A POUND OF FLESH

Pieces of the Puzzle

THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE

25

The slow and steady thrum of Catharine's heartbeat is a pulsing green light on the monitor. Tubes stuck out of every orifice on her face, the most uncomfortable looking of the lot coming from her mouth. Emma put a hand to her throat thinking of the constricting sensation.

In the few days that she had been in the hospital, with the exception of police officers and some persistent reporters, no one had come to visit Catharine. The machines would continue to breathe for Catharine, as each passing day she slipped further into the realm between living and dead.

Catharine did not fit into the mold as neatly as his previous victims. She had been more of a party girl, regardless of her age. Her tattered clothing was designer, as were her shoes and purse. The many baubles had all been real, and if Emma had to put a price tag to them, combined they were worth almost half her yearly salary. Before her run in with this monster, she had been well put together. The surgeon had even commented that the cosmetic procedures that had been completed were very well done.

'So sad,' Emma had thought. This woman had manicured everything about herself to fit in, yet no one knew or visited her.

Catharine and Elizabeth became household names as the media festered around the story, focusing on public fear and scrutiny. Depending on the political agenda of the station, the portrayal of the women came across as either condemning or sympathetic - however none gave the impression of truly caring about the person.

The only remnants of a silver lining were the stories coming forward of young girls, some as young as fifteen, returning to their homes - families being put back together.

With all the frenzy increasing, so was the pressure.

***

They were able to gather a little more information on Lizzie in thanks to her roommate. The comely woman had simply arrived at the station and requested to speak to Ron by name. Picking up on cues, he had quietly brought her to a private room and shut the door as she informed him that she had seen his name in the local paper.

Sitting opposite Ron at the table, she introduced herself as Claire and informed him that she was Liz's roommate and long-time friend. It was only after the words had passed her lips did she realize the mistake, and corrected herself. Ron simply offered a nod in condolences and let the quiet of the room convey his mood.

She was every bit the opposite of the woman whose pictures she had brought and quickly pressed into the hands of Ron before she retracted her hands into her lap. From looking at her downturned face, Ron could see the signs of crying. The corners of her nose a soft pink as she let out a quiet sniffle, underneath her eyes were slightly puffy and red rimmed.

"She should be remembered like this," Claire waved a hand towards the photographs that Ron was holding. In them Ron saw a young woman whose smile shone in her eyes. Her hair hung well past her shoulders in loose curls brown curls with barely a smattering of make up on her face.

"The city changed her," Claire continued, "she was nice, easy going. It was hard for her, you know, like that old saying, she used to be a big fish in a small pond and then she came here and...well it's different."

Elizabeth's parents had divorced when she was little, but fortunately the breakup had been pretty amicable and she had two loving families that supported her greatly. When she had moved to Toronto, she had been approached by an older woman who showed Elizabeth how she could make very good money without having to keep a day job. Her parents never knew otherwise and it seemed to make her happy, so Claire kept her secret. She had assured her that she would be safe, that she used an agency and they vetted all the clients.

Claire gave Ron the number of the agency and that of Elizabeth's parents' respective numbers. Before leaving she forewarned him that the news had sent her mother into a depressed state and her father was refusing to accept what had happened to his daughter. Neither had come forward to collect the body, leaving poor Claire trying to help where she could. As quickly as she had come, Claire had left leaving Ron exhausted and upset from the interaction.

***

The note found in Liz's throat had been written by a pen that could be bought at any office supply store and regular white printer paper. In addition they had not been able to lift a print from the note. The lack of physical evidence did nothing to help the flow of the case.

With nothing of a physical nature to process, the decision had been made to have the note analyzed by a psychiatrist and a handwriting expert.

As they awaited an analysis, Ron and Emma put a collected effort into contacting the agency. Claire had been adamant that Elizabeth only ever went on dates that had been vetted first. If there was a crumb to be found, they would search it out.

With a few clicks of the mouse, Emma had been able to find the website for the agency Ron had told her that Elizabeth had worked for. Scrolling through the pages, it was tasteful and coy. The background was a solid midnight black with the writing in a scrolled white, contrasting against the background. There were pictures and names of young women with seductive pouts and flawless skin.

When Ron had previously tried to call the number Claire gave him, there was no answer. Emma had chastised him for using a landline at the precinct. He never thought anything of it.

With the information they had, they were currently looking into finding a physical address for the agency, or at the very least a contact person.

Until then the medical examiner had requested for them to pay him a visit.

Ron and Emma climbed back into his car, as they left the building and headed towards the medical examiner's office. Rounding the building towards the parking lot exit, Ron reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and answered his vibrating cell phone.

"He's in the system?" Emma's eyes bore into the side of Ron's head. The blood must have come back with a positive identification. Emma could feel a calmness settle into her shoulders as she leaned further back into the passenger seat of Ron's vehicle. Martha. Polly. Ann. Lizzie. Catharine. Soon they would be able to make someone answer for what they had done.

"Son of a -" The relaxed demeanor that had taken over Emma, did not transfer to Ron as he hung up the phone.

A/N: I have added to this chapter, however I still want to put it through another edit. Please let me know what you think of the additions.

AND REMEMBER TO VOTE IF YOU ARE ENJOYING