A naive investigative reporter joins two detectives in the search for a notorious serial rapist and killer...all while the truth is too close to home...
"Would you like to come in?" she asked, smiling shyly. On the one hand, David was pleased she ha...
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“Pardon my manners…what is your lovely name?” David asked. “Jean” she responded, shocked that this had not come up yet. For a moment, she questioned her self-awareness, but dismissed her instincts as his smile materialized yet again; immediately, she understood her state of mind. “I’m David, very nice to officially meet you.” He responded, extending his arm. “So what do you do?” Jean asked curiously. “Sales director.” He responded. “Why this neighborhood?” she asked further, and continued almost immediately, “Which house by the way?” David did not for a minute like the direction their conversation was taking. What was worse, he had not done his usual field work, and as such had no idea which number or street to give. This led to a minute of hesitation, and Jean was quick to see the discomfort. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrogate you or anything.” She quickly apologized, although his hesitance was enough to rattle her. Jean remembered reading in the papers about the murders in Creekville, and as the thought crossed her mind, she felt her whole system shiver. This was the absolute wrong time to let a stranger into her house at night. And now he is sitting here, in my kitchen! She thought, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. “I haven’t gotten around to mastering the details, not even the house number. Can you believe that?” David asked, laughing nervously. The night was not turning out like he wanted, and this would be a huge inconvenience. No, actually I can’t. Jean thought to herself before responding; “It’s understandable.” She made the few steps between her and the counter, lifted the glass and said; “I am quite sleepy. Can we rain check on this getting to know one another thing?” “Sure” David answered and as he did, he was making out the house, wondering how fast she could run to another room, and whether or not her neighbors might hear her should she start screaming; that is before he shut her up. “Are you okay?” she asked, feeling her muscles tense up and her breathing hitch. Every fiber in her body was telling her to run, but she was hopping she could see him out and lock the door before he decided to do anything stupid. We don’t even know he is the one running around town killing women. She scolded herself as she neared the door. And then she realized he had not responded to her previous question. So Jean turned around to confirm he was okay, and instantly felt a sharp pain sear through her lower abdomen.
