Monday, September 10, 2012

When Death Calls - WIP


A serial killer is plaguing the city .  He first stalks his victims and torments them with obscene phone calls.  Once he grows tired of the game, he rapes and kills them, leaving behind little to no evidence.  Detective Alex Neeman and his partner David Cross must work together to find the killer before the body count raises much more.  But when Cross ends up murdered by the side of the road, Neeman is left to solve the puzzle by himself. When his ex-wife goes missing, will he be able to put the pieces together before it's too late?



The man sat down in the pew next to a woman wearing entirely too much perfume.  She was fairly attractive and seemed to go overboard with trying to look good.  Her blonde hair was from a bottle, yet had the perfect highlights, her nails were neatly manicured with a deep ruby polish.  Even her small frame looked as though it was born out of the efforts of constant gym use.  She wore a tight and somewhat revealing black dress, a bit too short for what most would consider appropriate given the reason they were all gathered.  He took it all in as he pretended to look at the program.  The thrill of being here was intoxicating.

The woman popped a cough drop in her mouth and the smell of menthol mixed with her overpowering perfume, causing him to turn his head as he tried not to choke.  Yes, he would enjoy this one.  She deserved to die.  She was sitting there taunting him.  He fought the urge to grin, he knew it would put a spotlight on him if someone happened to see it. This was a place of sadness and mourning.

The man reached up and straightened his tie, more for something to do than anything else.  He had to be patient, With any luck the woman would only stay for the service and not follow the procession out to the cemetery.  He mentally crossed his fingers.  If he was wrong, it would be a long and even more frustrating day.  The funeral's of cops always lasted much longer than those of normal citizens.  The processions are what took the most time.  Damn, why hadn't he thought of that earlier?  He had seen the cop cars lined up, so long the back of the line wasn't visible from the front.  He mentally cursed to himself, wishing he something to distract him from the building urge.  Patience, he told himself. Then he had a thought. There is a guestbook in the lobby, perhaps she would sign it on the way out.  If he had a name he could look her up.  Yes, yes.  That's it!

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