Author's Note: So, I haven't been updating this as much as I want to. But, I have a goal to complete this book by January next year! So, please, keep reading. I'd hate to a have thought my followers feel abandoned. I'm back, and staying.
Zain Woodrow, Author
Dragging her feet down the drive, Tatum sleepily fell toward the mail box, her gut cut open like a huge smile. She breathed as quickly as possible, the dark man only feet away. She tried to scream, but nothing short of a whisper came out of her bleeding mouth. The killer grunted, turning her over, and lunging at her with a huge fucking knife. The cold air pierced, creating a whistling sound as the knife hit her gut once more.
She awoke with a jerk, alas – only a dream. A horrible, mind fuck of a dream. And had she not awoken in time, rumour has it – she would've died in real life. Bullshit. She knew it, but when kids talk at All Saints High School, they spoke. Only a short minute after she awoke, Jillian made a short snore. Tatum tried as much as possible to see her friend in the dark, squinting through crusted sleepy eyes.
Wash your face, Tay...was just a dream, she thought, pulling back the blanket and walking toward the en-suit bathroom. Scratching through her hair, it's wiry strands stood up as though she'd been electrocuted. Peering over the basin, she turned on the tap and looked into the mirror. She rolled her eyes at the sight of her face, she looked like a dropped pie, her make-up smeared on her pillow, the other half down her neck. Had she rolled in her sleep a little more, she'd look like Two Face from the Batman comics. DC characters aside, she rand her hands under the faucet, splashing water up on her face. Relieved by the cold splash, she reached for a hand towel by the tub. Wiping her face dry. Beyond the bathroom door was a buzzing, it wasn't tinnitus, it wasn't something naughty Jillian kept in her drawer. Tatum quickly turned off the water and started back to the bedroom, she followed a white light hidden under her pillow. Her phone, it rang. No Caller ID it read, she sighed.
'God, damn it Ma. I packed clean underwear.' She mumbled, swiping across the screen, placing the cold surface to her ear. 'Hello?'
The person on the other end breathed, they breathed heavily. 'You have made a terrible mistake.' It rasped, Tatum's heart sank. The voice from before. It was that creep from before!
'Who is this?'
No response, just breathing.
'Listen, you creep --'
'No, you shut up and listen, you fucking whore!' Rasped the voice, hoarse and broodingly strong. Tatum's heart sank.
'Who is this?'
'That depends..'
'On what?' She asked, wishing she hadn't.
'You know, Tatum, you're a hard fact to follow.' Said the voice, 'Men are infected with lust for you, women adore you. But in the light of truth, you're a cock teaser who likes to flaunt her shit all around town.'
'I don't know what you're talking about.' Tatum shook in her voice, Jillian rolled over and opened her eyes, gently rubbing them. 'You have me mistaken for someone else.'
'Oh, you're so modest!' The voice replied sarcastically, 'Did you think you could just get away with being such a mean little whore?'
'Tatum, it's 4 a.m.' Jillian sighed. Tatum put her finger to her mouth and pressed the speaker phone button.
'Oh, Jillian, wakey-wakey my little fakey-skanky.' The voice almost giggled, he was amused. Jillian smiled and grabbed the phone.
'Ooh, so you know who I am?' She smiled, 'Listen Billy, stalking isn't seen as cute to any woman, ever hear of that guy who stalked Björk?'
'Billy couldn't make it to the phone tonight, he had a hot date with the fishes.' The man remarked, Jillian smiled.
'Uh, did he? I guess that means he won't be bothering us any more.' She said, looking at the screen and placing her thumb on the END CALL selection. She giggled and placed the phone down. Tatum watched in disgust.
'Jillian, that was stupid!'
'What are you talking about, I know Billy's voice anywhere, and that was his Clint Eastwood impression.'
The phone lit up, the screen revealed a message from UNKNOWN.
'I'll cut you in half, right down the middle - forehead to cunt.' Tatum read.
'Gross, turn your phone off and try to get some sleep.' Jillian said, rolling over, placing the covers over her face. Tatum sat there in fright, no way could she just turn her phone off and sleep. That was out of the question. Perhaps if she cleared her mind with a cigarette, she'd meant to quit but couldn't find the time to. Every drag made shit clearer, and without it she saw life cloudy and bane. Since her father left for Indiana in the winter, and her mother started embroidery classes, Tatum had the whole place to herself. After school, she found herself napping more, every afternoon at four thirty. Just after The Bold and The Beautiful re-run had finished on the local affiliate. Those times she napped made it harder for her to eat. The ice cream she pulled out of the freezer melted in the bowl she'd spooned it into. It's milky substance would ooze down her chin as she felt herself only wanting to vomit, rather than swallow.
2
The finest place in all of Citrus Heights was Larry's Pizza Shack, and for a while its business had gone down hill. The pizza became burnt, the thick shakes were now skimmed milk with syrup, and the juke box had a broken tweeter. No one came by much any more, and on the weekends when Larry sold two large pepperoni with a box of wicked wings for only $4.90 including tax – people knew they were getting their money's worth. No one wanted food that looked as though it had been scraped off the bottom of a tramps urine stained shoe. Not only had Larry let his business go to the shitter, he'd let himself go too. His chin now covered in a thick black beard, his teeth just as black. The guy was a fucking mess compared to most who were working middle class. Over thirty years of making pizzas and milkshakes and not a change to his low class lifestyle. Maybe it was not just the business suffering, maybe it was him. After his son died in a bus crash in Santa Costa, Larry's face became wrinkled, his teeth black, his hair grey. Some nights he'd lock up early just to turn the music up so no one in the building could hear him sob, craned over a picture of his son Brady. This was a horrible chain of events, a terrible series of unfortunate events. And as Homicide Detective Andrew Klein stood over Larry's rotting corpse, he picked his teeth with his tongue. Forensics took photographs, and people glared through the window, over the police tape.
'What have we got?' asked Detective Malcolm Gardner, sipping from a take-away cup, behind Klein.
'Homicide, male, forty-two years.' he replied, 'He was stabbed, bludgeoned with a chair and then strangled with a telephone cable. If you asked me, this guy was a first timer.'
Gardner bent down, pointing at a smashed cellphone in Larry's shirt pocket. 'Get me a glove.' he asked, a man in a forensic vest pulled one from his pocket, handing it to the cop. Gardner didn't wear it, he used it as a guard between his hands and the bloodied phone. He picked it up and showed his partner, 'Bag it, have it sent to the lab.' he instructed to the forensic. Sighing, breaking through the thoroughfare of cops. 'Damn it, Andrew, what happened to Sacramento?' he asked, 'It's been free of vicious murder for years.'
'You think this shit just happens, robbery gone wrong?' Klein asked, 'What if the Feds take this case from us?'
'Fuck the Feds, we've got enough problems to worry about. No, we've got to keep this murder under wraps as much as we can. Don't let the media get a hold of this, too many will panic.' Walking out of the restaurant, Gardner lit a cigarette, flicking the lighter open, it's flame licked the air as his as his hair line. Missing it by a center-metre.
'People know, Mal, they always fucking know, right now some kid is tweeting this all over the web. Maybe just down the street, somebody's putting this on social media...'
'Andrew, the media will have a field day with this. If we put panic into this town, it'll be the East Area Rapist all over again, people will hide.'
'I hear they call him the Original Night Stalker, now.' Klein replied, walking toward his black SUV, past the yellow tape, it made a barrier across the street.
3
'You wanna go to Amanda's party tonight?' Jillina asked, pouring milk into her tea. Tatum hunched over a bowl of Corn Flakes, tired and drifting in and out. Jillian smiled, waving a hand in front of her friend's face. 'Ground control to Major Tom!'
'Huh?' Tatum looked up, dropping her spoon in the bowl, milk splashed into her face, soggy cereal projected to her chin. Jillian smiled, screwing the cap back on the milk..
'What's gotten into you lately?'
Tatum wiped her face with a tea-towel, placing beside her, she got up with her bowl and moved toward the sink. 'Nothing, I just didn't sleep well.'
'Missing your bed, huh?'
'No, it's just – Never mind.' she hesitated, shaking her head, rinsing her bowl. 'What were you saying?'
Jillian reached for a spoon in the drawer, grabbing the sugar bowl. 'I was just saying, we should go to Amanda's party tonight. Maybe, it could take off the edge of having Billy around.
'You know Billy will probably be there, right?' Tatum replied, rolling her eyes, 'Amanda is his cousin.'
Jillian took a long sip from her cup and dipping the tea bag around a few times, trying to ignore Tatum's nonsense. She was always a downer, when it was her turn. Though, Tatum was a good friend when she need be.
'Amanda won't let him come, she hates him as much as me.' Jillian turned on the kitchen TV, it buzzed as it found the channel, she adjusted the antenna. 'Besides, when was the last time we had fun?'
'Last night.' Tatum replied, watching the screen. The news rolled across the screen as the news reporter stood in the middle of a sectioned street. He held in his hands some notes, reading them back to the anchor.
'There were no witnesses to this vicious crime, a very unlikely situation to happen somewhere like our little city of Citrus Heights. Sacramento PD are asking anybody who were near Falcon Street during the hours of ten and eleven o'clock to come forward and assist them in solving this as quickly as possible.' The reporter said, into the camera his eyes caught the screen like amethyst stones, shining in the California sun. The anchor woman nodded and fussed about with papers in front of her.
'Hey, that's Larry's place, isn't it?' Jillian asked, no reply.
'Now, Holden, we haven't seen such a vicious crime since nine-teen eighty-six when the Original Night Stalker walked the streets. Is there much panic in Citrus Heights right now?' the anchor asked, the reporter nodded in delay as the satellite beamed seconds later, his reply.
'Well, Suzie, there is much outcry for this crime to be solved, residents of Sacramento are asked to stay calm at this time.'
Jillian placed her finger in the power button, clicking it in. 'Ugh, so much crime these days.'
Tatum smiled with a furrowed brow, 'Says the girl who stole her first pack of Tampax.'
Jillian smiled and shoved her friend with a smile, Tatum shoved her friend back. Dropping her cup, Jillian gasped, placing her hand to her mouth.