A Price to Pay Ch. 1

I stood with my hands shoved deep into my pockets, clinched in tight fists to resist the urge to cover her body. The crime scene hadn't been walked through yet and I shouldn't be here, but I still have some friends on the force.

I looked at her and my heart ached. She was beautiful in a way that embarrassed grown men and made most women angry for reasons they didn't quite understand. Her hair was blonde with natural highlights, which most people attributed to a salon, and it had been held back in a ponytail. Her face was lightly made up, mostly around her eyes. What lipstick that was left on her mouth was a shade or two darker than flesh tone and heavily smeared. She had curves in all the right places. She reminded me of my daughter, she was sixteen when she was murdered too.

Ignoring the body for a few moments I walked into the bathroom. A strong urine smell drifted from the room and a wet towel lay on the floor. A razor sat on one side of the sink; discarded, bits of hair, and spots of blood clung to the blades. It was joined by a travel size can of shaving cream and a pair of scissors. Small bits of hair covered the sink. The hair was a shade or two darker than the blond on the victims head. In the lower corner of the mirror there was a fingerprint perfectly preserved in bright pink lipstick.

Using a pen I pulled open the medicine chest and sink cabinet doors. Besides some dust, a bottle of tooth ache medicine, a hair dye kit, and a few rolls of toilet paper there was nothing else there of note. The tub was hadn’t dried yet and the massage shower head hung loose. There were still bits of hair, shaving cream, and a few streaks of blood around the drain.

In a small wardrobe near the TV stand I found a book bag, black with pink plaid heart and a skull. It was unzipped and I could make out some clothes, but I didn't look any closer. The nightstand beside the bed was empty, except for a small phone book and a Gideon Bible. Pushing the drawer shut with my pen I realized there was nothing left to check. I had put off the inevitable long enough.

Slowly I walked back over to the girl's body. With a long deep breath, I knelt down and studied the body.

I didn't spend much time looking at her eyes. They were open, colored a brilliant green and still. Duct tape hung from one side of her mouth. I could see traces of skin, blood, and lipstick. Rope was tied around her neck in an intricate knot. It trailed from her neck, down her back, through a pair of handcuffs and finally tied off around her ankles. I knew why it was done that way, but I tried desperately to ignore it. I told my mind to think of something else. The handcuffs had worried her wrists, breaking the skin and bruising them. At one time the skirt she was wearing was a light blue, kind of like the sky on a summer day. Now it was ripped, dirty and splotched with areas of blood. The blouse she wore was no longer white. It, along with her bra was hanging in strips. They appeared to have been shredded by a sharp knife. There were several nicks and cuts on her breasts that leaked blood. Something was under one of her fingernails that could have been skin. A pair of panties was hanging from one lifeless leg. At one time it was covered with bows and smiling teddy bears, now there were traces of blood, bits of hair, and shaving cream. She smelled faintly of alcohol.

My eyes glazed over with tears of rage, remorse and loss. My heart couldn’t take it, I couldn't look anymore.

I haven’t smoked in a long time, but as I staggered out of the small motel room into the too bright light of morning I ached for a cigarette. I wanted to feel it choking the breath out of my lungs, smothering me.

Just out of the motel room I leaned back against the wall. The scene techs had arrived, acknowledging me with their eyes as they went into the room. The head tech stopped at the door looking at me.

Peters was a short dumpy man. He wore his pants over his stomach so that it wouldn't hang over his belt. The glasses he wore magnified his eyes to almost comical levels. His head was round with ruddy cheeks and the few wisps of hair he had left were combed over and slicked tight across the top. It was hard to believe that he was one of the best techs in the area.

"You were in the room?" he asked, nodding as he spoke. It was a rhetorical question, so I didn't have to answer.

"Okay then, I am going to need your fingerprints and fabric trace."

I waved my pen before my face. "I didn't touch anything, just looked it over."

He was nodding again in a deep, compassionate way.

"Well, we'll just err on this side of caution, then" He smiled as he pushed his glasses up on his nose, then he was swallowed up by the room.

Pausing in thought for a moment, I finally walked away from the room across the parking lot toward my car. I had made it halfway before they approached me. I was surprised I had got that far.

Coleman Mears, at six three was a good handful of inches taller than I was. While I'm not a slob, he was in better shape than I am, a lot of time spent in the Department's gym I suppose. What you could see of his high and tight hair cut was black. We didn't like each other, so he wore a stern look on his face as he waited for his partner to start the conversation.

Andrea Alvera went a few of inches the other direction barely breaking five two. She was beautiful, but she down played it. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her shirt was at least a size too big and her jacket was loose. Partially to hide the gun at her shoulder, partially so she wouldn’t have to redirect eyes from her chest to her face. It was tough being a lady cop, tougher being a lady detective. She squinted against the sun when she looked at me and discreetly smiled.

"What do you think?"

I kept walking toward my car and I could hear the angry whispers of her partner, who probably was against her calling me in the first place and her frustrated sigh as she followed me.

"It's the same guy."

A pebble kicked passed me as they both paused and in my mind’s eye I can imagine them almost bumping into each other as Alvera came to a stop. Leaning against my car I looked back at them and fought the urge to cry.

"There was a finger print left in lipstick on the mirror in the bathroom. It was a different shade then that of the Vic, so it will belong to the next victim. The next victim was in the room, so she knows what's going to happen to her. Though, she's probably convinced herself otherwise. It’s a tactic to keep her in line."

Alvera knew enough to be silent and let me finish, Mears didn't.

"How do you know the next Vic was there?"

"He likes his victims’ clean shaven. The cuffs had been on the girl’s wrist for a long time. Someone had to do the shaving, he wouldn't risk it, he gets off on watching it happen."

"What are you talking about, shaving?"

I cast my eyes down toward his crotch. He blushed.

"There was a razor and shaving cream in the bathroom. Bits of hair were in the tub, sink, and on the Vic.”

I pushed off the car, my anger building. Alvera quickly stepped in between us.

“While the other girl shaved her she knew she was close to dying and she pissed herself in fear. Now shut up and let me finish.”

For a second anger flashed in his eyes. I ignored him. Straightening my shirt I leaned back against my car.

“The next Vic was scared and nervous. It appears that she nicked the girl a few times during the shave. There was a wash rag in the shower with spots of blood and shaving cream. The rope around her neck was tied to her feet, so when he started to have his way with her, he choked her at the same time."

Mears' face dropped a few shades, and then turned green.

"A sharp knife was used to cut away the blouse and bra, that he did himself. He was growing excited so he cut her chest a few times. It's the same guy."

Alvera knew enough not to say anything.

"We'll have at least three months before he kills again. Three months to brainwash his next victim and find a replacement."

I offered a weak smile at Alvera and opened my car door.

"I'll get you a copy of the report as soon as I can." Alvera whispered, though I’m sure Mears still heard her. I didn’t care that he did.

Climbing into my car I nodded in response because I was afraid my voice would crack if I spoke. This guy had killed my daughter and I was no closer to catching him.