The Beginning of Punishment

RoomMate

Writing a colum about murder is not easy, I'll say that. Sitting at home on my couch, starring at a blank screen, was not how I'd picture starting my day. If fact, everything has been harder to do since Dealer come to live with me for 'protection'. 

Let me back up and explain. My name's Stacy Wolfe, and my brother, Jackson Wolfe is a detective with a partner, Dealer Marcus. Dealer is one of the most sexy, amazingly hot cops I've ever seen. He's also one of the best the town has too.  But right now everyone is busy with finding a murderer. I chewed my lip thinking of how to turn this into my colunm. Everyone loves a good horror story, so what I can do to make this work? I sat forward and started typing. 

"Today another body was found. This time a younger female, roughly around the age of thirteen. Either young girls are to guilable, or this mad man is getting bolder. Police still have no major leads to the whereabouts or identity of this killer, only that with every vitcim, he becomes more confident." 

Maybe that was a little to much, since reporters arn't really suppose t know the details of a case. Oh well, whatever works for me. 

"You know if you keep typing any more, your fingers will start falling off one, by one." The smooth silkly as sin voice, whisered making me shiver and turn my head to him. 

"And you would know from experience, right?" I closed my laptop turning in my chair towards him. Dealer Marcus, the one and only pornagraphic muscled man. I bit my lip to stiffle my laugh causing him to notice and raised a brow at me. "What are you doing back so early? Dont you have finger prints to take or something?" 

"Or something," He sighed sitting down across from me. "But if I went and told you all my secrets, you'd just write them into your paper, and I could lose my job." He shook hs head leaning back. 

Not likely to losee your job, I thought watching the stress in his face. "What happened today?" I quietly asked. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know for me, or my article.  Maybe he just needed to get it off his shoulders. Hell, he's lived with me for the last two months, Stace, if he doesnt trust you by now, kick him out. I shook that thought away. 

Dealer ran his hand through his hair messing it up as he stared at her. "She was so young, stacy," he whispered. "So little, and that bastard killed her. She was just a little girl, probably crying for her mother the whole time he had her." His eyes were tomented and sad. "He tortured her...Cut her up real bad. If this guy isn't stopped..." He shook his head. Stacy watched him torn with staying where she was or going and huggng him. It was clear he was really attached to this case. "has you figured out a pattern yet?" 

"No. That's the thing. His victims are so different, and at random times. Besides the same cuts and brusing, we can't find a link between them."  Which was most frusterating of all, she guessed. It didnt stop her from going to the counter to make coffee. She felt like she couold use it. 

"You need a break. So does Jackson." God, if only her brother had the decentecy to let her know he was okay. 

"I'll tell him you said so." She could hear slight humor to his tone which made her smile. "Jackson said to tell you he'd be here tonight." 

"Good." She lifted the cup to her lips. "Has he been sleeping?" She worriedd that maybe these murders were hurting her brother just as much or more, then Dealer. 

He got up and moved into the other room turning on the telvision on his way. "Looks like it. He hasn't told me otherwise." He flashed a smile at her. "What has he told you? Anything good?" 

Dealer's POV

Anything good about me, I'm sure. I watched her, watched she stiffen just he slightest bit telling me she was either hiding something, or on edge. Now what did little miss priss reporter have to be on edge about? "What's on your mind Stacy?" I asked her. 

She glanced at me with her lip in her teeth and I felt blood rush to my lower body. Dammit, this woman sets me on edge every day! 

"Dealer..." her soft voice floated over my skin bringing my attention to her again. "I haven't gotten my mail yet." 

I tensed walking over to the window and gently brushed the curtin back to look out at the street. She hasn't gotten her mail, she doesn't know if she's gotten the letter yet. "Did you see anyone bring your mail?" I looked over to see her shake her head. 

 Great. I walked out the door down to the mail box, opended it, and sure enough there it was. 

The letter.  The letter that comes every week. From our physo killer. 

I sighed pulling the letter out of the mailbox and went back inside to find Stacy on the couch. "What's it say this time?"  I shrugged and tossed it on the table in front of  her. "Open it for yourself and find out."  

 Maybe this time we'll find out if the creep will make an attempt on my little reporter's life.