Devil in the Details

Prologue

TRIGGER WARNINGS: All of 'Devil in the Details' may contain graphic depictions of murder, death, and crime scenes. Graphic violence. Language. Behavioral issues. Character Death. Mentions of homophobia. 

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here" -William Shakespeare

Katrina sat up in bed, gripping the covers. Sweat beaded across her forehead. Her hand flew to her protruding belly as if to protect the baby inside. She looked around her dark bedroom, pale and shaking. There were no monsters there, but she knew they would be coming. She wanted her nightmare to have been only that- a nightmare- but she knew better. She'd had many dreams like it before and understood what was to come. Panic rising in her chest, Katrina tossed the covers aside and hurried across the floor to the bedroom door. Her hand trembled as she grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open. Her first instinct was to attempt escape, but she knew she couldn't. There would be no avoiding the future to come. Her dreams were never wrong. He was coming. He'd be close now. She had to do what she could to ensure her baby's survival. It was all that mattered now.

Katrina took the steps two at a time, her socked feet almost causing her to fall on the linoleum in the kitchen. As she backed herself into a corner, she snatched the phone from the wall and called the only number she knew would help. She cradled the phone in trembling hands and looked around as reality set in. She was going to die. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, slamming into her rib cage. The blood was rushing in her ears. Katrina took several deep breaths and tried to steady herself. The phone seemed to take forever. It rang once, twice, three times. A sleepy voice answered, one she knew so well. He cleared his throat. His voice was groggy.

"Hello?"

"Floyd?" Katrina whispered. "Floyd, he's coming."

"Katrina?" His voice was clearer, sleep leaving him. "Who's coming? What's happening?" Katrina could hear Floyd's young wife in the background asking questions, worry in her tone. For a moment, Katrina envied her. Marie was safely at home, tucked into her warm bed. Katrina never would be again. She shook the thought off as soon as she had it. She had to stay focused.

"He's coming." Katrina repeated, "you have to save my baby, Floyd, hurry!" She wiped at the tears already streaming down her face and slammed the phone back into its cradle. Now she had to give Floyd some kind of support. He had a fiery temper and would rush to her without thinking of calling for help. She didn't need a dream to tell her that. She picked the phone back up and dialed again.

"911," a woman's voice said. She sounded kind. "What's your emergency?" Katrina cradled the phone close to her face. She needed a kind voice.

"My name is Katrina Young." She gave out her address as fast as she could. "Please send help- please be quick. I have to go now. I have to hide, but please, please hurry! There's a man outside. He's come to kill me. His name is Benjamin Walker. He was my friend." Katrina spoke in hurried, hushed tones over the top of the dispatcher. She didn't have time to talk. In the hallway, the grandfather clock chimed the hour. That was the sign. It was one o'clock in the morning. Her dream had begun with the chime of the grandfather clock. She sucked in a breath and ignored the woman's repeated questions, releasing the phone. It bounced off the floor and banged on the wall once, twice, before coming to a stop.

Even though she knew her dreams were never wrong, she also knew she had to try. She had to try for her baby. Katrina stood on trembling legs and headed for the front of the house. In her dream, Benjamin had come through the back door. She headed in the opposite direction, her mind racing. She pulled open the heavy front door. The cool air left goosebumps on her skin. She scanned the yard and street in front of her, looking for a way out. A shadow moved, drawing her attention. Her breath caught in her throat. It was too late.

"Ben," Katrina forced a fake smile, spotting him among the azaleas she had planted with her mother. He'd been on his way to the back door. As it had in her dream, the smell of magnolia greeted her on the breeze, pushing her hair from her face. If she went with her instinct, if she ran now, he would take her down in the street. She and the baby would both die. "What are you doing here?" she asked instead. Ben forced a smile, coming around the azaleas like a snake slithering across the forest floor.

"Katrina? What are you doing awake at this hour?" He hadn't answered her question.

"I couldn't sleep." Katrina replied, stepping back as he approached. "The baby is keeping me up." She looked toward the back of the house. The hair standing up on the back of her neck, "where were you headed?"

"I was out for a run," He looked back toward the empty street, then to her, "thought I saw a shadow in the back. Can't be too careful these days."

Katrina couldn't even think of anything to say back. Her smile fell, watching him. His expression was empty, his blue eyes searching hers. Those eyes had been so kind before. They were beautiful eyes. Now, they were cold and penetrating. He knew. She faked a hollow, metallic laugh. She knew she had to keep trying. Floyd needed time to save her baby.

"You'd think you'd learn to quit going out for runs." She said. She shrugged and let out a small laugh, but it sounded hollow and metallic. He didn't smile back, didn't respond to the joke.

"Been having dreams again, Katrina?" He was forcing her back into the house, step by step. She hadn't realized she was moving with him until she stumbled over the threshold. "I thought you were something like a prophet." There were a million options laid out before them, all ending in her death, some later than others. Katrina could see them all laying before her like a spider's web. She needed to stall for time. Floyd would be coming. He didn't live far.

"You don't have to do this, Ben." She replied. "We're friends, remember?" His laugh chilled her to her bones. He slid the knife out from where he'd been hiding it in the sleeve of his coat. "Ben, please!" Katrina didn't mind the wail in her tone. She sounded desperate because she was desperate. She stumbled back a few steps, trying to think of what to do as he approached. He twisted the knife back and forth, smiling at her. It was an empty smile. He was not her friend, not anymore. For a moment, she saw her reflection in the shiny metal. She looked like a deer in headlights. Her eyes darted to the open door, hoping against hope to see Floyd there with his gun ready. There was nothing but the empty blackness beyond all the way to the street. Ben looked back with her, as if he had read her mind. He knew what she had done. His eyes widened and his posture stiffened.

"YOU CALLED THAT COCK EYED SON OF A BITCH?" Katrina cried out and stumbled back as he roared, her hip catching the side table in the hallway. The lamp on it fell to the floor with a crash. Katrina caught herself, sending the tarot cards there flying to the floor around her. She looked down at them as Ben stalked forward. The message was as clear as crystal. She knew what she had to do to save the baby. She looked up as Ben rushed forward, the knife held high in the air. Katrina screamed.

"Ben, no! Not the baby! BEN!" She felt the knife sink deep into her flesh and gasped for air. Then she said the only thing she knew to.