A POUND OF FLESH

Collecting Payment

COLLECTING PAYMENT

20

“This is the just the way that I wanted to spend my Thursday night,” Phil rolls his eyes, lips puckered at the end of a cigarette.  The red ember intensifying as it draws closer to his lips with each inhale.  With the dull glow that the Marlboro puts out, Ron can see the sweat glistening on the top of Phil's lip.  It rolls in droplets down the side of his mouth, catching in the sunken pores that etch his face.  Even in the early faint hours of the evening the man is perspiring through his shirt.  Ron wishes he would wick it away, however Phil just stands there, dragging on his cigarette and continues to bath in his own humanly fluids. 

Rather than attempting to make conversation Ron walks away. 

Even at the end of September, the evening sky is still light.  The playground is a bustle of activity.  A group of children are squealing as they run around the legs of the structure, chasing one another in a game of tag.  Rosy cheeks adorn their smiling faces.  A small boy with grass stained jeans, climbs the jungle gym with the help of a parent.  The two share a small victory at the child's triumph.  

Parents sit close by on park benches sipping from steaming take out cups as they watch their children explore the various activities the play area offers.  The splash pad a short distance off to the right is abandoned for the season.  The various metal and plastic sprinklers stand motionless at an attention. 

The sand of the playground acting as a barrier, the people there untouched by the events unfolding around it.  Fun can still be had.

As more officers arrive, the group of growing uniforms starts to draw the attention of the various patrons in the vicinity.  As their number swells, those of the families dwindle.

Ron and Phil make their rounds through the groups of officers milling about the entrance of the park.  Everyone gets their marching orders, a close watch on anything and anyone suspicious.  Other than this hunch, they still had little to go on. 

The preliminary reports on the previous victims gave little and they were still waiting all the forensic from Ann to come back.  Toronto had a heavier workload.  At this point no DNA, no witnesses, and no helpful hints from the public – helpful being the operative word.  So the approach they are taking is deterrence at the park - high visibility on all the walking paths and at all access points. 

It is not the call that Ron would have made, however with such a large area to cover, it is the call that Toronto makes.

After a few hours and Phil's continued whining, everything is set.  Ron is almost exuberant when Phil retreats to his vehicle.  Mick and Emma have already left some time ago and Ron is finally getting some quiet.

***

The evening wanes and the sky lights up like a watercolor painting as the sun slowly dips below the city scape.   As it disappears, Ron slips his jacket over his shoulders and zips it up.  The leather felt snug around his midsection and pulls against his shoulders – a combination of long days, take out, stress and aging. 

The family laden environment changes to a more mature crowd with the evening sky encroaching.  High energy toddlers are replaced with an older variety.  People were constantly coming and going throughout the park – either enjoying the fall before winter comes, blanketing everything with its white splendor or curious as to why there is such a heavy uniform presence.  Regardless of the reasoning, the public out in droves that evening.  The extra traffic could make things go either way.

Climbing into the warmth of his car, Ron watches as officers stop and talk to a couple as they enter.  A group of teenagers shove and wrestle with each other as they make their way into the belly of the park with an officer following a few paces behind them.  Some people turn away after their interrogation, various expressions plastered on their faces. 

Ron looks on in frustration as two of the younger guys get distracted by a group of cute college girls, batting their lashes and flashing white teethed grins.  Phil had it right, this is not how he wants to spend his Thursday night either.

In the background Ron can hear Emma and Mick chattering over the radio as he focuses on those coming and going before him.

Ron highly doubts that their killer is just going to waltz right through the front entrance of the park.

***

“Have a good jog sir,” the officer gives a slight nod of the head as the jogger passes him on the path.

Rounding the bend, he looks over his shoulder to ensure the officers are out of sight before he veers off the path.  Making his way through a heavily wooded section, he carefully maneuvers down the embankment. 

The small alcove is barely visible, hidden from view of the path by trees and overgrown shrubs.  He had been lucky to find it.

Under toque and heavy vest that he is wearing he is perspiring.  Glancing around, he bends forward to disturb the earth with his gloves.   When he finds what he is searching for, he grips the small latch and pulls the wooden door - made of branches, leaves and string – back.  Peering into the shallow hole, he finds what he is looking for.  Dried dirt and blood matte the long blond hair which sticks to the woman's face.  Her clothes are disheveled – torn and dirty.  Pulling a gloved hand from his pocket he brushes away the hair, turning her head so he can look her in the eyes.  She cowers like an animal stuck in a trap, shaking and whimpering. 

'How fitting,' he snickers to himself.

“Hello Lizzie – I am here to collect payment.”

A/N: Not a lot has changed, mainly just some tense changes and a picture added.  Please remember to vote and comment to help this story get noticed.