Elements of a Broken Mind

Prologue

Sergeant James Morgan had just gotten off of a twelve hour shift. The sun was beginning to peep over the mountains and the birds were well into their early morning chorus. He cast a bleary eye in the direction of the sun and moaned. Working weekend security was awful; but it was hard to say no to twelve hours of overtime, especially if your wife had just had a baby! He grinned. It was a lot more fun staying up watching his favorite sitcoms, rather than having sleep interrupted by a hungry newborn.

James climbed into his beat up old jeep and started the engine. It coughed and sputtered, then stalled out. It was just one more reason to add to the long list of why he worked overtime. Popping the hood, he sighed and climbed out of the jeep. He fiddled with some wires and plugs. Sparks flew and he jumped back.

“Dammit!” he swore, feeling the burn from the mild shock. He fiddled around some more. “That should do it,” he muttered, climbing back into the jeep. This time the engine sputtered and roared to life. Thank God! He was ready to get home to the nice breakfast of pancakes and eggs with his choice of bacon or sausage. He loved his wife. She really was wonderful!

He was contemplating whether he wanted a hot shower before breakfast, or before bed, as he pulled out of the parking lot. He almost missed the person lying sprawled on the lawns. The brakes squealed in loud protest as he slammed on them.

“Damned teenagers,” he grumbled, figuring it was a kid who had stumbled over from the party down the street last night and passed out drunk. He contemplated leaving the kid there to sleep it off. After all, he may not get the jeep started again. Besides he was off shift, it was no longer his responsibility. His stomach growled, reminding him of breakfast with his wife and baby. Even from the road, he could tell that it was a girl. What if that was his little girl? Would he want someone else to just leave her there?

“Awe, hell!” Slamming the jeep into park, he hung out the window and called out. “Hey kid! Get your ass up! This is private property, you know!” He could be a Good Samaritan without being nice about it!

She must have been pretty well passed out, because she didn’t seem to hear him at all. Growling that he knew the jeep probably wouldn’t restart, he turned it off, slammed the door, and stomped across the cool wet lawn. The dew collected on the tips of his work shoes, beading on the nice wax job. As he got closer, he couldn’t help but notice how still she was. She really didn’t look like a drunk who had passed out. She lay with her arms at her sides, perfectly still. Her hair was neat. Her makeup was neat. Even her clothes were un-rumpled.

Nudging her with his boot, he began to feel a chill creep up his spine. “Miss?” There was no response. A sickening feeling began building in his stomach, churning the bile in anticipation. His arms and legs trembled as he slowly bent over to check the young woman’s pulse. His fingers barely brushed her neck and his whole being recoiled. “Oh Jesus!”

 Chapter One

Detective Grant Anderson pulled his long six-foot-four frame out of his truck and took a look around. His normally piercing blue eyes were bleary, and his thick curly black hair was disheveled. He hated being called out on Sundays…especially this early in the morning…especially given what he’d heard so far.

He spied Deputy Keys standing with a man in a blue uniform next to a beat up old jeep. More importantly, he spied the coffee in the detective’s hand. Seemed like as good a place as any to start. He ambled on over.

“Is that for me?” he asked, indicating the cup.

 Keys grimaced, but handed the cup over.

“Good man, Good man.” Grant took a sip of the hot brew. He could have done with a bit more sugar, but beggars can’t be choosers. Smiling at Keys, he then turned to the man in uniform. “So, you must be our super hero security guard.” He tried very hard to keep the smirk off his face, instantly regretting the comment as he took a better look at the man.

“No sir, just a concerned citizen,” James winced. “I… I thought she might have been at the party last night and just… just passed out… or something…. I didn’t know… she was dead.” The security guard whispered the last words, withdrawing into himself as he pulled his arms tighter across his chest.

Grant frowned. This guy was pretty shaken up; but then not many of the people in this sleepy little town had ever seen a dead body, much less someone who had been murdered. Grant thought about it and could feel for the poor guy. It must be hard.

“I have to get home. My wife… she just recently had a baby… she’ll be worried about me.” James mumbled, carefully looking anywhere but the field where the girl’s body lie.

“I already got his statement Detective,” Keys added. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything else before I let him go.”

Grant eyed the guard a moment longer.  He didn’t squirm under Grant’s perusal as he seemed to be in his own world. “No, that should be fine. If I have any questions I’ll call you…. What did you have?” Grant asked politely, because he remembered from somewhere that this was the proper thing to do.

“A little girl, her name is Lexann Elisabeth.”

“That’s nice. A real pretty name. Congratulations to you and your wife.” No wonder the guy was taking it so hard, Grant thought.

“Thanks,” James mumbled. He shuffled his feet a bit, then walked around to the driver’s side of the jeep and climbed in. The clunky jeep sputtered, but eventually caught and roared to life. Both the men could see the security guard crying as he pulled out of the plant parking lot.

“Hell of a way to come off shift. Poor guy’s pretty shaken up about it,” Keys commented.

 “Horrible thing to experience,” Grant agreed.

“Especially with a new baby girl of his own,” Keys added.

Grant eyed him up and down for his rather astute observation. “So, are we sure this is the same guy?” Grant changed the subject, moving towards the body out on the lawn.

“No doubt about it. Same M.O. and there’s another note. Pretty much reads the same as the others ‘I thought her family might want her back, she’s of no use to me now.’ We thought we had better wait for Anne… and you, of course, before we continued any investigation,” Keys added quickly. We’ve pretty much just been securing the area,”

Grant just smirked at him. “Not that I expect it’ll matter much, but good thinking.” Grant started moving towards the cluster of police officers. “So do we know who she is yet?”

“We’re pretty sure she is Elisabeth Jones, nineteen years old, from Englewood Park. She’s been missing about two months. They thought she might have run away.”

“That was pretty quick. What makes you so sure?”

“She used to date my baby brother back in high school. I’d recognize her just about anywhere.” Keys reddened as he inspected his boots with a suddenly keen interest.

Grant nodded. One of the benefits of working in a small town, versus working in the big city, everyone knows each other. “Next question, why did he dump her here?”

Detective Keys responded quickly, getting back into investigation mode. “Well, the way I see it is he dropped her here because Englewood is too busy. Her dad works here. He’d be less likely to be seen, but still feels like he’s returning her to her family as directly as possible.”

Once again Grant appraised the young officer. “Impressive. Are you gunnin’ for my job?” he teased.

“No sir, but I thought you might like a partner soon. Maybe you could put in a good word with the sheriff for me,” Keys stated calmly.

“Unfortunately, if this keeps up, I may need one,” Grant added seriously. He looked down at the young woman lying in the grass. She looked so sweet and peaceful in a light pink cardigan and mint-green skirt with tiny pink flowers embroidered along the bottom. She even had on light brown pumps that complemented the outfit. Not the outfit she’d last been seen in. Not a surprise. He noticed that dew clung to her hair and her clothes. She had apparently been lying here for a good part of the night.

A new, large, shiny black truck pulled into the parking lot and Dr. Anne Hutchins climbed out. Anne was nothing like Grant, or anyone else, would expect when mentally picturing a coroner. In her early thirties, with a svelte body, long legs, silky black hair, bright brown eyes and a ready warm smile; this was a woman who turned heads. She was not some dusty old goat who reeked of formaldehyde and embalming fluids. Grant figured this conundrum was due to the fact that Dr. Anne was actually the local pediatrician who doubled as town coroner when needed… which, until recently, wasn’t very often.

Anne was marching across the lawn and pulling her long hair back in a hair-band. When she saw the young woman, her eyes welled up. “Oh, Elisabeth!” she gasped.

“You knew her too?” Keys asked.

Anne nodded. “She was a patient of mine for years. I’ve taken care of all of her brothers and sisters. I still see two of them.” Anne knelt down and started bagging the girl’s hands.

“You’re awfully dressed up,” Grant noted with a raised brow.

“I was getting ready for church when the call came in. What a horrible day to do this, the Lord’s Day. It’s just despicable,” she muttered.

Grant watched her working methodically for a moment, admiring how quickly she had picked up on crime scene investigation. Although it was not her background and most of the deaths she had witnessed until recently were accidents or old age, Anne had become more than proficient. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to talk to the plant manager and see if there is anything I can get from up there. If you need anything, just let me know.” Grant smiled charmingly, hoping Anne wouldn’t object.

“A real CSI would be nice,” Anne pointed out. “Has anyone told her parents yet?”

Grant looked to Deputy Keys.

“Um, no, not yet… unless someone saw her when they were coming to work. However, security has been pretty tight, and we were here before first shift started and third shift hadn’t gotten off yet.”

Grant groaned. “I guess I’ve got a phone call to make.” He hated this kind of shit!

“I’ll take care of it, if you want, Detective,” Anne offered kindly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” Grant really hated dealing with victim’s parents, even though it was technically his job.

Anne merely shrugged. “It might come better from me anyway. I’ve known the family for years.”

“I would appreciate it. Call me when you’re done with the autopsy. Hopefully we can get some leads from that.”

“Sure thing,” she smirked sarcastically. He could tell that she doubted there would be any more leads on Elisabeth than there had been on the last two.

Grant turned to Keys. “Deputy Keys, think traffic tickets can wait? Want to give me a hand taking statements?”

Keys practically glowed. “Yes sir!”

Grant walked into the police station dreading an encounter with his boss. Sheriff Hill had been sheriff for over fifteen years. He was in his late fifties and had a John Wayne personality that charmed the socks off the little old ladies. He was good at his job; however, Grant couldn’t help noticing that until recently the good sheriff’s job had mostly consisted of getting the drunks home safe at night, and making sure the local teens didn’t get into too much trouble.

Grant was hoping to bypass the sheriff until he could get a little more coffee into his system and go over the files one more time. That hope was short lived, since the first person he ran into as he walked in just happened to be Sheriff Hill.

“Mornin’ Detective.”

“Morning Sheriff.” Grant sighed. He hated how the sheriff never called people by their names, only by their titles… or more simply “son”. Grant loathed the inferior reference!

“Let’s step into my office and have a run down on this latest case.”

Grant groaned inwardly. Going over the files probably wouldn’t have helped anyway. He had the damned things pretty much memorized.

Slipping by the coffee machine on the way to the offices, Grant poured himself a nice big cup of coffee, adding plenty of sugar. He also poured the sheriff a steaming black cup, hoping it would smooth things over…relatively speaking. Following the sheriff into his office, he handed him the cup.

“Thanks son. Have a seat.” Sheriff Hill gestured towards the seat across from him.

Grant perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair. He didn’t dare lean back into it. As exhausted as he was, there was definitely not enough coffee in his system for that!

“So, they found another one,” the sheriff nodded expectantly. He had an uncanny knack for always turning a question into a statement.

 “Yes sir,” Grant acknowledged. “There seems to be little doubt, and if my guess is right, little evidence as well.”

“Well, we can hope.” The sheriff took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. Grant knew it was part of the sheriff’s persona. He always drank his coffee black with no sugar.

Grant didn’t understand why anyone would drink something they don’t like just to maintain an image. Perhaps it was something about living in the mountains that dictated that you had to demonstrate what a tough man you were. Grant didn’t care; he wasn’t giving up the sugar! “Tell me about it,” The sheriff ordered, waving his hand to get Grant going.

Grant gave him the rundown. “Keys and I checked at the plant. No one saw any unusual individuals hanging around. No one saw the body on the lawn. There aren’t cameras that cover that particular area of the property. Basically, we’ve got nothing on that angle.”

“So we aren’t any closer to cracking this case.” Again, the sheriff issued a statement, but Grant felt obligated to respond.

“I’ve tried everything I can think of. I checked sex offender lists for a hundred mile radius, even though rape kits showed no evidence of sexual deviation. I’m all over the FBI’s website every day looking for similar cases. I’ve tried checking local stores for the clothes that each of the girls was found in. They appear to be generic. I’ve run all the credit card receipts for these combinations, and nothing has come up. I’ve asked the clerks at all of the stores. No one can really remember these clothes being bought together, but one guy said he would have remembered if a guy had purchased anything like that.”

“Well he has a point,” the sheriff stated bluntly.

Grant rubbed his eyes. One more difference between here and the city. In the city it was not uncommon for a man to buy clothes for his wife, daughter or mistress.

Here if a man ventured into the women’s department, he was automatically labeled a queer. Again, that need to over-state one’s masculinity. Instead of commenting on these thoughts he responded simply, “Yes sir. I’m still looking over transaction receipts, just to be sure, going all the way back to last year. It’s a very long process, but at this point, it’s the best bet I’ve got.” Grant sighed.

 Being a detective on a homicide was more often than not a very long, boring, frustrating, and fruitless adventure. Most people had no concept of how difficult it was. They had it in their head that it was like NYPD Blue or CSI.

Those shows only showed the highlights. The bad guys always made a fatally obvious mistake. They were always caught quickly. None ever showed cases that had so many leads that it was ridiculous to run them all; or worse, cases with no leads where the detectives had to make off the wall chance discoveries… like finding a receipt for an exact combination, in an exact size.

Grant sighed again. Getting away from this shit was why he had left the city and moved to this quiet little town. After all, how many unsolved murders could a tiny town like this generate?

He’d been happy here until about four months ago. He’d only had one murder case before that and it was simple. A woman had shot her husband in self-defense and then called the police to tell them about it. A very short investigation proved the woman’s statement to be true. End of story.

These last three cases were proving to be far more difficult. It was beginning to appear that there was a serial killer hiding among the good honest folks of Englewood. A very careful and intelligent killer. Grant didn’t know how many victims there would be, but he was pretty sure there would be more. This guy wasn’t accelerating, he wasn’t getting sloppy, and serial killers usually didn’t just stop killing.

Deputy Long poked his head into the room. “Hey Grant. There’s a lady here to see you.”

“What does she want?” Grant tried not to snap.

“Dunno. She asked to talk to Lieutenant Anderson. Are you telling girls you’re an LT to get their number?” Long winked at the sheriff. Grant just glowered at the gawky young man. After an awkward pause, Long cleared his throat. “Right, well she’s waitin’ for you in your office.” With that the deputy scooted out the door.

Grant couldn’t stand the little goober. He also couldn’t stand the fact that the snot had been promoted through the good ole boy system, because his dad was the mayor of a neighboring town. Even little towns like this had their politics.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what this is all about, but I’ll come back by after I’m done.”

“Just get back to me after you’ve talked to the coroner.” The sheriff dismissed him with a final wave.

“Yes sir.” Grant headed out the door. He was irked. Who the hell would think he was a lieutenant? Deputy Long’s jab also rankled him. As far as he was concerned only prepubescent boys and Deputy Dipshit would lie to impress a chick!

Grant walked into his office and was greeted by an attractive young woman. Well, at least he could understand why the dick thought he had lied to this poor thing. She was almost worth lying to… almost. She had long dark golden hair that was pulled up in a ponytail. He figured it had to go at least halfway down her back. She was tall and lithely built with a neatly reddish tan, hinting to some Indian background, as did her high cheekbones.

He then got a good look at her face and realized not only was she attractive, she was down-right beautiful. Her face was heart-shaped with full pouty lips; she smiled at him and revealed sparkling white teeth with just enough flaws to add character without marring her good looks. Her nose was straight and narrow and a little bit small. Somehow it looked just right on her, though.

Her eyes, God, what eyes!

They were neatly framed with long, thick, dark lashes. Starting out a deep blue on the outer ring, they got lighter towards the center, until at a point they turned green with golden flecks through them. They shone with a light…intelligence…or possibly fear? Grant wasn’t quite sure what he saw flitting there.

He realized that he had been staring. He coughed and offered his hand, “Hello, I’m Detective Grant Anderson.” She took his hand, but didn’t quite shake it. She had suddenly blushed crimson red. Now what had caused that?

She licked her lips. “Clear… Clear Angel. Detective Anderson, I have… information on… on the case you are working on.” 

Her voice was surprisingly deep and sultry. He decided that he liked her voice, but he didn’t like that she had mentioned the case. There was currently only one case that he was working on. He immediately became suspicious, his eyes narrowing a bit.

“And which case would that be Miss Angel…?” he asked politely. He was curious about what she could possibly know. Very few people in the department even knew about this case, let alone that he was in charge of it. After all, one just doesn’t announce that there may be a serial killer on the loose in a little town like this. It didn’t tend to go over well.

The girl, for he realized that she was just a girl, took a deep breath, seemingly caught in indecision. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old. What could she possibly think she knew?

She coughed nervously. “The only case you are working on. The one about the three girls who have been murdered.”

 Chapter Two

Well that should get his attention, Clear thought smugly. Sure enough, it did. He looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights. Then it sunk in and he quickly closed the door to his office, and let the blinds down. He pulled out a chair and offered it to her. She sat down, quite pleased with his reaction. At least he wasn’t gaping at her like a fish any more.

Clear was fully aware of her good looks, and the attention it incited. She was also fully aware that good looks did not a good relationship make. She was tired of grown men acting like silly school boys whenever she entered a room. It was much better that his brain was on the topic at hand, rather than on her. Although she could hardly imagine what a tilt-a-whirl his little brain was on right now.

He finally looked back up at her. She could tell he was suspicious, even though he had a very good poker face. She tried very hard not to squirm under that piercing gaze. When he finally coughed again, she gave a mental sigh of relief.

“Miss, please feel free to tell me anything you know. You are safe here and you can trust me with this information. I will do my best to protect you from any retaliation. Please, tell me what you know.” He splayed his hands out and down on the table in a neutral position on the desk.

How to proceed? She sighed. It was hard enough just getting up the courage to come down here. She hadn’t really thought beyond that. She took a deep breath, and just started talking, hoping it would make sense… that is, if he let her get that far.

“He… He didn’t kill those girls. I… it’s hard to explain how I know this, but I do…. This man is very… methodical. He is carefully selecting his victims…”

Grant interrupted her suddenly. “You can tell me, I won’t judge you.”

‘Ha! Fat chance of that!’ Clear thought. If he knew the truth he’d probably throw her out so fast she wouldn’t even know what was happening until her butt hit the street.

“Please, just tell me how you know him?” Grant asked soothingly.

“Well, that’s the thing… I don’t… I mean, I haven’t actually met him.” This was not going as well as she had hoped.

Grant looked at her uncertainly. “Please, Miss…?”

“Clear… Clear Angel,” Clear offered again.

“Clear?” He obviously had not caught her name earlier.

“Yeah… my parents were big hippies,” she smiled sweetly.

“I… see… If you don’t know this man, how do you know this information?” He watched her reaction closely.

This was getting dicey. Clear needed to be careful. She took a breath. Remain calm, cool, collected… calm, cool, collected. “I’m a detective…” ‘sort of,’ she amended silently. His eyes narrowed on her. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Well, since he wasn’t talking, she figured that she should soldier on. “Listen, please… this man, and it is a man, he is very methodical. He’s choosing his victims by a very strict script for some kind of ceremony. I’ve been trying to research that one, but it doesn’t appear to be a devil worship ceremony… He now has to replace the three girls that are dead in order to perform the ceremony, and I think he will be doing it soon.”

Grant suddenly sat forward, startling her. “Listen young lady, I don’t have time for your silly games. This man may have harmed other girls as well. I can’t be sitting here listening to this….”

“Oh you’re right! He hasn’t killed any other girls yet. But he is holding other girls, four to be precise. He has to replace the three that are dead for the ceremony….”

“How do you know this!?” Detective Anderson sounded furious!

Clear had to be careful. “I told you… I’m a detective. Please, if you want to help these girls, you must listen to me. He’s going to be accelerating soon. He has to perform the ceremony in a certain time period, and so he will be replacing the three girls who are dead very quickly. He’s already picked his next target. She’ll go missing soon.”

“Who is she?” Grant asked, sounding more anxious than he had intended.

Clear frowned. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered.

Grant slammed his fist on the desk. “Look, you and I both know you are not a detective! If you want to help these girls, give me something useful!”

“I’m trying!” Clear swallowed. There was a huge lump in her throat, and she knew she would cry soon. She was so frustrated! She knew now how this was going to go down; but she couldn’t give up!

“Where is he keeping them?” Grant asked. He could gauge the bullshit meter.

“In a… cellar. But it’s not a cellar, really. It’s kind of like a cave, but not… There’s no house above it…. It’s somewhere outside of town, but above ground you can hear them when they scream. It’s muffled, but you can hear it.”

“Tell me where it is,” he challenged gruffly, not believing a word coming out of this girl’s mouth.

“I’ve told you all I know about where he’s keeping them. There’s so much more!...”

“Listen young lady, I could have you arrested for obstructing justice!” Grant growled.

Clear blinked at him, completely surprised. She hadn’t expected that. “No you can’t,” she stated simply. The lump was starting to fade.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not obstructing justice, I’m trying to help. You have nothing to connect me to the killer, and I came here of my own volition. You have nothing to indicate that I have been dishonest in any form or fashion.” She could practically hear the ‘oh, shit!’ as Grant’s face dropped. He’d bluffed and been caught. Clear was feeling a bit more confident after winning that little skirmish

“I could have you detained and search your property,” Grant added.

“Yes, I suppose you probably could, but that would be a horrible waste of time; and time is not something you have a lot of right now, Detective.” That little emphasis should put him back on track, Clear hoped.

“So you are telling me that you are in no way, directly or indirectly, involved with this man,” Grant questioned

“Correct. There is no one else in his life, except these girls.” Clear could see the wheels a turnin’ and was sure she wouldn’t like where they were headed.

“And you are a detective.”

He was getting too close, so Clear plowed on hoping to get it all said before it was too late. “Please, you are wasting your time with the search of the stores. He bought all of the items separately, some from different stores. He always paid cash. You won’t find him that way. He’s been very careful not to leave any clues. He didn’t kill the last girl. She was already dead when he came in to check on her!” She could see the lights coming on. “The other two were dying! Please believe me, or have the coroner check it out!”

Grant smiled at her and nodded. “Alright, how much are you charging for your services?”

Well, that was not the reaction she had expected. Maybe this guy was more open-minded, coming from the big city and all, still… “Charge?”

“Right, psychic detectives are freelancers. In order to freelance you have to charge something.”

“No, this isn’t about money,” Clear assured him.

“What then, publicity?” Grant arched an eyebrow at her.

Clear was incredulous. This was just absurd! “What publicity? You’ve got the lid so tight on this case, why… it’s tighter than a ten-year-old jar of peanut butter. I swear, for the longest time I thought these were just premonitions. It wasn’t until I ran into you at the grocery store that I knew it was happening now, here…”

“Cut the crap!” he interrupted harshly. “You know, I wish I could arrest you for wasting my time!” Grant slammed his fist into the desk again. His coffee cup jumped and so did Clear. “Now get out of my office!” Grant roared, scaring Clear even more.

“You have to believe me!” Clear’s eyes began to well up with tears.

You saw me? What a load of shit!” He stood, quickly heading around the desk.

“It is not! You bumped into me at the grocery store and I was just awash with everything that you were thinking about. It was almost all about this case…”

“Trust me, with a mug like yours I think I would have remembered you.” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of his office. Clear knew she only had a short time to finish this, or she would have been no help to those girls at all!

“You were at the magazine rack, and quite absorbed. That’s why you didn’t see me. You had three of those microwavable weight-loss meal things, not that you need them, a bag of chips, like that makes a lot of sense, and a carton of milk, not a gallon. You backed into me!”

It was apparent that he was not listening to a word she said, and she had to admit that it wasn’t that impressive. But now it was going to get personal! She took a deep breath. He was hauling her double-time through the lobby, so she leaned in and whispered to him. “You were wishing you could find a good porno mag, and thinking how much you missed your ex-wife on nights like this.”

He stopped and stared at her. She knew she practically had him hooked. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him out the front door. “Listen, you may not believe in psychics; that’s fine. Generally speaking, I think most people that claim to be psychic are lying, scheming, cretins preying on the desperate to turn a quick buck.

“But every now and then the genuine article comes along. I can’t help what I see and hear. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s a serious pain in my butt, you know. But this is real. I don’t want your money, and I sure as hell don’t want you to tell anyone… anyone that I told you this. But I can’t just sit here and let these girls keep suffering, not when I believe that I could help in some way. They are really messing up my sleep pattern!”

Grant’s face was stone. There was no reaction. She sighed. “Look, you don’t have to take my word for it, check it out. They were all sick. The third girl was already dead. She had an asthma attack or something. The second girl was starving herself, and he couldn’t have her in that condition, so he strangled her. The first one had something wrong with her lungs, pneumonia or something. He couldn’t keep them with the others for fear of contamination from the dead bodies, so he returned them to their families.

“It’s weird, but he doesn’t seem to want to… hurt them. He didn’t want them to get sick. He didn’t want them to die like that. I mean… it’s really strange, I think he is a religious fanatic and has justified the ceremony as an honor, but senseless death is not what he seems to want. He returned them to their families because it seemed right. I know what he’s doing is wrong, but he doesn’t seem to want to do bad things, he seems to think that this must be done.

“What’s really important is that he’s got to replace them, and soon. Another girl has already been chosen, and she will go missing in the next couple of days. Call me before it is too late, Detective. My number is on your desk.” She turned and started to walk away.

“Look, I don’t know how you know that stuff about the grocery store, but I’m not calling you, lady!” he yelled after her.

“Oh, you will,” she called over her shoulder, smiling confidently.

Grant raked his hands viciously through his hair. She turned back again.

“Oh, by the way Detective Anderson, sorry about the lieutenant thing, just give it a couple of days.” She laughed as she turned back around, and was quickly lost in the small crowd on the sidewalk.

Grant stared incredulously after the young woman. He shook his head. That had to be about the strangest encounter he’d ever had. He stormed back into the police station. How the hell had she known what he’d been thinking at the grocery store? He shook his head again. He supposed that with the right amount of research, it would be simple to deduce that he hadn’t been laid in a long time. A guy standing in front of the fashion magazine rack was probably a good clue also. Grant was a practical man. He knew that psychics were a waste of time and money. Psychic. Bullshit. They were synonymous as far as Grant was concerned.

Grant walked back into his office and pulled out a thick file. He sighed, dreading typing up another virtually meaningless report. Flipping through the immense file, he groaned. It was a waste of time looking over everything yet again. He had the whole thing pretty much memorized, but hoped each time that he would see something that he hadn’t seen before. Something between the lines; that he’d interpret a piece of evidence differently. It was kind of like reading a book. Each time you got something different out of it. Unfortunately, after a while there was nothing left to get. That’s how this mess was starting to look to him.

Deputy Long poked his head in the door. “That was one hot piece. Why’d you get rid of her so quick?”

Grant frowned at the imbecile, hoping he’d just go away. He didn’t.

“So where’d you meet her?” Long leered.

“The supermarket.” Grant figured that information would irk the hell out of the slimy little weasel, who spent most of his nights off at the seediest establishments preying on women drunk enough to fall for his cheap lines. The little jab apparently worked. Long snorted, “Must be pretty desperate to pick someone up at the supermarket.”  

Grant wasn’t quite sure who he was mocking; Grant or the strange young woman, but it still irritated him. He contemplated the possible consequences for knocking the little prick senseless. It was a tempting option, yet the results could be dire. At the very least he would probably lose his job and have assault charges filed. However, given the kids parentage, Grant doubted that would be the end of it.

As much as he hated his job, especially right now, it was all he knew. He didn’t particularly like the idea of having to start over professionally half-way through the game of life. Opting for solution number two; Grant pointedly ignored the little bastard, hoping he would go away. He flipped through the file until eventually Long shrugged and moved on down the hall.

Grant eyed the thick folder. It consisted of all the missing girls over the last twelve months. The first two in the file were the first two victims, the reports on their disappearances and return, all the information that might even remotely be helpful. Unfortunately, none of it seemed to be.

Grant stared at the photo of the first missing girl. Her name was Kary Summers. She was pretty, but jaded. The kid came from the wrong side of the tracks. She was only sixteen. When they found her, it was written off that her pimp had probably killed her, although that had felt wrong to Grant. The unsigned note left in her blouse pocket stated: ‘I have no more use for her and so I return her to the family she loved.’

To Grant it reeked of suspicion. In his experience pimps rarely cared about their hookers or the hooker’s families when they were alive, much less so after they killed the girls! He also thought her outfit was far too conservative to have been bought by a pimp. No one would have thought to pick this girl up for a good time and no pimp would have bought funerary clothes for a girl he’d just killed.

Grant was disgusted to learn that she had ‘left home’ eight months before and no one had even bothered to report her missing! Grant had pieced together that after she had left home she’d been seen around some less-than-desirable places for a couple of months, then about six months ago… nothing. No one had seen or heard from her, and no one seemed to care. Although Grant wanted to continue the investigation, he had nothing to go on. The sheriff wanted it closed since there were no leads and so reluctantly Grant had closed it.

It wasn’t until the next girl showed up that the department began to think they might have a problem. The second girl, Sandra Dane, was the daughter of a wealthy rancher. She was nineteen and home on Christmas break from school. She and her father had words one night, and she stormed out. After he hadn’t seen or heard from her in forty-eight hours, her father called some of her local friends. No one had seen her. He next tried calling her friends from school to see if anyone had heard from her. The girl had simply vanished.

Within seventy-two hours Grant was on the case. He discovered that Sandra had filled her gas tank up the night of the fight and no one had seen her since. There was no activity on her credit cards or her bank accounts and no further leads. Then a week later, the same week that Kary was returned, Sandra’s car was found on an old dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. The area had been searched and re-searched, but there was nothing. The car had been left running until it had run out of gas. The headlights were left on, and all four doors were left open; but there was no sign of violence.

Two weeks later her father’s foreman found her laid out on the front lawns with a similar note attached to her shirt. Both girls were laid out as if for funeral. Both were wearing conservative dresses. Both families said they were not the clothes their children were last seen wearing and that their kids would never have picked the outfits out themselves.

Grant shook his head and pulled out Elisabeth’s small packet of information from the thick folder. He slipped it in behind Sandra and went to work typing up the information from the crime scene. After, he would have to go out and do some investigating. He reviewed what he had in his file so far.

Elisabeth Jones had been missing for just over five months. She’d left a note saying that she was going to Hollywood to be an actress. When no one had heard from her in twenty-four hours, her mother called the sheriff. He had told her that because Elisabeth wasn’t a minor there was nothing the police could do. However, when no one had heard from her in over a week, the sheriff had posted her information on the National Missing Persons website just in case. She was apparently a smart girl who had dropped out of local community college to pursue her passion. Now she was dead. As much as he loathed talking to grieving families, hopefully the investigation would give him something more to go on. Some sort of connection to help him catch this guy. Anything.

Chapter Three

On his way to the Jones’ home, Grant decided to call his daughter. Even though he hadn’t seen her since just after the divorce, he made sure to keep in contact with her. A flare of anger boiled up as he recalled how his ex-wife Laura had once again thwarted his attempts to see Kat. He had hoped for her to come out and see him this summer, but Laura had her going to three different summer camps. The only way she could come would be if she were to miss one of those camps. Grant did get one small victory out of it, though. At least she was going to softball camp this year!

He bit back the spiteful thoughts of his ex- wife when the sweet voice of his fourteen-year-old princess answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey. How are you?” Grant tried to keep the tension out of his voice.

“Daddy!” She squealed with the enthusiasm only a fourteen-year-old girl could muster. “How are you?!”

“I’m doing good.” Grant was amazed at how easily he could lie to the only woman who mattered in his life. But he knew that he could never tell her about his job. Especially about this case and how it made him sick with worry for her, even though she was hundreds of miles away.

The grating voice of his ex yelled in the background, “Katherine, who is it?”

“It’s for me mom!” Kat responded and Grant could practically hear her eyes rolling in her head.

“She sounds like she’s in a good mood,” Grant quipped

“Dad, don’t start,” Kat growled. He was impressed with how firm she could make her voice.

“You’re right sweetie, I’m sorry. I was calling to talk about you, not her. Speaking of, how are you?” Grant gracefully changed the subject.

“I’m good,” she answered shortly.

Grant smiled. Typical teenager. “How’s school?”

“Come on Dad!” she groaned.

“What? That’s what parents are supposed to do, ask questions. Is that so bad?”

“No, it’s just school,” she muttered in a surly tone.

“Ok,  different subject. Who are you hangin’ out with these days?” Grant wheedled.

“Daddy!” she whined.

Grant hated this. If he was living there, then he wouldn’t have to do this. He would know day in and day out. “Come on honey, this isn’t an interrogation. I just want to know what you’re doing. I want to continue to be a part of your life.”

“I know. I’m sorry… It’s just the same old…” Kat began.

Again Laura’s voice came across the background. “Honey, come on. We’re going to be late for your ballet lesson!”

“You’re taking ballet?!” Grant tried to keep the disgust out of his voice.

“Come on. It’s not so bad. Besides it’s good for baseball. My balance has gotten so much better.” Kat actually sounded excited.

“Yeah, well you’ve also grown into your height. All kids are awkward when they first start growing.”

“Daaad…” The whine was one so often heard by all fathers when the girl is begging them to stop.

“I know, I know. I guess I’d better let you go so you won’t be late.”

“I miss you,” she murmured softly.

“I miss you too honey. Hopefully… we’ll see each other soon.” Grant tried to choke back the tears building up. He didn’t want to sound like a wuss. He needed to be tough for her. He couldn’t make her feel guilty. She’d already offered twice to cancel one of her summer camps to come and see him, but he could hear in her voice how much she would rather go to the summer camps. It hurt, but who could blame her. After all, she was still just a kid.

“I love you,” she added hastily.

“I love you too sweetie. I will talk to you soon.”

“Bye!”  And with that she was gone. So quick, so fleeting. He held the phone to his ear listening until the dial tone sounded and then flipped the phone closed.

As he pulled the vehicle in at Elisabeth’s home, he was amazed at how quickly news traveled in a small town. Their daughter had only been found a few hours before and already half the town seemed to be at their home. Grant groaned inwardly. These investigations with grieving loved ones were hard enough without an audience! He contemplated coming back later, but realized that it could be several days before things quieted down around here, and he didn’t have that kind of time on his side. The sooner he got the information, the fresher the trail would be.

He looked around the yard full of cars and saw a lone man standing in the side garden smoking. Recognizing Elisabeth’s father, he quickly jumped out of the car and approached him quietly.

Without even turning, Mr. Jones exhaled his smoke and bowed his head. “Hello Detective Anderson.”

“Hello sir.” Grant could see that the man seemed to have aged nearly ten years since they’d last met a few months ago. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” he offered.

The man nodded solemnly and turned to face Grant. His dark brown eyes were red-rimmed from crying. “I suppose we need to talk,” the man responded woodenly.

“I know this is very difficult for you sir, but the sooner I get started on the case the more likely I am to catch her killer,” Grant said gently.

The man inhaled deeply on his cigarette and flicked the butt over the garden fence, then exhaled. “Well, now is probably the best time. Pretty much everyone you need to talk to is in that house right now. Let’s get this started.”

Mr. Jones straightened his shoulders and moved towards the house. Grant had seen it so often, the age-old man putting on a strong front to try to force the world that was crumbling around him into some sort of stability. Grant followed Mr. Jones into the house. There were people everywhere. All the possible seating places were full and people milled about offering comfort to one another.

“We’ll go ahead and set you up in the library, it will be quieter up there,” Mr. Jones suggested. He touched a young woman on the shoulder. “Katie, will you please show Detective Anderson upstairs while I go find your mother and make our excuses.”

The young woman nodded tearily. Grant couldn’t help but notice the family resemblance. This was obviously one of Elisabeth’s sisters. She led him up the stairs and to a room on the left. It was a room with several shelves of books and a desk near the window. She turned uncertainly. Grant felt awkward in the silence and repeated his previous condolence.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She began crying full force and Grant stood feeling worse than he had before. God, he hated this part of his job!

After nearly six hours of interviewing grieving parents, family, and friends Grant was emotionally exhausted. Back in the city he would have simply sent a rookie to do it for him, but out here there wasn’t the manpower. He stared at his computer screen then began typing the report on autopilot.

Elisabeth Jones once more complicated an already impossible case.  None of these girls seemed to have anything in common. Grant knew that the typical connection for most serial killers was that they looked similar to someone and therefore resembled one another. The killer was acting out his anger on an individual in their past, and the victims had nothing to do with the crime, other than their unfortunate similarity to another person and their accessibility. But none of these girls looked even remotely alike.

He dug deeper hoping to find the connection. The motivation could be anything from religious issues to the girls’ favorite store. But there was nothing. The only thing these girls had in common was how different they were from one another. They had gone to different schools, were members of different churches, liked different styles and brands of clothing, had different circles of friends… the list went on. These girls didn’t appear to have ever crossed paths with one another. It was hard to imagine that anyone could find so many people with absolutely nothing in common in such a small town.

Sandra was a rich kid who had been a cheerleader in her private academy. She was an average student at Brown University, but the center of the sorority world.  She was the elite crowd at Brown. Anyone who was anyone was made that way because of her. She was fond of anything expensive, especially clothes, and her father catered to her every whim.

Elisabeth was a topnotch student who was really into theatre, both at school and in the community. She was a devout Christian, with not an enemy in the world that Grant could find. Everyone he spoke with said pretty much the same thing. She was a wonderful kid. A bit headstrong, extremely idealistic, but a good kid.

Then there was Kary. Every opportunity the other girls were given in life was completely denied this poor girl. She was from the wrong side of the tracks, and had lived a short but tough life. As far as Grant could tell, life started bad for Kary and only got worse when her dad ran out on the family when she was six years old. Her mom had slept around and had four other kids from four different fathers. Grant couldn’t prove it, but he was fairly sure the mother was on drugs. She was definitely an alcoholic, and smoked like a runaway train.

Kary’s rap sheet started when she was eight. She was busted at a grocery store stealing food. She had said that it was to keep her brothers and sisters from starving. At the age of nine she ran away. At ten she was arrested for shoplifting, and subsequently for possession of illegal substances. At thirteen she ran away again, was later picked up for a knife fight, and returned to her mother. At fifteen she was arrested for prostitution and simple possession twice. Six months after she got out, she ran away.

Looking at the pictures Grant saw a smug, self-assured, Hollywood-perfect beauty; a petite, vivacious innocent; and a jaded, hurt, fallen angel. Only Kary was probably better off now than when she was alive.

He finished the report and tucked it behind Elisabeth’s photo. Flipping through the dozen or so other pictures in the file, he had to ask, “How many of you are also his victims?”  ‘Oh yes, there are four others’ He heard Clear’s sultry voice ring through his head. He was not going to resort to that kind of desperation! He slammed the folder closed and rested his head on the computer keys wearily.

“God, if you do exist, and if you’re in the mood to listen to a schmuck like me, could you please throw me a bone right now… or a hair fragment… Hell, if you’re in a really good mood, I’d love a signed confession… but I’d be content with something to go on… anything. Please, I’m feelin’ a little bit desperate here.” As soon as he asked, he felt foolish. He hadn’t prayed since he was a kid. No response came, as usual.  He forced his body out of its supplication. Standing resignedly, he slowly put on his coat. Flicking off the lights to his office, he headed home. It was 11:30 at night, and he was also feeling a little tired. 

Chapter Four

Anne sat in the cool darkness of the morgue gathering her thoughts. Others may think it strange, but Anne had always liked the morgue. It was cool and quiet, and there were rarely interruptions. She had grown accustomed to the strong antiseptic smell, and almost found it comforting. Elisabeth’s body was across the room from where Anne sat on a stool. Her parents had been by earlier to identify the body. Not that Anne had needed that. She knew Elisabeth quite well. It was hard to lose one’s patients, but she never thought she would lose one this way!

The autopsy had not begun yet. There was something nagging at Anne. Something not right, an inconsistency with the other victims. What was it? Staring at the body, Anne tried to free her mind from her emotions. It was the only way she would see… the blood. Elisabeth’s blood had already pooled. That in itself was not surprising. What was surprising was how it had pooled. Anne had already surmised that Elisabeth had been dead for quite some time, at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours longer than the other two victims.

But there was something else…the pattern! Elisabeth had been left on her side long enough for her blood to pool there and moved to the plant well after her death. The strangulation had occurred posthumously as was evidenced by the broken bones in her neck, but the lack of blood pooling around the neck. Anne was fairly certain that strangulation was the cause of death with the other two, but Elisabeth was already dead when he strangled her. Why?  She knew from the other autopsies and collections that this man was very logical and methodical, clearing away every fiber and fingerprint.

His methods and logic may make sense to him, but Anne couldn’t decipher it to save her… or anyone else’s… life. Why painstakingly cover the lividity on each of the bodies, when it was only a matter of time before the police would discover it? What was the logic there? Why dress them in clothes so different from their personal style, yet return them to their homes? She was very glad she didn’t have to interpret the evidence, merely collect it and pass it on to Grant. How he would make any sense of it was beyond her.

The autopsy had been delayed long enough. Anne sighed, turned on her tape recorder and pulled on her gloves. She had a strong suspicion that Elisabeth was not going to answer any more questions than the others. If anything, she would complicate the investigation further.

“This is Dr. Anne Hutchins. It is Sunday May 25th, 2012 at 11:45 p.m. This is the autopsy of one Elisabeth Jones, a nineteen-year-old Caucasian female, C.O.D. unknown at this time. The deceased appears to have been dead approximately three to four days…”

Grant stared blankly at the computer screen. He had randomly run searches on the occult. Not that he was seriously considering anything that crazy Angel girl had said. It was simply in the back of his mind, and desperation will lead to the strangest behavior. Besides, he was operating from home and no one need ever know.

However, the garbage on the internet was just too bizarre for him to comprehend at 3:30 in the morning. He stopped to brew up some coffee, hoping that might help, and his mind wandered back to Clear. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head?! Well, beyond the fact that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever met… and it had been quite some time since he’d been with any women, beautiful or otherwise. He would rather blame her looks, than his desperate need for any information on this case.  Attempting to shake all thoughts of Clear from his mind, he poured a cup of coffee and scooped in a plentiful helping of sugar.

A phone began ringing, startling him badly enough to cause him to spill half his coffee.  He had a phone? The obvious answer to that stupid thought was making itself apparent with the loud jangling throughout his house, but for the life of him he didn’t remember installing it. He sure as hell didn’t know the number. The next question was where had he put the damn thing? Hoping that by answering that question, he would find the answer to the next question; who in their right mind would be calling him at this hour, and how would they get the number?

With no other practical options available, Grant simply followed the ringing, wondering if the caller would hang up before he found the phone, or if maybe he had a voice mail set up that he didn’t know about… He finally found the phone in his upstairs office next to his computer and under a stack of papers. How practical.

Dumping the papers on the floor and jerking the phone out of the cradle, he answered a bit breathlessly, “Hello?”

“Hey, I tried the office, but they said you’d already gone home.”

“Laura?” Grant perked up at the thought of his ex wife, why would she be calling?

“Laura? No, this is Anne… Sorry to bother you so late… or early in this case… but you told me to call you as soon as I found out anything… Were you expecting another call?”

“Not really.” Grant’s heart fell back into the pit of his stomach. Of course it was Anne with the autopsy. He had totally forgotten. God, but he was lonely!

“I’m sorry it’s so late. Who’s Laura, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Grant grimaced. “My ex.”

“Oh… Well, I’m sorry. I would have just waited a few hours until morning, but I’ve got something big for you.”

Grant’s eyes popped open. “Please tell me its good news!”

“Well, I guess it depends on how you look at things. He didn’t kill her, Grant,” Anne stated with conviction.

“What do you mean? Was it a copycat?” Grant’s mind was reeling from exhaustion. How could it be? No one else knew about the case. Clear Angel flitted into his mind, but he turned his attention back to what Anne was saying.

“No, the crime fits his pattern too directly, but there are some discrepancies. The biggest being that she was already dead when he strangled her. Elisabeth died of natural causes, relatively speaking. She had an asthma attack. I assume she didn’t have her inhaler with her, and with no way to control it she died. Another bit of news. I may have some fingerprints you can work with.”

“How? From the strangulation?”

“No, Keys said the security guard barely touched her to check for a pulse and Keys checked at the neck with gloves on. No one else touched the body. But someone else did check her pulse within hours of her death. At the wrist, ungloved, it bruised almost instantaneously. I have four partials for you to work with.”

Grant was ready to dance on the ceiling! “Anne you are absolutely amazing! And you thought I needed a real CSI on this case! Ha!” Getting a bit of a grip on himself, and mellowing his tone before he terrified the good doctor, he continued, “Look, can we hook up tomorrow morning?”

Anne laughed lightly. “At the risk of my husband finding out, I think we should. There’s so much more I need to tell you, but I really think it would make more sense if you could see it while I tell you.”

“Right, I gotta swing by the office first, but I’ll be by your office say around 9:00?”

“I think I can clear my schedule for you.”

“Thanks Anne,” Grant replied a bit too warmly.

“You’re the one who said they always screw up eventually. See you in the morning.”

Grant put the phone down with a happy smile. He remembered saying that a bit differently, but never mind. He was finally getting a break in the case! He was humming as he forced himself to bed, anxious for morning. He was looking forward to good dreams tonight! As he closed his eyes an uncomfortable thought flitted in and out, but he was asleep before he could grasp it.

Chapter Five

Grant walked into the police station the next morning whistling a merry tune. He had a lead on the investigation. Fingerprints, and more, Anne had said on the phone last night. He couldn’t wait to get over to her office. The fingerprints were an excellent lead in and of themselves. Someone who was as thorough as this guy, showed signs of having been in the system, which would mean his prints should be on file!

Grant was thrilled by this cozy turn of events. He’d even managed a few hours of sleep not plagued by his ex. He vaguely remembered a very pleasant dream that he was fairly sure involved a strange blond he had met the day before, but quickly dismissed it when he saw the sheriff hustling down the hall.

“What the hell took you so long to get here!” Sheriff Hill snapped.

Grant felt like he’d been physically struck. “I’m a half hour early sir! I’ve got good news about…”

The sheriff waved his comment off and quickly interrupted. “Tell me in the car. We gotta get going, Cowboy.”

“Wait, sir, I’ve got to meet Anne at the morgue. Where are we going? Anne’s got a break in the case!”

“Save it. There’s been another disappearance. This was an outright kidnapping!”

Grant was following the sheriff out to the car, but stopped suddenly. “A… whoa… what does this have to do with my case?”

“Get in!” the sheriff roared, unlocking the door for Grant. Grant quickly leaped in the vehicle as the sheriff gunned the engine. They were driving away before Grant had even had a chance to close his door, let alone put on his seatbelt. ‘Great example,’ Grant thought as he hastily buckled in.

“We don’t have kidnappings around here young man, and I would bet the farm this is directly related to your case,” the sheriff growled.

“Do we have anything that indicates that it is directly related to my case?” Grant questioned, trying to get his bearings.

“My gut says it is! You are to investigate this to the hilt!” Hands biting into the steering wheel, the sheriff weaved in and out of the little traffic on the road, siren bawling as they careened to wherever they were headed.

Grant had never heard the sheriff so demanding. Somehow his colloquial phrases just sounded absurd with this new tone. Yet, Grant was curious as well. “Listen, I was supposed to meet Anne this morning, let me call her office and let her know I’ll be late.” 

Grant pulled his cell out and called Anne’s office. The secretary answered. “Hey, Sherry, Detective Grant Anderson here. I was supposed to meet Anne this morning, but something has come up. Will you give her my deepest apologies, and let her know I’ll be in as soon as possible? Thanks Sherry.” Grant hung up the phone and turned to the sheriff. “Now could you please explain to me what the hell is going on?” He eyed Hill’s mad driving and death grip on the wheel. Something was definitely up.

“Last night a young girl disappeared off the face of the earth. She’s a good kid, an honest kid. She’s responsible and mature for her age. She would have let her parents know if she were going somewhere else. She would never have stayed out all night. She left her friend’s house at 11:15 pm and told her friend she was going home. She even called her parents to let them know she was on the way. Fifteen minutes later her parents call the friend’s house, thinking maybe the girl had gotten caught up talking. She only lives two blocks away… We spent the whole night searching!” the sheriff concluded huskily.

Grant nodded. That explained the rumpled uniform at nine in the morning, but there was more to this story. Grant could sense it. He remembered that the sheriff had a teenage daughter… “It wasn’t… Casey was it?” Grant asked, hoping he’d gotten the name right.

“No…thank God, no!” The sheriff began to cry. “It was her best friend Rebecca Pierson.”

Grant had not seen many grown men cry. He certainly would not have expected it out of this tough old goat. It was very uncomfortable in the vehicle. “Sir, I can see you are upset, but… protocol dictates that we cannot investigate a missing person for at least twenty-four hours, and she hasn’t even been missing twelve.”

“Fuck protocol. Those laws are for big cities where a cop doesn’t know a kid’s history, where they don’t know a kid’s behavior. Some kids are like that. Some parents put up with it. Around here, we know. A kid down the street named Ricky, if his parents called me saying he was late comin’ home, then I’d say ‘what’s new?’ He’s got a history.

That first girl in your investigation, she had a history. All these kids around here got histories; some good, some bad, and I know most of them. Rebecca did not run away, she didn’t fall asleep with some boy and lose track of time, she didn’t sneak off to meet someone, and she sure as hell didn’t get lost two blocks from her God damned house!” The sheriff stopped his rampage and began taking huge gulping breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry sir,” Grant said, not quite sure what else to do. The sheriff was way too personally involved in this case, which explained why Grant was pulled off a major investigation to play detective. But the sheriff was his boss. He’d play along and just kick in some overtime.

After the sheriff had calmed down a bit, he detachedly turned to Grant and added in a forced off-the-cuff manner. “By the way, I put in for a promotion for you.”

“A promotion sir?” Grant hadn’t seen that coming. He was getting a bit tired of all the surprises. This was supposed to be a quiet little town!

“Yes, to lieutenant. You’ve been here six months, and you’ve worked hard. I thought it only fair,” the sheriff finished sort of lamely.

“To lieutenant?” Grant was stunned.

“Well, it hasn’t gone through yet, but I… just wanted you to know.”

Grant’s mind exploded. He knew why the sheriff wanted him to know, so he would focus on this investigation. That wasn’t what was blowing his mind. It wasn’t the extra $1,500 a quarter either, or the fact that he would now outrank Deputy Dumbass. He could hear her in his mind as clear as day.

“Oh and Detective Anderson, sorry about the lieutenant thing, just give it a couple of days.”

Grant blinked, stunned. How had she known?

“Excuse me sir, but when did you put in for this promotion?”

The sheriff looked at him quizzically. “About a week or so ago.”

Grant shook his head. She was good. She must work with someone that had given her access to that information. He didn’t believe in psychics… and yet other phrases began coming back to him.

‘He’s going to be accelerating…already picked another victim…next couple of days… tonight!... She was already dead!... She was already dead!...’

Oh shit! That was what had almost come to him last night! How could she have known? Anne hadn’t even known until last night. Grant turned to the sheriff. “Please, sir, tell me, what do you know about Clear Angel?”

The sheriff was pissed at Grant, and Grant knew it. He was glad that Hill had already put him in for the promotion. He was hoping the icy chill would fade with the information they would get at Anne’s office. At least he hoped Anne had better leads to offer him than the short investigation at young Rebecca Pierson’s home.

Grant was inclined to agree with the sheriff’s original assumption, but there was nothing to prove his guy had kidnapped her. Except, of course, the overwhelming lack of information. Grant had spoken with Rebecca’s parents, Rodney and Dee. He’d spoken with her best friend, Casey Hill, the sheriff’s daughter. All told the same story of a young, confident, intelligent girl who was responsible and mature. She was a model student, lacked any sense of a rebellious streak, and had no romantic interests that anyone knew of. She was not secretive, and would have told her best friend if there had been anyone.

What was more frustrating was that anything that would have led him to his guy was also lacking. No one had noticed anyone paying special attention to Rebecca. She had not complained of anyone harassing her. No one had noticed anyone new or different hanging about. All Grant could do was get a few names of other people to talk to in hopes of finding something more. He had her boss’s name and address, her art teacher’s information, and a science partner as well.

The trouble was that he knew he would find more of the same talking to them. He would talk to them later, because at Anne’s lab there was information that he knew would be more helpful… At least he hoped he was right, otherwise the sheriff may never forgive him. That was really why Hill was angry. He couldn’t understand why they weren’t immediately following up on these other contacts. Grant had tried to explain, and now the sheriff wasn’t talking to him. Fine.

He had more interesting things to ponder anyway. There was a feeling he was getting that not all was right in the Pierson home. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The mother was far more upset about her daughter’s disappearance than the father, but that was not uncommon. What did strike him as odd was that the sheriff was the one providing most of the comfort to Mrs. Pierson, which should have been Mr. Pierson’s job.

He actually seemed more upset than the father! Yet the father was upset, enough that Grant doubted he had anything to do with the girl’s disappearance. Still there was something there… right below the surface. Grant shook his head forcing the niggling little thoughts away. He had other things to worry about. He needed to know what the sheriff knew about Clear. Her information was proving to be too coincidentally accurate for Grant’s tastes.

“Sheriff, what do you know about Clear Angel?” Grant tried to ask again, hoping the sheriff wouldn’t go into another tirade.

“Not a whole lot. She’s always been a bit of a loner. She’s.. a bit peculiar, guess it comes with bein’ real smart like she is. She grew up on the mountain, went to school here. After she graduated high school, she moved off for college. Stayed away a few years after, then came back. Pretty similar story to most our kids,” the sheriff ground out between clenched teeth.

“That’s it?” Grant challenged.

“Yup pretty much. Oh and she’s a looker, but I suppose you’ve already noticed that!” The sheriff gave Grant a knowing look. “She’s just a kid. You know who I’d bet you’d like? There’s a fine divorce lawyer up in Chancellorsville. She’s a good looking woman, even at her age. And smart as hell…”

Grant groaned inwardly. In his personal experience, divorce lawyers weren’t all that smart. People getting divorces were just that stupid. They were so caught up in hating one another that they paid people to argue and fight for them. Oh well, better the old man thought he was hot for the kid than to know the truth. He obviously was not aware of Clear’s claimed abilities.

That meant one of two things: either Clear was full of shit about her abilities, which left a lot of other unexplained answers, or she was very secretive about her abilities. In Grant’s experience, it was rare that someone claiming to be a psychic was discreet about anything. The sheriff did say she was peculiar, was he perhaps subtly hinting at her ‘skills’? 

Well, he’d bring the matter up with Anne. She’d grown up here as well, and probably would know something. She was also a medical professional, and he could get her opinions on that front as well. Anne was a straightforward person, and he knew she would tell him exactly what she thought about psychics and this Angel woman’s claims. She was also very level-headed. He doubted she was one to believe in psychics.

They pulled into Anne’s office parking lot. It was a cutesy place with childlike artwork painted around the outside of the building. Squirrels, rabbits, birds and other friendly-looking forest creatures wielded stethoscopes, thermometers and bandages. The building screamed either pediatric office or veterinary clinic!

Anne had told Grant that she had inherited the office from her father. Her mother had been the little artist behind the décor. When her father had started the practice over thirty years ago, her mother had done the mural as a present. Anne had also admitted that she hated the little critters, but didn’t have the heart to redecorate. The town absolutely loved it! It was that kind of town.

Grant and the sheriff walked into a cool office filled with more of the woodland creatures. Grant nodded to Anne’s secretary, Sherry. The sheriff sauntered up to her and tipped his hat.

“Howdy Sherry,” the sheriff smiled down at the older woman. Despite the fact that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, Sherry glowed!

“Well, hello boys! Anne’s with a patient right now, but she’ll be with you in just a bit. Please have a seat,” Sherry’s voice dripped with honey and sugary sweetness.

“Thanks Sherry,” Grant nodded politely.

“Oh you are welcome Detective Anderson.” Grant cringed at the suggestive tone. The woman was almost old enough to be his mother! But he smiled politely, hoping it didn’t come out looking like the grimace he felt.

They sat down in the lobby and Grant immediately busied himself looking at more of the artwork. It was a great way to ignore the blatantly suggestive looks that the little old lady was shooting his way. 

There was a bunny wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s white outfit with a large red cross on the hat. There was a pretty little deer with its leg in a bandage. A great big grizzly wore glasses and a white lab coat, with a stethoscope around his neck. There was also a turtle with a thermometer in his mouth, and a mouse holding a handkerchief. It was all very cute, and not very Anne. Grant was grateful for that.

Anne walked out of the back area with a young blond boy in tow.

“Bye Chris, you have a great time at the zoo tomorrow and make sure you drink plenty of water OK?” She patted the boy on the head. “Have a nice day Mrs. Breckin,” she added to the child’s mother, who was two steps behind them. Glancing up, she saw the sheriff. Grant caught the look of surprise on her face before she quickly covered it with a smile.

“Hello Sheriff, Grant, come on back.” She led them down the hall to the very back and through a set of double doors. He figured this room was the operating room. At the back there was a second set of double doors that led into a large refrigerated room. The room was cool, dark, and very quiet; not quite like the brightly-lit bustling morgues in the big cities. Grant saw the sheriff visibly shiver. It was cool, but not that cold. But then Grant could sympathize. Morgues were not his thing either.

“I wasn’t expecting you here today Sheriff,” Anne commented while flicking on a small desk lamp on a metal desk in the corner. The limited light gave an eerie glow to the room and did not reach far past the desk.

“Yeah, well, me and Grant were out chasing down some very important leads this morning. I figured I should come by and see what all you had come up with.”

“Well I found several things…”

“Grant said you had some partials,” the sheriff interrupted, practically squirming all over the place. He was more than just a little uncomfortable; he looked like he was going to be sick. Grant resisted the urge to shake his head. Only in a small town.

“Yes,” Anne had already walked back to her desk.

“Why don’t I go ahead and take those back to the office and see what we can’t find out,” he suggested tersely.

Grant could practically hear Anne’s laugh as she smiled at the sheriff. She held up a three by five sheet of plastic with four small smudges; the fingerprints. The sheriff practically lunged for the proffered material and then smiled, clearly glad to be getting the hell out of there.

On his way out the door, he threw over his shoulder, “Grant, you don’t mind walking back to the station do you,” and was gone before Grant could even think to answer. Grant realized he wasn’t meant to answer. He had been issued an order. The sheriff never asked questions.

As soon as the door was closed Anne let out a light laugh. “He’s always been a bit skittish about the morgue!”

“Is that why you brought us in here?” Grant asked hesitantly. He wasn’t that thrilled to be here either.

“Why, don’t you want to talk in here? Or are you afraid, too?” she smirked at him.

“I’m not afraid!” Grant defended. “It’s just… well, strange, standing around a bunch of dead people,” he added.

“It’s not strange at all. Standing around a hospital is worse. All those people in pain and misery, forced into undignified circumstances; that is strange. People in the morgue are dead, they don’t care. Besides, Elisabeth is the only one here. This isn’t county general, we don’t get too many stiffs in here…. Typically,” Anne amended.

Grant gave her an odd look, and she smiled. “I didn’t just bring you in here to spook off old iron gut. I thought you might like to see what I’ve got to tell you, so it’ll make more sense.” Anne moved to the wall filled with drawers.

“You mean I have to see the body again?” Grant visibly paled.

“Detective, you disappoint me. I never pegged you as squeamish,” Anne chuckled.

“I’m not!” Grant had to bite back the defensive tone.

“Of course not. Alright,” Anne reached over and pulled open a drawer. Pulling the sheet back, she revealed Elisabeth’s body. “So what’s this hot information you and the sheriff were tracking down?”

“Nothing so helpful, I’m afraid. A young girl went missing last night and the sheriff is adamant that she was abducted by our mystery killer,” Grant sighed in exasperation.

“You disagree?” Anne arched her brow speculatively.

“No, not necessarily. However, in my experience you connect serial killers by their patterns, and this one has yet to reveal a pattern… at least that I can discern… but I’m hoping you may be able to shed some more light in that direction,” he smiled at her.

“Well, I may only give you more questions. It just depends on what you can make of it.” She shrugged apologetically.

“Yes, but these are new and different questions. Questions left by the killer. Not questions of a bereft mother whose child may or may not have anything to do with this case,” Grant pointed out.

“Right, well, let’s get started then. First, note the bruising on her neck,” Anne indicated the dark marks on the girl’s neck.

“She was strangled,” Grant nodded.

“Well, yes and no. Do you see how dark and mottled the bruising is?”

“Yes?”

“Elisabeth was strangled posthumously.”

“He strangled her after she was dead?” Grant looked closely at the marks, his aversion to the dead forgotten with a possible lead in the case. “Why?”

“That’s your question, Detective,” Anne murmured.

“Right.” Grant took out a notebook and began making notes.

“Now, I showed you that, to show you this.” Anne lifted Elisabeth’s wrist and tilted it out. There were distinctive bruises consistent with someone checking the pulse. “There is no evidence of a struggle… so who do you know that bruises that easily?”

“This was done after she was dead also?” Grant posited.

“Very good Detective, but do you see how much darker it is than the bruising on the neck?” Anne pointed to both marks for comparison.

“Yes?”

“The blood had not finished pooling when the pulse was checked. This was done nearer the time of death.”

“What’s the time frame?” Grant scribbled furiously.

Anne shrugged. “I’d say the pulse was checked on her wrist somewhere between one and four hours after death. She was strangled almost two days later.”

“That’s a little strange,” Grant agreed.

“It gets weirder.” Anne lifted the sheet to reveal the bruising all along Elisabeth’s right side.

“What the hell!” Grant couldn’t help the explosion, nor could he keep his body in check as it forcibly recoiled.

“Haven’t you ever seen a dead body before?” Anne asked surprised.

“Well, yeah… but that wasn’t there when we found her.” He cringed and then leaned in to look closer. “What is it exactly?”

“Well, you are wrong. It was there when we found her. He’d simply covered it with makeup. He’s done it with all the bodies,” Anne reminded him.

Grant nodded. “Right, I read the reports. But it said that the makeup was on the back side of the other bodies to cover pooling…” The lights had come on, but Anne explained anyway.

“The other girls were left on their backs after death as if laid out for funeral, therefore the pooling was on their backs. Elisabeth lay on her side after she died. He also covered the bruising on her wrist.”

A sinking feeling came over Grant. “You mean he knew the bruising was on her wrist?”

Anne nodded.

“I don’t think those prints are his. Why would he bother to use gloves, but be so careless as to touch her wrist?” Grant frowned in consternation.

“Maybe he was taken off guard, he panicked when he found her dead?” Anne proposed.

“Not likely. I have a feeling those prints are going to come back matching one of the other missing girls.” Grant shook his head, not wanting to believe it. But his gut was rarely wrong. “Anne, do you know the physical health of the other girls? I mean before they died?” he clarified.

Anne looked at him oddly. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I got a tip, and I’m checking it out. This person said that one of the girls was starving herself and that is why he killed her.” Grant shrugged in an effort to give his statement less credence.

Anne nodded. “Well, Sandra was thin. I didn’t think about it because she’s been battling anorexia since high school. Sandra’s… illness was about control. I can see how it may be possible that under the circumstances she would revert to her old habits, feeling the need to have some control over what was happening to her.” He could see Anne’s eyes focusing inward as she mentally reviewed Sandra’s information

“How common is that knowledge?” he queried, almost hopefully.

“About Sandra’s disorder? Not very. Her father is a proud man. He could never admit such… weaknesses were in his genes. That is part of why it went untreated for so long. I was actually the one who discovered it. It took everything I had to convince him the problem was real. He had her treated in Seattle one summer and then I would check up on her periodically. As far as I know, we were the only three who knew about it. Locally, anyway,” Anne shrugged.

“Ok..” Grant still wasn’t sure. After all, hadn’t the sheriff said something about Clear living in the city? Maybe Seattle. “This source also said that the first girl had something wrong with her lungs. Do you know?”

Anne frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t. Cause of death was pretty obvious after a cursory inspection. I suppose I could always have the body exhumed.”

“No, no need for that. I just have one more question for you.” Grant hesitated not sure he wanted to do this. “What do you know about Clear Angel?”

Anne looked at him, startled. “I think you’d better sit down and tell me how you met Clear, and exactly what she said,” Anne directed.

Grant was amazed at how well Anne was taking all of this. He had just finished telling her about Clear’s intrusion into his office and she had not batted an eyelash, or more accurately, raised an eyebrow.

“I know this seems absolutely absurd. I mean psychics are bullshit, and I know this, but… well there have been some rather strange coincidences. Things she has said that… well, I don’t know how she could know. Maybe she’s a really good guess, or maybe she has an amazing spy system set up… but that’s just as ridiculous as her being a psychic…” Grant just kind of ran out of words and didn’t know what else to say. Anne had said nothing to give him an idea of her thoughts on the matter.

Anne nodded in the silence, took a deep breath and then expelled it. “Well, if Clear is saying it…”Anne shook her head, “then it’s almost invariably true.”

Grant eyed Anne skeptically.

“Don’t get me wrong!” she added quickly. “As a rule, I do not believe in psychics. Miss Cleo is a con artist. But you don’t know Clear. I’ve witnessed some really amazing things from her,” Anne tapped her lip pensively.

“How do you know her?” Grant felt guilty as he interrupted her internal dialogue.

“We went to school together.” Anne smiled. “That was the first amazing thing. She was a ten-year-old sophomore in my junior year. Clear is… a genius. She graduated the same year I did. I think she did that on purpose. We… well… we were friends. Obviously she got picked on a lot… I felt sorry for her. She really was incredible!

“I remember this one time this guy, Timmy Thompson, came up behind us in the hall and said to me ‘When you’re done playing with your little friend, wanna come play with mine?’ I was absolutely mortified, but Clear… Nothing could faze her. She walked up to him cool as a cucumber and said ‘You are a mean little boy Timmy, and you had better be careful because your nasty little habits are going to catch up with you soon.’ No one thought anything of it. They just laughed. Can you imagine this little ten-year-old talking smack to the senior bully? Two weeks later Timmy was found in his father’s barn. He had overdosed on heroine. No one even knew he was a user, but Clear knew.” Anne sighed.

“Maybe she got lucky. It happens,” Grant threw the idea out there.

“Luck requires percentages, Detective. I’ve never known Clear to be wrong.”

“And how many predictions, or whatever you call it, have you seen her make?” Grant challenged, trying not to sound like this was an interrogation.

Anne was once more lost in thought. Just as Grant began to try to find a polite way to probe further, she took a deep breath and continued. “More than I can count. One of her predictions may have saved my life,” Anne whispered.

“For senior week my parents rented me a cabin by the lake. Clear’s parents didn’t think she should go. She was so upset and begged me, in that sweet little kid’s voice, not to go. She said something bad would happen. She couldn’t see it clearly, but she knew that if I went I would never come back.

“At first, I just thought she was jealous and didn’t want me to go without her. But she kept at it! Always insisting that she didn’t know what was going to happen; but that if I went, I wasn’t going to come back to her. Part of me just figured it was the fear of me going off to college.

“We weren’t going to the same place and we’d practically become sisters, but another part of me was scared. I’d seen her do this before. I decided to postpone the trip a week. I told my parent’s that I thought it would be easier for Clear if I went while she was at summer camp. They didn’t know about Clear’s abilities.”

“So, what happened?” Grant probed.

Anne looked at him seriously.  “The night I would have arrived, the cabin burned to the ground.”

“She didn’t predict a fire?”

“No. That is the tricky thing. Clear has an incredible gift, but she didn’t have any control over it back then. Sometimes it was just vague… I don’t know… abstract ideas. But other times she could tell you down to the second when something would happen.”

“When I asked the sheriff about her, he didn’t mention any of this. Why?”

“Clear didn’t exactly advertise her abilities. Her parents learned very early on that people would shun her. That’s part of why they came here… and they hoped it would be less… traumatic for Clear.”

Grant shook his head, not understanding. “But she came to me. She doesn’t even know me, but she came to me. Why?”

“Well, I’m not psychic am I? My guess would be that she had a very strong feeling on this case. Wouldn’t you try and save lives if you thought you could? It was probably out of desperation. These images… or whatever she picks up, they haunt her. She’s trying to make it stop. I have to say, I am a bit surprised she told you she was psychic, though.”

“Actually she didn’t at first. She was trying to be vague, but I figured it out,” Grant admitted.

Anne shook her head sadly. “Poor Clear. Do you have any idea why a child prodigy that could possibly develop the cure for cancer or AIDS, world hunger… do you know why someone like that lives up in the mountains pretty much by herself and runs a horse ranch?”

“She’s antisocial and she likes animals?” Grant suggested.

Anne rolled her eyes, “Because she cannot survive anywhere else. She moved to Seattle for a while to go to college, but everywhere she went she was bombarded with images of violence, she was in constant pain, and she couldn’t sleep. If you overheard somebody planning a bank robbery would you go to the cops? But how do you explain to the cops that you overheard them thinking about a bank robbery, a murder, or rape?

“She couldn’t take it. So she moved to a small town in Colorado. About a year ago these kids went hiking in the Grand Canyon and got lost. Clear had a vision. She knew where to find them, but when she went to the park rangers they told her to leave it up to the professionals. They had already checked there and the kids weren’t there.

“After two days Clear finally made the decision to hike in and bring them out. She brought them out alive, but only just barely. She was promptly arrested for suspected kidnapping and attempted murder. How’s that? She saved their lives and was locked up for it!”

“Well…” Grant scratched his chin, ‘I can see where they were coming from. You have to admit, it would look pretty suspicious.”

Anne rolled her eyes again. “She spent almost two months in jail. After several attempts by the police to get the kids to say that she had kidnapped them, they had to concede that the children’s stories never changed and neither did Clear’s. They finally let her go, but the whole experience was rather traumatic for her. That’s when she came home and took over the ranch.”

Grant sat quietly mulling over what Anne had told him. All of a sudden an alarm began going off. It was on Grant’s cell. He snatched it up and turned the alarm off.

“Listen, I gotta run. There are several things I gotta go check out. But if what you say is true.” He glanced up at Anne. Her brow was arched in a ‘how-dare-you-doubt-me’ look. He shrugged. “I guess I’d better call her. Are you two still in touch?”

Anne shook her head shortly. “I see her in town every now and then. I’ve treated her for… insomnia, for a lack of better definition, a few times; but we haven’t really talked in years. I mostly read about her ordeal in the paper.”

“It went into all the details?” Gant looked surprised.

“No, only one paper published her side of things. But knowing Clear, I could tell the truth around the garbage.”

“Right… I don’t know if I’m going to call her or not. It’s kind of… well, beyond me,” Grant shrugged apologetically.

“Don’t feel bad, it’s a bit beyond me too. There is nothing medically sound that supports what she does, but I know what I’ve seen.”

Grant turned towards the door, feeling itchy all over. He was ready to end this conversation.

“Detective, did you want me to see about exhuming Kary’s body?”

Without turning, Grant shook his head. “It won’t really make a difference, will it?”

“No I suppose not.” Anne smiled as she watched Grant walk out the door.

“What a difference this could make.” She turned back to Elisabeth’s body. “There may be hope yet. If the Detective is half as smart as I think he is… and not half as stubborn as I suspect.” She covered the girl’s body back up and pushed the drawer back in.

I hope you have enjoyed the first five chapters of Elements of a Broken Mind! Join our November virtual book tour to learn more about Grant and Clear! Find the tour dates on my blog: http://anangellslife.blogspot.com/2013/11/launch-of-angels-dance-virtual-book-tour.html

Elements of a Broken Mind is available in e-book format from your local e-book retailer or through Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/325771 for only $3.99 From October 1st through the 6th, use this promo code ZS57N to get 1/2 off the e-book

For a paperback copy of Elements of a Broken Mind, order through your local bookstore, or on-line through Createspace https://www.createspace.com/4302361 only $11.99. From October 1st through the 6th, use this promo code CAUMHNJK to get $5.00 off the paperback. 

If you like to collect book merchandise, feel free to check out the beautiful psychic eye pendant's created exclusively for Elements, available on the merchandise page of my website: http://hangell531.wix.com/heidiangell