Leave A Whisper- Chapters 6-7

Chapter 6 - Dark Hell

The drive was longer than he wanted it to be. But he didn't care. He knew it was a long drive. He'd picked the perfect place.

Parking his car near a huge oak tree, he got out and walked around to the trunk opening it. The terror in her eyes was priceless. A Kodak moment if there ever was one.

... Evil masks a faceless stranger,
with intense eyes, never to be forgotten.
Lurking in the shadows of the darkness,
ambulating close and near,
evil rushes spreading it's fear,
into hearts of the unsuspecting
innocent ...

He reached inside the trunk and she flinched, pulling her head back as far as she could, wedging it against a metal toolbox she'd shared the trunk with on the long ride.

Reddick smiled with delight. He stroked her hair, arranging her tousled curls to his satisfaction. Muffled sounds escaped from behind the tape he'd placed over her mouth. She was trembling almost violently from terror. He liked that. It was good sign.

He removed the tape. No one would hear her screams, except for the owls and other critters. Her screams would just intensify the moment.

R-i-p. She screamed ... and kept screaming.

******
It was more satisfying than he'd dreamed it would be or had imagined. A lock of her soft, golden-blond hair was a blessed addition to his ever- growing collection of trophies. It didn't matter if it was slightly saturated with blood. It only enhances its beauty.

Reddick popped the tab off a beer, kicked his shoes off into a corner of piled rubble and filthy clothing, and sat back comfortably slurping the cold brew with an insatiable relish.

... Take your life in your own hands,
or sit alone in reflective silence.
All things grand, all things needed,
will not drop right into your lap unheeded.
Make your choice, stand your ground,
drink your fill and sedate your plight,
in this dark hell made of fools tonight ...

He thought back on his childhood like he always did after he'd finished every masterpiece of art. Mother was a whore. But a good whore. She had more men visit than the average whore could count. I don't think she could count that high. Money, it's all she ever wanted. Fuckin' money. Well it kept her supplied with booze for sure. I can certainly understand that. Maybe, just maybe, the bitch knew what she was doing after all. It paid her tab. But there's better things in life than money could ever buy.

He smashed the empty beer can, tossed it onto the floor, grabbed another cold one, and kicked the discarded bit of aluminum aside out of his path on his way back to his ragged armchair.

Chapter 7 - Everything Means Something

Feeling dizzy, Toni held the charmed, angel figurine tightly, then passed out falling onto the floor. The vision of Marilyn Hines being brutally attacked had been too intense. Too much for her to deal with.

"Toni! Toni-- are you all right? Toni, look at me-- look at me! Detective Meadows shouted. He knelt beside her and patted her face.

Her eyes barely opened and fluttered briefly before closing again. "I-- I'm okay," she answered, trying to sit up.

"You fainted. Are you really okay? All you said before you hit the floor, was, blood, so much blood. You had a vision didn't you? Did you see what happened to Miss Hines? Did you see the man-- the killer?"

"Yes and no. I saw the murder scene. I saw the poor girl fighting for her life. And I saw him, but I couldn't see what he looked like. His facenwas featureless."

Detective Meadows assisted her into a chair and handed her the glass of water, then fanned her face with a file folder.

"Thank you. I'll be fine-- I think. I haven't fainted in a long time, but sometimes it happens when it's too intense. I guess it's my mind shutting down. 'Kind of a survival defense or something," she apologetically explained.

"Jesus! You really gave me a scare. You neglected to tell me what to expect. I thought maybe you had a heart attack or something! How was I to know this could happen?"

His concern made her feel warm inside for a brief moment, but didn't stop the feeling of terror. Nothing could take away the terror she'd witnessed in her vision. The horror... Marilyn Hines had been brutally beaten, tortured, ravaged and raped, and dismembered.

Meadows wisped the hair from Toni's face and reached into a desk drawer, lifting a fifth of bourbon out along with a brown-stained glass. He poured some full to the brim and handed it to her. "Here-- drink this. I insist. It'll calm you and take the damn edge off."

Toni didn't argue with him and took the glass, gulping it down in one drink. She didn't particularly like bourbon, preferring wine, but didn't care what it was at that point. She badly needed a drink and wanted another.

"Can I have a refill, please?" she asked with one eyebrow raised, and lifted the glass up toward the bottle sitting on the desk.

He refilled her glass, and turned the bottle up to his lips and took a gulping-swig.

"Thanks," she told him, finishing it off and setting the empty glass on his desk. "Something isn't right. My vision wasn't like others before. I heard-- well I heard-- heard his voice. I mean, his chanting. I think it was chanting, or maybe it was whispering," she told him, wondering why her psychic abilities were enhanced now. She hadn't experienced audio telepathy before.

"Do what? You heard the killer? His voice?" Meadows asked, slamming the nearly empty bottle down on the desk.

"Well yes, I did. But it was in my head, not with my ears. It was like remembering a conversation you've had with someone and it echoes through your mind. This is new. I haven't heard things before. "

"Okay, Toni, slow down a moment. What did you hear-- in your head? I mean, what did the son-of-a-bitch say?"

"I heard, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and something like choice of desire, no, wait-- I think he said, in which is the choice of his own desire, at least that's what I think it was. And something like selfishly to possess for himself. I'm not sure if I can remember the rest. I'm sorry."

"Try to remember, Toni. Try real hard. Concentrate, okay? Just relax and concentrate. It might be something that we can connect to this bastard. A song, a poem, something-- anything."

"For his own demented reflection, the fruits in which he so grimly reaps, becoming darker and deadly bolder," she chanted with her eyes closed.

"My God! This is one friggin' sick-assed bastard! "

Meadows walked over to the chalkboard grabbing a stubby piece of white chalk. He scribbled the first two lines then turned back toward Toni. "What was the next line?"

She repeated it while fanning herself with the file folder.

"Slow down-- hold on a sec. I can't write that fast. The fruits in which, what?"

"He so grimly reaps, she mumbled, pouring a tad of bourbon into the small abandoned glass while watching Meadows scribble the words.

"Becoming darker and deadly bolder," she said while gulping the bourbon.

"We're going to have to take this line by line. There's got to be something here to decipher. It means something. Everything means something."