pride, enduring a few moments with someone she couldn't stand to put a dangerous criminal behind bars was worth it.

It still wasn't her job to clean up the mess. She had enough work as it was, and David Somerson was someone else's problem. In situations like this, there was a chain of command to follow. Rules were put into place to handle this kind of thing.

Except Anya knew those rules wouldn't be followed in this case. If she did pass this on to her superiors, it would be brushed under the rug and ignored. She already tried passing it on, and it ended exactly how she thought it would.

There was more to this than what anyone was admitting to. She tried following up on what David told her about the internet user named Eric in the interrogation room. Unfortunately, just the name Eric with no other identifying information was too broad for any kind of search, and she found the website the husky told her about didn't exist.

She didn't dare bring it to the Captain's attention. If she had, he would've called David a liar and demanded the husky be arrested. After learning that four of the other victims David had mentioned were now closed cases, the captain had called off any further investigations, believing it was all, “Just a hoax to have us chasing our tails while the real evidence vanishes." He had made his opinion of David clear. Everyone had. To them, David was guilty murderer who would say anything to avoid punishment.

So, it fell to Anya to do all the work. When Alex called claiming to have information on David, she accepted. She lied to George, telling her partner she was getting something to eat. He would figure it out, and she hated lying to him, but he felt the same way the captain did.

 “Place looks pretty bland. Hopefully they put more effort into their meals than they do their designs," Anya said. She climbed out of the SUV and went inside.

As expected, the interior was just as bland as the exterior. The taupe walls, made her feel as if she stood in a hallway with tables. It looked like any other diner she had ever been in: booths lined up outside the windows and the counter separating the rest of the place from the kitchen just opposite them.

The low buzz of sounds filled the air, a few snippets of conversation, the sizzling sounds of cooking from the kitchen, and the waitress, a very wide female otter, was barking out orders. It almost felt like walking into a time warp, everyone was sitting around without a single high-tech device in sight. A few patrons glanced at the door before going back to their meals.

Alex Fields was easy to find, she was the only female fox in the place. Her bright red fur stood out among the dull colors of the diner. Her expensive style of dress didn't help matters. She put off the feeling that she owned the place. Anya swallowed her annoyance and approached.

“I see you found the place okay," Alex said, smiling. Anya didn't smile back. Alex looked around with a look of nostalgia. “Sorry, about the location. They have the best deserts here, but the décor leaves much to be desired. I got my start here. I used to come here to meet with my contacts and spent hours going over my notes and writing stories."

Anya chose to ignore her. “You said you had information. I know you're not telling me out of the goodness of your heart, so what do you want?"

“You're not going to order anything?" Alex asked.

Before Anya could say “No", Alex flagged over the otter. When the waitress saw Alex, she wore a wide smile on her face.

It's easy to forget that even the scum of the earth has fans, Anya thought.

“Hello," the otter said in an energetic voice. “and welcome. My name is Sherry."—She pointed at the nametag pinned to her left breast—“What can I do for you?"

Anya was too stunned to speak. Hearing the otter's voice, she sounded to be in her late teens although appearance-wise she had been pegged a lot older.

“Hi, Sherry," Alex said, wearing a fake smile. “I was wondering if the cherry pie was as good here as it was when I last came here, so I would like two slices for myself and my friend here, and could you also bring her a cup of coffee."

Anya snorted and faced the window. She didn't have time for this. People were dying while Alex was wasting time like they were two friends hanging out.

“Sure thing, Miss Fields," Sherry said, her smile growing wider.

Alex was quiet until Sherry returned with an empty mug and a coffee pot. Alex smiled warmly as Sherry poured the coffee, but it dropped the moment the otter walked away. “Okay, about what I want: I want to live. In return, I'll help you get a dangerous criminal off the streets."

Anya's brow rose. “You want to live? If someone's been threatening you—"

“Threats, I can handle," Alex said, grinning. She was confident, almost arrogant in her statement. “I'm no stranger to threats."

“I'll bet," Anya mumbled under her breath.

“My problem is, I really fucked up," Alex continued, ignoring Anya's comment. Her confident demeanor was gone. Her ears were flat, and there was a shakiness in her voice. “I'm not exaggerating. If I don't help you, I'm going to die."

Anya could sense the vixen's words were genuine. Even knowing that, she still didn't like Alex and felt no sympathy for her. “So, you're hoping that this information will get you out of whatever mess you've gotten yourself into? I don't like it, but if your info is good, I'll listen. Who is it you need protection from?"

Alex looked around as if to make sure no one was listening in. There nearest person was an old man reading a newspaper who sat out of earshot. “David Somerson."

“You think David Somerson is going to kill you?" Anya asked. Not that Anya could blame him.

Alex chuckled nervously, almost maniacally. “No. I know David is going to kill me."

“I couldn't possibly imagine why," Anya mumbled under her breath. “How do you know he's going to kill you?" she asked in a monotonous voice.

“I went to David's apartment a few days ago for an interview," Alex explained. “I realized too late that it was a setup to get me alone with him."

“So that's when he threatened you?"

Alex gingerly touched her ear. Her eyes looked distant and fearful as if remembering an unpleasant memory. As much as Anya liked seeing Alex realizing the consequences of her actions, there was something almost pitiful about seeing the vixen this way. Her face seemed narrow and small instead of pointy and hostile, her long nails no longer resembled claws, and her fangs seemed small and dull, and her fur seemed to have lost its natural sheen.

“He didn't outright threaten me," Alex whispered. “That was the scary part. Most people rant for the longest about what they'll do to you, but I learned the ones to truly look out for are the ones that don't make threats. They just hurt you and be done with it. David just made it…painfully clear that if I didn't do what he wanted, he would hurt me. I saw it in his eyes. He'll kill me first chance he gets. I'm only breathing now because I have something he wants."

That caught Anya's interest. “And that something is?"

At that moment, Sherry came back with two saucers each holding a large slice of cherry pie. Alex thanked the otter for the deserts and started eating.

Seeing the pie reminded Anya she hadn't eaten anything, and the loud rumble coming from her stomach wasn't helping. It wouldn't do her any good to starve herself, and it would save her the time of searching for a place to eat later. The light flaky crust of the pie mixed perfectly with the cherry filling. For a moment, Anya almost forgot how much she disliked Alex.

“David still thinks he can get his life back," Alex said. “He's gonna beat the trial regardless. This whole thing was about making him miserable, and it's worked. When he finds out what he has to look forward to…I don't want to be the one he blames."

Anya looked up at the vixen. “You mean to tell me that you knew this whole thing was a setup and you still degraded him on TV? You are a real piece of work. First, you provoke him, now you want to press charges and have him arrested."

All the color drained from Alex's face. Her ears fell, and a small whine escaped her lips, surprising the detective. “P-Press charges? No, I think I've dug a deep enough grave. I don't know why he's saving me for later, but if I get him arrested, I can kiss my ass goodbye."

“Maybe you should've thought of that before you went on TV and started spreading lies," Anya said through a mouthful of pie. “And I still haven't heard what you expect me to do about this. If you aren't going to file a complaint, I can't do anything."

“I'm not the only one. There are plenty of other reporters who have had something to say about David, and look what happened to them."

Anya's brow rose. “What do you mean?"

“In the recent months, two reporters have gone missing, one is in a coma after a vicious hit-and-run, and another is dead."

Anya swallowed, the pie now tasteless and leaving a slimy lump in her throat. The list David gave her didn't include any reporters on it. David never mentioned any reporters, either. It meant there was more going on than even David knew about.

Anya forced down the pie with some coffee and asked, “Are you sure these aren't just coincidence? I find it hard to believe David would leave you alone if he is taking out every reporter who has badmouthed him. You had to take things further than any other reporter."

Alex turned way, wearing a look of disgust on her face. Whether it was aimed at Anya, David, or herself, Anya didn't know or care. “You're right, I did take things further than the others. I only agreed to the interview so I could plant a mic in his apartment. He thinks I went there to seduce him, but…I doubt it makes much difference."

Anya couldn't deny she felt a smidgen of sympathy for the vixen. Maybe Alex wasn't as bad as she seemed and only portrayed herself as the intruding reporter with no morals because that's how people saw her.

It didn't matter. It didn't absolve her of the things she'd done, the lives she'd ruined.

Anya finished the last of her pie, wiped her face on the napkin, and said, “I'm surprised you went anywhere near the guy you claim is a murderer, and I'm still not hearing the part where you give up the information you promised."

Alex turned back to Anya, and in that instant, the wall was back up. She had turned back into the monster everyone expected her to be. “Maybe I underestimated, him. His girlfriend was killed in a car crash, that doesn't exactly scream 'psycho.' And you haven't agreed to my terms."

“Which are?"

Alex again checked for eavesdroppers. Satisfied no one else was spying on them, she said, “Agree to arrest Luther Creed and put that evil bastard behind bars, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

“Deal," Anya said. There was no time for games, and she didn't like playing around anyway. People were dying, and the sooner things were wrapped up, the better. She'd catch hell when the captain found out she made a deal with a reporter, but she would deal with that later. “So why do you want Luther Creed arrested?"

“That was fast, but I'll take it anyway." Alex leaned on her elbows, a devious smile spreading across her face. “Luther hired me to spread as much propaganda about David as possible. Before you ask, yes, I know exactly what kind of man he is. He's not the first fur-hater I've dealt with. It was all business, and last I checked, everyone's money is green. I'm also not stupid. I knew the moment he approached me with his little sob story that it was all bullshit. I figured he planned to stab me in the back and expose me for lying the moment he got David out of the way. I'm just taking him down first."

“And what's to stop him from turning on you anyway? Sending him to prison isn't gonna shut him up."

“I don't need him to. I just need the world to know he's a lying, fur-hating bastard. After that, no one will believe a word he says about me."

“And I'm supposed to overlook you admitting to accepting bribes and the slander?"

The otter returned with a coffee pot and offered to refill their cups. Alex graciously accepted, but Anya still hadn't finished the first cup and refused a refill. Sherry seemed disappointed her time near Alex had been cut short, but she smiled anyway and walked away.

Alex watched until Sherry was out of earshot, then turned back around and said, “I don't care; arrest me if you want. At least then I know I'll be safe from David." Her ears drooped, and she stared down at her cup. “When he was threatening me in his apartment, I saw no emotion in his eyes. No hatred or regret. If he saw me on fire, he'd put me out just to light me up himself."

“That's a shame, but unless you're going to formally file charges, there's nothing I can do to David."

“Doesn't matter. His accomplice is the one you should be looking for."

Anya's chest tightened. “His what?"

Alex dug into her purse again and pulled out her phone. “David told me he had an accomplice. I thought he was just saying what I wanted to hear to make me to his place, but after hearing this, I'm not so sure.

She made a few quick swipes on the phone then slid it across the table. Anya held the phone to her ear. All she heard was static.

“I don't get it," Anya said.

“Keep listening."

Anya listened again. Just beneath the static—no, not beneath the static, almost as if it were coming from Anya's mind, a whisper.

Carol…Carol…Carol…

A chill shot through her. The voice had a strange comforting feel like a friend making a calm suggestion on where to eat. But that couldn't be right. She knew she had never heard the voice before.

Anya replayed the message and pressed the phone to her ear again. She closed her eyes and focused on the voice alone, ignoring the static and the ambient conversations happening around her. It was a long shot, but it was worth trying to hear something in the voice recording to give away the caller's identity or location.

Anya…

“What the fuck?!" she held the phone away from her head as if it were tainted with some disease. This had gone beyond anything she had dealt with. She didn't recognize the voice, but it said her name—she was certain of it. But why?

Alex didn't react to the detective's outburst. The other patrons of the diner turned in Anya's direction.

Anya ignored the heat in her cheeks and her rapid heartbeat as she leaned across the table and whispered, “Please tell me this is some kind of joke."

Alex frowned. “No. I know you don't think much of me, but do you honestly think I would joke about this? Why do you think I called you specifically?" Alex turned off the recording and put the phone back into her bag. “It was surprisingly easy to find you."

Almost like someone wanted you to. Anya thought. She had no idea why anyone would want her and Alex to meet. If anything, it would be better to keep them apart so the vixen couldn't pass on any information. “So, the only thing you received was this message?" The first thought that leapt into Anya's mind was Eric, the chatroom username David told her about. The captain had written it off as a hoax. The idea was still possible; Alex had few morals. But she knew that wasn't the case. She remembered the look in David's eyes, and the desperation in his voice. “I also heard another name. I think it was Carol."

“Pretty much. What scares the living shit out of me is David doesn't have any friends. He's only dealt with two people, and it couldn't have been either of them. But one of the people David knows is a spaniel named Carol Erikson. She lives on 3317 Applewood Drive in Apartment 308. I don't know much else about her, and I honestly don't want to."

Anya fell back in her seat, feeling winded. The setup couldn't be more obvious. If she wasn't sure before, she was now. Someone wanted her to meet Carol, but why the runaround? It would've been easier to contact her directly. Was this how the Eric person David mentioned contacted his enemies? Was her name next on the list or Carol's?

She turned back to Alex who was waiting as if expecting her to have all the answers. Anya wondered what role the vixen played in this. Using Alex to relay the message couldn't be random. “Are you sure there's nothing else?" Anya asked.

Alex's ears rose. “Do you really think I would hold back? I already told you: my life is on the line. I'm not playing games. I made the mistake once believing David was harmless. I won't do it again. I know someone dropping two names in my lap is strange, but I have no idea why I'm being contacted."

It was clear Alex didn't know anything else. If Carol was one of the few people David stayed in contact with, she would likely have the answers. There was no way of knowing if Carol's life was in danger or not, so Anya needed to get moving, now.

Anya thanked Alex for her help and left the diner. The moment she was back in her car, her phone rang; likely her partner. She ignored it. There would be time to fill George in later.

Her mind was swarming with questions as she sped toward Carol's apartment. Why someone was sending cryptic messages through someone else was at the front of her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling she was being toyed with. But if this was anything like the tip she received about Brent Caldwell, there was no time for speculation.

Once Carol was safe, she could ask all of the questions she needed.

Finding the building was much easier than finding the diner. Anya rushed inside and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

Anya hammered on the door. “Carol Erikson? This is Detective Anya Corázon. I have a few questions for you."

There was no answer. Anya pounded on the door again, a feeling of dread building in her chest. What if Carol was inside hurt and slowly dying while she stood ignorantly a feet away?

Just as Anya was about to break down the door, she heard a voice. “Can I help you?"

Anya spun to see a spaniel standing a few feet away. She had light sandy brown fur, and long dark hair that was almost discernable from her feathered ears. Judging from the scowl on her face, she wasn't happy to see Anya.

Anya flashed her badge to the canine. “Detective Corázon. Are you Carol Erikson?"

The spaniel shook her head. “No, I'm her twin sister, Caroline."

Anya's brow rose. “Seriously? Carol and Caroline?"

“Don't get me started. We got a lot of shit for it as kids, please do not add to it," Caroline said. She stepped past Anya, pulling a key out of her pocket. She used the key to unlock the door. “Come in, Detective. Why are you looking for my sister?"

Anya followed Caroline inside. “I heard she had information important to a case. I have a few questions to ask her."

Caroline hesitated. Anya saw something in the spaniel's eyes akin to fear, but it was quickly replaced by animosity. “Took you long enough. She's been complaining about that psycho for weeks."

“I'm sorry, what psycho?"

The spaniel's scowl deepened. “My sister is being harassed by a nutcase, and you finally show up to talk about something else? Figures. She's just another bitch so who cares, right?"

“The only thing I care about is finding out who is whether or not your sister's life is in danger," Anya said, fighting to keep her voice level. “Now your sister may have information that can save her life. Are you going to let me question her or stand here and point fingers?"

The two maintained eye-contact for several moments. Anya had no intention of walking away. Carol could be next on the list, and Anya wasn't leaving until she was certain Carol was still breathing.

Finally, Caroline broke eye-contact. “Fine. You can ask your questions." She growled and added, “It still doesn't excuse you from not doing your damn job in the first place."

Anya held back a nasty retort and followed Caroline inside. She had nothing to do with Carol's plight being brushed aside, but it likely made little difference to Caroline. The apartment's strange décor immediately leapt out at her. The furniture had been pressed against the walls, leaving a lot of empty space. All the windows had been booby-trapped with nails and crushed glass. Anya chose not to say anything. "Looks like she may already know about Eric."

Caroline pointed to the sofa as she continued to the kitchen. “That's Carol. Why don't you explain to her why she's had to live the last few weeks in terror?"

Anya took a second look at the sofa and jumped. Sitting on the far end was another spaniel. She looked like Caroline if she had some terminal illness. Her fur was thin as was her body. Her eyes were sunken and seemed distant like a doll staring at something but not seeing anything. The skin was tight around her skull making her resemble a prop from a house of horrors. Anya would've believed she was being pranked had Carol not turned to her after Caroline's introduction.

“Ms. Erikson? I'm Detective Anya Corázon. I have a few questions for you."

Carol's eyes sparked to life, and she motioned to the sofa. Anya sat down.

“You're the detective David called." Carol said, her voice was a dry wheeze, barely above a whisper.

Anya hesitated. If Carol knew David, it should be no surprise she knew who Anya was, but it still caught her off-guard being recognized by her name alone. “David told you about me?"

Carol shook her head. “I overheard him talking to you on the phone. Please, you have to save him."

“Save him? What do you mean?"

Carol took a deep breath and nodded. There was a slight shaking in her hands. “David is being stalked by someone named Eric. He tried to hide it, but I know he's scared. I don't know what Eric has been telling him, but David needs someone in his corner. I don't think he'll last much longer."

Of all the things Anya had expected, this wasn't one of them. Carol looked to be at death's door, yet she was more worried about him. “Okay, Carol, I need you to start from the beginning."

“When David came to visit me a while back, he told me he was talking to someone named Eric on a website called Chatline."

“David told me that. I tried looking up the website and couldn't find it."

“That sounds about right. David is worried Eric is good with computers. We tried to find out who Eric was and all we found out was that people who knew David have been dying."

“I know that, too, Carol. Is there anything about Eric that you can tell me?"

Carol seemed hesitant to respond, but she said slowly. “A little while after we stopped looking for Eric, David fell asleep and had a nightmare. He…He dreamt of killing people. I know it doesn't sound like it means much, but I don't think it's a coincidence that David is having these nightmares while people he knows are dying around him."

Anya knew how it sounded, yet she believed it. This story would never hold up in court, and the captain would tell her it was a crack-pot theory, but she didn't care. This had long gone beyond a simple case. Technically, it was no longer her problem, but she had a feeling David was being set up, and she couldn't stand by and watch his life fall apart. There was also Eric. Eric wouldn't stop simply because David had been locked-up. If she wanted the killings to end, she needed to find Eric.

“I believe you, and I believe David," Anya said. “But I need more to go on. Do you know how Eric is choosing his victims?"

Before Carol could respond, Caroline walked in, carrying three cups. She dropped onto the sofa, planting herself between Anya and Carol, giving Anya a nasty scowl. “He uses astral projection to invade their bodies and make them do what he wants."

“That's not funny," Carol whispered.

“I thought you wanted me to help your sister?" Anya asked, making her annoyance at Caroline's attitude clear.

Caroline shrugged. “What my sister needs is a padded room. David's been threatening her. The cops finally caught the bastard in the act, and what does do? She goes to the station and tells them it wasn't it fault." She shot another dark glare at Anya. “And you people had to go and turn him loose."

Carol faced her sister. “I had to say something, or else the police would think he was the one threatening me. I already told you it's not David. He's been through enough."

Carol's comment got Anya thinking. If the police showed up and arrested David, believing he was threatening Carol, it meant someone had called in an anonymous tip. From what she'd heard about Eric, he didn't make threats. There was only one other person who gained from this and that was Luther Creed. There was no evidence backing it, but Anya knew that man was involved. "First Lori, then Samson, now Carol. What the hell is this man's problem with David?" She thought.  

Caroline's hackles rose. “Been through enough? Carol, look at you! You look like a damn skeleton. You'll be lucky if your fur grows back! Why are you so stuck on him after what he's put you through?"

“Because I deserved it!" Carol on was on her feet, her thin fur standing on end although it didn't make her look more intimidating, but there was no denying the pity in her eyes. The two sisters stared each other down.

Anya decided to intervene before things went too far. “Caroline, would you mind giving me and your sister some privacy?"

Caroline gave her a dark look. “Yes, I do mind."

“Please?" Carol added.

Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but she suddenly fell quiet. Anya assumed Caroline had decided not to turn down whatever help her sister was getting. Caroline huffed angrily and threw another nasty look at Anya before disappearing down the hall.

“Sorry about her," Carol said. Something in her voice was different. It was no longer tired and wheezy, but instead clear and arrogant. “She's trying to make up for calling her sister a liar before."

Anya slowly faced the spaniel. Carol still had the same withered appearance, but her eyes no longer carried fear and fatigue. They were vivacious and carried a hidden fury behind them. She had stopped shaking and sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap.

“Carol?"

The spaniel slowly shook her head, a smile spreading across her muzzle. “Good guess though. You can call me Carol if it makes things easier."

“If you're not Carol, then who are you?"

“I think you already know the answer to that, Detective."

Anya's first thought was that she was dealing with the worst case of split personality she had ever seen, but she knew it was a lie. The idea made her blood run cold. “Eric?" she said breathlessly. That couldn't be right. This spaniel, who looked to be on the verge of death, was the one responsible for many deaths in the last few months?

Carol's smile grew wider. “That's what some choose to call me. You can if you want."

“ 'What some choose to call you?' Then what do you call yourself?"

Her eyes looked distant and venomous as if remembering an unpleasant memory. “Doesn't matter what anyone calls me." With a blink, her eyes were friendly again. “Let's not make this about me, Detective. See, this body is on loan. I don't have a lot of time before Carol tries to take it back."

Anya was too stunned to respond. Her mind felt too hazy to think. What was going on? This was reminding her of all the horror movies she liked watching. As outrageous as it was, it made sense. How else could Eric have moved about unnoticed for so long? How could so many people connected to a single person have died in such a short amount of time?

“I'll get straight to the point, Anya. It's okay if I call you Anya, right? I need you to stay away from David for a little while. Y'see, I have set some things in motion that have taken a great of time and effort to set up, and I can't afford to have you fucking it all up. I like you. You're one of the few people who stood by David, so I would hate to make an enemy of you."

The threat shook off the paralysis holding Anya. “Look, Eric, Carol—whatever the fuck you call yourself—if you think I'm going to stand by while you go on a murdering spree—"

“Whoa, whoa. I haven't killed anybody. Sure, I gave a few people a…helpful nudge, but the decision to kill, that was all them."

“How convenient for you. So now I'm supposed to stand by while you 'nudge' people?" She thought about arresting Carol. Regardless of the spaniel's mental state, there was a good chance she was responsible for at least twelve deaths and still wasn't satisfied. But what could she charge the spaniel with? What evidence could possibly prove any of this? Worse, defense lawyers loved mentally unstable clients, it made their jobs easy.

Carol-Eric scooted closer and threw an arm around Anya's shoulder. She fought the urge to move away. “Anya, I really want to be done with Luther. You have no idea what kind of person he is. How far he has gone to frame David goes beyond simple revenge. Honestly, I'd hoped to save that fur-hating bastard for last, but that's no longer possible."

Anya's brow rose. “What do you mean?"

Carol-Eric's smile faltered. “Sorry, Anya, I got a little too chatty. What I mean isn't important. What is important is understanding that Luther is not a man worth saving. Just look at what he's done to poor Carol." She pointed at her body and frowned in disgust. “Luther is having her threatened to drive a wedge between her and David. All part of some dumbass backup plan. It's a shame. I mean, it's helped me, but it's still a shame. Stupid bastard never caught on that she's inconsequential." Carol-Eric took a sip of tea and crossed her legs. “Poor Carol thinks I'm protecting her. She doesn't know that she would be saved if she left David alone. But I need her, she's a useful distraction."

Anya clenched her jaw and remained silent. This was beyond the scope of anything she had ever dealt with before. What was this? Was Carol truly possessed? If so, how was that possible? What was she supposed to do?

There was nothing to do but to let things play out. A shrink could decide Carol's mental state later. All Anya could hope for was if Carol talked enough something useful would slip. It had already slipped how Carol was useful in Eric's scheme. Anya had no idea what that meant, but she decided to tuck it away for later. “So you're saying that if I arrest Luther, Carol's stalker will back off?" Anya asked.

Carol-Eric quickly cleared her throat. “Very perceptive, Anya. But you won't need to worry about him."

“But I don't understand. If he's terrorizing people, it's my job to worry about him." Anya did understand, but she wanted to see if Carol-Eric would slip again. Eric contacted her, meaning he had something important planned. She needed as much information as possible to discern what that something was.

Carol-Eric stiffened and a ripple moved through her fur. “Listen, Detective, I have been very courteous to you, but do not treat me like an idiot. You know what I mean. You just want to hear my master plan. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not in a sharing mood. Luther Creed is the worst kind of evil, and no one will shed a tear when he's gone."

Anya fought to maintain her composure. “You know it's not my job to play executioner. Just like you know I can't ignore your 'nudging' people to commit murder. So, since we're no longer playing games, why am I really here?"

Carol-Eric chuckled and smiled. “Just as perceptive as always. To be honest, you're here because I need you out of the way for a while. I didn't have to warn you, but David has taken a liking to you, and he doesn't have many friends these days." Her smile dropped. “I won't fault you for doing your job, but keep in mind that you're not immune. Stay away from David until this thing is done. He's almost ready. He doesn't need you to save him."

Before Anya could say anything else, Carol's eyes closed and her head drooped.

“Carol? Carol, can you hear me?"

Carol lay still and didn't respond. Anya quickly checked Carol's eyes. So far as she could tell, the spaniel had fallen asleep or was unconscious. She thought about taking Carol to a hospital, but what would she say and how would she explain it to Caroline?

Anya felt someone staring. She looked over her shoulder to see Caroline standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

“How much did you hear?"  Anya sighed. This was just what she needed. If word got around about this, there would be no way to convince the captain of Eric's existence.

“Enough. What the hell just happened? Carol's never done anything like that before."

"That makes it harder to believe she has a mental defect." “I won't lie to you, I have no idea what's going on anymore."

“But you will find that crazy bastard who did this to my sister, right? I know I gave you a hard time, but please, no one else will believe this."

“Of course. I will do whatever I have to stop Eric and put Luther behind bars." "I say that, but if I really am dealing with a ghost, how the hell am I supposed to stop it?" She pulled a business card out of her pocket and gave it to Caroline. “Call me if anything happens or if Eric makes contact through your sister again."

“I will. Thank you."

Anya went back to the SUV. She sat in her car without starting the engine. What had she just witnessed? The only rational explanation she could think of was Carol had a serious split-personality disorder. She had somehow convinced David she was responsible for a string of coincidences. But a feeling deep in Anya's core told her that wasn't the case. David was very afraid of Eric; he wouldn't believe such an outrageous lie unless Eric had done something to prove it. After having a conversation with Eric, she understood why. But then what exactly was she dealing with?

"It doesn't matter what I'm dealing with," Anya thought. "I have to put an end to Eric's killing spree. That's all that matters."

There wasn't much to go on. Eric let a few things lip, but he always knew not to say too much. “David is almost ready," Anya thought. Ready for what exactly? When she talked to David, she didn't get the vibe he liked Eric. It was possible David was being left in the dark which made him the perfect shield. Work through David without letting him in the loop. Everyone focused on David while Eric got a free pass. But even if that were true, it still didn't tell her what Eric's end game was.

“What IS important is understanding that Luther is not a man worth saving." The words just jumped to the front of Anya's mind and immediately she understood what Eric meant when he said Luther was supposed to be last. Luther was next on the list.

Anya started the engine and nearly drove into the path of a passing truck in her rush. The driver leaned on the horn which she ignored. She needed to find Luther as soon as possible. She thought about calling ahead, but what would she say? How would she explain her findings? No, it was better she handled things alone. Besides, Eric said he wanted her out of the way. He was afraid she would stop his plans.

"You're forgetting one small detail aren't you?" Her mind asked. "If it was so simple to kill Luther, why do you need to stay away? Why is he still drawing breath?"

Anya slammed on the brakes. The cars behind her honked their horns and shouted curses at her. One thing had her attention: “David is almost ready." Eric hadn't killed Luther because David was supposed to. But David wasn't a murderer. If he was, he would've gone after Luther a long time ago. 

Anya made a quick U-turn, pissing off several more drivers, and sped for David's apartment. It all made sense now. Why she needed to be out of the way, and what David was getting ready for. Eric wanted David to kill Luther. Anya had no idea why, but things weren't going in Eric's favor. Someone had thrown a wrench in things, so Eric moved up the timetable. Her mind was swarming with questions as to why things had to go this way, but she could worry about it later.

She had to find David and stop him.

As she sped down the street, she dialed George's number. All she received was voicemail. “George, it's Anya. I'm on my way to David Somerson's apartment. I got a lead and I need you to meet me there."

“I'll be there, Anya," George said. She could feel his hesitation through the phone.

Anya sighed. “What is it?"

“What's going on? You haven't come in yet, and you're calling me out of the blue claiming to have a lead. I thought we were together on this, but you insist on doing things alone."

“I know, and I'm sorry. Look, I'll explain everything when I see at David's." She hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. It hurt leaving her partner in the dark. George was the person she knew would have her back and she needed an ally in the crazy mess she found herself in.

But right now, she didn't have time for sentiment. She could still hear the desperation in David's voice the day he called to warn her about Brent Caldwell. She couldn't begin to imagine what he was going through, at the mercy of something he couldn't explain with no one to turn to.

Anya pressed down on the gas pedal.

****

Anya almost didn't bother knocking when she reached David's apartment. George hadn't arrived yet, but she didn't wait for her partner or call for backup either. It went against everything she had been taught, and it was beyond dangerous and stupid, but after what happened to Bryce, she didn't want to take chances. David could be bleeding out while she was waiting for someone to show up. She prepared to kick the door open when she noticed the door frame had been broken. Someone had closed to door, trying to hide it, but the split frame was obvious up-close, and they forgot to sweep the pieces of splintered wood on the floor.

Anya immediately drew her pistol and quietly pushed the door open. She listened for any signs of David or anyone else as she stepped over the threshold. There was only silence.

The kitchen had been left empty and untouched, but the living room had various items scattered on the floor. Signs of a struggle, she thought. She tightened her grip on her pistol and searched the rest of the apartment.

The bathroom, like the kitchen, hadn't seen any action, so Anya went to the bedroom. Her palms were sweaty, and her nerves were so taut, it took an effort to move. Over and over she told herself she didn't fail. She drove as fast as she could and didn't waste any time. She made it this time; she was going to find him, alive.

She kept her eyes glued to the half-open bedroom door. Images of David dead and bloody on his bedroom floor flashed before her mind. She pushed the thoughts away.

When she reached the bedroom door, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves then shoved the door open.

The bedroom was empty like the rest of the apartment. There was a large pool of blood on the floor. It was fresh judging from the way it shone on the floor. Bloody footprints and streaks surrounded the pool, leading back to the door, but there were no signs of a body.

Anya carefully stepped in and looked around. The room was small, so there was no chance someone was hiding to ambush her. The mess and the blood told the obvious: Someone broke into the apartment and attacked David. In the ensuing struggle, someone died or was badly injured, and since someone took the time to close the front door, she assumed the former. Anya swore under her breath. She was in such a hurry to get to David's apartment, she didn't pay attention on her way up the stairs. She probably passed obvious clues.

She holstered her pistol and turned to leave when here eyes were drawn to the desktop computer sitting on a table next to the bed. The monitor was on, it's pale light giving Anya chills.

She felt drawn to it like a child drawn to a shiny object. Hopefully David left something useful for her to use.

A dialogue box sat on the screen, the cursor blinking in an even rhythm as it awaited input. At the top of the screen was a message.

Eric: Just tell me when you get back.

Anya's heart raced. David must had been in a hurry to leave his computer on like this. He was even in contact with Eric. If she could convince Eric to meet her, she could bring this to an end.

“What about that weird conversation with Carol?" her mind asked. “Are we really just going to ignore that this 'person' can somehow talk through people?"

She ignored the voice and hunched over the keys to type a message. It didn't matter what Eric was, he was still a murderer, and she still had a job to do.

Ch27: Okay, I'm back. What next?

Eric's response appeared on screen almost immediately.

Eric: Nice try, Detective.

Anya stepped back from the screen, her eyes wide and heart pounding in her ears. How could Eric see her? She didn't see a webcam nor a security camera. The windows were closed and the curtains were down. Unless Eric stood right behind her, there was no way he could know she was the one on the computer.

Another message appeared on screen. Anya didn't want to read it, but it felt as if someone held her head in place. She couldn't look away or blink, just watch in increasing horror as the words flowed across the screen.

Eric: I tried to be nice. I tried to keep you out of this, but you're too smart for your own good. I'm sorry, Anya, but I'm afraid our friendship has come to a close. I'll be coming for you when I'm done with Patricia and Alex. You get a warning as a courtesy. Get your affairs in order. Say your goodbyes. I'll try to make it quick.

The screen went black leaving Anya to stare at her reflection. She felt control return to her body, and she took a shuddering breath while backing as far away from the computer as she could.

She had been threatened before, and a few people had even tried to follow through on their threats. This was something else. He threatened her so casually, like he was making dinner plans. For words on a computer screen, Anya felt their weight and conviction. It wasn't a bluff to scare her off, and Eric didn't care if she was a cop.

He planned to kill her at the first opportunity.

She heard footsteps coming down the hall. Judging from the sound, it was only one person. Was George coming? No, George would had announced himself when came in. She drew her pistol and stood next to the door, her back pressed against the wall as best she could.

“You're about to find out I don't go down easy," she thought.

A few seconds later, a rabbit with cinnamon fur walked into the room. Her back was turned, but there was no denying it was Stephanie. She walked in cautiously, but her gaze was on the pool of blood on the floor. Anya raised her pistol and commanded, “Don't move."

The rabbit froze.

“Raise your hands and turn around slowly, Stephanie."

Stephanie did as she was told. She held a kitchen knife in her right hand, and she stared at Anya in worry and confusion.

Anya looked the rabbit over. There were no signs of blood on her or the knife, and her fur wasn't disheveled, but her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying. Whatever happened, Stephanie wasn't a part of it.

“Drop the knife then tell me what you're doing here," Anya said.

Stephanie released the knife as if it burned her. “I came to talk to David. I…hurt him earlier, and I came back to apologize and try to make things right. I saw the door had been broken in, so I grabbed a knife from the kitchen."

Anya holstered her pistol again and sighed. “You didn't think to call the police?"

Stephanie lowered her hands and frowned. “The police think David's a murderer, remember? They would probably think he deserved whatever he got." Her expression changed to worry. “Where is he? What's with all the blood? Is he hurt? Is he—"

“Stephanie, I don't know. This place was a mess when I got here. You know David better than I do. Do you have any idea where he may have gone?"

“How do we know David's the one who walked away from all this?" Stephanie asked, her voice on the verge of breaking.

“Because Eric doesn't want David dead," Anya replied, remembering her conversation in Carol's apartment. Eric said David didn't need saving.

Stephanie tilted her head. “Eric again? Who the hell is that, and what does he want with—"

“I don't have time to explain it," Anya interjected quickly. “Just know that David's life is in danger. Eric doesn't want him dead, but he wants him for something. Now do you know anyone named Patricia?"

Stephanie stared at Anya wide-eyed and ears flat, but she nodded in understanding. “No, I don't know anyone by that name."

Anya swore. Without knowing who Patricia was, she was forced to play catchup. She didn't know what would happen when the list was finished, and she didn't want to find out.

She pulled out her cell and began dialing Alex's number. Since Alex called her once, it was saved in the call logs. She could at least warn Alex while she tried to find out about Patricia.

That was it. Alex had spent months digging into David's life. She would know who Patricia's identity.

Alex answered the phone quickly. “Detective. That was fast. You caught him already?"

“No. Alex, I need to know who Patricia is and where she lives. It's important."

“Patricia? She's Lori Price's mother. She really has it in for David. She told me in an interview she wanted to skin him and use his fur as a rug so she could 'wipe dirt on him like the filth he is.' It was seriously scary shit. I couldn't even air it."

“Right, Lori's parents. I never thought of that. Where do they live?"

“She lives with her husband at 4923 Cedarwood Avenue," Alex said mechanically. “I went there frequently for information. Saved me the trouble of doing it myself. Patricia did a scary amount of research on David, even hired a PI to tail him. Now why are you asking about her?"

“Samson," Anya muttered. So Samson was hired by Patricia. If Luther knew about him, it meant Luther and Patricia were working together. If that were true, she needed to get to Patricia first. “Thanks, Alex. Listen, you need to get somewhere safe. David's accomplice has gone rogue and he's tying up loose ends."

“Y-Yeah, sure. I'll be sure to get out of dodge. Call me when this nightmare is over."

Anya hung up and rushed out of the apartment. On her way downstairs, she called George, but only received his voicemail.

She tried a few more times, but the result was the same. When she reached the SUV, she tossed the phone in the backseat. She had no idea why George wasn't picking up, but there was no time to worry about that now.

Just as she started the engine, Stephanie climbed into the passenger seat. Anya raised her brow at the rabbit. “What do you think you're doing?"

“Look, I care about David. I don't know what the hell's going on or who Eric is, but if David needs my help, I'll be there."

“I'm glad you want to stand up for your friend, but this is dangerous. I can't take a civilian."

“We don't have time to argue," Stephanie stated. She fastened her seatbelt and folded her arms across her chest. “If we don't get to Patricia first, she'll die, and I think David might be next."

Anya swore, and started the engine. She could lose her job for this, but that option was already on the table. George wasn't answering, and there wasn't time to convince the captain to send someone else.

She would just have to make do by herself. She just hoped there wouldn't be another body added to the pile.