Tell Laura I'm Back Read online

  “I don't know –– it's as if he's come back.”

  “Who, the serial killer you killed?

  I sat up on the bed and pulled my knees to my chest. I wrapped my shaky arms around my legs, my chin resting on my knees. I looked at Chase through my tired distraught eyes.

  “I could make you some tea, Laura.”

  “Just some cold water. Thanks.”

  He pulled his pajamas over his boxers and then headed off towards the kitchenette. I continued looking around the room, for anything suspicious. I was more than tired. The night before...just a few hours before, Chase and I made passionate love, like we've never done before. I wouldn't be surprised if I had morning sickness three months after.

  My body really needed the rest. I felt myself turning into a nervous wreck. I needed the sleep but I feared waking up in another nightmare.

  Could it really be him, Hoag? I pondered.

  Did he really come back? How the heck could he?

  And who the heck is this girl I saw in my nightmare, the girl who stood motionless in my wardrobe? I really can't take this any longer. I have to do something about this.

  I felt like screaming out my disgust only that Chase would think I was becoming crazy.

  He walked back into the bedroom. I wondered what was the best way of telling him what I had intended on doing about the situation, the nightmares, the spate of crimes back in Westervill and this unknown villain on the loose.

  ELEVEN

  ______________________________

  ---------------THE LETTER --------------

  April 7th, 2017

  Dear Chase,

  You should never ever doubt the impact you've left on me.

  You should never question the way I love you, Chase. I've never loved anyone but you. I know by the time you read this letter I would have already been in Westervill, Ohio, just a day or two before you, honey.

  I'm sorry I had to run out on you like that, Babes, but I had to go back to Westervill. They've found at least 5 more victims in less than 24 hours. Chase, I know this is crazy but I have to do this. The nightmares won't stop coming if I don't get to the bottom of this.

  I know you are mad at me, Chase, for running out on you like this but there was no other way. You wouldn't have allowed me, though tough and determined a girl I am. I know there's no power on earth that could make me walk away from you when I look into your eyes so I slipped out while you handsomely lay your head on the pillow.

  I know you're mad at me, Chase but I promise I'll make it up to you when you reach over at Westervill. Promise.☺ ☺☺

  Take care now, Prince Charming

  Love,

  You Princess,

  Laura. ♥♥♥♥♥♥

  TWELVE

  ______________________________

  Westervill MEDICAL FACILITY, OHIO

  Laura

  “ID, Madam?”

  “Sure,” I answered, popping my badge out.

  The hospital security looked at my detective ID, which bore an image of me sporting black full-length hair. He then looked at my shoulder-length bob dark hair.

  “That was a long time, about 5 or 6 years ago.” I had that innocent rookie cop look.

  He looked me over, from my brown boots, my pair of jeans to the black jacket I sported over my white tank top. “Room 6S,” he directed, using his eyes.

  “Thanks,” I answered, pulling back my ID from his stubby fingers. Wanker, I said in my mind, of course.

  I made my way down to Room 6S, as directed by the hospital security, who reminded me so much of Santa.

  Knock, Knock.

  “Come in,” the voice echoed from Room 6S.

  I pushed the door open. “Hi, nurse,” I greeted, after receiving a pleasant smile from the woman who had been adorned in full white.

  “Nice, to meet you, Detective – ” she peered my badge, trying to figure my last name.

  “You can call me Laura.”

  “Nice to meet you, Detective Laura; Nurse Tyler." She extended a hand, seeming overly happy to help. "I mean, she's been through an awful lot over the past few days, Detective; poor girl,” the pointed nose nurse sympathized, looking over at her patient. She then moved around to the left side of the hospital bed, pulling the thermometer from underneath the arm of the young woman who lay there.

  A glance at the young woman, lying down on the bed, looking blank, sent a weird jolt of familiarity throughout my entire body.

  I know her. We've met before – where? I slapped my hand against my head. I looked at her greasy golden ponytail, which rested on the left side of her chest. And then I looked at the red scars of horror all over her skin and the black and blue circles around her eyes. She continued staring into space, not even acknowledging my entrance in the hospital room, still supposedly traumatized.

  "What's her name?" I whispered.

  "Tiffany," Nurse Tyler whispered back. "Anyways, I'll leave you to do your job, Detective," she made her way towards the door, "hope you're lucky enough to get something out of her," she smiled, gently closing the door.

  The young woman squinted her eyes at the click of the door lock.

  "Hi, Tiffany," I greeted, walking over to her, arms folded.

  I waved my hands over her face, trying to disrupt her mannequin challenge but she would only continue staring as if she was in a different world, or maybe she just wasn't feeling like talking to a detective or anyone, for that matter.

  "Look, sweet heart," I said after resting my arse on the bedside chair. "I know you've been through the worst nightmare. You shouldn't even be alive today if your attacker had his way. I'm only here to help you."

  She looked me over. That was a start - I've gotten a response.

  "Now, Tiffany, if you would just talk to me I swear we could nail this sucker and put him away, for good."

  She looked me over once more. I popped my detective badge out. She took a glance, as if to say, 'so what?' and then refocused her mindless stare on wall before her. It could be brain damage or simply trust issues.

  "What does he look like, Tiffany?" I probed, sitting on the side of her hospital bed, resting my chin on my folded knuckles. If only she would answer.

  "Tiffany, I can only try to imagine your ordeal but you've got to say something to us, honey. You're the only victim who survived."

  Her lips remained sealed; the teardrops that suddenly stained her cheeks would be her only tale-bearer.

  "Look, Tiffany, if you talk to me then we could prevent this lunatic from doing this to other people, especially young women like you. A lot more victims in waiting are depending on you, Tiffany." She looked me over once more. "Say what you know, Tiffany," I coaxed, holding her cold hands. And then a rush of emotions flooded my entire body. I felt every hair on my skin popping out of the goose bumps. It was her - the girl I dreamt about, the girl who fell from my closet. I detached my shivery hand from her cold body. This could never be real. The way she suddenly started looking me over it was as if we'd met before. Her mouth opened up, but slowly. She wanted to say something.

  Oh no. Why now? It was my superior, the one who sported a haircut like the menace, Dennis – Inspector Sievright. He popped in the hospital room, accompanied by this chestnut hair young woman, supposedly a sleuth. He ran his hand through his red hair after trying to tuck his shirt in his pants, hiding his overgrown gut.

  "Laura?" he greeted as three or four creases carved into his forehead. I knew he was surprised to see me.

  "Hi, boss."

  "Thought you would have been riding waves in the Bahamas or getting engaged or making babies, or something of the sort, Laura."

  "Well..."

  "Laura, meet Klara, our newest detective. She's officially assigned to this case."

  I looked the other woman over, who then returned the favour. What happened to Zack? He would have been more suitable for this, given the complexity, I said to myself.

  "Laura, you need to see me at the Head Quarters."

 
"Sure, Boss," I answered but not without slipping one of my cards under Tiffany's sheet.

  THIRTEEN

  ______________________________

  45 MINUTES LATER

  POLICE HEADQUARTERS

  I sat in his office chair, my feet tapping away, waiting for Inspector Sievright to finish his telephone call with Human Resources Department. He was merely giving some information about the new female detective, Klara.

  "And something else too," he said, spinning around in his chair. He switched his handset to his left ear. "I'm thinking about a suspension but I'll call you back later with the details."

  I could only hear the throbbing of my heart against my chest.

  He hung up.

  I jolted to an upright position.

  "Ms. Creyson, I honestly don't believe this type of shit, you know."

  I looked on, waiting for him to continue.

  "The last time we checked, you are on a month-long vacation."

  "I know, Sir..."

  "Let me finish, Laura..." he stopped, brushing his red hair backward. "What the heck are you doing in a hospital room, interrogating a patient?"

  "Sir.."

  "Let-me-finish, woman."

  "Ok, Sir."

  "This is a breach, you know. A Major breach, Laura Creyson!" He looked under his desk. "Where's the frigging thing?"

  He popped a yellow box of donuts out.

  Gosh, doesn't he see the size of his gut?

  "What's your connection to this case, Laura?"

  I took a deep breath before answering. I wanted to sound plausible; I needed to make sense, a lot of sense.

  "Sir, a lot of deadly things are happening here, and some psychopath still remains at large. I figured that I needed to come back to help."

  He took another bite, leaving red stains on his chin, looking so much like an obese kid.

  "And you just pop your arse to the medicare facility, interrogating a victim without reporting to me?"

  "Well, I really should have, Inspector."

  "You-let-me-finish," he ranted. "Who's the boss?"

  "You, Inspector Seivright."

  "Maybe you need a little reminder, Madam Laura. Listen," he scowled, slamming the desk and thrusting towards me. I shuffled backward (the legs of my chair making a grating sound against the floor tiles) trying my best to avoid his reek breath. "I don't want you near this case and you know what...?"

  "No, Sir." I folded my arms.

  "I've extended your leave. You're now on suspension – no pay, a month."

  My eyes popped opened wide, uncontrollably. "But, Sir..."

  "What? I could give you an extension if you wish, Laura. Don't make me. If you don't mind, I've got to finish lunch."

  You wanker, I said, but only in the back of my head.

  Upon stepping from his office I bumped into Zack, my ex-lover. Too pissed was I to even ask what was up with him. He looked like shit - He had this plaster on his forehead, right over his left eye. He had sunshades on. It must have been some cat fight, I figured, after seeing scratches and bruises all over his body.

  "What's up, Babes?"

  I made my way to my car, pretending he wasn't there.

  "You heard me, right?" he pulled. So aggressive.

  I turned around, facing him. "Look, Zack, as I've said before. It's over between us."

  "You know you can't be serious, sweetheart. We belong together, " he nagged, pushing his brown hair behind his ears.

  "We don't, Zack. I'm not supposed to be screwing my co-worker. What happened between us was a mistake. I belong to Chase." I mean, the wounds aside, Zack was still good looking, especially with his new middle parted hairstyle. I was not going back there with him though.

  "You mean that bank boy?" He pulled my chin. "After all we've been through together you're now telling me you belong to someone else? You've got a heart, Laura."

  "You better let me go, Zack!" I pushed his hand away, preventing him from kissing me.

  "You making me do things, Laura."

  "I don't give a shit what you do. You-need-help, Zack," I forced, through clenched teeth.

  "The only thing I need is somewhere to put his tired arse when I make him swallow my gun."

  "In your wildest dream, Zack. You touch Chase, I kill you myself. There you go, drinking on the job again."

  "What's with the attitude, Laura?" he giggled, bitterly.

  "Zack, get a life."

  FOURTEEN

  ______________________________

  Him

  * * *

  He moved towards room 6S after replacing his sun shades, buttoning the white coat he had planned on returning. He looked at the stainless steel knob of the door, looked left and then right. He opened the door, gently. Ah, there she is.

  She popped her swollen eyes open; it must have been the spooky creaks of the door of her hospital room. He turned the lock on the knob closed; he needed no disturbance in carrying his job out.

  “Hope you're feeling much better today, Tiffany.”

  She stared mindlessly at the wall as if he wasn't there.

  He held her cold hands. It was time, her time, the girl who should have been victim #5.

  He took some compassion in looking at what he had made her into – far from the belle he had picked up at the club a couple nights ago. And then he looked at the bruises on his hands, a finger almost bitten off. Vengeance was due. For this she had to pay. He felt for the plastic bag that he had hidden in his coat.

  She glanced at what's left of his badly damaged finger. She figured who it was – him.

  “You scream, you die,” he warned, removing the sunshades.

  Totally freaked out she became, seeing the wreckage of his eyes – clot with blood, not much white left. She trembled with fear; her stomach churned. He was back to finish the mess he had started.

  It was as if he didn't plan on wasting time. In the wink of an eye, her head became totally gagged with his plastic bag. She couldn't see much, only blurred vision of everything and even her killer, through the suffocating lens of the plastic bag that immediately started taking her supply of oxygen out of play. She hung on to life, though hopeless it seemed. She hung on to this hospital scissors and wham!

  AAAGH! he moaned, clinging to the scissors she brutally planted in his side. Blood poured from his mouth, coloring the white sheets crimson red. Tiffany alighted from off the bed, making her way towards the door after ripping the plastic bag from off her face. It became a room of confusion and horror; medicine spilled on the floor from the clattering shards of bottles. She took deep but mighty quick breaths, hoping her lungs would still keep up.

  “Come on, open up, door!” she bawled, shaking the door into a noisy rattle, trying desperately to unlatch the stubborn door knob.

  He aggressively flung this knife towards her, raking her side.

  AAAHHH! she wailed, blood spraying from her, weakening the life out of her.

  “You're a pain in the arse, Tiffany. I've had enough of your shitty behavior!”

  “HELP!” she wailed, seeing him coming towards her. She looked into his gruesome red eyes, her back against the door, nowhere to run.

  “Playing time's ova, Tiffany.”

  He sprang towards her, another deadly blade in his right hand.

  She swiftly pulled this cylinder from off the wall, to the left of her. She gave it to him, and wouldn't stop spraying it until his face became clown-white with some sort of oxide. She moved towards the hospital window and started banging it with the empty oxide cylinder. She needed to hurry. Time ticked on, as though it wasn't on her side. The bastard was regaining sight. He fumbled towards her, still clutching that blood-thirsty cutter. She continued her desperate assault of the window with the empty cylinder, forming cracks in the glass pane at each and every crashing bang. Splinters flew all over. The window gave way, finally. He was already too close; he held on to her leg, the only part of her that remained inside the building.

  “You going nowhere,
Tiffany.”

  “You better let me go, psycho,” she stormed, giving him a head jab with the cylinder, causing him to stagger, swaying left and then right.

  “Hope you see stars now, ” Tiffany breathed, running away.

  FIFTEEN

  ______________________________

  Laura

  Sievright is probably right, I suppose. I had no right to interfere. And I guess I've gotten what I truly deserved – suspension, I kept thinking while sitting in the back of this checkered cab, heading towards the State University Airport. And how do I face Chase? He will be mad as hell, but so happy to see me, I hope. But that bastard hasn't called, I wondered, flipping through the call log of my lphone.

  But how on earth could I run off, leaving my man and he doesn't even call, not even to give me a proper cuss out, for running off while he slept? “That frigging painter woman!” I slammed.

  My body jolted forward after the driver slammed the brakes.

  “Everything alright, Madam?”

  I couldn't help but noticing the size of his nose under his cab cap; that stood out the most about him. “I'm fine, just a thought.” I took another glance at my mobile phone, “you should step on it; the flight to The Bahamas leaves in less than 40 minutes, Mister.”

  Another glance at my mobile phone made me realize I had a missed call about a few seconds ago. It was a private number.

  Who the heck could this be? I wondered, after ringing it back, unsuccessfully though. That's why number are private, so the caller remains unidentified.

  Maybe it's Chase, finally hunting me down. “Screw him.”

  The driver looked around. If he could only just drive and be not so nosey. Nosey he is, I giggled after seeing the size of his nose underneath his cap once more. I bet he doesn't know what I'm laughing at; the joke's on him. But, I pondered deeply. What if it's her trying to call me – Tiffany?