 
DRAKE CASANOVA

NYPD Honor

Drake Casanova

# ACCLAIM FOR NYPD HONOR

# BY DRAKE CASANOVA

"NYPD Honor was an electrifying thrill. Can't wait for a sequel. Mr. Casanova is a good story teller."

—Kelvin Gibbs

"Oh wow, great ending. Can't wait for the next."

—Monica Espinoza

"Not really my kind of genre but definitely kept me hooked. Great work."

—Robert M.

"I was asked to read this book and I loved it. My friends are looking forward to meeting Mr. Casanova if he ever decided to come to Iceland."

—Sandra Kim Idun

"A little graphic but interesting narrative. Drake Casanova has great potential at being one of the greats in the thriller genre."

—David Highsmith, retired Army veteran

"Detective Sagittarius Luckett, is a phenomenal character. She's witty, sharp, emotional, and a kick ass detective. I feel like her and me are one in the same. Two thumbs up Mr. Casanova."

—Kayla M, former criminal attorney

"Very intriguing."

—Brittany "Peaches" Lynn

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright©2015 by Donte Shine

Excerpt from NYPD Honor: Return of the Black Widow copyright©2016 by Donte Shine

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property.

Second Edition: March 2015

# DEDICATION

To my grandmother for making me the man I am today. Moreover, to my beautiful daughter, Nevaeh for being my main motivation. Finally, to Brittany "Peaches" Lynn for being a friend in my time of need.

# PROLOGUE

# OLD SPIRITS DIE YOUNG

#

# ONE

**KAYLA STEWART, NINETEEN, WAS** a sophomore at NYU, near downtown Manhattan. She was the daughter of multimillionaire Bobby Stewart, who owned Stewart Enterprises. She had received several academic scholarships but had settled with majoring in Marine Biology. She'd always enjoyed the ocean's iconic wildlife.

Now sitting in Professor Capricorn's classroom, listening to one of his lectures on marine organisms she was becoming more interested in where her career will land her. Her classmate and her roommate, Sarah Ingram, was giggling away at the part where Professor Capricorn mentioned the various forms of mating that occurred in the marine life.

"There are different ways the libido responds to a mate of great potential. Take for example, the electric eel, who serves as a good way to show the way a male libido responds to the electric shock he receives when attempting to coax the female," said Professor Capricorn, smiling.

Kayla had scribbled down some notes on the way an eel of the female class can be rather reluctant to a male suitor at first but later on will succumb to her suitor. Sarah nudged Kayla's arm, causing her to draw a line through the middle of her paper.

"Hey!" Kayla protested.

"My bad Kayla. I was just about to ask what if we become more reluctant when Ricardo and Danny try to seduce us next. You think that'll drive em wild?"

Kayla was still pissed about her paper. It was ruined because of the big line running through it. Notwithstanding her annoyance, Sarah was still her bestie. Better still, it was because of her, that Kayla had passed all her quizzes. You need to get over it, Kayla. Rub some dirt on it.

"I don't know Sarah. People aren't like us. They get upset when they can't get what's tucked between our legs."

"And by the way, you never finished telling me what's going on with you and Danny? Are ya'll still dating or what?" asked Sarah, leaning forward.

"It's complicated Sarah. I mean, yeah we're still dating, but I don't think we'll still be together by the end of this semester. He knows how much I hate snakes and yet he still pranks me."

Ever since Kayla was a child, she'd been terrified of snakes. Her father had taken her to see a shrink, who diagnosed her with ophiophobia or more commonly known as herpetophobia. She had tried desperately to kick the phobia: visiting Central Park Zoo to walk through the reptile area, hanging out with her dad's friend Oscar, who owned all sort of exotic creatures. None of those worked. Eventually, she gave up and came to peace with her phobia.

"Guys are such fucking assholes! If I were you I'd punch him in the face and act as if I didn't know that punching him was wrong." Sarah said.

They laughed

"You know Sarah, I might just try that or better yet, I'll kick him in the balls and claim it was an accident."

They high-fived each other just as the classroom bell rang. All the other students in the class made a beeline for the door. Sarah and Kayla were in no hurry to get to their next class. Professor Williams was a creepy guy no one enjoyed being around. The way he leered at his female students, made the male students feel violated. Overall, he was an excellent teacher and both Kayla and Sarah needed to pass his class in order to graduate.

Professor Ian Williams was a tall man with green eyes and dark hair. In addition, with those green eyes he stared out toward his class as it filled up with eager students. His eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary on the two girls walking in behind the rest of the class. He knew their names. Even knew what dorm resided.

Their names were Kayla Stewart and Sarah Ingram. Both had secrets that they thought no one else knew. Wrong.

Professor Williams cleared his throat and got everyone's attention before making his announcement: "Welcome to my class as some of you may know my name is Professor Williams and I teach Biology. For the newbies here today, this class has rules that I expect you to abide by. Starting with rule number one: no cell phones of any kind is allowed in my class, Mr. Keegle that goes for you too." He eyed the blond haired boy sitting beside Kayla.

The boy looked up and turned a shade of red as all eyes in the class turned in his direction. He muttered something that wasn't quite audible, "How the hell did he see my phone through my shirt?"

"I told you he has cameras everywhere, Casey," said Sarah, who started giggling.

"It's not that it's because he's some kind of freak," Casey fired back.

The professor stared at the pair. No, it's because I have an eye for the conspicuous, he thought. Moreover, Kayla Stewart and Sarah Ingram were indeed as conspicuous as they come.

#

#

# TWO

**LATER THAT NIGHT, KAYLA** and Sarah sat in their dorm doing homework. They each had their boyfriend's coming over and would be there any moment. They had their outfits laid out on the bed along with the shoes they were going to wear with them. Kayla had been proactive enough to do her make-up before starting on her homework. As Sarah liked to joke, it takes her an hour to "put her face on".

"So what do you think about this skirt?" asked Kayla, getting up from her homework and stretching.

"It's too long, kind of defeats the purpose of the word skirt. You need something a little more revealing, Kayla. This is college not Preston High School. This is what you should be wearing," she lifted her skirt up so she could get a look. It was definitely "revealing" all right. More like when she sits down all her goodies were exposed to all the people in the room.

"Don't you think that's a bit over board?" Kayla asked, timidly.

"Again this is college. Everything is overboard. You can't expect to win Danny back by pretending to be the Virgin Mary. Loosen up a bit, love. It's Friday."

Just then, there was a knock on the door loud and purposeful. Both Sarah and Kayla jumped. They exchanged nervous looks at one another before finally coming to a decision to see who was at the door. It had to be Danny and Ricardo even though they were thirty minutes early, which wasn't them to be early for anything. Kayla opened the door and immediately her breath caught and she started shaking, uncontrollably.

It was not Danny or Ricardo standing in the doorway. The man who stood before Kayla looked less attractive and the odor coming from him was unbearable. This person is homeless, Kayla thought. He must think we'll let him stay the night.

However, when the man spoke, he spoke with a sense of elegance. Certainly, not something that a homeless person in New York would know anything about.

"May I come in, ladies? I hope I'm not crashing the party." He advance inside, bumping past Kayla.

"If you don't leave I'm going to call the police!" yelled Sarah, her voice cracking.

"Be my guest, you'll be dead before they arrive," replied the homeless man.

He grabbed Sarah by the arm, pulling her into him and kissed her deeply. She flailed her arms, trying to get away, but he was too strong. Once he finished he shoved her aside and went after Kayla, who was frozen in shock, staring unblinkingly at the aquarium and what was slithering around inside. It was a snake! And it looked poisonous. Sarah hadn't noticed it until now. She was yelling for her to run but it was no use. The homeless man was on her, ripping open her bra.

Sarah ran over to help and was fixed with a backhand to the face that sent her reeling back, crashing to the fall. The man forced Kayla on the bed, stripping off her panties, before thrusting himself inside her. She screamed in agony as her two fears were happening to her at the same time: rape and snakes.

After the homeless guy had climaxed inside her. He took out a black snake, about ten inches, opened her rectum and let the snake go free inside. Kayla instinctively jerked, presumably from the pain of the snake roaming about her rectum. After several minutes went by Kayla's body went limp. The homeless man marched over to Sarah, pulled back her head, exposing her carotid artery and slit her throat.

He packed up his things and was out the door in a flash. He removed his soiled clothes and tossed them in a Dumpster, then went behind it and changed into his normal scholar attire. He was back in classroom uniform.

He heard some voices approaching and quickly left his hide out. He walked quickly past the two people who were listening to their Walkman's. They didn't look his way. He was invisible. And that's just the way he liked it.

Once everybody found out about what happened to Kayla Stewart and Sarah Ingram, The Homeless man would be long gone.

# PART ONE

# DEAD SPIRITS LIVE ON

# CHAPTER 1

**IT WAS A SATURDAY** morning when my phone rang. I knew it had to be one person calling me at this time of morning and sure enough, it was him. Commissioner Wilson. I turned facedown and screamed, "FUCK!" into my pillow. This was going to be a very good way to start my weekend. I could just feel it. I reached over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand and answered, "Sergeant Luckett speaking,"

"Luckett, it looks like it's your lucky day. There's been a double homicide at NYU. Responding officers are describing crime scene as gruesome and grotesque. I have Detective Graham en route to pick you up. So get your ass up and get dressed. This case has your name written all over it."

Before I could ask for more insight, the bastard hung up on me. Prick. I reluctantly, crawled out of my comfortable queen-sized bed and padded over to the bathroom for a quick shower. I was dreading today's double homicide; yesterday's homicide was bad enough. A baby was discovered in a Dumpster, near the Brass Monkey, a local bar me and a few other detectives went to after work. According to the ME, the baby's cause of death had been by strangulation. There had been an orange extension cord wrapped around the baby's neck. I can still remember the pictures taken shortly thereafter; the baby was completely purple from lack of oxygen.

Gruesome and grotesque.

I had an apartment in West Village, literally walking distance from Christopher Park. I looked down just in time to see my partner, Detective David Graham pull up alongside the curb and honk the horn. Graham was a handsome man, who looked very much like Bradley Cooper. He had icy blue eyes, dirty blond hair and a lady killer smile. I secretly had a huge crush on him. However, I'll never admit it.

I bounded down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last two steps. I opened my screen door and met my partner halfway up the front steps to my place.

"I thought I was going to have to come up there and bang on the door. You sleep like a stump, a really cute stump."

I blushed.

"Okay, enough with the compliments we have work to do." I said, taking shotgun as we pulled off.

"Did the Commissioner tell you what kind of whack job we're dealing with now?" Graham asked.

"No. So fill me in."

He went on to explain that there had been two students, both female, and both were daughters of two prominent public figures: Bobby Stewart from Stewart Enterprises and Jared Ingram of Ingram eBooks. One of the girls, Kayla Stewart, a marine biology major, had been raped and sodomized with a live snake.

"That's pretty sick." I said, holding down the bile that was making its way up my esophagus. "What the hell drive these freaks to do such things?

My partner just looked at me. I knew the look very well. He'd always given the same look to me for asking such rhetorical questions. A do-I-look-like-I'd-know look.

"Anyways, campus security have cordoned the area off. They have the two people who discovered their bodies in custody. The boys are pretty shaken up. Apparently both were deeply involved with the victims."

I looked over at my partner. Deeply involved? Like brother and sister?

"What do you mean they were 'deeply involved'?" I had to ask because it could change everything in this case.

"I mean like they were boyfriend and girlfriend involved. Rumor has it; the two boys were heading over to girl's dorm for a little action. And well, the rest is history."

My partner had a very dry sense of humor that if directed at the wrong people could cause a fight. I'd gotten used to this humor and found it rather humorous; when the situation called for it. However, right now, the situation didn't call for it. We were getting ready to step into yet another crime scene. Moreover, that was only the beginning. I would definitely have to be the one to deliver the tragic news to their parents. Additionally, I hated delivering such horrifying news.

# CHAPTER 2

**WE PULLED UP AT** the entrance of New York University, home to the Bobcats. I stepped out of the passenger side and the media swarmed me. Every reporter from CNN to NY1 was looking for an exclusive. Candice Spencer, from NY1, was all in my grill. I couldn't stand her, because she always seemed to get the story twisted. I tried to bypass her but it was no use.

"Sergeant Luckett, what does the NYPD have so far? Have you apprehended any suspects?" Candice pitched question after question, shoving the microphone to my mouth. I wanted to knock her lights out. However, I knew that would only get me suspended so I played nice and used a different approach.

"Candice with all due respect to you and your station. You know I'm not at liberty to disclose such information. But rest assured; the NYPD is underway with its investigation. As head of the homicide division I planned on catching this sick bastard before he strikes again."

That was all she was going to get from me. Nothing more, nothing less. I was starting to tear up a bit, but I wiped the escaping tears away, roughly, with the back of my hand as I closed in on the gruesome crime scene.

As I walked inside the dormitory, I noticed that there was blood spatter everywhere: the ceiling, the walls, and the bed. I saw the first DB, on the bed, spread-eagle. There was a sheet covering her nether area. Out of curiosity, I lifted the sheet to take a closer look. What I'd seen was not a good look. The girl's rectum was gaped open, with the remnants of blood caked around it.

"We found this guy inside her," said a voice from behind me.

I turned around to see one of the crime scene techs hovering over me. I smiled until my eyes landed on the slithering creature, he held in an aquarium. It took some time for me to make the connection.

"You found that inside her?" I was very appalled. Not in a million years could I imagine the pain caused by our little reptile friend.

"Yep. He slithered out while one of my techs was taking pictures. I must say, it wasn't the most pleasurable spectacle I've seen in my life. "Talk about BDSM," he chuckled.

"Any fingerprints or other signs of sexual assault?"

"It's hard to say for sure. With the snake and all we can't really determine if, sexual assault played a role in this. But I'll have my boys get back with you on the fingerprints once we run them through the system."

"Thanks."

"I'm Dustin Mosley by the way," he said, sticking out his hand. "I'm head of the Crime Scene Unit. Nice to finally meet you detective."

I took it with mine. "It's Sergeant, but I won't hold it against you. It's been a pleasure."

I walked over to where David stood over victim number two. This was Sarah Ingram. I'd met her at a book convention held by her father, Jared. He'd written a book about a crime that had occurred in Manhattan some ten years ago. Moreover, it was an instant best seller.

"It's a shame," my partner began. "She was so young. I hate it when they die young."

"I know how you feel, David. But don't worry we'll catch this guy whoever he is," I replied. I was getting ready to call the Commissioner for an update but he'd beaten me to the punch.

"Commissioner Wilson," I answered.

"You better tell me something good, Luckett. Because your ass is depending on it," he growled.

"Well all we know so far, is that one of the victims I believe to be Kayla Stewart, was sodomized with a live snake. Great emphasis on the live part."

"My God. That poor child her father's going to be devastated by that news. Hell it's bad enough that he's going to have to come down to the morgue to make an ID. Listen up; I don't want you to take on any other case until this one is closed. I have the mayor and the governor breathing down my neck. I need you to work your magic, Luckett."

Again, he hung up without letting me put in my two cent. He was becoming more and more infamous for doing that.

I turned to David and relayed the message.

But he was had vanished. Then, out of nowhere, he was walking toward me.

"Had to run to the bathroom, Serge. Been holding it for longer than necessary," he said after I fixed him with my death glare.

"Next time tap me on the shoulder or hold up a sign saying you're going to the john. Anyway, that was Commissioner Wilson letting us know that we are not to take on another case until this one is closed. In other words, if we don't solve this case we may be out of a job. Worse, we'll be standing in the unemployment line begging for another job.

"I've never known a lady's man to be jobless," my partner said.

I smiled.

"Well if you don't get your head in the game. You'll be the first candidate. Now let's go talk with the boys who last saw the girls."

# CHAPTER 3

**WE ENTERED THE DEAN'S** office where Daniel Fisher and Ricardo Rodriguez were awaiting our arrival. The boys looked deflated; subdued. I completely knew how they felt. I decided I was going in with them first in order to loosen up the mood. As I pulled out a chair in front of the two boys, they looked up.

"Hi, I'm Sergeant Sagittarius Luckett. I'm with the Sixth Precinct of the NYPD. You boys aren't in any trouble I just want to know what you know. Anyway you guys can shed some light on the events of last night?"

They both shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. This was obviously their first encounter with the law or their first time facing accountability. I took note on how fidgety Daniel had become, considering his friend was calm. That was strange. Finally, the wait was over and now the interesting part began.

"We were supposed to meet up with Sarah and Kayla last night. We had planned to hit a local diner for coffee before heading out to the movies. I can't believe someone would do such a thing to Kayla." Daniel Fisher started crying. This was obviously more tragic to him then failing his last exam.

I was still mulling over the fact that he had stated Sarah's name first instead of Kayla who was his girlfriend. That was something they taught you to pay attention to at the Academy when interrogating potential suspects. However, I may have been jumping the gun a bit.

I asked, "Did either of the girls have any enemies that you know of? Like a classmate or someone else in their dormitory?"

Silence.

"Daniel?" I prompted.

"I'm thinking okay? Give me a minute, will ya?" he snapped.

Okay I was definitely not expecting that sort of reaction. I got up and left the room. I had to do some digging on this guy to see if there's a violent streak. I found my partner, chatting it up with the dean's secretary. He was putting on the final touches, when I interrupted. "Detective Graham may I have a word please."

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'll be right back Rebecca."

When we got in the hallway he growled, "What is it now Sagittarius? I was in the middle of a good conversation."

"Zip it. Now, listen up, I want you to run a background check on Daniel Fisher. Then highlight anything pertaining to violent streak. I'm starting to get a bad vibe about Mr. Fisher."

"Okay we'll do. You'll be all right until I get back. If you need a shoulder to lean on you know I'm your guy" he joked. I nailed him in the shoulder with a right jab.

"Hey!"

"Well don't be a wise ass. Now hurry back," I said, walking back inside the dean's office. I knew there was a chance I could be wrong about this kid but something in the back of my head kept screaming, "Bingo!" That only happened when something was right under my nose; like a murder suspect.

"I got good news fellas you're good to go. But I will advise you not to leave town." I announced, holding the door open. I had a plan to put in action. I was going to watch these two from here on out. By law, I couldn't keep them in interrogation without laying down some charges. The last thing I needed was to have my name linked to a lawsuit for slander or false imprisonment. That'll sure enough give Candice Spencer something to salivate over.

"So we can leave now?" Ricardo Rodriguez asked who'd been quiet the entire time.

"Yes you can leave Mr. Rodriguez."

They hurried past me, throwing nervous glances over their shoulders. Kids, I thought. We always make them nervous. I checked my phone for any messages from Detective Graham. None. I decided to walk around the school to get a feel for the place. I made sure to stick to the area where Sarah Ingram and Kayla Stewart were brutally murdered. I saw kids of every race, walking eagerly toward their designated classes. In fact, college was just how I remembered it: everyone still together as in gender and intellectual standpoints. If you weren't making straight A's you weren't worthy to hang with the cool kids.

I was just getting ready to walk up to a group of girls gathered around the steps of their dorm. When shots rang out from nearby. On instinct, I hit the deck. And I hit it hard.

# CHAPTER 4

**I EASED UP, SCANNING** the campus for potential victims. I didn't see any—

The group of girls that I'd been on my way to speak with were screaming in hysterics. I couldn't get a good look because I was so low to the ground. I slowly got to my feet for a better look and that's when I noticed what had caused the group of girls to go ballistic.

Hunched over, blood oozing from a gunshot wound to the abdomen was one of the girls. I rushed over not giving a damn if the killer was aiming at me or not. I slid to my knees to check for a pulse. And to my astounding discovery, there wasn't a pulse. A wave of anger hit me like an overhead cross. This killer was beginning to make a name for himself and I was like his unwilling publicist. My phone rang, I answered it with blood-soiled hands, "Sergeant Luckett," I growled into the receiver.

"Hey it's me. Sorry it took me so long to get back with you," Detective Graham said. "But Daniel Fisher is cleaner than Mr. Clean himself. He doesn't have so much as a jaywalking ticket."

"Okay," I said. I was starting to get frustrated with myself now. "Just get over here there's been a shooting here at the campus—"

"A what? Okay I'll be there in a jiff," he said hanging up the phone. I knew when he said he'll be here in a "jiff" that meant David Copperfield was coming to town. He'll run over pedestrians when he's in a rush or in a "jiffy" mood. I turned back to the girls still crying over their friend's death. "Help is on the way girls. I know how hard this can be but the best thing you girls can do is try to relax."

"Is she dead," one of the girls asked me, pointing at her friend cradled in my arms.

I nodded solemnly.

"Yes, dear. I'm afraid she is." Additionally, that caused them to start crying all over again. Even I was beginning to have a difficult time keeping my emotions in check. Detective Graham had better get a move on or else.

As if my word had conjured him in reality, my partner was hightailing it my way. He looked a bit haggard but under the circumstances who wouldn't? "Sorry, morning commute is a pain." he said, panting. "Is everything secure?"

We hadn't heard more gunshots since this poor girl's life ended abruptly. Campus security had placed the school on lockdown while they combed the campus for the killer. I looked up at my partner as tears streamed down my cheeks. My emotions had won the battle. "Why are all these innocent kids being killed?" I said.

I was expecting to get that look my partner always gave me but I didn't get it. Instead, he plopped down beside me and held my head to his chest. "Because they're sick bastards out there with nothing better to do than to kill people. We'll catch whoever it is and watch him rot in Rikers Island along with the other sick and demented bastards," he whispered in my ear.

EMT's, fire rigs, and other responding officers had finally arrived. They tried to pull me away from the girl's body but I fought like hell to stay by her side. Luckily, Commissioner Wilson had walked over and told the EMT's to back off. And they backed off, not far but still. I had a few minutes with this poor girl. I found out her name was Melissa Sullivan. She was studying criminal justice. She wanted to join the NYPD. Commissioner Wilson walked back over with a concerned look on his face.

He said, "Sergeant I'm placing you on a leave of absence. These killings are wearing on you and I can't have that. Detective Graham will be taking over until I deem that you're fit to come back to work. Am I understood?"

"I'm fine! I just got a little emotional; I'm a woman that's what we do. What are you a fucking sexist?"

"Watch it, Luckett! I'm warning you. You're treading a fine line. A subordinate will not disrespect me. Now hand me your badge and your weapon." He held out his hand. I wanted to take his hand and break it off, and slap the hell out of him with it. That would be disrespectful.

"This is fucking bullshit and you know it! I've been with the force for how long? Then, all of a sudden, you want to start babysitting me? Here take your badge and your gun." I shoved them both in his chest. "I'm still going after this killer one way or another."

"You're officially suspended from the NYPD and any other law enforcement until further notice!" He yelled as I walked away.

"Who gives a shit?" I hollered back. I got behind the wheel of the cruiser Detective Graham had picked me up in and floored it. I needed to lay down before I had a mental breakdown.

# CHAPTER 5

**HECTOR MARTINEZ WAS SITTING** at home talking. He was medium height, fair-skinned, and had an arrogant personality. The person he was talking with was Ricardo Rodriguez. The kid looked ready to shit himself. Maybe being in my presence scares him, thought Hector. However, he was wrong. What scared Ricardo was the cops asking him all sorts of questions. And he knew that he had to keep his mouth shut.

"Why're you so jittery, Rico?" Rico had been the nickname given to him by Hector when they started doing deals. It seemed to stick.

"It's nothing Hector, really. I just had too much coffee that's all."

Hector knew better than to believe that bullshit. Nevertheless, he didn't press the issue; he had bigger fish to fry. He turned off the television to make sure he had Ricardo's full attention.

"So your man, did he rat?" Hector asked, his demeanor getting serious.

"Of course not. He's not dumb. But I am worried that that lady cop is on to something."

"What do you mean?"

"Just the way she kept eyeing him. I don't know Hector, but she seems a little too smart to just give up on this."

Hector sat back in his seat. He'd met his share of nosy ass detectives and the kid was right they don't give up easily. He knew that the NYPD took threats toward their own very serious, but he had to rattle the lady cop's cage a bit, mentally if not physically.

"Just make sure your man doesn't go running his mouth. If there's nothing else you want to share, then I guess our business here is finish." Hector got up, extending his hand out to Ricardo. "Thanks for coming to me first. Not too many young men out there are as smart. Tell your mother I said hello and to stop by for a little fun."

Ricardo held his head down and stalked off. He hated when Hector made nasty remarks about his mother. It was bad enough that his mother sold her body in order to get Ricardo into college. The very thought of it made his stomach turn.

Ricardo left Hector's house and was walking down East Broadway when he sensed he wasn't alone. He looked over his shoulder but didn't see anyone. That's strange, he thought. I could've sworn I heard someone behind me. He kept walking now at a faster pace. He had to make it back to the University before the security guards did their patrol of the campus.

"How's it going bud?" said the voice from behind.

For one strange moment, Ricardo thought he noticed something vaguely familiar about the voice. He wasn't going to be rude and keep walking. He turned around and stopped in his tracks as he came face-to-face with a Smith & Wesson .40 caliber. The person on the other end of the gun smiled.

"What the hell are you doing walking out here by yourself? You remember how scared you were of the dark. Especially in the city that never sleeps."

"Hec—"

BLAM!

The guy hovered over Ricardo's lifeless body and shook his head. "You should've been a little smarter, my friend."

I bolted upright in my bed. I thought I heard a gunshot. On the other hand, maybe I dreaming? Either way I looked at the clock beside my bed. It was ten o'clock. I'd been asleep for almost twelve hours! Holy shit!

I searched around for my phone to make sure I didn't have any missed calls. Sure enough, I had a dozen of them. Most were from my partner who must've felt a bit abandoned after today's outburst. He was the worrying-type. Rain, sleet, or snow; you could count on Detective Graham to worry. That's what attracted me to him a few years back when we first collaborated up. I'd been so use to the douchebag partners of the past that it blew my mind at the way Graham had been such a sensitive person. I must admit at first I thought he was a little queer, but quickly kicked that thought the moment I caught him staring at my ass.

I returned his calls hoping that he'd still be awake. He was. In addition, he was glad to hear from me.

"My God, you have no idea how pissed I am at you for not answering my calls. What the hell man?" I knew he was joking around. He thought that saying he was pissed instead of worried would make him seem more manly. It didn't. Women like myself loves a man who has a sensitive side. Fuck all the macho bullshit.

"Relax; I needed time to clear my head. These past two days have been too much. First, a baby in a Dumpster; then the daughters of the two most prominent men in New York City, and that last girl Melissa Sullivan. I can't—"

"That's not all either," my partner said, gravely.

# CHAPTER 6

" **WAIT WHAT ARE YOU** talking about, David?"

"I'm talking about another kid was shot about an hour ago. You're not going to believe who's the victim."

"Who?" I prompted.

"Ricardo Rodriguez. Sarah Ingram's boyfriend. Apparently, he was a couple blocks from the school when he was shot. There are no witnesses and the evidence is close to nil."

Could my day get any worse? I was desperately in need of a vacation. That's one...two...four homicides!

"Sagittarius are you there?" Detective Graham asked.

"Yeah I'm here unfortunately. I'm hoping Santa brings me a magic carpet this year. What is Commissioner Wilson saying about this one?"

"According, to my source he's being real tight-lipped about it. My guess is he doesn't want word to get back to the mayor."

"Yeah that would make sense." I was still pondering why anyone would kill Ricardo Rodriguez unless...

"David have someone look into Ricardo's and Daniel's friendship. Ask around the campus about how they interacted with one another."

"Are you thinking Daniel is behind Ricardo's murder?" my partner asked.

"I'm not sure, but it makes sense. I mean why else would Ricardo be murdered unless it had something to do with Daniel?"

"I'll look into it but look I have to go. Carla'll be home here shortly and I don't want to be on the phone with another woman."

"Okay, keep me in the loop, David," I said before hanging up. Carla Davidson was this cute detective from Narcotics. She was a good cop; I'd even done a little undercover work with her myself.

I rolled over on my back. I needed some company, badly. It was my choice to remain single after my last relationship went to shit. I had been dating this financial attorney, Jason Milton. He was an ass. However, he could be a sweetheart when he wanted to be. We broke up over six months ago. In addition, it was a rough break up for the both of us, more so for me. He'd started messing around with some hotshot attorney named Brittany Brooks. I'd caught the two of them in my apartment having sex in our bed. I ended up breaking his nose and blackening her eye. I was mad as hell. Therefore, for the past six month I've been single, despite the few one-night stands with some of my fellow coworkers.

I was ready to get back to work but I had a feeling that I wouldn't be back behind my desk for a while. And that bothered me even more. I decided that it was time for me to take some action. I opened my nightstand drawer and removed my Beretta. I knew what I was about to do had a bad outcome. However, I also knew that if someone didn't catch this killer it was going to have a much bigger outcome. I walked down the stairs outside my apartment and tried to get myself focused. I was going back to the scene of a crime. New York University. Home of the Bobcats. Home to the Coed Murders.

I hailed a cabbie; some Middle Eastern man in need of a serious shave. I told him to take me to NYU and to take his time. I needed time to mull over a plan of action. I had no backup just my Beretta and me. Twenty minutes later, I shoved a wad of bills in the cabbie's face and stepped out. The entrance to the campus looked deserted maybe because it was something to midnight and everyone was tucked away in the bunks. Exactly where I should've been instead of standing where I was.

I made a beeline for the dormitory that Sarah and Kayla had shared. I was hoping that some rebellious group of teens would be breaking curfew and would spare me some time in exchange for me not going to the dean's office. I was in luck. There was a group of emo kids standing about, shooting the shit. I walked up to them, startling a few as I approached.

"Oh shit dude, put that shit out!" one of them said as I closed in. They apparently thought I hadn't smelled the marijuana from across the courtyard. However, I didn't come all this way to bust their chops over a few pieces of bud. I had a murder to solve. And guess what? I had a new lead to follow.

# CHAPTER 7

**THE INFORMATION PROVIDED TO** me via a bunch of high college kids was definitely something interesting. I'd called Graham, relayed the information, and had gotten myself chastised for going around gathering information, unofficially. Hey, last time I checked I was the boss not the other way around. However, I spared him that story. I was waiting on him to meet me at the new Starbucks down the street from my place. And he was running late.

I was taking the last sip of my Grande latte when he walked inside. He spotted me easily and made a beeline to my corner table.

"Excuse me ma'am," he said as he missed his mark, bumping into a couple's table. They didn't seem to have noticed the interruption.

"Sorry I'm late."

"I'm getting the feel of déjà vu. That was the same excuse you used yesterday is it not?" I said, drumming my fingers impatiently.

"Boy you don't miss a thing. So what's the big break in the case you're so harried about?"

"Well it's not proof but I spoke to a guy named Spencer Newton. I know, weird name but anyway he claims that he overhead Danny and Kayla having it out about some guy. And—."

He cut me off. "Sagittarius you lost me at Danny. Who the hell is Danny?"

"My bad. Daniel but known as Danny to his friends, was arguing with Kayla. This Spencer guy says it happens all the time. He told me about one argument that had quickly turned violent. Get this, Kayla had been sleeping around on him and he confronted her about it. She went ballistic and attacked him giving him a fair share of cuts and bruises."

"Can someone say crouching tiger," Graham joked.

We laughed.

"Anyways, rumor has it Danny Boy was plotting his revenge on her for embarrassing him in front of his friends. Somehow, he found out that she had a serious phobia for snakes. And he'd been known around the campus to torment her constantly."

"Looks like Danny boy just earned himself a little visit from the NYPD," said my partner, grinning.

"Don't tell the Commissioner that I went back to that college," I warned.

"You know I wouldn't rat you out, Serge." He stood up and made for the door. I sat there, watching my partner going to get the bad guy. I needed to be right beside him when it all went down. I jumped up before he reached the door.

"Hey, wait up!" I ran up to him, standing in front of the door with my arms folded.

"Forget to tell me how great these pants fit me?" he joked again.

"No actually. I want you to talk to Commissioner Wilson and get me back in the field. You have no idea how boring it is to sitting around the house doing absolutely nothing from dusk to dawn. You tell him if he doesn't lift my suspension I'll go after the killer myself. And that's final."

Graham knew I was serious. There were few things I joked about and my job wasn't one of them. As you can tell, I take my job very seriously.

"Look Sagittarius, I know how bad you want back in the field but threatening the Commissioner isn't going to help. Let me talk to him and maybe I can talk some sense into him. To be honest, I'm made for this leadership role anyway. I'd rather have you doing the paperwork and get chewed out for fucking up then myself."

I laughed at the last part. He was never really the bossy type. He wouldn't even do traffic duty when someone important came to town. He was just that sensitive.

"Whatever you do make it fast. I'm about to commit suicide here."

I finally let him leave after making him promise to tell me what the Commissioner says in response to his proposal. He agreed to call me as soon as he hears something, good or bad. I stood in front of the glass door as he walked across the street to his cruiser. I was staring off into space, when a person ran by the glass door carrying a bag. It took me a second to register what that bag was. I stormed out the door, running hard after the person who'd apparent stolen a woman's purse. He had a decent head start, but I wasn't no out-of-shape-doughnut-eating cop either. I pumped my arms like a track star and closed the distance. At the last minute, I dove at his feet, hitting the ground with a thud. The breath leaving my lungs.

#

# 

# CHAPTER 8

**I HAD NO WAY** of knowing if the guy had a weapon on him or not. I didn't have mine and that could prove problematic. I hurried to my feet to gain the upper hand. I was getting ready to come down, hard on the guy when I heard a faint "click". I stopped, almost in mid-air and gazed down and seen the gun that was aimed at my stomach.

"Hey, man take it easy. I'm a cop and you don't want to shoot a cop," I said, taking a few steps back.

"That's funny. You don't look like a cop. You just look like some dumb sonuvabitch who doesn't know how to mind her own business," he snapped.

He did have a valid point; I didn't have a uniform or a badge. Onlookers stopped their morning trek, pulling out smartphones and snapping away. I tried to keep my face hidden from the cameras. The last thing I needed was my face plastered on the front of New York Times. I'd definitely earn a first class ticket to the unemployment office. I backpedaled through the growing onlookers, making myself smaller as they grew larger. Once I was in the clear, I hauled ass all the way back to my apartment's front steps. I'd made a stupid decision, but I was still a cop; suspended or not. I'd sworn to uphold justice it against all crimes. That guy had luck on his side; not counting the gun, he pulled on me.

I climbed my steps and entered my place. Home sweet home. It was a suitable irony. I went to my kitchenette and grabbed a Corona from the fridge. I went into the living area, found my comfortable love seat and turned on the television. There wasn't anything on of interest: Giants were giving it to the Cowboys, Obama care was plummeting. I was about to turn off the TV when something caught my attention. Someone had murdered the mayor's wife. I fumbled with my phone as I tried to call Commissioner Wilson's personal line. I figured he was ignoring my call on purpose but after the fifth ring, he growled into the phone, "What is it, Luckett?"

I guess time didn't heal all wounds.

"I just turned on the news..." He cut me off before I could finish.

"The answer is no. I already know what you're going to ask and I'm not ready to let you back in on the action. Just because the mayor's wife was murdered doesn't change anything."

"So I take it David spoke with you this morning?" I asked.

"Yes. Even though he has a valid argument, you still can't get off with being disrespectful to me in front of every officer who'd responded to that crime scene. It's unacceptable, it's unjustifiable, and I will not stand for it. If we need you I'll call you, until then stopping trying to find loopholes, Sergeant Luckett!"

"But..."

"Good bye, Luckett," He hung up.

I stared at my phone, appalled. How many more people need to be murdered before he'll lift my suspension? Fifty? One-hundred? We were already running thin in the homicide division as it was; we couldn't keep pulling people from the Narcotics and Major Crimes divisions. Moreover, I don't want to imagine what kind of mess I'll be coming back to once my suspension is lifted. Detective Graham is a great cop, one of the best on the force, but he couldn't keep stepping in as acting Sergeant. There were still case files from other cases that he'd have to finish up for me while I was on leave of absence.

I called his cell phone to check up on him. He was going to need my help. He picked up and told me he was busy and that he would put me on hold or call me back later. I knew how the job went so I chose to wait while he finished whatever it was he was doing. After five minutes, he answered breathless, "Hey what's up?"

"Our jobs if we don't catch this guy. I hear things aren't going so well down there. How's the mayor?"

"He's taking it hard. He and his wife were planning their 10th wedding anniversary next week. They've been married for ten good years and now this. Oh, man, I just don't get the people in this world today. She was only forty-five and didn't look it one bit."

"I know. It's been three years since I last spoken with her she was a sweet and caring woman." I was crying for some strange reason. I mean just out of nowhere my face was wet with tears.

"Or you okay?" asked Graham, sensing my emotional battle.

"Yes I'm fine," I lied. I wasn't okay I was freaking devastated.

After I'd hung up with Graham, I decided to walk down to the pet shop and pick me out a furry little critter. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I was lonely and I needed to have some sort of companionship around the house. Furthermore, what made a finer companion then a cute button-nosed kitten? I put on my coat, wrapped a scarf around my neck and bounded down the front steps.

The temperature had dropped a good bit from earlier this morning. I buried my face further into my scarf, my eyes darting about; making sure no one recognized me from my earlier encounter. I reached the for the door handle of the pet shop. Locked. I tugged on the other side. Locked. That was strange. The sign said that they open from nine to six p.m. I checked my just to make sure. It was a quarter to two o'clock. I rapped on the glass, cupping my eyes to get a better look. I saw someone jump as I rapped on the glass again, this time with urgency.

The girl sashayed her way through the various cages. She mouthed an apology from the other side of the glass door. She unlocked what seemed like more than enough locks on the door before pushing it open. I walked in quickly.

"Thank you," I said, shivering from the cold.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. My boss called in sick today and I had to open the place up by myself."

"I totally understand. A girl by herself in Manhattan, not an ideal situation."

"Yeah, especially with all the murders going on around here," she replied.

# CHAPTER 9

**CHESTER LEWIS NEEDED SOME** more action in his life. After several weeks of busting his ass, he was cut from the Giants' practice squad. Coach Adam Dills, was a real jackass and arrogant as the next Hollywood movie star. However, today was the wrong day to fuck with Chester Lewis.

Lewis was cleaning out his locker when one of the defensive linemen, Kevin Stokley, came in early to hit the shower. He was a massive man, standing six-foot seven, about 295 pounds solid. He'd made a bone-crushing sack on Lewis earlier that week that nearly killed him. At least he thought. Now watching the linemen shed his shoulder pads along with his cleats, he wanted to kill him.

Somebody has to pay for Coach Dills' arrogant demeanor, he thought. I've put up with far too long.

"Hey, Lewis I didn't see you standing over there? How's it going?" Kevin Stokley said. He was the Giants' star defensive end.

Oh, he knew he was standing there the whole time. He'd looked his way when he first came in the locker room. He was being a dick. Trying to make fun of Lewis' being cut from the team. He was the first person to crack a joke when Coach Dills said, "Alright guy let's huddle up before we hit the field. Lewis, I hate to do this to ya man, but football just isn't your sport. I know you've played college ball from Syracuse but you're washed up now."

Stokley had burst into a fit of laughter. Saying things like, "Go home and rub some icy hot on those baby ribs of yours, I know they still hurt from Monday's practice; "Damn and all this time I thought Drew Bledsoe was a horrible quarterback."

It only fueled his hatred toward Kevin Stokley even more. Lewis grazed the ivory handle of his straight razor. The coolness seeping from the handle sent chills up his arm. It was time. Time to make all the people who made fun of the untalented to pay. He walked over to where Stokley stood in the shower stall.

"Hey bro, I don't swing that way," he said, covering his nether area with his hand.

"Me either. I just wanted to ask you a question if you don't mind."

"Sure anything to get you the hell away from the shower stall."

"How long do you plan on staying with the team?"

"As long as they'll keep me, I guess. Or until I decide to retire."

He grinned.

Chester Lewis grinned too as he stepped forward. The defensive linemen was surprised by his quickness. Before he realized what was going on. He was dead. The blood running down into the drain made for a great work of art, if you're into the whole Dante's Inferno era. Chester Lewis had made his first kill. And boy was it going to be the kill of the century.

Detective David Graham had an entire caseload to sort through. He'd been working his ass off ever since Sergeant Luckett had gotten herself suspended for being a hot head. He was ready for her to get back to work, so that someone who had an eye for catching killers could close these cases. He had to meet with Mr. Ingram later today, in regards, to his daughter's death. He hoped that it wouldn't be as heart breaking as their first encounter.

He was going over some notes and eating a day's old doughnut, when Commissioner Wilson rapped on wall.

"You busy?" he asked.

"Just going over a few notes is all. What's up?"

Wilson sighed heavily.

"I want to talk with you about your relationship with Sergeant Luckett."

"Okay," Graham said, closing his note pad. "What about our relationship?"

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary with Sagittarius?"

"Beside the fact that she's a woman who has a big heart for her victims. No nothing really. She seems ordinary to me. Why?"

"Well the reason I initially suspended her or sent her on an absence of leave, was because she was getting too involved with these homicides. As a homicide detective, I can't have you getting emotionally involved with the victims. No matter what. It's unethical. I was considering moving her into a different division all together. But she's the best the detective we've had in quite a while."

# CHAPTER 10

**"LOOK WITH ALL DUE** respect, sir, if this is another one of your spiels about not being made the fool in front of your colleagues I don't want to hear it. Sagittarius is a damned good cop and has always spoken her mind when she deemed appropriate. As you can tell I have work to get back to, have a good rest of the day, sir." He went back to reading over his notes. Commissioner Wilson stared on as he went back to working diligently. He had to stop being so damn uptight with his colleagues.

He stood up and walked out of the cubicle without saying yet another word. Graham continued to work feverishly getting to a good stopping place before he headed out to meet with Jared Ingram at the Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue.

He parked near Bryant Park in Midtown and decided to walk the rest of the way. He opened the glass-metal doors and immediately felt like he was back in high school sitting in the library. He scanned the eager book readers and quickly spotted Jared Ingram talking amongst a group of fans. He'd just released another self-published novel under his own publishing company. He'd already landed on the New York Times bestseller list twice in the past two years.

"Jared," he called out walking over to the group of readers.

Jared Ingram turned and the smile that he was sporting had disappeared. Graham knew why it'd disappeared. Seeing a detective of any kind was no happy-go-lucky affair.

"Detective?"

"Sorry to bother but we'd planned to meet here," said Graham, solemnly.

"Oh yes that's right. You wanted to discuss my daughter's upbringing am I right?"

"Sort of. More like getting a feel for the victim and rather or not she had a good childhood," Graham countered.

"Walk over here with me if you may." Jared Ingram led the way to a much quieter and secluded area. The two sat comfortably and talked. To be more precise, Jared talked.

"I still can't believe she's gone. She was planning to become a writer herself, loved her romance novels. When the Twilight movies came out she was thrilled to be one of the first kids in her school to see the movie."

"I'm sorry for your lost, Mr. Ingram. Is there any knowledge that your daughter may have had a vengeful boyfriend?"

"No she's was a good kid; an honor roll student all four years of high school. However, she did have one person who always picked on her for being so nerdy, as she called it. But it wasn't a boyfriend; it was a girl Sarah had grew up with in East Village. I forget the kid's name. I'm sure it'll come back to me later on when it's irrelevant. I hate it when that happens, don't you?"

Graham chuckled.

"Happens to me all the time back at the Department. One minute you're so close to piecing it all together and then BOOM! The bricks just start tumbling down." Graham crossed his leg as he prepared for his next question: "Mr. Ingram was your daughter a victim of any sort of sexual abuse?"

Ingram shot him a death-look that read: _Are you kidding me?_

"Not that I know of, what does that have to do with solving her murder?" he replied

"It's part of the interrogation nothing major. How was her relationship with her mother? Good? Bad?"

"Her mother left me when I decided to start writing. Told me I was a fool for quitting my job to become a writer."

"Looks like you're quite the fool being that you're the first self-published author to make the New York Times best seller's list," Graham joked, pointing toward the section dedicated to his new novel.

"Yeah I suppose you're right about that." He smiled. "Now Mary, Sarah's mother calls me every day wanting me to take her back."

"Don't you hate it when that happens?"

They shared a laugh. Jared was finally loosening up a bit. Graham was starting to like the guy; he wasn't like all the other cocky bastards who made it big. He was genuine down-to-earth even.

"Well I guess that's all I have for you Mr. Ingram. Here's my card if you think of anything else give me a call." Graham handed him a card before standing to shake his hand.

"Thanks detective for all your help. I really appreciate it."

"No, it's my pleasure. My pleasure to help bring this killer to justice."

# CHAPTER 11

**GRAHAM HEADED BACK TO** his car, which he'd, left near Bryant Park. A man in a greasy jumpsuit hovered over the front wheel.

He's putting a boot on my car!

"Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Detective Graham yelled as he started toward the guy in the jumpsuit.

The man jumped at the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry sir, but you're not allowed to park here unattended."

Graham flashed his badge. "Well this here says otherwise. Now get that shit off my car for a lock your greasy ass up for vandalism of government property."

The guy went to work quick and removed the half-attached boot off the car. He knew how the NYPD operated. They could arrest you for stepping in dog shit if they wanted.

"Sorry about that officer. I—."

"If I was an officer I'd be wearing a uniform. Clearly, I'm wearing two-piece suit and a Yankees tie. I'm a detective." Graham got behind the driver's seat and slammed the door. The likes of the people in New York these days, he thought.

He drove down Fifth Avenue to go meet with Sergeant Luckett. He made a right on W. Eighth Street and kept straight on Greenwich Avenue, before making a left on Bank. He skipped up the front steps to her apartment and rapped on the door. It took longer than it usually did for her to answer. He heard shuffling from the other side of the door. When the door finally opened, a half-naked man stood in the doorway.

"Er...I was looking for Sagittarius," Graham said, trying to make a connection between his boss and this half-naked Brad Pitt look-a-like standing before him.

"I'm afraid she's a little preoccupied at the moment. I'll be happy to take a message for you."

"No thanks I'll just stop by later and..."

"David?" Luckett said from behind her hunk of a man. "What are you doing here? I mean why didn't you call ahead before you came?"

"I figured you'd be alone beating yourself up still. I had no idea..." His voice trailed off as he motioned toward the still half-naked man beside her.

"David this is Carl, Carl this is David, my partner. If you'd excuse us for a second please."

Carl the Half Naked went back inside. Sagittarius turned back to David. "What's going on?"

"Just came back from meeting with Jared Ingram."

"And?"

"Nothing new but something interesting. I'd asked if Sarah suffered from sexual abuse and he sort of gave me a look that said, 'What's it to ya?' I followed that question with the relationship between his ex-wife and their daughter."

"David I'm not sure I follow," Sergeant Luckett said.

"I need to track down Mrs. Ingram to see if maybe poppa bear had maybe sexually abused Sarah for kicks and giggles."

"Be careful where you start snooping around. A major lawsuit could come knocking on the Department's door. And then you'll be taken a leave of absence, may be indefinitely."

Graham thought about that. She was right. A man like Ingram had the public backing him and wild accusation could be bad for the NYPD. He'd have to play this one by ear.

"Commissioner Wilson stopped by my cubicle. He wanted to know if I've noticed anything out of the ordinary. You know like how you've been acting. He mentioned to me about moving you to a different division. There aren't my words. I just thought you should know."

"So what he thinks I'm not capable of working Homicide because I'm a woman? I can do anything he can do times five. I can literally run circles around him. Just wait until I see that cocky bastard." It was about to be World War 3. One thing Graham had learned early on about Sergeant Luckett; she didn't take kindly to when people underestimated her by the opposite sex. That was sure to cause a battle of the sexes.

"Just try to keep my name out of it please," Graham begged.

"Don't hold your breath on it."

#

# 

# CHAPTER 12

**THE NEXT MORNING I** headed downtown to the courthouse. It was time for me to get my head back in the game. I needed to get the hunger back in my system. This had become a ritual for me several years ago. It was something about being in the courtroom with a murderer that had a serene effect. Not only was justice being served but also my inner demons were put to rest finally.

I bounded up the flight of concrete steps that started the foundation to the US District Court of New York, located on Centre Street. I had a few Assistant District Attorney friends I was close with from my previous testimonies against criminals of all sorts. One of them was Michelle Lewis, a powerful prosecutor who cuts no slack and cuts no corners. She'd put away every sick-perverted bastard I'd apprehended. This morning as I glanced at the court docket for today, I seen that she had a trial set for ten o'clock this morning.

State of New York versus Derek Simpson

I remembered that name from some news article. I believe he'd been arrested for taking a knife to his six-year-old son's throat along with his wife Stacey Simpson, who was a paralegal at Johnson and Timmons law firm in Brooklyn. According to the news article, Derek Simpson had come home from work one night and went ballistic. Tying up first his son, Aiden, stripping him naked before sodomizing him with a broomstick. I could still visualize the pictures from the crime scene. I'd been on vacation when the murder happened. The boy's head had held on to his neck by a thick inch of skin. Whatever demon had found its way inside Derek Simpson definitely showed no remorse the day of his arrest.

Stacey Simpson was thirty-four, Miss New York, and dead. Derek had taken an ice pick to her vagina, working the instrument all the way up her cervix. Apparently, his wife had been twelve weeks pregnant and not by Derek himself. I could see the motive for her murder but why so brutal? After he'd finished his work on her cervix, he'd made a made an Edward Scissor hands replica of her face. It had been a closed casket for her funeral. I prayed that he'd get the maximum sentence, which was life with parole in the state of New York.

I was walking into Courtroom 3, when I noticed every news reporter from around the country was looking for an exclusive. There was Kelvin Kelly from CNN; Cindy Nettles from ABC world news; and Candice Spencer from NY-1 among others. I saw the victim's mother and father seating on the prosecutor's side. I spotted an open seat, it was a tight fit but I could fit.

The doors to the judge's chamber opened and the Honorable Judge Allen Gilbert made his to his seat. The bailiff hailed "All rise. Department Three of the Superior Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Allen Gilbert presiding. Please be seated."

"Thank you bailiff," Judge Gilbert said. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Calling the case of the People of the State of New York versus Derek Simpson. Are both side ready to proceed?"

Michelle Lewis stood up.

"The people are ready to proceed, Your Honor," she replied.

Judge Gilbert looked around the courtroom for the defendant's lawyer. From the looks of it, he was a no-show. I didn't blame him for not showing up. Suddenly, the doors to the courtroom burst open and in walked Devin Blaine. He was dressed to impressed I took note. He was wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit with a Mickey Mouse tie. It was a great mix between professionalism and humor. I applauded internally.

"I'm sorry for being late, Your Honor. You wouldn't believe the media attention this case is sparking," Devin Blaine said, making his way to the defendant's table.

"You're fine, Mr. Blaine. Are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

The judge looked over to the Clerk. "Will the clerk please swear in the jury?

Everyone in the jury box looked up.

The clerk's name was Linda and she had an air of assertiveness about her as she spoke to the jurors: "Will the jury please stand and raise your right hand? Do each of you swear to try this case fairly before this court, and that you will return a true verdict based on the evidence presented in this case, so help you God? Please say 'I do'.

All twelve jurors announced in unison, "I do."

"Thank you. You may all be seated," Linda said.

# CHAPTER 13

**MICHELLE LEWIS TOOK HER** place by the jury box and spoke firmly to the jury. "Good morning, how is everyone this morning? Good I hope. I'll try not to take up much of your time. The defendant, Derek Simpson has been charged with murder in the second degree. The evidence presented to you in this trial will prove that the defendant committed this crime, willingly and unlawfully. In addition, this defendant is indeed guilty as charged. The defense will try to sugar coat the facts and that isn't acceptable in the court of law.

"The defense will try to say that there weren't any witnesses to the crime; and that is indeed true. However, if Mrs. Simpson and her son Aiden were able to raise from the dead they'll confirm what a known fact is already. They were murdered by that man sitting over there." She pointed directly at Derek Simpson, unflinchingly. "They would tell us that Mr. Simpson came home in a distraught manner and murdered all three of them. That's right; I said three of them. I have DNA samples from the fetus that Mr. Simpson himself brutally mutilated by an ice pick used in the murder.

"The unborn child was conceived in an extramarital affair between Mrs. Simpson and her lover. That was motive enough to commit such a horrifying murder. Mr. Simpson had stumbled across his wife's infidelities and lost it. It's not for sure if the defendant had plotted this murder but one thing's for certain; Derek Simpson brutally murdered his wife, his six-year old son, and the unborn child that was completely innocent in the entire affair.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury I ask that you disregard any persuasion that the defendant is innocent or was not in a stable state. People with disabilities either mental or physical were considered unstable. Not a businessperson like Mr. Simpson was. Remember it's the facts that matter." Michelle Lewis took her seat after the delivery of such a powerful opening statement. I could almost feel the jury shifting over to her side. It was the defense's turn.

Devin Blaine advanced on the jury. He was grinning as if he knew something everyone else didn't. He was confident for a person about to lose.

"Good morning," he said. "I'm here to let you know that my client is innocent of the charges against him. I will have evidence that suggest that my client had come home to his family to witness their brutal murder. He was in shock, which caused him to prolong his 911 call. My client was the one who called the emergency dispatch. Is it likely that a murderer would call the police on himself? No not likely at all. However, a man in a stage of shock would. He would not be himself. My client is not guilty and you will learn the truth throughout this trial." He turned on his heel, still smiling.

"The prosecution may call its first witness," Judge Gilbert said.

"The People call Ms. Alexis Nunez."

The back of the courtroom opened up and Alexis Nunez sashayed down the center aisle. Everybody watched as she walked to the witness stand, where she swore to tell the truth.

"Ms. Nunez, place your left hand on the bible and raise your right. Do you promise that your testimony before the court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" Linda asked.

"I do."

"Thank you please state you first and last name for the record."

"Alexis Nunez."

"Thank you, Ms. Nunez you may be seated."

Sitting next the judge, the court reporter said, "Please spell your last name for the record."

"Nunez. N-U-N-E-Z," Alexis said.

Lewis stood up; straighten the imaginary wrinkles out of her skirt before addressing the witness. "How're you this morning, Alexis? Do you mind if I call you Alexis?"

"It's up to you." Alexis Nunez answered.

"Very well then. What do you do for a living, Alexis?"

"I'm a housemaid here in New York City. I usually work for the very wealthy not that that makes much of a difference."

It does if you're a gold-digger, Lewis thought.

"How would you describe your relationship with the defendant?" Lewis asked.

"He was my employer if that's what you mean."

"Would you care to elaborate for the court?"

"I thought you were asking if Derek and I were seeing one another."

"Oh no. Were you paid for your services by Mr. Simpson?"

"Very much so. Also with incentives and bonuses," she smiled.

"Incentives and bonuses? Like jewelry?"

"That along with other things I prefer not to speak of."

Michelle Lewis knew what "other things" she was referring to. Men have a way of wanting more services than they initially paid for.

"Would you say the defendant had a good relationship with his family?"

"Yes."

"And if any, would you say there were disputes between the two?"

She thought about the question. "No not really."

"Not really? Ms. Nunez may I remind that you're under oath and withholding anything could lead to charges of perjury?"

Alexis met Derek's gaze and held it. She was starting to sweat, her clothes starting to stick to her body.

"Alexis," Lewis prompted.

"Yes...sorry." She began playing with her shirt collar. "I do remember seeing Mrs. Simpson with a bruise on the side of her face. I asked her about it and she said she ran into the doorframe. I didn't want to push the issue but I knew where that bruise came from." She was gathering some confidence now, I noted.

"And where did it come from, Alexis?"

She pointed straight at Derek Simpson: "It came from him."

"Objection, Your Honor! Witness is speculating."

"Overruled,"

"And why would you say that, Alexis?" Lewis continued.

"Because I was a victim of Derek's sexual and physical abuse."

Everyone in the courtroom gasped at her words. There was no mistaken what had been said. This could very well turn the table on the prosecution. Clearly, the witness had made a fool of Michelle Lewis, because she quickly stated, "I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor."

Court was adjourned for the day. I decided to stop by the station to have a little sit-down with Commissioner Wilson. I wanted my job back and I was willing to do anything to get back in the groove.

# CHAPTER 14

**"SO YOU WANT TO COME** back to work?" Commissioner Wilson, sitting behind his mahogany desk. He looked happy to see me. Today might be my lucky day.

"That was the point of my being here in your office. We need to catch this killer before he strikes again."

"Have you heard about the NFL player who was killed in the locker room?" I heard about it vaguely. I remembered flipping through the channels the other night and saw it highlighted as "breaking news". I wasn't sure if Commissioner Wilson was referring to a connection between that murder and the College Coed murders. I certainly hope not.

"Yeah I saw the breaking news the other night. Some defensive linemen for the Giants, right?" I said, fishing.

"Yeah. He was a five time pro bowler and the Giants' highest paid player. It was a major lost to the team. I've ensured the team owner that we'll catch the killer."

"So?"

"So, it's time for you to get your gun and badge back," he reached inside his desk and withdrew both. "You're officially back on the force and your first assignment is solving the Kevin Stokley murder."

"Wait a second what about the Co-ed murder case? That was my case to begin with," I asked incredulously. I had been obsessing over that case the entire time I'd been suspended and now this? What the fuck?

"We'll place that on the back-burner for the time being. The NFL commissioner wants to ensure his players their safety. With that being said, the only way that can happen is if we, the NYPD, are on this case. Pronto," Commissioner Wilson said.

"So just because a famous football player is killed we sideline the minority in order to accommodate for the rich and famous, is that it?" I was furious at the Commissioner. This was not justice, to say the least. Those NYU students deserved just the same amount of immediate resolution as the next. Their parents may not be the football savior that Kevin Stokley was to the "City that never sleeps" but they were still human too. I didn't give a damn what Commissioner Wilson believed to be fair I was going to solve the NYU homicides first.

"It's not like that Luckett, and you know it. It's been nothing but chaos since you've been suspended. The mayor's wife is dead, Kevin Stokley's murder, the NYU students, Stacey and Aiden Simpson's murder among other things. I would like to retire with a little dignity, Sagittarius. Help me out here."

"The only thing I can tell you is this: I'm solving the NYU student's murder first. If you don't like it suspended me again. Either way I'm going to get what I want." I've had enough of the political bullshit these so-called "serve and protect" officials claim is more important.

I could tell this wasn't sitting so well with him. No one liked to be disrespected by a subordinate. But hey, if you've accomplished the things I've accomplished you could get away with it.

"Okay you work the NYU murders, but if I need your help with the Kevin Stokley case I'm pulling you from the NYU murders, understood?"

"Yeah if you say so," I said, standing to leave.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Try pulling me from my case and you'll find out," I slammed the door behind me. That caught everyone's attention in the Bullpen. I didn't care. I was back on the Job.

I walked down to the cubicle I shared with Detective Graham. He was sitting in my spot, the boss's spot. I walked up behind him and cleared my throat, quietly.

"Any chance I can take back the throne?" I asked, grinning at his surprised look.

"Of course, I was just...er...I was just keeping the seat warm for ya," he stammered.

I smiled.

"One thing I hate the worse is coming home to a cold house," I said.

"Welcome back Serge, I kinda miss you," he said, blushing.

"You better keep that to yourself before some Narc walks by and hears you being all sweet." It took him a second to get my meaning but when he got it, he smiled, sheepishly.

"I'll just tell Carla I missed having you around to help out with these cases."

"Cleaver," Cleaver he was indeed in all aspects. I was about to grab my note pad from the College Co-ed case, when Detective Billy James ran over breathless. I looked at him as I would any person who'd sprint two feet for no reason.

"Sergeant Luckett," James said, panting. "There's been another murder. Same MO only there was no sexual assault involved."

"Jesus fucking Christ! Detective Graham grab my notepad and let's go. Detective James have the officer's secure the perimeter tell them no one is to touch anything." I ordered. I was high on adrenaline. However, that was only short-lived. I'd forgotten to ask where the murder had taken place. I'd assumed it was the college, but I was off by a long shot.

"Has the college been placed on lockdown?" I asked.

"Sergeant, the girl was murder right outside the Brass Monkey. From the looks of it, it was a prostitute this time. We haven't got an ID on the Vic but we're working on it."

# CHAPTER 15

**THAT WAS NOT EXPECTED** at all. The Brass Monkey was a local bar some of my colleagues and myself went after a long day's work. Something told me this killer was having a little too much fun. He was mocking the entire Sixth Precinct. Killing a prostitute at a bar known to be populated by cops was a way to say "here's comes the big bad wolf". It also indicted that he was spying on us as well. I had to make sure I kept my pistol in close reach at night.

Graham and I ran out the station and hopped in my Jeep Grand Cherokee. I hit the gas so hard I thought the engine was still off until I heard the tires screeching from lack of traction. I raced past the White Horse Tavern on Greenwich Street, dodging angry pedestrians. Ten minutes later, I was turning off 10th Avenue and pulled up to the Brass Monkey crime scene. The bar's owner was raising hell about how all these cops were scaring off his customers. I walked up to him and spoke my mind like always.

"Hey, asshole! You think yelling is going to help the situation here? We're here to do a job and we could give two fucks rather we're scaring away your customers. There was a woman murdered here. Found behind your fucking Dumpster. Any idea who would be suspect number one?" He backed off.

"I'm sorry Detective Luckett, business isn't so hot right now," he said, apologetically.

"Save it for the Better Business Bureau I have a job to do," I said icily. I was trying hard not to punch his lights out for the way he was acting. I brushed past him making sure we bumped shoulders. He was an asshole and I despised assholes.

I entered the crime scene, at least part of it. Dustin Mosley, head of the Crime Scene Investigation Unit., met me. He was taking angle shots of the DB before the ME took her away. I hadn't gotten the chance to meet the new medical examiner. From all the talk, he was a well-educated man of thirty. Quite young I know, but he had the degree to prove it.

"What have you got, Dustin?" I asked the head Crime Scene Investigator.

"White female, approximately mid to early twenties. Haven't been able to get an ID on her yet. Cause of death as you can see was a knife to the carotid artery. See here," he pointed to the bruises on her arms and hands. "Those are defensive wounds. Apparently, this little prostitute was not only good in the sack; she was one helluva fighter.

I stared down at the poor girl. Why choose life as a prostitute? Why not a doctor or a lawyer like the rest of the world? I guess I would never know or even understand the nature of her decision.

I heard the roar of an engine and looked back. A tall handsome man disembarked from the driver's seat. He was very nice on the eyes; fair-skinned, green eyed, and the walk of a movie star. This was the new medical examiner? Wow, congrats City of New York.

"I'm Dr. Draco Kozak," his accent was thick. I could tell he was of Russian descent. I was in love already. I loved a man with a sexy accent. It was very enticing.

I stuck out my hand, grinning like a high school teenager in heat, "I'm Sergeant Sagittarius Luckett, nice to finally make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. I've heard so much about you."

"I hope it was all good things.

"Indeed they were," he turned to Dustin Mosley. "Have you gotten everything you need before I take her away?"

For some strange reason I thought he was referring to me when he said "take her away". Sagittarius get a grip, girl. He's completely out of your league!

"She's all yours doc, me and my boys have everything we need," Mosley said.

"Very well,"

A girl made her way up to him. I instantly became jealous. It was his assistant coming to help him carry off the body.

"Is the body ready to go?" she asked.

"Indeed it is Allison, take her away," Dr. Draco Kozak.

I went about questioning potential eyewitnesses. Nobody saw anything, which was starting to become a trend in this city. I finished the quick interviews and made my way over to the bar's owner, Sunny McMillan. Also, did I mention he wasn't too happy to see me again?

"What is it now detective?" he asked as I closed in on him.

"Just wanted to say good luck on the business." Then I walked off before he could say anything in response.

# CHAPTER 16

**THE GHOST WAS SITTING** in front of his desktop computer looking up different types of poisonous snakes. He'd already discovered four new snakes that packed a heavy dosage of venom. The first was a Death Adder, which lived in New Guinea. The Death Adder packed a neurotoxin that was so deadly the victim would be dead in six hours. The Ghost had a contact that could arrange the shipping of this exotic reptile. He placed a call to his friend, in California.

"How's it hanging?" said the voice on the other end.

"I need you to locate a Death Adder for me," The Ghost said, sideswiping the initial question. "I need it delivered to me in 24 hours tops."

"Whoa, whoa bro. Those are very rare to come by. I mean I can try to arrange something within that time frame, but I am not making any promises."

"I have 10,000 American dollars that says you'll make it happen, Marc."

"Ah the old money persuasion huh? So that's how it is?" Marc asked.

"That's exactly how it is?" The Ghost disconnected the call.

He had a lot left to do before the snake arrived; like finding another victim to sodomize with it. He shut down the desktop, grabbed his coat from the coat rack, and headed out the door. Tonight was going to be quite a night. He had a date with a very beautiful woman. As matter of fact, make that a double date with two beautiful women. He made his way over to West Village, where his first date lived. He wasn't bringing her no flowers or chocolate but rather something more personal.

He walked through Christopher Park and stopped in front of Sergeant Luckett's brownstone apartment. He looked up hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the window. He'd seen her look out of the window on his last visit here. However, tonight she was being bashful, he mused. He pulled out a small canister of breath freshener, sprayed a mist or two in his mouth. He rapped on the door and waited. Several moments later, he heard someone yell, "I'm coming," from somewhere within. His heart started to pound against his chest, a little more prominently now. He felt like a high school kid asking a girl to prom. The door swung open before he knew it and there she was all elegant-looking.

Sergeant Sagittarius Luckett.

"Hi, may I help you sir?" she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"I'm a friend of Kayla Stewart's father, Bobby. I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by. Mind if I come inside for a bit?"

She looked hesitate but only for a moment. "Sure come in. I'm just heating up some leftover pasta from last night. Are you hungry?"

"I fine thanks."

"So how did you and Mr. Stewart become friends?" she asked, walking toward the kitchenette

"We went to college together. It's funny you asked, I remember when Bobby found out his wife was pregnant with little Sarah he came straight to me as if I were Dr. Oz."

They both laughed at the joked.

"So I take it he was surprised by the news?" Sergeant Luckett asked.

"More like blown away by it. Here was a grown man in college having a panic attack about being a father. I mean, all he had to do was use a Trojan condom to eliminate all the hassle. But he was more worried that his parents were going to give him a spanking for being a bad boy."

"Well I'm sure they weren't too thrilled by the fact that he knocked some girl up in the middle of his studies."

"Yeah but that's nothing to get all uptight over. My parents would've clasped me on the back and said 'congratulation son now you're in the big leagues'."

# CHAPTER 17

**SERGEANT LUCKETT HAD RETURNED** to the living area with a bowl good-smelling pasta. It had just the right amount of herbs that gave off a sensational aroma that quickly made its way under The Ghost's nose. He knew it was time to make his move but there was one thing standing in his way; a gun had materialized on her hip. He could've sworn it wasn't there when she let him inside. Maybe she's smarter than you thought. His subconscious chastised him. She obviously sensed something off about you. This was supposed to be an in-and-out mission. Mission failed.

It was time for plan B, the lethal weapon.

"May I use your restroom please?" he asked, standing up.

"Sure it's down the hall to your left."

"Thanks,"

After he'd left for the restroom, Sergeant Luckett whipped out her phone and dialed Detective Graham's cell.

He answered groggily. "Hello?"

"David it's me," she whispered, trying to keep her voice low. "Some guy came by claiming to be a friend of one of the victim's father. Said they went to college together and whatnot. Out of mere precaution, I grabbed my gun and when I returned his eyes landed on my gun. And I could tell that he felt outplayed if you get my meaning."

"Sagittarius, you called me to tell me about some guy you're sleeping with at this time of night? You're being paranoid now knocking it off. I'll see you in the morning."

He disconnected the call.

"Friend of yours," came a voice from behind her. She startled before turning around.

"Oh shit." She grabbed at her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack."

"Yeah I seem to have that effect on beautiful women these days." He chuckled.

"You find the bathroom?"

"Yeah, but..." he looked embarrassed. "I think I stopped up your toilet. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay sweetheart nothing a little plunger can't fix."

"I best be going," he said, solemnly.

"Okay thanks for stopping by Mr..."

"Lewis," he said, closing the door behind him.

The Ghost had one more place to be before his eleven o'clock curfew.

Susan Garrett was hanging out with her boyfriend Sammy. They had just came back from seeing "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" which was playing at one of the many dollar movie theaters. She loved her boyfriend dearly. The two had been dating for a year. It was there one-year anniversary.

"I had a great time with you tonight, Sammy."

"Me too, I wish this night would never end. We can stay young forever!"

"But then we wouldn't be able to share more anniversaries together," Susan Garrett said sadly.

"Of course we will honey bun," he placed his hand atop of hers. "I was just using a figurative speech."

"You want to make out or something?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Sure,"

They kissed deeply, passionately. A fantastic kiss left both of them breathless.

"You're a good kisser," Susan said, panting.

"Not better than you are, my love."

They kissed again this time more aggressively. Sammy began probing around her waist; he hiked up her mini skirt and rubbed his index finger gently between her vulvas making her breath catch.

"Wait," Susan said. "I'm not ready for this just yet. Let's just make out for right now, okay?"

"Okay baby,"

An irritating buzzing was going off somewhere inside the car. They both tried to ignore the buzz but it was becoming more profound. Sammy searched around for the source of the sound. He found his phone and flipped it open.

"Hello," he said, irritated.

"Samuel Lewis III, what in God's name are you doing?" It was his mother. She was like the Nanny the way she talked through her nasal passages. It was God-awful.

"Mom I told you I was hanging out with Susan tonight," he protested, angrily.

"Well does Ms. Susan know that you have an eleven o'clock curfew young man?" The Nanny asked.

"Yes, mom. Now please can you not continue to ruin my night? You've ruined my life as it is with these stupid rules."

"You watch your mouth young man."

"Whatever," he slammed the phone shut, turning to Susan, "I'm sorry about that that was my annoying mother."

"It's okay. Do you have to go home?"

"Yeah I have this dumb ass curfew. I'll dropped you off at home if you want?"

"It's okay I'll walk."

"No really baby, it's only ten-fifteen. I still have forty-five minutes."

"It's okay honey." She opened the door, leaning back for a kiss.

"Okay," he leaned over and kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sammy."

I'd been trying to unclog my toilet ever since Mr. Lewis stopped it up. It was beginning to piss me off. You let a complete stranger into your apartment and he stops up your damn toilet! I was getting ready to give up on the whole affair when I heard a hissing sound. It seemed to be coming from inside the toilet. I took the lid off the back of the toilet seat and nearly dropped it. Inside my toilet was a snake and he didn't look too thrill at the sight of me.

"Where the hell did you come from?" I said more to myself then to the snake. I hurried and placed the lid back on the toilet and called the APCU, short for, Animal and Pest Control Unit.

"Animal and Pest control, how may I assist you?" said the female voice on the other line.

"Coming to get this fucking snake out of my house is how!" I yelled into the receiver.

# CHAPTER 18

**"THIS IS THE ANIMAL** and Pest control unit," said the male voice through the front door of my apartment. It had taken them longer than expected but I was thankful that they finally had gotten here. I went to the answer the door.

"Thank God y'all finally got here I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost on the way," I joked. However, no one had found my joke the least bit funny. Way to go Sagittarius, way to go.

"Traffic isn't so friendly this time of night. This is when the vampires come out to party," said the Pest Control officer. His name was Thomas according to his nametag. He was cute, in a rugged way.

"I know what you mean," I said, leading him down the hallway to my bathroom. "This here is where my vampire came to party," I pointed toward the toilet lid.

"I take it our little friend is in there?" Thomas asked.

"Oh he's no little friend."

"Well let me see for myself," He opened the lid on the back of the toilet. I was expecting him to jump back for some odd reason. But he remained calm, too calm.

"Well?" I prompted. I was beginning to get antsy a little.

"There isn't anything in here," he said turning to face me. I knew he probably got several different prank calls all the time. Nevertheless, I wasn't a prankster. I really did have a snake in my toilet!

"I swear to you there was a black snake curled up in that toilet! I'm not shitting you," I protested. He only responded to me with a stern look before speaking.

"Then that means he's somewhere around here," He started looking around, frantically. "How did you come about have a snake in your house again?" he asked, while looking behind various hiding spots.

"I had a guy over and he—" I began but he cut me off.

"Maybe you need to be more careful with who you bring home, Detective," he said with a grin.

"That's not funny at all. For your information, I didn't bring him home he came knocking on my front door, claiming to be a friend of a friend." I lied. I didn't know that Lewis guy at all. But I wasn't at liberty to discuss rather he had a connection to the Coed Murders.

"I'm just busting your chops, Detective. Relax a bit."

We expanded our snake search to my living area. If this was a poisonous snake I'd saw in my bathroom; it wasn't a good idea to leave it running loose. Thomas had paged for backup to increase the odds of catching this critter.

Moments passed and a loud "bang-bang" came from my front door. I swung the door open to come face-to-face with another officer named Stuart and another named Archie. They introduced themselves and went in search of the snake. I made a mental note to pull all records on anybody named Lewis. First or last name. I had to confront this guy about placing a potentially poisonous snake in my apartment. Then, that's when it finally dawn on me. The killer had been inside my apartment! Somehow, I'd been conned into letting him inside my apartment where he could've killed me. I cursed myself for being so stupid.

I told the Pest control officers that I had to run and that they can keep looking for the snake while I was gone. They said okay and two seconds later, I was in the driver's seat of my Jeep Grand Cherokee, peeling off. I headed towards David's place in Midtown. I jumped out the car, keys still in the ignition and skipped up the steps to the front of his brick apartment building. I rapped on the door until my knuckles hurt. He answered quicker than I'd anticipated. He looked pissed as he glowered at me.

"What?" he growled.

He was wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms, showing off his washboard abs. I was shortly star struck.

"I found the killer. He was inside my apartment. We had discussed the Stewart family like old colleagues, David."

He looked at me incredulously.

"You mean to tell me you had this cocksucker in your house sharing a cup of tea and you didn't arrest him?" he said.

"I didn't know who he was until afterwards. He left one of his venomous friends behind in my bathroom toilet."

# CHAPTER 19

**IT TOOK HIM SEVERAL** seconds to get my meaning.

"He left behind a snake? Was it poisonous?"

"I don't know. I didn't think to get a blood sample," I answered, sardonically. "Next time, instead of running for my life I'll sit down and have a decent conversation with it."

He playfully shoved me in the shoulder.

"Do you have any idea who the guy was? Could you identify him if you saw him again?" he asked.

"Of course I can identify him. But I don't know him all he said was that his name was Lewis."

"First or last name?"

"I don't know. I'm having someone at the station now running the name. If we have to interrogate every person named Lewis, we'll do so. I want to catch this guy bad. He's starting to get a little too cocky for his own good."

"Well let me go explain to Carla what's going on and throw on some decent clothes and I'll be out," said my partner, turning to go back inside. I stood on the front porch until he returned five minutes later.

"You driving?" he asked closing the door behind him.

"Vampires are out and about so I'll drive." I didn't trust his New York style of driving, especially at night. He was naturally a speed demon from hell and I didn't need more casualties added to what seemed to be a growing number.

We made it to West 10th Street in no time. No casualties. We walked through the glass-metal doors and talked with the night shift crew. They looked tired and haggard; and the candy bars and energy drinks weren't helping.

"Anything good?" I asked Harley Braxton. She was a computer whiz, fast and sufficient.

"I'd never known New York to have some many Lewis'. I ran the name through NCIC. This is all I got," She showed me a list of people that would take me a century to interview and declare guilty or not. This was already looking like a long night.

"Ah shit really, Serge?" Detective Graham said, as he hovered over my shoulder. "I've got a nice piece of ass waiting for me at home."

"Well it looks like that piece of ass is going to have to wait. We have a lot of work to do. And it's just going to be me and you at the moment," I said. I needed to call the Pest control officers and let them know I wasn't coming home anytime soon; and to lock up my place after they catch the snake.

"Let's start to canvass the area closest to the University. My guess is that our killer is close by," Graham said to me.

The Ghost was on the move. He had less than twenty minutes to make his curfew. He was sitting in his car, watching Danielle Pickens in the corner store. He'd spotted her shortly after his first date. She was a beauty; nice hips, fancy clothing. He knew she was a student at New York University. She was a law student. He'd done his homework on her. Her father was a criminal lawyer and her mother was a schoolteacher at York Preparatory School. It was a school for the gifted and wealthy kids. Danielle Pickens herself had attended that very school.

Danielle was at the cash register now. She had an arm full of groceries. The Ghost took this opportunity as his best. He exited the car and waited for her to walk outside. He was planning to force her into his awaiting car without making a big scene. Danielle walked out the store's door, the bag groceries obscuring her line of vision. She never seen him coming. It was too quick and too easy. He approached her from behind pressing a concealed gun against her back.

"Don't make a sound and you'll live to see your next birthday." It was a lie. He didn't plan to let her see tomorrow's snowy forecast.

"What do you want? Please don't shoot me," she pleaded, her voice starting to tremble.

"Just walk and keep quiet and everything will be just fine," The Ghost promised.

They made it to the car, unscathed. He fastened her seat belt then climbed behind the wheel. It was all so simple with ten minutes to spare. He drove to a nearby storage unit he rented by the month. He gestured Danielle inside the unit.

"Listen up, you're going to get undressed Danielle. And we're going to have sex, am I clear?" The Ghost asked, his pants hanging around his ankles.

"How do you know my name? Why are you doing this?"

"Get undressed already!" he demanded. "I don't have all night!"

Danielle Pickens stood bare-naked, her nipples and vulva a satisfying pink shade. The Ghost had an erection before and was ready to go. He walked up to her, quickly shoving his fingers expertly inside her vagina. Once he was sure she was moist, he bent her over and raped her profusely until he climaxed inside her. Afterwards he ordered her to lay down, to close her eyes and spread her legs. He picked up the Death Adder he'd had shipped to this very storage unit. The Ghost wasn't the least bit concerned about the snake biting him. He spread Danielle's vulva apart and slide the deadly snake inside. She screamed as the slithering creature commenced to raping her a second time.

# CHAPTER 20

**WE'D CANVASSED THE ENTIRE** area closest to the University: Midtown, West Village, Flat Iron District, et cetera. There was only three Lewis's that showed some potential. Samuel Lewis III, Chester Lewis, and Stanley Lewis. All were semi-young and all had their run-ins with the law. We had all three of them in temporary custody. I was set to interview Stanley Lewis. It was seven o' clock in the morning. It had been almost five days from today since the Coed Murders. We had to grill these men for all they knew.

I was getting my coffee and my morning bagel ready for my encounter with Stanley Lewis. I'd only been able to get a few hours of sleep since starting my canvassing charade. It was show time.

"You okay to go through with this?" my partner asked.

"Never felt better, David," I walked inside Interview room 1 and closed the door. Stanley Lewis had fallen asleep while waiting on me. It was time to wake up the weak and broken. A very good tactic for a potential suspect we detectives liked to use.

"Good morning sunshine," I said, slamming my hand down on the metal desk as hard as I could. I knew this would rattle his nerves a bit.

"W-what?" Stanley said, groggily.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

I waved a warm bagel in front of him.

"I'm starved," he exclaimed.

"Well, I need you to answer a few question for me. Can you do that for me Mr. Lewis?"

"Sure. Whatever you need to know."

I sat down across from Stanley and gave him an once-over. He looked tired; bags under the eyes, dried spittle in the corners of his mouth. I actually felt for him as a human. However, I knew that killers were great actors when under stress. However, like any actor they had flaws that were visible.

"Where were you last night, Mr. Lewis?"

"I was at home with my wife, why?"

"I'm the one asking the questions. Can you provide a legitimate alibi for your whereabouts?"

"Certainly. Isabelle will vouch that I was home all night after I got off work."

"And what time was that?"

"Six o' clock."

I wrote that down in my note pad. That was before the mystery Lewis came to pay me a visit. I was wondering if I was looking at an innocent family man.

"Do you have any relatives in the general area?" I asked.

"Yes I have a brother named Derrick. All my other family members are over on the west coast. Can I ask what this is all about, detective?"

"Mr. Lewis you're free to go. I'm sorry for putting you under distress but we're trying to catch a killer with the name Lewis." I stood up and went to the door.

Graham was waiting for me behind the glass window. He'd been looking in on the interview and knew why I'd let Stanley Lewis walk. I was beginning to question my own stability as Commissioner Wilson had early this week. Was I myself? Was I capable of performing my duties as police officer? I was still questioning myself when Graham touched my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"How many times are you going to ask me that? I'm fine," I said, trying to keep it together. I needed to talk to the next person in line.

Chester Lewis sat across from the female detective. She was quite the spectacle. He had no idea why he was here at the station. At least to a degree. He knew that he was a suspect in some crime. But was it the Kevin Stokley murder? Certainly, they hadn't linked him to the murder. Who would? He was the younger brother of Michelle Lewis, a prosecutor for the Manhattan district. No one would think of him as a murderer, or would they? The detective had pushed back her chair making the nails-on-a-chalkboard sound. She looked frustrated by his uncooperative behavior.

He hadn't said one word to the detective. He knew the drill, listened to his sister's ranting about how detective's manipulated people into talking in order to close a case. He'd sat there with his hands folded together and waited her out. He knew he wasn't a quitter and he wasn't about to start now.

"So you're not going to talk at all?" Detective Luckett asked.

"Hello," he replied sarcastically.

"Where were you last night around ten o' clock?"

"Where were you last night at ten o'clock, detective?" he mocked.

"Don't play with me you little shitkicker. I can have your ass arrested for withholding information pertaining to a murder investigation," Detective Luckett said. She was turning beet red in the face. Chester Lewis was getting under her skin very easily.

# CHAPTER 21

**"ARE YOU GETTING UPSET** detective?" Chester asked.

"More like getting frustrated by your lack of cooperation."

"What can I do to be more cooperative?"

"Answer my initial question?"

"Which is?"

"Where were you last—?"

"Are you bi-sexual detective? Do you like women?"

Detective Luckett looked surprised by the question. "What?"

"Let me rephrase my question. Do you find yourself fantasizing about other women in a perverse manner?"

"Okay you're officially a sick pup." She stood up and walked out. Chester Lewis gave her a round of applause. He had struck a nerve.

"Did you hear what that bastard asked me in there?" I asked Graham, who was cracking up.

"I've always fantasized about the three of us having a ménage à trois; you, me, and Carla. Boy what a night that'll be." I punched him in the shoulder.

"I'm not fucking around David. I want you to go in there and take over before I beat his face in."

"That wouldn't be smart on your part Sagittarius. You do know who his sister is, right?"

"Who?" I had no idea who would be related to such an ass.

"Michelle Lewis."

I don't know if I was tired or what, but it sounded as if my partner just said that Chester Lewis was related to ADA Michelle Lewis. The second in command to the Chief Deputy Attorney Carlos Santina.

"You mean to tell me that Michelle Lewis is his sister?" I asked, puzzled by the very thought.

"Yeah he is. Do you still want to bash his face in?"

"Don't be a wise ass, David."

Graham entered the interview room where Chester Lewis, brother of Michelle Lewis continued to sit. My partner strolled in there like a man with a powerful presence, almost godly.

"Good morning, Chester. I'm Detective Graham with the homicide division. Do you know why you're here this morning?"

"You're the detective you tell me. Why am I here in this room today?"

I could tell my partner was planning on coming at Chester from a different angle. He was a quick thinker and that's what had gotten him the success as a detective.

"I'm good friends with your sister, Michelle," Graham countered.

I saw it. A slight twitch near his left eye. The mention of his sister may have turned the tables a bit. No more cat and mouse.

"You leave my sister out of this!" Chester was very sensitive about his dearly beloved sister. Now we knew how to squeeze some answers out of him.

"I never said your sister was involved. I only said that she and I are good friends. I mean real good friends if you get my drift." My partner was throwing salt in the wound now. Great job. One point for the good guys.

"Are you making insinuations that you're sexually involved with my sister, punk?" Chester Lewis asked, a large vein appeared and looked on the verge of popping through his skull.

My partner leaned forward on his elbows, face-to-face with Chester Lewis and said, "What's it to ya punk? Did you get this upset when you raped, murdered and sodomized those innocent girls? How about when you went to my partner's house and placed a poisonous snake inside her bathroom toilet?"

"I didn't murder anyone! That's a lie!" Chester Lewis shot out of his chair and stood over my partner. I rushed inside my Glock drawn.

I yelled, "Chester Lewis sit the fuck down now!"

He looked at me as if I wasn't in the room.

"And what are you going to do if I don't detective?" he asked.

"I'm going to place a smoking one in you and hope you remember that it was a woman who caused you pain," I said, staring down the barrel of my Glock. Suddenly, I heard urgent footsteps coming from behind. I turned and froze. Michelle Lewis was glaring at me, vehemently.

"What the hell do you think you're doing pointing that gun at my brother?" she bellowed, storming towards me. I was prepared to deck the bitch if she felt froggy enough.

"I'm doing my damn job, Michelle," I yelled back. "Your brother was preparing to attack my partner who is a cop, for Christ's sake!

"Put your gun down, detective. That's an order."

"Who the hell are you to give me orders?"

"Don't make me call Commissioner Wilson and tell him what you did to my brother."

"I don't give a shit. Here you can use my personal cell phone I have his number on speed dial." We squared off. Face-to-face. I was a bit taller than she was and I knew I was in way better shape. After our brief Mexican standoff she back down like a good little pup.

"What're we doing fighting, Sagittarius? We're friends, been friends since you joined the force," she asked me. I didn't want to talk to her at all not unless it was in reference to me bashing her face in the wall for challenging my authority.

"Get out! How dare you barge in here while I'm interrogating a murder suspect making demands? I want you out of this room and I'm not going to ask you twice."

She stared at me as if she still had some fight left in her. But after a moment, she turned and left. I finally let out a breath. I'd been high on adrenaline. I turned to my partner and said, "Lock Mr. Lewis up in a holding cell until I'm ready to finish my interview. Book him on Assault on a government official." I walked outside for some fresh air. The sun was finally peeking out from the snow clouds. Maybe today we'll get a major break in the case.

# CHAPTER 22

**IT WAS JUST TURNING** ten o'clock that same morning when Commissioner Wilson rapped on the cubicle window shared by my partner and myself. I knew exactly why he was here; apparently, Michelle Lewis had ran her mouth to every connection she had. I was gathering some general information on suspect number three: Samuel Lewis III.

"Luckett in my office now!" Was all the Commissioner had to say. I took my time getting to his office but when I finally walked inside, it was all business.

"What the fuck were you and Graham doing keeping a person of interest in interrogation half the damn night?" asked Commissioner Wilson as I close the door behind me.

"Sir, those three men were potential suspects in the Coed murders. And a guy named Lewis came by my apartment last night pretending to be a friend of one of the victim's father, Bobby Stewart. And before the guy, left he uttered that his name was Lewis. Then upon further investigation of my place I discovered a poisonous snake curled up in my toilet." The Commissioner looked at me like this was all new to him. And that was very likely the case.

"How come nobody thought to inform me of all this?"

"Sir, I figured a man with your stature would have heard through some anonymous source." For once, I wasn't being a smart ass. I really thought he knew about the snake that was found in my apartment.

"Well being that I've been fully updated on your reasoning behind this madness I'll cut you a break, Luckett. But don't make it a habit you understand?"

"I understand," I stood up and went for the door.

"Are you still planning to still interview Samuel Lewis?" Commissioner Wilson asked, as I opened the door to his office.

I turned around.

"Yes that's the plan."

I went back to meet Graham at our desk. He'd taken a little catnap, which we both were in dire need of. I didn't want to wake him so I let him sleep. I walked down to Interview Room three where Samuel Lewis III was sitting bolt upright in his seat. I step inside and he quickly turned to acknowledge my presence.

"Why am I still here?" he asked. He had a boyish look about him that through the years I'd learned that a lot of killers and psychopaths inherited.

"Because you're still a potential suspect to a murder, several murders actually. Why don't you tell me about them?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've never murdered anyone. Not those college girls, the football guy none of them."

"I never said who was murdered clearly you have some insight that you would like to share," I said.

It was one thing to claim you hadn't killed anyone and then it another when you list off current murders that have just occurred.

"I'm not saying another word until I have a lawyer present,"

"Keep in mind that I can't help you after you lawyer up. Any deals that we could've negotiated are now off the table. A little word of advice you better hire the best defense attorney in the State of New York." After that, I walked out, slamming the door hard in my wake. The little shit lawyer up before I could even question him! I hated when that happened. Nevertheless, he was a United States citizen and he had rights. When I'd gotten back to my desk, Graham was awake pecking away at his computer. Something was up I could tell by the way he was acting.

"What's up?" I asked completely piqued.

"I just got a call from a tipster claiming responsibility for all the murders. He says his name is Stanley Lewis and that he will continue to kill until somebody loved him."

"We just had Stanley Lewis in our custody earlier this morning. I let him walk. Shit! That was stupid of me, Graham. How could I be so naive?"

The killer had manipulated me yet again. I had him in my sights twice and he managed to find a sliver of persuasion to escape through. Whoever this Stanley guy is, he was very clever.

"What was the address to Stanley Lewis' place?" I asked. I knew that if Stanley was really our killer he wasn't going to be at his home.

"He lives in Hell's Kitchen,"

"Let's go! Call S.W.A.T. and have them meet us."

The Ghost was walking through Central Park. He was looking for a payphone. When he found one, he dug out a phone number and placed his call.

"This is Crime Stoppers," a female voice answered.

"This is Stanley Lewis. I'm the one responsible for all the murders that happened here in the city. I'm sorry but if I can't find love I'm going to kill again and again." He hung up. He was laughing up. The NYPD were going to be looking for a Stanley Lewis and not him. He loved it; he was getting ready to become the first serial killer to never be caught. He blended in with the regular morning commuters, greeting any and every one he passed.

# CHAPTER 23

**WE SPED THROUGH MIDTOWN** until we came upon Stanley's unkempt looking apartment in Hell's Kitchen. The place didn't quite look livable from the outside but looks can be deceiving. We kicked in the front door and four guys from SWAT advanced inside yelling out, "Clear!" I stepped inside followed my partner, Detective Graham, with our guns drawn. The place smell horrible, but that's the life of a sicko, I reminded myself. The place was empty. There wasn't a sign of Stanley Lewis anywhere inside. Apparently, he didn't fully understand the magnitude of leaving town when he was a suspect in a murder investigation.

We placed APB for anyone fitting his description. Airports, train stations, bus transit, even the local taxi services were notified. We wanted to catch this arrogant bastard bad. I looked back at Graham who shook his head.

"We were so close to catching him David,"

"I know. We should've known something was up when he was just being a little too cooperative. He must've known that the more cooperative he'd be the more likely we'd cut him loose. We were duped, Sagittarius."

"Yeah and you know being duped only motivates me more. I've risked too much and I'm not going out like this." I walked back outside where the manhunt had begun. Everyone was being questioned rather they lived next door or three blocks away. There was a chance this killer had an accomplice or some inside sources.

The Ghost watched among the crowd of onlookers as the S.W.A.T. team and Detective Luckett tore up Stanley Lewis's place. He felt bad about getting an innocent man involved but shit happens. Sometimes you have to improvise in order to stay ahead of your enemy. He planned to send the real Stanley Lewis a letter of apology for all the chaos he caused on him. But for the time being Stanley Lewis was nothing more than a catspaw in a bigger game.

I'd went straight home after dropping Graham off, hopped in the shower and cleansed myself of today's disappointment. I couldn't believe this guy had duped me again. He was doing more than taunting us; he was making fun of the City of New York. I'd let Samuel Lewis go after receiving the tip from the alleged Stanley Lewis. I still planned to interview Samuel; he'd just been placed on the bottom of my to-do list. I informed that he wasn't "off the hook" just yet. And he made me promise not to rat him out to his mother. He explained how strict she was about him missing his curfew. I explained the importance to the reason why the mayor had set an eleven o'clock curfew to begin with.

Four years ago, maybe longer, a woman had went on a killing spree near East River. She'd prostituted herself; gotten paid, then killed the john who'd paid her. Her name was Maria Turner; she was twenty-three at the time. She'd be about twenty-seven by now and she was due to be released in less than six months. I was pissed when the verdict came back with a "not guilty" to murder in the first degree. She'd killed those men in cold blood; using a serrated knife to remove their penis before shoving it down their throats. However, they did find her guilty of prostitution among so other things. She'd definitely had gotten lucky with only four and a half years. And that was how I explained the importance of the curfew effect. Once Maria Turner was released from prison, she'd quickly get back into prostitution.

As the shower head rained down on me, I couldn't help thinking about how close I was to becoming a victim to the Coed Killer. He could've easily raped and sodomized me with a poisonous snake. The simple thought of it sent a shiver down my spine. I pictured the grotesque look on their faces at the crime scene. That could've easily had been me twelve hours ago. I was thankful that God was on my side last night. In fact, that reminded me that it was time for me to get back in church. My mother would have rolled over twice in her grave if she'd known I had stayed in church. To be honest, I didn't have time from the Job to do anything; have a relationship, girl time, church. I barely had time for friends with benefits. And I had a very high sex drive that I don't shy away from expressing to potential suitors. Man, I'm finally starting to see how much the Job is keeping me preoccupied.

It was time to live free and Die-hard.

It was time to kick the cases ass.

It was time to catch the Coed Killer.

# CHAPTER 24

**PROFESSOR WILLIAMS WAS PREPARING** himself for his biology class. Today, they were going to be dissecting a snake. How ironic, he thought, removing the slithering creature from its aquarium. The snake was a beauty; all of its venom removed along with its fangs. Professor Williams enjoyed the company of such creatures that he'd once wanted to become an ophiologist. He would've had plenty of snakes to keep him company. And none of those nosy teachers down the hall would come snooping about my classroom, he thought. He looked up at the clock and seen that class was to begin shortly; the bell was about to ring.

The bell had rung and the professor could hear the excited footsteps of eager students away to their next class. He stood up as the first of his students came through the door. He could see the look of excitement leave their faces the moment they walked inside his room. It's because my classroom actually teaches them things, he kept telling himself. As the classroom filled, he walked over to the dry-erase board and wrote:

The reptile anatomy.

The Death Adder, one of the most poisonous snakes on the planet.

"Are we dissecting a snake or something, Professor Williams?" Kelly Newton asked.

"Indeed we are Ms. Newton, would you like to volunteer to be the first to hold the snake before we dissect it?"

Kelly Newton seemed to have buried herself inwardly. She didn't like it when she was called out in front of the entire class.

"I don't care too much for reptiles especially, snakes. Maybe someone else would like that opportunity," she said turning a shade pink. In all honesty, Kelly Newton was scared of snakes. When she was a small child, a snake killed her mother and she had witnessed the entire affair. Since then she'd never came within a hundred yards of any kind of snake, poisonous or not.

Professor Williams smiled.

"Very well. Is there anybody else who'd like to hold this reptile?" Williams began taking the snake out of its aquarium to show the class that it was completely harmless. However, Kelly knew better than that she'd witnessed a seemingly innocent snake strike her mother while she was tending to her garden.

After no one volunteered, Williams decided to move forward with the rest of the class. It was time to learn the reptile anatomy and how it functioned. He placed the Death Adder on a cutting board; the kind you'd use for cutting vegetables. He held the snake down firmly; making sure the creature's head was flat on the surface. He revealed a surgical-like knife from somewhere under the cutting board. In addition, with great accuracy, he dismembered the creature's head. The rest of the classroom let off a series of "Ooh" and "Aahh" as if Professor Williams had performed a magic trick.

There was blood matter along with other mysterious looking flesh matter all over the professor's lab coat. He resembled a mad scientist who'd gone haywire. He looked up from his slaughtering and grinned for class.

He said, "Now that that's over with, let's commence to dissecting the rest of this creature's remains shall we?" He pointed the surgical instrument at Danny Fisher. "Come here Danny and help me dissect this beast."

He chose Danny for a reason.

"Okay," Danny said, jovially. He nearly galloped over his seat with glee. "What do you need help with?"

In the back of the classroom, a kid named Casey muttered to another guy, "He's acting like he's ready to get on his knees. I knew Danny was queer."

"Yeah man, but he's smooth with the ladies," a guy named Ricky said.

"Most queers are, dipshit."

Up front, Danny Fisher had sliced opened the snake with a sharp little instrument. It felt good and familiar in hands as he gripped it tighter. He was about ready to ask Professor Williams where he could get such a sharp piece of metal to add to his collection when he thought better of it. He couldn't afford to have any sharp objects in his possession not with the cops still on his ass. He was innocent and he had to prove it in order for them to get off his back. He'd gotten rid of all of his pocketknives after returning to his dorm from the dean's office.

"Now you see class," Professor Williams said, switching on a button to bring up the snake on the projector. "What you see here is the snake's main organs. Here you have the right and left lung," he used a yardstick as a pointer. "And right near the left lung you see this tiny thing here. That's the heart. Notice that a snake only has three chambers: the right and left atria and one ventricle. The right and left atria both receive blood from the lungs and the body. Now keep in mind that a snakes' organs are arranged linearly, which makes them all the more unique.

"Most people like to know if a snake can still live without its spleen like us humans. Well the answer is yes they can." He turned to Danny. "Take out both the small and large intestine please."

# CHAPTER 25

**DANNY LOOKED UNCOMFORTABLE WITH** the request. He used his hands to split open the snake, reached inside and with a jerk, he pulled out a lengthy intestine. Professor Williams looked up to see what kind of response he would get from this act of defamation. He paid close attention to Kelly Newton, who looked like she was closely related to Casper the friendly ghost. Ghost. The mention of the word made the professor feel invincible. He was a ghost himself, wasn't he? Someone had retched on the floor, Williams broke off his gaze to see what was the matter with the boy named Casey, who was vomiting as if he eaten something that wasn't settling right with his stomach.

"Casey?" Williams said, irritated.

"Sorry Professor, it's just when Danny pulled that snakes intestine out it made me sick." Casey said apologetically.

"Do you need to speak with the nurse?"

"No sir. I think I'm fine now, sorry."

Professor Williams wanted to give the boy something to vomit over. Perhaps, I should take him on one of my nightly affairs, he thought. On second thought, never mind. His gaze ran over Kelly Newton, he envisioned her and the snake mingling like a couple of lovers. Wouldn't that be a dream come true, he was thinking. All three of us sitting down over a nice dinner, Snake stew, and discussing the reptile anatomy in full detail.

Suddenly, the school bell rang, jostling him out of his reverie. Time had flew by and he hadn't been able to get to the good part; the venom pouches. He wanted until everyone had cleared the room before calling Kelly over to him. She looked meek broken as she walked slowly to him.

"Are you alright, Kelly?"

"I'm fine really," she replied.

"Would you like to do a little tutoring sometime this week? You're grades are not looking so good,"

"Maybe, but wouldn't that be against the student-teacher policy. Wouldn't that be like favoritism?" she asked.

"I do it with all my students who show great potential, my dear. Now off you go. I wouldn't want to be the reason you were late for your next class."

Kelly nearly skipped to the door as she noticed that she only had five minutes to make to the other side of the campus. After she was gone, Professor Williams wrote her name down on his to-do list. He was looking forward to tutoring her. After all she had, great potential to being an honor student; and who better to present such honors then himself?

My day was only getting better when Commissioner Wilson called me into his office. I figured it was a continuation from his tongue-lashing from yesterday. But it wasn't. Somebody had broken into ADA Michelle Lewis's apartment in Midtown. She hadn't been harmed in any manner, but one thing stuck out like a sore thumb; there was three kilos of pure cocaine stashed under her mattress. She claimed that she was being framed but the people at the New York bar association wasn't hearing it. They were saying that Michelle had broken into her own place, stashed the coke then called 9-1-1. I knew Michelle well enough to know she would never be so stupid.

"This is your case, Luckett," Commissioner Wilson said, handing me a manila folder. "If she's innocent, you're the one who can prove it. Since this is technically a Narcotics case, you'll be working alongside Detective Carla Davidson. You know Carla don't you?"

"Yeah that's Graham's girlfriend." I said, smiling knowingly.

"Yeah, well she's going to be too occupied to be playing Desperate Housewife. This is embarrassing to the City of Manhattan. A prosecutor busted with three kilos of coke. I can see the media having a frenzy already." Commissioner Wilson exclaimed. He despised the media because all he believed they did was ruin careers with fabricated lies. And I didn't disagree with him.

"So where is Michelle now?" I asked.

"She's in a holding cell in booking. We had to make sure she had her on cell. She's made many enemies over the years. Why don't you go down there it'll be nice for her to see a familiar face." He was right. She needed the support of the entire city. She'd help me put away countless psychos over the years. In addition, I needed her to help me put away this Coed Killer.

I climbed behind the wheel of my Jeep and took Bleecker Street. Fifteen minutes later, I was turning off Saint James onto Pearl. I still couldn't believe Michelle had landed in the very place where she'd placed other criminals. The Metropolitan Correctional Center was just off Park Row. The building was probably the only detention facility that populated over seven-hundred inmates at one time. The building had been established back in 1975, around the time when New York was heavy in the crime epidemic. In recent years, there had been talk of turning the detention building into an actually state prison. But no action was carried out. I disembarked my Jeep and made a beeline for the front entrance.

# CHAPTER 26

**OFFICER SAMSON, WHO FRISKED** me, took my Glock and waved his metal detecting wand over me. Once I was in the clear, he said, "I can't believe Michelle Lewis is here, on the other side of the fence."

I didn't have much to say on the matter so I said, "I know. It's still fresh on me." I walked onward. I took the elevator to the visiting booth and met Michelle in front of the glass that divided us. She looked nothing like her upbeat self. Her eyes were starting to sink into her sockets; her skin looked rubbery like she hadn't washed off the make-up from her last trial; and her orange jumpsuit hung loosely from her petite frame. I was embarrassed to be having a conversation in this environment.

"How you holding up in there?" I asked, on the verge of tears.

"It's tough I can tell you that much. But I'm still in a daze about the whole situation, Sagittarius. You know me; I would never have kilos upon kilos of cocaine. I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for that stuff."

"I know. Commissioner Wilson assigned me to the case. I'm going to be working alongside Narcotics. I want you to know there's no hard feelings about what happened the other morning. I'm still your friend. Now Carla Davidson is going to try to get you convicted. It'll mean she'll get a huge promotion for closing the case. But I'm here to try to prevent that, okay?" I could tell she wasn't buying anything I said. I was a detective after all. And we always used the story "I'm on your side". But to be honest, I was really on her side. I was using no form of manipulation on her. I wanted justice for whoever framed her.

"Listen," she began. "I know you have to do your job. If there isn't any evidence that's in my favor, I understand. I know how it works; I was a prosecutor for several years."

She was already losing hope, listening to her referring to herself in the past tense was disturbing. She was still a prosecutor in my eyes. There was still hope that she'll be out of this hellhole and in the courtroom where she belonged.

"Michelle stop saying you was a prosecutor. You still are." A tear escaped from my eye. I tried to wipe it away before she caught it. I was too slow.

"Are you crying, Sagittarius?" she asked, surprised.

"Me crying? No way. I just bit down on my tongue. I'm fine trust me." I've never cried in front of my colleagues. I don't know why. May be because I was their leader and they didn't need to see their leader crying like a little girl. I mean who would follow behind a crybaby.

"It's okay to cry, Sagittarius. It happens to the best of us. It shows your sensibility for others."

"I know, I know. Look I have to go I'll be back to see you soon." I stood up, rapped on the door to let the guard know I was done. I turned back around and said, "I'm going to get you out of here, you hear?"

"Did they lock her up?" The Cartel asked. He was sitting in his usual seat listening to the report from his many operatives. He deemed himself the new Godfather. He always dressed for the occasion and never once did he ever get his hands dirty.

"She's downtown now. I wonder who they'll get to replace her." Diaz said. She was one of The Cartel's trusted operatives.

"Oh I'm sure ol' Carlos'll step in for the time being. He just better not cross me or he'll be a dead man."

"What would you like me to do next, sir?" Diaz asked.

"You remember that Danny boy? Ricardo's little buddy?"

"Yeah,"

"I want you to make sure he's not double crossing me either. It's time to tighten the chains around the dogs," he reached into his duffel bag and removed a kilo of coke from it. "And give this to Danny tell him I need a quarter of the profit by next week. No excuses." He tossed the duct-taped product to Diaz, who caught it one-handed.

"And what about the lady cop?"

"Watch her from a distance."

Diaz nodded and headed out the door.

# CHAPTER 27

**CARLA DAVIDSON WAS LAYING** naked beside her lover, David Graham. Carla was telling him about her newest assignment. And how she'll be working alongside Sagittarius. Graham had always enjoyed listening to her tales about life undercover. The last time Carla and Sagittarius had worked together, David and Carla were just good friends; no sexual encounters had occurred. Now the two were working to solve the mysterious findings of cocaine that was stashed under Michelle Lewis's bed.

"She's a tough cookie as you might already know," Graham said.

"Oh I know how she is. That's why I recommended her to work with me. I hardly ever get to work with another female officer. The only bad thing about all this is: she's going to be against me in a sense, David."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's not trying to find her guilt. She's going to be trying to get her off. This'll be a great opportunity for me if I can prove she had something to do with that coke being stashed under her bed. I don't know what to do. My department is all for convicting high profile cases especially if it involves a governmental official."

"I can see the two of you clashing with one another on this honey. Sagittarius strongly believes that Michelle is innocent and she'll do any and everything to see her through," Graham said. He got up and padded over to the bathroom.

"Hey, where're you going?"

"I going to take a leak. Sex with you seems to make my bladder weaken a bit." He flushed the toilet and padded back into the room. He started tugging on his pants.

"Now what're you doing?" Carla asked, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Since you stole my partner I have to continue to work the Coed murder case. We've run into nothing but dead ends. I told Sagittarius that I'll finish her interview with Samuel Lewis III."

"Bummer. Why can't you wait a little while longer?" she pouted.

"Because in a little while you're going to have to get up and get ready for work. Then I'm going to be the one with my lip out." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll call you later and tell Sagittarius I said good luck." He hurried out the room.

Downstairs, Graham made himself some coffee. He had to remind himself to stop by the corner store on the way home for more coffee. He sugared his coffee along with a dash of milk then opened the front door. Sitting on his doorstep was a package with no return address on it. Instincts kicked in as he slowly kicked the box to make sure it didn't have any explosives inside. He thought he heard a rattling noise coming from within. He kicked the box gently again just to make sure. Sure enough, he heard it again. He sat down his coffee cup, hiked up his pants legs and crouched down. Carefully, he lifted the top off the box and almost punted the box.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, falling back onto his elbows. The rattlesnake began rattling its tail, a signal that he felt danger. Graham yelled inside the house for Carla.

"Carla, Carla call the Animal and Pest control unit quick!"

Carla had flown down the stairs and looked down at Graham as if he was crazy. "What's going on? What're you doing on the ground?" she fired off a series of irrelevant questions.

Graham pointed at the box, which had managed to make its way several feet away. "It's a rattlesnake! Call Animal Pest Control now!"

Carla ran back inside and grabbed the phone. She had no idea how or even why a rattlesnake had made its way to her doorstep. She yelled into the phone, "I have a rattlesnake outside my door!"

She hung up. She ran back outside and helped Graham to his feet. She brushed off the dirty that had materialized on his shirttail. "They're on their way," she told him. He looked a little relieved by that.

"I need to go back inside until they get here,"

"Oh no you go ahead to work I'll be fine until they get here honey," she said.

He scrutinized for a moment then, "Okay but if that things gets out of that box before they get here you call me."

"Okay,"

Graham walked three feet wide around the box with the rattlesnake. He kept looking over his shoulder as if the snake was slithering after him. He climbed in his car and pulled out his phone. He had to inform Sagittarius about this, he had to apologize to her for not taking her seriously the other night when she called him.

#

# 

# CHAPTER 28

**I WAS GETTING DRESSED** for today when my phone rang. I tried to ignore it; procrastination was something new I was testing out. After several rings, I gave in and answered without looking at the caller ID. I already had my speech prepared, but to my astonishment it wasn't Commissioner Wilson; it was my partner Detective Graham.

"That bastard sent a rattlesnake to my door step!" he yelled into the mouthpiece. I had to hold the phone away from my ear to keep from going semi deaf.

"What do you mean? Who left a rattlesnake?" I heard myself say. I immediately regretted asking such a stupid question. I knew who had left that rattlesnake. The same person left a snake in my toilet. The Coed Killer.

"That jerk off, Sagittarius! He's fucking with us big time!" my partner continued to protest. I could tell that he was still shaken up from the experience. I could almost see it as clear as day; him walking to the front door, morning Joe in hand, seeing the mysterious looking package; then opening it for a look inside; jumping back probably spilling his coffee everywhere; then going into a fit of hysterics; and finally calling me.

"Did you call Animal and Pest control?" I asked. I could hear the faint sounds of oncoming traffic and horns.

"Yeah they'll be at my place as soon as they can, according to the dispatch woman. I'm heading to you as we speak; I hope you're ready when I pull up." I heard what sounded like someone leaning down hard on his or her horn, presumably, to alert my partner of his reckless driving.

"What the hell was that?"

"Some asshole driver who doesn't know how to get the fuck out of my way!" he growled. Yep, he was driving like a bat out of hell. A maniac to say the least.

"Well slow down, David before you kill someone. I've told you about driving like an idiot."

"Well this idiot has to pick up your slack, starting today. I don't want to be anymore late than I already am for my interview with Samuel Lewis." There was a brief pause then, "I'm pulling up in front of your place, c'mon."

I disconnected the call and finish getting dressed. I hadn't expected him to be this quick. I was hopping on one foot trying to get my pants on. I usually left out looking presentable but this morning I wasn't on my A-game. My hair was still disheveled as I bound down my front steps to my apartment. I was still thinking about my new assignment with Graham's significant other, Carla Davidson. I was pulled from the Coed Killer case. Boy, this morning was starting just marvelously. Yeah right...

"So tell me your plans for the interview?" I asked, sparking up some conversation.

"No plans really. Just going to see if he knows anything whatsoever about snake's magically appearing in people's houses, his whereabouts, and so forth. Nothing extraordinary if that's what you're asking."

Susan Garrett had just gotten home from an early morning cheerleading practice, she was chatting away with her girlfriend, Kelly Newton. Kelly and Susan had been friends since high school. Kelly was a year older and had been on the cheerleading team. She was the reason Susan had joined the squad to begin with.

"Oh my freaking God, so Professor Williams is the creepiest teacher I know," Kelly was saying. "Yesterday, all we did was talk about the reptile anatomy and by reptile I mean a snake. Ever heard of a Death Adder? Okay, well if you didn't it's a very poisonous snake. We dissected it."

"Gross! Did Professor Williams do the honors or did he have someone else do it?" Susan asked, her body involuntarily shivering from the very thought of a dissected snake.

"Oh he asked me to come up there and cut the creature open. You know how scared of snakes I am. Ever since that garden snake or whatever it was killed my mother, I've never liked those slithering freaks. Therefore, he had Danny Fisher come up. Oh my, Danny was so gallant. He looked so strong as he sliced the snake open. I'm not going to give you all the gory details but just know they were gory."

"I'm not looking forward to having his class next semester."

"Oh I forgot to tell you. So after the bell had rung, I was getting ready to leave when he called me over—"

"Who?" Susan interrupted.

"Professor Williams, duh. Anyway, so he's got this strange look in his eyes. You know the kind of look crazy people have when they're planning something. Therefore, when I get within arm's length, he asks me if I would like him to tutor me to get my grades up. Kind of a strange request, I know, but I accepted his offer and we're supposed to meet in the library sometime this week."

"Wow, I can't believe you're actually going to be in the same room as him. He's a creep!" Susan exclaimed.

"I know girl, don't remind me. It's bad enough he even thought to ask me and even worse that I accepted."

"Well you just be careful. I've heard some weird things about that one," Susan warned.

"When are we going to hang out again?"

"Soon honey."

# CHAPTER 29

**THE CALL FINALLY CAME.** The call I'd been dreading for the past couple of days. The Coed Killer has struck again. I had wondered why he'd waited so long to kill again. Most killers never had such a hiatus in their killings. The victim had been found in a storage unit near the Hudson. I knew the place; it was near Chelsea, a little mini storage facility. The owner had come into work after taking a couple of days off, and smelled something dead near one of the units. At first, he thought it was maybe a sewer rat but the smell was much stronger than that of a rat. He had one of his guys cut the unit's lock and the scene was horrifying. The way he described the scene and how badly the victim looked, I knew before actually knowing that the Coed Killer was back at work.

I pulled up to Hastings Self Storage, off Saw Mill River Road. The yellow crime scene tape was wrapped around one single unit. The unit looked like a cast away, which was probably why the killer chose it. I unfolded myself from behind the driver's seat and walked over to a group of responding officers.

"I'll take it from here guys, thanks." I scanned the area for the owner. I saw a short, stocky fellow who fit the owner's description. I made a beeline straight for him. "Hi, are you the owner?" I extended my hand.

"Yes, I'm Benny," he took my hand and shook it. "I'm so glad y'all showed up."

"I'm Sergeant Luckett. We've been tracking this killer for quite some time. This is his latest act of violence. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Sure,"

"What time did you get into work today?"

"I don't know about nine or so?"

"And how long did it take for you to smell what you smelled?"

"Not long. Maybe five minutes."

"Mr. Benny did you or anyone else touch the body in any way whatsoever?"

"Absolutely not. We know better than to do that."

"Good. Okay Mr. Benny, if you or your men have any more information to bring forth here's my card; you can give me a call." I handed him my card. I walked over to meet with Dustin Mosley, the head of CSU. Apparently the ME, was stuck in traffic. Therefore, I had some time to look at the DB.

"Looks like we have another, huh?" Mosley said.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think I need to start seeing a shrink. Any suggestions?"

"None at the moment but I'll get back with you," he joked.

He then walked me through the crime scene. It was a gruesome one. The victim's name was Danielle Pickens. She was from Chelsea. Apparently, she'd been assaulted twice, once by the killer and again by the poisonous snake that was recovered from her vagina. Her throat was cut just like all the other victims. Same MO same everything.

"Was she reported missing from by any family members?" I asked. It would be strange if no one had noticed her missing.

"Nope. Apparently, she's has no living relatives in the general area. Mom and pops lived out west in Washington State. She has no siblings to speak of."

"Ah I see. So pretty much she's a Jane Doe but with an identity?"

"I suppose you could word it like that. After all, she has no one that's going to claim her body. Unless mom and pops are going to catch the next flight to JFK," said Mosley. I was the chosen one to deliver the devastating news. I would be the last person on earth that Mr. and Mrs. Pickens would like to hear from. In their eyes, I was Brad Pitt's character in "Meet Joe Black". I was the female grim reaper. I reluctantly pulled out my cell and dialed the number for the Pickens that Mosley had given me. I held my breath for the entire affair.

# PART TWO

# NOW YOU SEE ME, NOW YOU DON'T

# CHAPTER 30

**THE PICKENS WERE FLYING** in from LAX to claim their daughter's body tomorrow afternoon. The phone call was a nightmare for the all three of us. I'd left out the gruesome details of their daughter's mutilated body. At the very least, I owed them that much respect. I haven't heard back from Graham yet on his interview. I was wondering if he'd been able to get something out of Samuel Lewis. I stared intently at my cell phone laying on top of my desk. It was going on two o'clock and he hadn't returned any of my text messages.

Finally, my phone buzzed loudly, startling me half to death. I picked up the phone and seen that I had an incoming message from David, my partner in crime! I opened it quickly and read the text. Apparently, the interview at the Lewis' house went well. Samuel's mother, Theresa Lewis, had confirmed that her son was at home on the night in question and that he hadn't left the house at all. That scratched him off my list, which narrowed my focus on Stanley Lewis and Chester Lewis. Stanley was still M.I.A. he'd managed to vanish.

The NYPD was secretly looking for Stanley; we didn't want word to get out that the NYPD had lost a suspect in connection to the Coed Murder case. Commissioner Wilson was working closely alongside the FBI. I had some contacts with the Bureau that I could use to find out who was operating the search, but Commissioner Wilson made it clear to me that he wanted me to focus on one case at a time.

After exchanging more text messages with Graham, I decided to give Carla a call. We hadn't made any progress in Michelle's case yet. For reason unknown, Carla was sitting on the investigation. I had planned on going down to the detention facility to check up on her but I changed my mind. I didn't have any good or bad news to deliver so it was pointless to visit. Carla answered on the second or third ring. I'd lost count.

"Detective Davidson speaking,"

"Hi, Carla its Sagittarius, any idea when we're going to move forward with the investigation?"

"As soon as CI is set to go. I'm having an informant talk to a couple of coke dealers in Yonkers. It's just a waiting game from here," she sounded exasperated. I could tell in her voice she wanted to move forward as well.

"Okay, I'll check back with you in an hour,"

I needed to find something to do to occupy my time for the next hour. I'd played crossword puzzles, Sudoku; I even played Words with Friends with complete online strangers. I was exhausted. I got up and went to the break room. I needed a snack or a coffee. I walked into the break room and bumped into Officer Kennison. He was an up-and-coming officer who had great potential to becoming a good detective. He had a nose for detail, and you couldn't be a detective without a good detector.

"Hey how's it going, Serge?" he asked as he walked by.

"It's going. Still getting nowhere with this Coed Killer. He's got to be one of the most elusive killers I've tried to catch. It's like trying to find a pin in a haystack."

"Yeah, I've been watching the news lately and boy does that Candice Spencer sure knows how to talk bad about the NYPD?"

"I try to stay clear of all news channels while I'm working a case. It's nothing but a distraction and half of the shit they're saying is lies. Without the lies, they wouldn't really have a career if you think about it."

"I've heard about ADA Michelle Lewis. Pretty fucked up how they found all that coke in her crib. Between you and me, that's enough blow to start a small business, if you know what I mean."

"Yes Elroy I know exactly what you mean. And I agree with you that it's fast money, but it isn't right and it's not legal. And frankly, I think Michelle is innocent. She knows the consequences for drugs in this state. She's a career woman; and career women don't jeopardize their careers for no one." I left Officer Kennison standing by the coffee maker and headed back upstairs.

"Everybody down on the fucking ground! I'm warning you I will shoot this woman dead if anyone makes a fast move. I want all your cell phones thrown in the middle of the floor. Do it now!" Stanley Lewis was holding a bank teller hostage as he ordered everyone else. He'd been hiding from the NYPD for a couple of days now. He figured they had given up on chasing him; and decided it was time to make a final move on the country that took everything from him. Checkmate.

# CHAPTER 31

**WOMEN WITH THEIR CHILDREN** were sobbing off to one side; while doughnut eating security officers were waddling around like a bunch of lost ducklings. It was a scene from Stanley's favorite movie _Public Enemies_. It reminded him of the scene where Johnny Dillinger had robbed a local bank and met the girl of his dreams. "Hey baby, I'm John Dillinger and I rob banks." Johnny Depp's character had recited. Right now Stanley was feeling like Johnny Dillinger. He was robbing a bank, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.

One of the security guards had gotten the wise and reached for his radio. Bad move. Lewis walked over to him yelling as he went. "Do you think I'm blind fat boy? Were you trying to outsmart me, the modern day John Dillinger? Sorry but, I'm afraid that's not possible. Now I'm going to have to punish you. I'm going to have to make an example out of you, pig boy. You don't fuck with a man with a gun; that's common sense 101," Lewis grabbed the guard by his collar, pulling the security guard to his face, pressing the barrel of the gun into his temple, "It's time to meet your maker, pig boy, where the doughnuts are in an abundance." He pulled the trigger.

BLAM!

The warm blood from the guard's head, spattered against Stanley's face. His blood was shed for all of our sins, he thought, as his mother's voice appeared in his head. She was a bible thumper and not a very enticing one at that. As a child, he'd been told numerous of times about the goodness of Jesus. However, the day he joined the Army and the day his country turned its back on him, where was this goodness then?

Where was God when his wife had been hunted down and killed by this country? Stanley Lewis stopped believing in the goodness of Christ a long time ago. He didn't believe in anything but himself and the world around him. He smeared the blood all over his face then turned to face everybody.

"You've seen what happens when you disobey me; you get punished by the gun. Is there anybody else here who feels a need to be clever? By all means, the stage is yours." He waited for someone to step forward. Some heroic imbecile wanting a gold medal for bravery. He walked over to the bank teller from earlier and grabbed her by the hair, "Are you willing to die for these people?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she replied, trying feebly to pull free.

"You do not know if you'll die for a bunch of money hungry pricks?"

"No, I guess I wouldn't. I don't know I'm scared," she was crying now, tears streaking up her perfectly fixed make up.

"Aww, are you scared of the Boogey Man? I'm not that scary unless you make me. I'm quite a civilized human being once you get to know me. Would you like to get to know me, bank teller?" Stanley leered.

"I don't know,"

"Again you do not know. What's with you women and all your indecisiveness? It's starting to become a trend among y'all. Do I need to blow your brains all over the fucking floor in order to get a straightforward answer, bank teller?"

"No please. I'll love to get to know you," she stammered.

He smiled. He loved how easily women thought they were wiser than the average person was. However, Stanley Lewis wasn't an average man. He graduated from New York University with a criminal justice degree. He'd done that before joining the Army.

"Do you use that tactic on every man you come in contact with, bank teller?" he asked.

"What? What are you talking about?" she feigned confusion by the question.

"Oh don't play stupid bitch. You know exactly what I'm talking about it's no secret how you women say things to a man just to end up blowing him off later on. I know all about your tricks."

"I really would like to get to know you mister," the bank teller pleaded.

"And you'd like to suck my cock, maybe even have a one night stand with me too, huh?"

"If things working out between us, maybe."

He'd had enough of the lying bank teller woman, "One thing I hate the most in this world is a lying bitch." He put a smoking one right between her eyes.

We were finally meeting with the informant, Sandy. Sandy was a small girl, maybe twenty-three. She was a former cocaine user and prostitute who was trying to do well. She'd been an informant for the NYPD for two years now. And she was a good snitch. She'd do anything to gain the trust of some drug lord, having sex, snorting a line of coke. Anything to prove she was legit. I had to give her props for the dangerous work she's done.

"So Hector is a big time drug lord here in the city. He usually operates several blocks from the University. Most people he deals with or whom works for him hardly ever gets to see his face. Only his most trusted cohorts get that privilege. He's known around town as The Cartel because of his connects. All I had to do was snort a couple lines and suck his cock for a bit. And he trusts me."

Sandy was giving us the low down on The Cartel. He seemed like a guy too smart to get himself caught in a sting operation, but not smart enough to be infiltrated by an informant, a very seductive informant. I was starting to calculate my moves his my head. This operation was going to be easy at least I hoped it would.

# CHAPTER 32

**FBI SPECIAL AGENT MAX KEATON** was going over the file on Stanley Lewis, at the FBI field office in Manhattan. Lewis had been spotted leaving the Federal Reserve Bank, in which, he'd robbed and killed two people. He had proven to be highly resourceful and elusive from the FBI's standpoint. Keaton was assigned to the case shortly after the bank robbery. He was informed that he'd be working alongside Sixth Precinct of the NYPD. Keaton really had no problem working with the PD; it was just that they always thought they knew everything there was to know about everything.

In the meantime, Keaton had been doing his homework on the homicide detective, Sagittarius Luckett. From her personnel file he was instantly impressed with her work ethics and means to solving cases. She was a hard worker and sometimes emotionally attached to some of her cases. Very understandable, he thought. Who doesn't getting emotionally involved in their cases?

He was eager to get a head start on the case and decided to give Sergeant Luckett a call. Instead of her picking up the phone, her assistant Lindsay picked up.

"Hello, this is Special Agent Max Keaton, with the FBI. I was looking for Sergeant Luckett, any chance you could punch me through?"

"I'm sorry Special Agent Keaton, it seems Sergeant Luckett is working a case right now and isn't available at the moment. But I'll be happy to take a message for when she does return, if you'd like?" Lindsey said, sweetly.

"No thanks not my way of introduction. I'll call back another time."

He hung up. His timing was getting worse the older he got. He should've called her yesterday the moment he'd been assigned to the case. He cursed himself for being so stubborn. He went back to the case file laying on his cluttered desk. He had so much a caseload; he didn't know where to begin.

"I gotta get a cup coffee," he muttered to himself. He stood up and walked down the hall. He was still new to the place after being transferred here from the field office in Cincinnati, Ohio, where he was the Special Agent in Charge or SAC. It was not a choice of his own, but one that came from the FBI's Hoover Building in D.C. His wife, Carolyn was still living in Cincinnati with their three-month-old son, Charlie. Carolyn knew the requirements of the job before they'd gotten married four years ago.

_Our four-year anniversary is next month_ , he kept thinking _. How the hell am I supposed to celebrate it with Carolyn?_

That among other things had been on his mind as of late. It was an everyday thing with him. A constant battle between the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Sometimes at night after work, he'd find himself at The Pony Bar, near the Upper East Side. He was becoming an alcoholic and a real mean one.

However, today I'm starting fresh, he thought, while taking his first sip of coffee. The aroma itself seemed to have opened his eyes a bit. That's New York coffee, all right. Time to wake up and smell the coffee, right? He walked back down the hall to his office and was surprised to see the Assistant Director in Charge Carl Sexton. He was standing over the Stanley Lewis dossier, obviously enthralled by the contents of the file. He looked up when Keaton walked in.

"Good morning?"

"It's not a good morning yet, sir," Keaton replied, taking another sip of coffee.

"Well, it will be soon. Look, rumor has it that the Mayor wants a quick apprehension. I don't know how he expects us to follow through with that since Stanley Lewis has not been located since robbing that bank. Therefore, I want you to get up with Sergeant Luckett and I need for the two of you to come up with a plan of action. It's been thirty hours since the robbery occurred and two weeks since the Coed murders. This case is a career maker for everyone so get to it, Keaton." The Assistant Director started to leave when Keaton called after him.

"Sir, I called Sergeant Luckett and was told by her assistant that she was away working a case. I can grab Mike and do some interviews and look over surveillance footage."

"That's a good idea for the time being. But remember to call Sergeant Luckett to set up a time to meet. I think the two of you are going to get along just fine together. She's even nice on the eyes from what I hear," the Director said, walking out before Keaton could ask more intriguing questions.

Keaton grabbed his coat and keys ran down the hall yelling, "Let's go Mike!"

# CHAPTER 33

**HE AND MIKE DEVITO** pulled up to the Federal Reserve Bank in downtown and exited the car. The place still had the remnants of sadness from the robbery the day before. Every bank teller in the place tensed up the moment the two men stepped inside. Keaton could tell that everyone's hand was hovering over the silent alarm button under their counters. Who knew what a bank robbery could do to such everyday individuals? Keaton and DeVito walked over to the security booth, which was now beefed up a bit since yesterday's turn of events. The security guard operating the booth was paying his respects to his comrade by where his name tag. He obviously recognized the law enforcement demeanor that cops around the world perfected. He happily extended his hand to both Keaton and DeVito. The mood inside the bank quickly went at ease.

"How's it going officers?" the guard said, shaking Keaton's hand a tab bit too long.

"That's quite a handshake you've got there," Keaton said, flexing his hand to get it circulated again. "Actually we're with the Bureau just stopping by to look at the surveillance footage from yesterday's events." Keaton was careful not to use the word "robbery" around these people. He feared they'll take it completely the wrong way. In other words, things could get ugly rather quickly.

"The detectives from the Sixth Precinct have already looked it over,

"Well we want to look it over a little more closely see if anything was overlooked by the PD, nothing against them at all, but we Feebies seem to find the simplest mistakes overlooked by them." It was a little white lie. Agent Keaton just needed to check a few angles to see if he could get a positive ID on the suspect. If anything, this was a Federal bank, which meant he had jurisdiction anyhow.

"I know what you mean. I wouldn't want Tyler's death to go unsolved the dirty bag responsible deserves the chair," the guard said.

"For the record, what is your name?" Mike DeVito asked.

"Sorry," the guard looked down at the nametag, "it was out of respect for Tyler. But my name's Jackson, Jackson Smith." He extended his hand again. Both DeVito and Keaton bypassed the handshake.

"We're kind of on a time schedule Mr. Smith, could we?" Keaton motioned toward the booth.

"Oh right, the surveillance follow me."

Keaton rolled his eyes and followed the guy inside the booth. It was bigger on the inside; with modern day advanced technology. It looked like something from a James Bond movie. Jackson steered them over to a series of monitors. It too looked super advanced at least for a federal budget. There was a joystick-like mechanism located in front of every monitor. Keaton took it as a way for the guards to zoom in and out from different angles. That was just what Keaton was hoping for.

Today I'm starting fresh, he reminded himself.

"Mind if I take a look here?"

"Go right ahead, you're the captain of this ship," Jackson Smith said, stepping aside so Keaton had enough room.

You're damned right I'm the captain of this ship, thought Keaton. I the motherfucking General.

"Thanks," Keaton said, getting comfortable in the leather chair. "Hey Mike, give me a hand will ya?"

"Sure thing, Mad Max," DeVito joked, taking a chair next to him.

"Watch it, Danny," Keaton return the jest. It was a ritual between the two; they were like brothers. DeVito called Keaton "Mad Max" from the Mel Gibson movie, about a guy trying to catch someone that's driven him crazy. Sort of the life of Max Keaton himself. In return, Keaton always called him Danny as in Danny DeVito.

"Hey man, check this out. See that guy right there, holding the gun?" Keaton asked, pointing at the screen.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"That doesn't look like our guy Stanley Lewis to me,"

"You know, you got a point there it sure doesn't."

Keaton turned around, "Any idea who that person is, Jackson?" he asked tapping the screen. Jackson Smith had finally lost his coolness. He was sweating; wet spots begin to form around his armpits. Jackson was getting nervous.

"I have no idea who what could be," he finally answered.

"Really? Cause that isn't Lewis that's someone else entirely. Stanley Lewis may have been inside this building yesterday but he didn't rob no one. This person here was someone very different. And you know what I think, Jackson?"

"What?"

"I think you know exactly who this person is or at least know something about him," replied Keaton. This new development opened up a new assortment of problems, a can that starts with the people working inside the bank. Stanley Lewis was still a potential suspect just not a bank robbery one. Keaton needed to inform the Assistant Director in Charge of this new development. He pulled out his phone while a "freeze-cam" image of the suspect glared back at him.

"Hey sir, we've uncovered some new developments. The person we thought was Stanley Lewis well it's not him. We're bringing in a guy who might know who this man is, his name is Jackson Smith," he hung up and stood up. "We're going to let you leave out of here with some dignity still attached to your ass. Now start walking."

Every bank teller, male and female turned as the agents led Jackson Smith out of the building. It was a sure walk of shame for Jackson, but an extra point for the Feebies.

# CHAPTER 34

**"SO WHO'S THE GUY** in the surveillance video?" Special Agent Max Keaton wanted to know. He and Agent Mike DeVito had been grilling the security guard for three hours. They hadn't made much progress, but they were determined.

"Like I've been telling you guys for the past couple hours. I don't know," Jackson replied, irritated.

"What do you think, Mikey? Is he full of horse shit or what?"

Keaton turned to DeVito.

"Of course he is. Why else would a man start sweating in a perfectly cool room?"

"Good question, Mike," Keaton turned back to Jackson, "why is that Jackson?"

"I suffer from severe anxiety attacks. Been suffering from it since I was a kid."

"Do we look like a couple of jackasses to you Jackson?" Keaton asked.

Actually you both do, Jackson wanted to say but instead, "No. But I'm telling you the truth it's in my medical records."

Like a king cobra making a deadly strike, Keaton's hand slammed down hard on the metal desk, startling not only Jackson Smith but Mike DeVito as well.

"I'M SICK OF YOUR LIES, JACKSON! IT ENDS NOW. WHO IS THE MAN IN THE GODDAMN VIDEO?" Keaton hollered. He was pissed; Mike DeVito hadn't seen his partner this angry in quite some time.

Jackson Smith burst into a fit of laughter. He was getting a kick out of both the too-serious-dick wagging cops. He wasn't going to tell them a damn thing about the man from the surveillance. Mainly, because all he knew of the guy was that he was in the bank to "confuse the investigation" as he put it.

"And if you tell anyone especially the cops, you're a dead man," the guy had said before robbing the bank.

"Something I said funny?"

"Nope."

"Then shut the fuck up!" Keaton took two long strides to the door, flung it open, and walked out. He needed to cool down. He needed a stiff drink, too. Mike DeVito followed closely behind him.

He asked, "You alright, man? Don't let him get to you, Max." Mike DeVito was always the calm, cool, and collected type. Too laid-back.

"I'm fine Mike, but I'm going to make the bastard talk. That's a promise."

"Whatever you do, don't lose your head on this one. Remember what happened last time you..."

"Shut up Mike. I remember. Now out of my way," Agent Keaton brushed past him and back inside the interrogation room. It was show time, baby.

"Back so soon—"

Jackson caught Keaton's forearm to the throat, clotheslining right out of the chair. He hit the deck with a thud, breaking a bone in one of his fingers as he tried to break his fall.

"FUCK!" he yelled.

"You ready to start talking Jack?" Keaton asked, hovering over his sprawled body.

"Fuck you man! This isn't right."

"Nor is fucking with a federal investigation," Keaton snapped back

Mike DeVito feared it would come down to this. He stood back and watched as the physical pounding was just beginning. Jackson Smith had picked the wrong FBI agent to mess with and he was paying gravely for the mistake.

"The man in the video, Jackson who is he?"

"I can't say, man."

Keaton came down with a breath-taking blow to the mid-section. Jackson withered around the floor of the interrogation room, clutching his stomach. He slowly got on all fours, and started laughing uncontrollably. Like a lunatic, screaming, "Is that all you got?"

Keaton sent his right foot into the side of his stomach, knocking him flat on his left shoulder. However, Jackson kept on laughing as he rolled onto his right shoulder. Keaton was about to kick him again, but Mike DeVito ran in and slammed him against the wall.

"What is wrong with you dude! You need to calm your ass down, Max. Do you want to get fired?"

Keaton struggled against DeVito's hold but he was no match for Mike DeVito. He might be very explosive, but Mike DeVito was much stronger than he appeared to the naked eye. He held Keaton against the wall effortlessly, as Keaton attempted to break his hold.

"Get off me," Keaton growled.

"No chance man. Not until you calm down a bit."

Keaton knew he was right. DeVito wasn't about to let him go the way he was acting and all he was doing was draining his own energy by continuing to struggle. He relaxed and eventually DeVito let go of him.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good," replied Keaton. He eyed the battered punk, Jackson laying on the floor. He wanted to rip his fucking head off, but he made a promise to behave himself.

"Have someone come lock his ass up. Let's see how long he lasts in a federal penitentiary."

Mike DeVito pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and punched the dial key. He spoke briefly into the mouthpiece. Moments later, two heavily armed men rushed in, grabbed Jackson by the crook of his elbows, and escorted him out. He yelled in protest about his civil rights and his right to an attorney. But neither Mike DeVito nor Max Keaton heard anything. It was just another bird chirping away to them.

# CHAPTER 35

**I'D JUST GOTTEN BACK** to station from working with Carla, when I had an urgent message from my assistant, Lindsey. She told me that some guy called looking for me. He didn't want to leave a message, as she worded it "that wasn't his style of introduction". She'd definitely piqued my interest for this guy. I was hoping that it was Kayla Stewart's parents calling back on an update. Unfortunately, there was nothing to update them with. We hadn't caught the Coed Killer and our only leads have been dead ends. But when Lindsey handed me the number that the guy had called from. I knew exactly who the person was or at least where he worked.

I was on the phone or more so I was on hold. I'd called the number back to track down the original caller. Finally, after five friggin' minutes a male voice answered, "Sergeant Luckett?"

"The one and only at your service," I answered back. I was in a good mood despite the lack of progress in the Coed Murder case. Carla and I had located the next shipment that The Cartel would be present at.

"Sergeant Luckett, this is Special Agent Max Keaton, with the FBI. I've been assigned to work with you on the Stanley Lewis manhunt."

"Oh right I'd forgotten all about that. Commissioner Wilson did say something about the FBI getting involved," I began. "So have you made any progress because I sure haven't?"

"Actually, yes I have. Stanley Lewis was involved in a bank robbery yesterday morning. But to be more precise, he wasn't necessarily involved in the robbery part he was there no doubt about that. However, he didn't rob anything. He's being framed for the affair. I have a security guard in custody who knows the truth behind the whole thing. His name is Jackson Smith."

This was definitely progress in the matter. I hadn't been that much involved in the bank robbery case, which was the detective's in Robbery responsibility. But I didn't hear rumors about Stanley Lewis being involved but I thought nothing of it. Not until now.

"Looks like the boys in Robbery didn't do a thorough enough job I see?" I said, innocently.

"Looks like. Look I'd like to go over some notes together whenever you have a chance. You can reach me at this number anytime."

"Okay let me check my schedule to see if I have some space to fit you in," I rummaged about my desk looking for my calendar. If I'd opened my eyes, to begin with I would have seen it staring me in the face. It was big enough. "Let's shoot for tomorrow around lunchtime."

"It's a date, I mean, I'll see you then."

I laughed. Was Mr. Special Agent hitting on me? I think he was.

"I knew what you meant Agent Keaton. See you tomorrow." I hung up quickly. My heart was slamming against my chest. I was feeling like a contestant on one of those blind-date shows. The ones where you're set up with dream boys from heaven. I was getting a tingling feeling deep inside when Detective David Graham rapped on the door. God, two gorgeous looking men this was like a two for one deal. Heck yeah!

"Am I interrupting something, Sagittarius?" my partner asked.

"Not at all," I lied. Hell yeah you're interrupting something. You're interrupting my day dreaming extravaganza.

"Good, because I have some breaking news for you. You might want to hold on to your seat for this one." In addition, he told me the breaking news.

# CHAPTER 36

**AS GRAHAM TOLD ME** the heart wrenching news I started to shake all over. My sister, Justine, was murdered! I couldn't hear anything else Graham was saying. All I could think about was my poor sister. Justine. Justine and I had always been close, we hung out anytime the job wasn't interfering with my plans, which it always did, ironically. It had been over three months since I'd heard from my sister. I felt bad for not realizing the effect of our distance could've had on her. She was my only sibling and now she was dead. As usual, no one had seen anything. My sister didn't have any enemies that I knew of. So why was she killed? That question kept pinging off in my head for the next half hour as I sat in a trance, thinking of the fun times I had with Justine. Graham had left me to mourn her death and came back shortly thereafter, with hot cocoa. My favorite hot beverage of all time.

"You feeling a little better," he said as he took the chair in front of me. He was always so gentle when I needed him to be.

"Yeah I'm fine. I just don't understand why someone would kill Justine. I mean she was a good girl; paid her taxes, voted fairly, she even lived in a non-violent neighborhood, Greenwich Village. I have to work this case, David. I just have to."

"I know you do, but Commissioner Wilson isn't going to let that happen. Not with all the prior murders that still need to be resolved. I know it's a hard thing to lose a loved one but you can't let it get you off track. I've seen a hand full of good cops completely lose their marbles after a tragic event and down the drain goes their career and dignity with it. I don't want that to happen to you, Sagittarius. You're too smart for that. If you need some time off, I can manage to get a few things done around here in the meantime."

I didn't want to take no time off. I'd already taken a week off, involuntarily and I wasn't ready to take another. I wanted to find the person responsible for Justine's death! I also wanted to find the person responsible for the Coed Murders. This was a huge dilemma but I'm a big girl and I wear my big girl panties for the occasion.

"Thanks for the kindness, David, but I'll be fine. I don't think I can stand to spend another waken moment in my apartment with a killer on the loose," I confided before continuing, "Do you know who's assigned to Justine's case?" I needed to know. It definitely made a difference who it was. If it were some lazy detective who deemed it wasn't top priority well then I'd deck him in the face.

"Detective Michaels is on the case," my partner in crime replied. Michaels was a straight nailed cop who could get the job done.

"Is Michaels at his desk?"

"No he's working the case."

"I need to call him and see what's going on. I need to be rest assured about my sister's murder. She was practically all the family I had left, except for an aunt from Chelsea." I picked up my desk phone and called Detective Michaels.

"Hi, Ellen, can you punch me through to Detective Michaels? It's urgent," I said to his partner Detective Ellen Samuels. It didn't take long before Michaels' baritone voice came over the receiver.

"Detective Michaels here,"

"Hi Cedric, this is Sergeant Luckett. How ya doing?"

"I've been better but I'm not complaining,"

"Look I'm calling to see where you're at on my sister's case." An eerie silence followed my inquiry. I thought maybe he had a bad connection or something and was about to repeat my question when—

"I, I, I had no idea Justine was your sis, Serge. I'm sorry," he apologized genuinely.

"It's okay Cedric. I just want to know if you've made any progress on catching her killer."

"Not yet I haven't. I was interviewing some of her neighbors and nobody had anything bad to say about her. However, one thing did come up that I want to check out. An ex-boyfriend from college, Julius Williams."

I knew the guy. My sister had dated him all through her years at Fordham University. I remember staying up half the night talking with her about what a good guy he was. Certainly, he couldn't be the killer, could he?

# CHAPTER 37

**"DOES THE NAME RING** any bells?" Michaels prompted, breaking me out of my brief reverie.

"Yeah it does. I was just thinking about how much the two of them were in love. I don't think he's involved in her murder, Cedric. After they'd broken up two years ago they continued to be friends." I was wiping away escaping tears that were streaking down my cheek. This was unbearable, indescribable.

"You okay, Serge?" Michaels asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'll be okay," I said between uncontrollable sniffles. "Can you just keep me in the loop on my sister's case, please?"

"Yes ma'am,"

I disconnected the call. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to trash my office; throw every case file in the air. I was PMSing. It was my time of the month and I was dreading it under the circumstances. I was instantly burning up as if someone had turned up the heat. I looked up at the ventilation duct. Air was blowing out. I got up and stretched my hand up to make sure. Yep, it was working just fine. So why was I roasting like smoked ham on Christmas? I figured that it was hot flashes, the only logical explanation to my current situation. But it was more to it than that.

Graham had left while I was on the phone with Detective Michaels, sort of giving me some privacy, like the exceptional gentleman that he was. I decided it was time to clear my head from everything; case files, my sister's tragic death. I put on my navy parka and wrapped my matching scarf around my neck. I left my phone and every other distraction at my desk. I needed complete solitude. I walked out the station's glass-metal doors and tucked my hands further inside my jacket's pockets, as the icy cold wind whipped across my face. I walked due North toward the White Horse Tavern. Not really an ideal place to go on the clock but I needed a drink. Just one drink. I decided to go to the White Horse because no other cops went there so no one would ask questions. In addition, the last thing I needed was for some wisecrack officer playing twenty-one questions with me.

I walked into the bar and not one single head turned to see who I was. I could've been a stick up kid from The Bronx and no one would've cared. I made my way over to the bar, where the bartender was cleaning out several shot glasses with a makeshift washcloth. I took my place on a high stool and tried to act as casual as possible.

"What're you having cutie pie," the strange looking bartender said. He was in desperate need of a bath; actually make that two baths in concession. I smiled politely despite his stank that made me want to cringe.

"I'll take a shot of Jack, on the double."

He smiled a toothless smile and said, "Big girl aren't ya? Well, I'll tell ya what first one's on the house. You don't look no more than one-hundred pounds soak and wet."

Ah, ol' toothless was a wager, huh? Too bad, he doesn't know this girl too well. He was lucky I wasn't off duty or I'd be drinking free drinks all night. I'm one-hundred and forty pounds and I stand at five foot six. I was definitely a big girl and I knew how to handle my liquor.

"If I wasn't mistaken it sounded like your wagering me, mister." I did what every girl did to get a free drink and began twisting my finger between my hairs.

"I'm a gambler by nature, miss. I can't help myself." He leaned forward and immediately regretted the invitation. His body odor was not the only thing in need of rectifying; his breath carried a pungent odor as well.

"Well, Mr. Bartender they do have addiction programs for gambling addicts downtown. You should go to a couple of meetings, cleanse yourself completely." He sort of got the indirect hint when I said, "cleanse". He scrunched his face up and took a couple steps back. I guess I wasn't getting any drinks on the house?

"You going to get started on that shot or what?" I asked at the bartender.

"That'll be five bucks," he said slamming the back of his hand on the counter.

"But you said my first one's on the house?"

"I had a little change of heart, tough luck."

I leaned forward on my forearms, my legs dangling and said, "You wouldn't be lying to a law enforcement officer would you? Because if you are there's a hefty penalty for that and it includes whatever I decide to attach to it. How does ninety days in the Metro Correctional facility sound to you, Mr. Bartender?"

"You know officer," he began. "On second thought I think I'll start pouring that Jack Daniels for ya. Don't worry about the five bucks," he said after I offered to rectify him with a little five bucks of my own; a stay with New York's finest that's a dollar for each borough.

"Thank you Mr. Bartender." I sat back down on my stool and enjoy every drop of the shot of Jack Daniels.

# CHAPTER 38

**THE GIRL OPENED THE** front door and a hard object hit her. She went down, throwing her hands out to break her fall. It was pointless. The blow she'd just received had blinded her with its force. She didn't even see her attacker. Suddenly, she felt something; she felt hands probing amidst her body. Seconds later, her shirt was ripped open, exposing a blue Victoria Secret brassiere. She tried to yell for help but a hand was over went her mouth, keeping her quiet. She struggled against her assailant but he was too strong. She felt cold hands go underneath her bra, caressing her breasts. She tried to open her eyes _. My eyes are open!_ However, all she kept seeing was darkness.

Her assailant tugged off her pants followed by her matching blue panties. She felt fingers probing the inside her vulva. The finger probing was strangely arousing her. She kicked wildly, to fight off her attacker. She hit something that caused her assailant to yelp. She'd managed to nail the rapist in the groin. For an instant, she was free. She quickly pulled up her panties, followed by her pants.

She still couldn't see a thing, which was more than scary. She could hear her assailant somewhere behind struggling to his feet. She knew her apartment well and moved quickly. However, she wasn't quick enough as her attacker caught her left foot. He was rougher with her then initially. He yanked both her feet from beneath her. She fell back down. He was on top of her now. She could feel the heat coming from his body.

He grabbed her with both hands, around the head and slammed her head into the hardwood flooring. She blacked out. The Attacker turned her over on to her stomach and yanked her pants back down. He buried his face inside her rectum. He started probing her anus expertly with his tongue. In seconds, he was rock-hard. He crammed his penis inside her anus and climaxed inside her moments later.

He went to the bathroom in search of soap. He found a scarcely used bar of Dove. He grabbed a nearby washcloth and lathered it with soap. He commenced to clean any semen residue that would be discovered later on. He opened his specially made suitcase and pulled out a non-poisonous snake. He wanted this girl to live to tell the tale. He licked her anus one last time to savor the taste before letting the snake run free inside her. He left the unconscious girl propped up, fully dressed, against the wall. He set up the room to make it look as if she had tripped and hit her head.

He knew the snake wouldn't cause any internal damage but would more than likely be the early cause of her coming to. He gathered up his things and made for the door.

I was feeling loose after my shot of Jack Daniels. Everything was foggy. I waltzed through the station's doors like there wasn't a worry on the planet. I greeted everyone as I walked down the hall to my office. This got me a couple of confused glances, mainly because I don't ever act so socially, at least not at work. Detective Graham was sitting on the other side of our shared desk, reading over a case file. He'd been given the Coed Murder case since I was tag teaming it with his girlfriend, Carla Davidson. Carla and I haven't heard any more about the drop location. We assumed that The Cartel was going to make a personal appearance. It wasn't a norm for The Cartel, our CI, Sandy had told us. I sat down in front of Graham.

"So what's new?"

"Well as you know the FBI has stepped in. I've tried to call Agent Max Keaton but he hasn't returned my calls..."

I had just remember that I was supposed to be meeting up with Agent Keaton at noon! I looked at my wristwatch and seen that I only had fifteen minutes to spare. I searched my memory files for the exact location that we'd agreed on. We hadn't agreed on a location! I scrambled about the desk for his number and thankfully, it was stapled to my calendar. Graham kept shooting me strange looks as if I'd lost my marbles.

# CHAPTER 39

**"I WAS SUPPOSED TO** meet him today. You mentioning his name reminded me of that." I assured my partner. I caught Agent Keaton just in time.

"Sergeant Luckett," Keaton nearly practically yelled into the receiver. "I was just getting ready to give you a ring. Are we still on for lunchtime?"

"Actually I may be a little late. Plus we didn't agree on a place to meet."

"How about the Starbucks Coffee on Broadway?" he offered.

"I'll be there."

"I'll see you then," he hung up.

Graham was glaring at me.

"So when was you going to tell me you and Mr. Feebie were hooking up, for coffee?" he said. I could sense a little jealousy in his voice. Boys will be boys, I suppose.

"David we're not hooking up. We're just going over the case that's it."

"In a Starbucks cafe?"

"Yeah nothing wrong with that people do it all the time. It very discreet."

"So is the conference room down the hall, Sagittarius," he snapped back. He folded his arms in front of his chest and fixed me with a devilish glare.

"Would it make you feel better if I let you come with me?"

He seemed to be thinking about it.

"Actually that would make me feel more than happy," he finally answered. "Let's go."

I rolled my eyes as he bounded for the door like a kid at a candy store. I was right behind him seconds later. The wind outside was cranking up. The gust of winds from earlier were like acupuncture treatment compared to now. I cranked up the heat as soon as we got inside my Jeep.

"What is the matter with you?" Graham asked, looking at me from a profile. I was getting ready to throw the car into gear.

"Nothing's wrong with me, relax," I half giggled, half said.

"Then why're you turning the heat on full blast?"

"I'm cold, David,"

"This is typical New York weather for this time of year,"

"That may be true but it doesn't change the fact that I'm freezing over here."

Graham gave up. We drove to Broadway and I saw a lone customer off to the side. I assumed it was Agent Keaton. When I disembarked from behind the wheel recognition crossed Keaton's face. He'd seen me before? How? I walked across the street, bumping my knee against a car parked too close to the corner of the street. Graham held the door open for me and I walked inside the much cooler Starbucks.

"Goddamn! What is it with people turning up the A/C when it's nearly fifty degrees outside?" I wanted to know. It was getting ridiculous.

"Will you relax," Graham whispered near my ear, "we're in a cafe. You can't be causing a scene like that."

"Oh be quiet," I hissed.

Agent Keaton walked over, extending his hand as we shared pleasantries. We took up a table in the far corner and got down to business.

"Stanley Lewis isn't our guy," Keaton began.

"What do mean?" Graham asked. "Witnesses said they saw a person that matched his description."

"And I'm not disputing that at all. I have a security guard that was working that day, in custody. It took a while to get it out of him, but he told me it wasn't Stanley Lewis who robbed the place. It was someone trying to frame him. Someone that obviously knows something we don't and I'd like to find out what."

"So what's plan?" I asked, leaning forward.

"I want to put together a surveillance team to monitor all three Lewis' involved in the case. I want to put extra eyes on Chester Lewis. I was reading his file and I came across something rather interesting."

"What?" I prompted.

"Chester Lewis and his sister were molested as kids. Chester went on to molest his cousins, all which were older than he was," Keaton said.

"So why wasn't any of this in his record?" I asked.

"Because his sister had the charges buried so deeply that if you looked up his record you wouldn't spot it."

"So she covered up her brother indecent behavior so she wouldn't look bad as a prosecuting candidate?"

"Exactly. I had a buddy of mine did some digging and also learned that Chester had attempted to rape his sister?"

"Who?"

He smiled.

"Michelle Lewis, of course."

I stared at the man in front of me as he exposed the dark secrets of one of my closest friends. I had to admit I was appalled. Michelle Lewis wasn't all as innocent as she seemed. I had to confront her about this the next time I visited her. I was planning on marching down to the Metro Correctional and confronting her about what a fool she'd made me. I've been trying to help her out and I was being played the entire time! Well not anymore.

"Sergeant, what're you thinking about?"

I didn't feel like expressing myself.

"About your surveillance contingent," I lied. I wasn't thinking about no goddamn surveillance contingent. I was thinking about manipulation from the person I considered my friend. I needed to shrink my circle a little more.

# CHAPTER 40

**I MARCHED DOWN TO** the Metro Correctional Facility to speak bluntly with Michelle Lewis. I was still feeling the sting from the news I'd received about her deceitfulness. I'd confided in this woman for nearly five years, since she'd became a powerful prosecutor. I went through the normal routine of being frisked, waved by a metal detector. Once cleared, I hurried to the elevator bank. This is going to be quite an interesting conversation, I kept thinking. I was finally getting my interview and luckily, it wasn't with a vampire.

The elevator doors opened and a wave of nervousness hit me. I walked quickly to the visitation booth and waited for Michelle Lewis to appear. She appeared and looked completely surprised at my visiting. I didn't blame her.

"What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be out looking for the man who framed me?" she said, incredulous.

"Actually, I'm here to discuss some very disturbing news that was brought to my attention. I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts before continuing, "I had a meeting with the FBI today, to be more precise, an agent named Max Keaton. I'm sure you've heard the name. Anyway, he's been assigned to the Stanley Lewis case. And he told me about your brother, Chester." I searched her face for a hint of surprise. Nothing.

"What about him?"

"Well for starters I learned about the molestation he encounter when the two of you were kids. I also learned that you covered his sexual crimes when you became such a prominent prosecutor."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"Do I? How about the lies you've been telling about how innocuous your brother is. 'My brother wouldn't harm a fly'; 'My brother is a good man'. Shall I go on?"

"CO!" she hollered for the Correctional officer outside the door. "I'm ready to go back to my cell!"

"Yell all you want Michelle. I'm not leaving until I get what I came here for and neither are you. That correctional officer has been informed to stand sentry until I knock on that door. So, tell me why you covered up your brothers' sexual outburst against all those women who shunned him?"

Michelle Lewis glared back at me, defiantly. I didn't give a damn. I don't scare easily. I glared right back.

"I can sit here all day, Michelle. You will not leave this room until I'm satisfied. No bathroom breaks, meal breaks, nothing."

"Why do you want to know why I buried those charges, detective?" she finally asked.

Detective? Wow, that was a new approach. I guess we aren't on a friendly level anymore.

"Because I have reasons to believe your brother is a sadistic rapist with a sick revengeful approach to being rejected. You've heard the details of the first two murders Michelle. Now let me tell you about the latest. Her name was Danielle Pickens, twenty-three, a graduate from NYU. She was naked in a storage unit near the Hudson. She'd raped, sodomized, then sodomized again with a live snake. I'll spare you the rest, but know this; the killer didn't kill her.

"It was the snake that did the trick. She died from heart failure due to panic driven by the phobia of the snake. I think your brother is behind it. He's also been taunting the entire NYPD by leaving lethal snakes at our houses and inside mine—"

"Liar! I will not sit here and listen to your lies!"

"Then tell me something more convincing Michelle," I said, calmly. "I have nothing else to go on but what Agent Keaton has told me. What would you do if you were me?"

"I wouldn't make wild accusations about one's family member that's for sure. I'd do my job and look at every possible angle."

Spoken like a true prosecutor.

"So give me some suggestions. Give me something solid to go on; something I can bring to Agent Keaton that contradicts his theory."

"Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps this Agent Keaton is the mastermind behind the whole thing and using you as bait? His little gofer. It's been done before what's to say it won't happen again?"

# CHAPTER 41

**SHE HAD A POINT** there. A few years back, an FBI agent had conned the entire Federal Bureau. She was a very convincing killer. It had taken the Bureau eight years to catch her. She later received the death penalty. She was executed two years later.

"I'll take that theory into consideration. Let me ask you this, why didn't you report your brother's attempted rape on you?" She looked as if I'd slapped her across the face. I should have with all the lies she'd stacked up. However, I only fight battles that I know I can win and fighting Michelle Lewis would only jeopardize the investigation.

"Who told you about that?"

"None other than Mr. Keaton himself. You should do better when hiding stuff from the Feebies. They have some real brainiacs up there in the Hoover Building. So tell me why he tried to assault you?"

She was quiet for a spell. I thought she was going to give me the silent treatment. But several minutes went by and she finally looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Growing up I would let him have sex with me. It wasn't right I know, but I was traumatized from my father molesting us. I thought I was supposed to have sex with Chester like my father had said. I had been having sex with Chester all through high school. I thought I was doing what my father told me to do. The bible said: 'Thou shalt obey thou mother and father'. I was obeying Sagittarius." She was crying profusely now. I couldn't bear to hear more of her horrible childhood.

"But," she continued wiping away the tears roughly, "when I got accepted to Fordham University. I finally came to realize how wrong I'd been. I starting dating this guy and I slept with him the first time we met. I felt dirty. Then one afternoon, my brother, Chester had come to see me. It had been a whole year since we'd seen one another. I brought him to my dorm room and that's when it happened."

"When what happened?" I knew what she was getting at but I wanted her to tell me, not wait for me to piece it together.

She stared down at her hands. I have to admit I'd never seen Michelle Lewis so broken. She was practically in agony.

"He raped me. I tried to reason with him by telling him that we'd been wrong to be sexually involved with each other. He ignored me and shoved his hand down the front of my pants, and started fondling me. I succumbed to him and we had sex just as we had before. I felt embarrassed and scared to report it. Therefore, I told one of my roommates about it and she promised to not tell. But apparently she did anyway."

"And it's a good thing she did or else we wouldn't be able to solve this case. Listen you need to tell me where he is so we can get him the help he needs."

"I can't Sagittarius. You have to understand what that would entail."

I knew was a hard thing to do, telling on your sibling, but it was going to help her in a sense.

"In order for me to continue to help you. I need to know where your brother is Michelle. Does he have a different address than the one listed in his records? C'mon help me out here, for old time's sake." I was desperately ready to close the College Coed case for good. I had too many open cases to deal with to be focus solely on this one.

"You get me out of here and I'll take you to him, personally."

"Michelle you know I can't do that. Just give me an address or something and I'll take it from there. He won't be hurt I'll make sure of it."

"Unless you get me out of here Scott free then we don't have a deal, Sagittarius." She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Well I guess I'll just have to go give Candice Spencer an exclusive interview about your apprehension."

I stood to leave I thought she'd fall for the bait. But she didn't. Apparently, she knew me well enough to know how much disdain I have for Candice Spencer. My knuckles rapped on the steel door of the visiting booth and the door was opened. I walked, in a trance, to the elevator bank. I couldn't believe what Michelle Lewis had gone through as a child. She was strong in the courtroom but that was just a front. She had learned over the years how to become fearless in the courtroom. If it was me I couldn't confront rapists, murderers. I considered myself a tough cop, but I wasn't no Lynda Carter, who played Wonder Woman in 1975's television version of the superhero. I found the same officer, Officer Nunez, at his post. He waved me through and wished me a good rest of the day. I waved back and said, "Thanks, you too,"

I walked across the busy street, where commuters were on their way to back from lunch breaks. I found my Jeep Cherokee parked where I'd left it over an hour and half ago. I happily climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. I was going to have a field day with this case. I wasn't looking forward to encountering Chester Lewis again, after our first meeting. He was a sick, perverted psychopath who'd raped his older sister for kicks. I had absolutely no respect for him. I placed a call to Agent Keaton informing him of my hour and half-long meeting with Michelle Lewis.

"So she opened up to you just that easily?" he asked once I relayed the message.

"Well, it took some coaxing it was no walk in the park. But she still wouldn't give her brother up even after admitting how monstrous he is."

"It's a bonding thing siblings have with each other. It's nothing personal, it's just their way of protecting one another," Keaton said, melodramatically.

"I hope she knows that protecting him also means getting him some help even if it means jail time. Chester Lewis may be our person for the Coed murders. I'm having someone keep a close eye on Samuel Lewis. I don't want to have my focal point primarily stuck on Stanley Lewis and Chester Lewis. All three of them are persons of interest."

"Be careful Sergeant, I don't want anything to happen to you. I heard about your sister. I'm terribly sorry."

"Thanks," I said. "I just hope she gets the justice she deserves."

"Who's on the case?"

"Detective Michaels. He's a thorough enough cop who knows what he's doing at least that's what I keep telling myself to keep from haggling him."

"Well good luck, I'll talk to you soon."

He hung up. I had pulled my car into my parking spot at the station. I'd gotten emotional at the mention of my sister, Justine. I missed her more than anyone could miss anything. I loved her. She was a good woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I walked up the steep steps to the station. I didn't speak to anyone until I reached my office. Graham was there waiting in his chair. He looked handsome as always: blue slacks, navy sport coat, cream-colored Oxford. Everything looked handsome about him, except his facial expression. He had a sickening look about him. I knew what had occurred while I was gone. I just prayed that i was wrong. But I wasn't.

"He's done it again," Was all my partner said.

# CHAPTER 42

**WE SPED UP BLEECKER** , flying past Bleecker Playground. The Coed Killer had killed a twenty-one year old girl, who lived off Charles Lane, near Washington and Charles Streets. It was no surprise to me, as we halted in front of the victim's apartment that it was a gruesome murder. I ducked under yellow crime scene tape securing the perimeter. I made a beeline over to where Dustin Mosley was talking on his cell. He looked up, saw me, and ended his conversation, abruptly. I probably looked like a mad woman the way I was speed walking up to him.

"Whoa, slow down Sergeant I'm not the bad guy, here. I'm on your side," he said as I came face-to-face with him.

"I know you're the good guy, Mosley. I'm starting to think I'm the bad guy for not catching this animal." I walked past him and into the apartment. I had to see the victim. I had to feel the presence of the killer.

"You can't go barging into the crime scene without protection," Mosley said from behind. He'd caught me by the crook of my elbow. I'd forgotten all about putting on the baby blue booties and matching latex gloves. I guess my visit with Michelle Lewis was getting to me more than I'd expected.

"Right." I grabbed a pair of gloves from a techs' back pocket and a pair of booties from Mosley. I hopped from one foot to the other putting on the booties. I got a few snickers from the guys as I hopped around looking like a real bad dancer. Finally, I stepped into the crime scene, the air thick with the smell of decay. The victim's body was propped up against the wall in the foyer. Her lifeless eyes stared forward as technicians snapped picture after picture of her unfortunate circumstances.

"Any idea who she is?" I asked one of the techs snapping pictures.

"Her name's Susan Garrett," the tech said. His name was Carlos.

"Susan Garrett? Did she own the place; I mean is her name on the lease?"

"Yes, but she's a co-applicant. Her mother, I presume, is on the lease as well. Sharon Garrett, according to the landlord she's just a co-signer."

"Any idea where Mrs. Garrett is residing at?"

"No ma'am,"

I left Carlos to finish up while I went in search for the property owner, Kevin Tooter. Such a funny name for a man who looked excessively serious to be a property owner. Kevin Tooter was trying to reassure his other tenants that everything was fine when I walked up to him.

"Mr. Tooter?" I called.

He turned.

"Oh hi there detective, what can I do for you?"

"I need the contact number for Susan's mother, Sharon. I need to inform her of her daughter's murder and I'd like to ask her a few questions." Kevin continued his reassurance by fanning his hands downward. He walked me over to his apartment, which was his office as well. He pretended to busy himself with useless paperwork. Finally, he found Sharon Garrett's number and handed it to me.

"Here you are detective. This is such a tragedy she really was a good kid. Paid her rent on time, never caused any disturbances. Why would someone want to kill a girl like her?"

"I don't know Mr. Tooter but I'm going to find out. I appreciate you giving me Mrs. Garrett's number. You've been a good help." I walked out of his apartment. I looked around before pulling out my phone and called Mrs. Garrett. She didn't answer the first time. I called again and thankfully, she answered.

"Hello?" came the shaky voice of Mrs. Garrett. I was starting to think she'd already received the news of her late daughter.

"Hi, I'm Sergeant Sagittarius Luckett from the NYPD. I'm calling on the behalf of your daughter..."

Before I could finish Sharon Garrett screamed into the phone. "NOOO! Please tell me it's not my Susan! Please!"

# CHAPTER 43

**I WAS HEART-BROKEN**. THIS was the worst part of the job and I hated it. I let Mrs. Garrett vent as much as she needed to. Once she'd finished I continued, "Susan was murdered sometime in the past 24 hours. We haven't found the suspect but we're not going to stop looking for him until we do. You have my word. I do need you to meet me down at the station for some questioning."

"Okay...I'll be there shortly,"

I disconnected the call. I leaned against the wall and shed a few tears of my own. I was dedicated to the job, sometimes a little emotionally dedicated. However, I'm only human and I have true feelings. I pulled myself back together and joined the others. Dr. Draco Kozak had arrived in my absence. I tried to gain my composure before he saw me. I didn't want him to see me like this. I didn't want anyone to see me like this.

"Detective?" Dr. Mozak said, as I walked in the room. He was hovered over the victim's body.

"Another day in paradise huh?" I said jokingly. He looked at me as if I was crazy. Ouch!

"It seems that Ms. Garrett was killed within the last thirty-two hours or so. I want know exactly until I get her body back to the University."

University was short for the NYU Medical Center, where the medical examiner's office was located. It was going to take another twelve to twenty-four hours before I would hear something back.

I nodded.

"Okay just give me a heads up when you know something." I walked over to where Graham was standing. I felt a little bad for not speaking to him much at all today. Even though he understood my situation, I still felt like he deserved an apology.

"Hey, bud," I said as cheery as I could muster.

"How're you feeling?"

"Depressed," I answered. "Listen, I feel like shit for not talking to you a lot today. It's just been hard on me with my sister's death and all."

"I understand perfectly well what you're going through. I'm not holding any grudges or anything. I'm just happy that you're feeling better."

We hugged each other right there in the middle of the crime scene. We got some awkward looks from our fellow colleagues. But we didn't care we were partners and partners who cared for one other.

"Susan!" someone yelled behind the posse of detectives and crime scene technicians. I turned and saw a middle-aged woman making her way toward the crime scene. I knew who it was; it was Mrs. Garrett. She'd bypassed meeting me downtown and optioned for a much more personal approach. Several technicians tried to keep her at bay but she wasn't having it. She swatted their hands and continued through the throng of police officers. I walked down to meet her before she had a chance to see her daughter's body.

"Mrs. Garrett?" I said from the top of the stairs. She looked at me and I felt as if she were looking through me. Her eyes looked vacant like no one was home.

"Mrs. Garrett, I'm Sergeant Luckett, I spoke with you earlier," I continued. She appeared to have recognized who I was.

"I know who you are detective but I'm here to see my Susan. My dear Susan." She had tears streaking down her cheeks.

"I understand why you're here Mrs. Garrett, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to return to your vehicle and wait for me there. This is an active crime scene and no one is allowed here except for police personnel." I walked with her to her car; it was an E-class Mercedes Benz. I had no idea what Mrs. Garrett did for a living but she was wealthy enough to start some mess over her daughter's murder. I had to play this one very carefully.

"This is a nice car you've got here."

"Thank you detective. Now tell me who killed my daughter?"

"Well I was wondering if you could shed some light for me in the matter. Did Susan have any boyfriends or friends who would want to harm her in any way?"

"That's it!" Sharon Garrett suddenly exclaimed. "That's who killed my baby,"

I was confused.

"Who?"

"Samuel Lewis, a boy she'd been dating that I was completely against from the start. I tried to tell her that boys like him envy girls like her. Wealthy girls that is. Samuel lived in a much more lower class neighborhood. Susan thought that moving here from the Hampton would make her feel more on his level." I was shocked by her disdain for the not-so fortunate people in the world. Not everyone can eat off a silver platter and a silver spoon. I was beginning to form my own opinions about Mrs. Garrett and they weren't very pleasant ones either.

"Samuel Lewis is just an innocent kid I'm sure," I lied. I didn't know if he was an angel or a murdering lunatic. He was under investigation for the Coed murders. But I didn't want Mrs. Garrett to know that because she'd definitely start some noise about her daughter's murder.

"Oh he's innocent alright. That's why my daughter is lying dead in her apartment." She started for the car door. I stopped her.

"Mrs. Garrett don't be quick to jump to conclusions let us do our job. And I promise you we'll bring justice for your daughter."

She laughed.

"The NYPD? Justice? I never knew you fools believed such a thing. People were murdered left and right and now, you want me to believe you will bring justice for my daughter's murder? Please detective, I'll have more luck finding justice in the middle of Iraq."

In addition, with that she gotten behind the wheel and slammed the door in my face. She drove off nearly running over my feet in the process. I stood there with my hands resting on my hips and shook my head. Some people will never learn how hard it is to catch killers, rapist, and robbers. It's not as simple as counting to three or hailing a cabbie.

Graham walked over. He had a big grin on his face and I was trying to determine what he was grinning about.

"So what'd you do to piss her off?"

I shrugged.

"Nothing. I just told her that she couldn't be here and that I'll try my damnedest to find her daughter's killer. She didn't like what I had to say, says the NYPD doesn't know a thing about justice. She also believes that Samuel Lewis was behind her murder, mainly because he envied her daughter's upbringing."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Sagittarius. Let's just hope she doesn't go all vendetta on us."

"It wouldn't be wise on her part. I told her to just let us do our job—"

"Sergeant Luckett," Mosley's voice came from behind. He was out of breath when I turned around. "We've found some semen near where the body had been."

Finally a break in the case.

"Okay get it over to the lab and run some tests on it. And as soon as you have a hit call me immediately," I told Mosley after he'd showed me the splotch of fluid near where the victim had been. He probably would've found it earlier but protocol was that only the ME was allowed to move the body, for obvious reason. I was feeling hopeful now that the killer had slipped up. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would. Moreover, if Mrs. Garrett's theory of Samuel Lewis being behind the murder/rape we'd know for sure in a few hours.

I had a couple eyewitnesses to question. I walked across the street and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, an elderly woman answered and offered Graham and me inside. We didn't take much of her time seeing that she was in the middle of cooking.

"We're sorry to disrupt you during your cooking but we just want to know who you seen leaving Susan Garrett's apartment the evening she was murdered," I said.

The woman took a sit along a white leather seat. She crossed her legs elegantly and introduced herself as Ms. Kelper, then searched her memory for a few moments.

"I'm getting old you know, so my brain doesn't function like it used to." She shifted her in her chair. "But I do remember that a fairly tall man had left Ms. Garrett's apartment after being inside for I don't know, a half an hour or so. Ms. Garrett I assumed knew the fellow because she let him in after giving him a hug. I didn't hear any screams or nothing out of the ordinary. And then a little after eight o'clock the young man eased out the house being rather too careful not to make a sound as he eased the door closed. And that struck me as odd. Why be timid about such a thing detective? Unless of course he was having an affair and was afraid of being caught." Ms. Kelper was a very observant woman who paid close attention to detail. I thought that maybe she'd been a detective for New York some years ago. She had an exquisite detector.

"Ms. Kelper, do you recall what this young man looked like? What he was wearing that might've caught your eye? Distinguishing marks of any sort?" I asked. I could smell something burning in the kitchen. Ms. Kelper stood up to go investigate.

"Give me a second. I don't want to burn the house down." She shuffled out of the living area and returned shortly after. "Okay darling, what was it you asked?"

"Do you remember what the young man leaving Susan Garrett's apartment looked like?"

"Oh right. Let's see, I do remember that he walked a little funny. Like something was wrong with his legs or maybe a leg. He had on dark clothes. It was dark out when he'd left and I only seen the backside of him when he arrived. But I do remember the funny way he walked."

We thanked Ms. Kelper for her help and took our leave. Graham and I had been thinking the same thing once we were outside on the porch.

"I'd say our guy is an older man or someone is a real good actor," Graham said on the porch. We walked back to my Jeep and clambered inside. All the crime scene technicians had packed up and left by the time we finished our interview with Ms. Kelper. Susan Garrett's apartment look vacant, ominous. My phone vibrated inside my pocket. I fished it out and looked at the caller ID. It was Dustin Mosley, probably calling from the lab.

"Tell me you got a hit," I said bypassing any pleasantries.

"We've got a hit alright. You're not going to believe this Sergeant. Can you meet me at the lab?"

# CHAPTER 44

**PROFESSOR IAN WILLIAMS LIMPED** along to his apartment, a block from NYU campus. He had a tutoring session with Kelly Newton. He liked Kelly a lot and wouldn't mind if they made passionate love instead of going over biology stuff. But you must behave yourself, he told himself. She is a student and it is against school policy for students and their professors to mingle. Williams had been aching for Kelly Newton; she was one of his best students after all. She was brilliant, smart as a wizard.

Nevertheless, Kelly Newton suffered from a phobia called Ophidiophobia. It was a rare phobia mainly because half the population of the world feared the slithering creatures. But a small percent of those people are completely petrified of the creatures and have been known to hyperventilate or go into a panic by the very sight of one. Williams knew all about her. He'd done an extensive background on her and her family. He liked to know all of his brightest student's background.

Williams took out a frying pan; he was going to make a stir fry cuisine. He's favorite and Kelly's. He chopped up a breast fillet into little bits and raked them into the pan. The bits of fillet sizzled, sending a sensational aroma of cooked poultry into the air. He was about to mix in the rice when the doorbell rung loud throughout the apartment.

DING DONG!

He sat the opened bag of rice down and walked over to let his guess inside. Kelly Newton looked dazzling in her tight blue jeans, American Eagle V-neck, and flat shoes. She smiled gingerly and greeted him kindly.

"Hi, professor I made it." She giggled nervously.

"Come on in, I'm in the middle of cooking dinner. Care to join me?"

"It smells really good what is it?"

"Oh it's just some stir fry I'm whipping up. One of my favorites."

"Mines too,"

_I know sweetling_ , he thought.

"Make yourself at home. There's a remote control somewhere over there. Watch whatever you'd like."

"Thanks." She was starting to relax a little. Nothing creepy about him so far, she thought.

Williams had finished up in the kitchen and had started setting out plates and silverware. He made sure that Kelly got an extra helping of the stir-fry.

"Dinner's ready," he called after Kelly, who was watch the new season of "The Bad Girls Club" on the Oxygen channel.

"I'm coming." Kelly paused the show and walked over to the kitchenette. The food smell wonderful and Kelly mouth began to salivate. "Mmm, it smells good," she announced.

"Thank you,"

They sat down to eat. Professor Williams poured himself a glass of red wine. He offered to pour Kelly a glass but she held up a hand. "I'm not really into the whole wine and dine thing no offense."

"None taken Ms. Newton. So tell me, what your plans are after you graduate?"

"I don't know yet to be honest with you. My dad wants me to take over his share of the business. He's a financial attorney for a big law firm in Upper East Manhattan."

"But you don't have any financial experience, do you?"

"No not really but I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard to learn. But I told him that I want to do something in the medical field. Maybe a surgeon or something."

"Well they do make a lot of money but they also have a lot of pressure as well. Having someone's life in your hands can be no easy task. One nervous tick and oops you just hit a main artery. Have you considered becoming a teacher maybe even a professor?"

"I've thought about it but really not real appealing. I don't think I could deal with all the students and their obnoxious behaviors. You know you're not creepy at all like everybody thinks."

"Oh?"

"Yeah everyone in class thinks you're some weirdo or something. I had my suspicions too but you're okay."

"Thank you Ms. Newton I'm touched really." He stood up, cleared the table of the dishes, and brought out his Biology textbook. It was time to change the subject a bit, he thought. I can't let my body lose control.

He took a deep breath and asked, "Shall we begin?"

# CHAPTER 45

**IN NEW YORK CITY'S** top crime laboratory, located just off East Twenty-Sixth Street, me and Graham had been hovering over a microscope. When Mosley said: "You're not going to believe this," I didn't think of what I was looking at was a possibility. The "semen" collected from the crime scene was that of a mammal, a dog to be precise. The killer/rapist was toying with us, making this into some sick demented game. I didn't find any of these murders fun or playful at all.

"So you mean to tell me that this asshole used a male dog on the victim?" Graham asked.

"No," Mosley answered. "I called Dr. Kozak and had him check the victim's vaginal area thorough for any tears that would be cause by a human."

"And?" I prompted.

"She was definite raped by a human. The dog semen was just there to throw us off." I wanted to scream. I couldn't catch a break with this case to save my life.

"Has the mayor gotten word of this?" I asked.

He nodded.

"According to my source he plans on holding a press conference tomorrow morning. You're expected to be there to show the city of New York that everything's under control."

"I'm what?"

I hated press conferences. It was another way for the media to take shots at the NYPD for everything wrong in the city. I wished Mayor Johnson had of informed me of such things. I knew there was no way I could talk my way out of this, none.

"I need to go speak with the mayor personally," I announced as I reached for the door handle. Graham decided to stay back with Mosley.

I found my Jeep and headed towards the mayor's office on Broadway. I braked hard in front of the building and ran up the steps to the office. I spoke with the mayor's assistant, Margaret and told her it was urgent. She called the big man himself and told him I was waiting to speak with him. She hung up and led me to his office, which was decorated, with various certificates, credentials, and medals. He had a picture with President Obama hanging behind his desk. He was on the phone when I walked in but ended the call abruptly and stood to greet me.

"How's it going Sergeant it's good to see you. How's it going with your sister's case?" I had forgotten all about my sister's murder until now. Dealing with another dead female student and her raging mother had distracted me severely.

"Everything's moving forward. How're you holding up after your wife's murder?" I countered.

He looked grave.

"It's hard at times but being Mayor of New York has taught me how to move on in life. Listen, I know why you're here and I'd like to apologize but I need the people of the city to see that the NYPD was keeping them safe." That was another way of saying, "hey I needed a fall guy and who better for the job than you, the detective on the case." Politicians can be great con men; it's unbelievable. They never stand up for what is right and what was considered their responsibility. Instead, they rather take the easy way out by setting up a fall guy. Like yours truly.

"So what is the press conference in reference to?"

"Just to answer some of the city's eager questions about the Coed Killer. They need to be rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to apprehend him. They need to feel like everything isn't going to shit over this killer."

I'd learned years ago, that press conferences was nothing like what Mayor Johnson stated. Press conferences were held when an investigation is spiraling out of control. The Rodney King beaten is a good example. Most of the concerning question asked by the public are pre-calculated by the press conference writer. We're told what to say in response to each question rather it's the truth or not. That's another reason why I despised press conferences it was nothing but holding a meeting to tell the city an entire lie regarding the status of an investigation.

"With all due respect sir, I think the people of New York need to know the truth about this investigation. I'm going to tell them what's really going on. How the entire NYPD is baffled by the killer."

"Are you willing to accept the consequences that follows your bold acts of honesty, Sergeant?"

"With pleasure,"

I knew what the consequences would be. However, I was willing to risk my career in order to tell the city I'd swore to protect the truth. Like my mother used to say to my sister and me, "The truth will set you free but a lie will always keep you looking over your shoulders."

I left the mayor's office the same way I let myself in. I felt great to be a little rebellious for a good cause. I stopped short when a man leaning against my Jeep asked, "Are you Sergeant Luckett?"

I nodded and the man pulled out a gun, stuffed it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

# CHAPTER 46

**I RUSHED OVER TO** where the suicide victim lay against my Jeep. Blood was pooling around his body. I was very confused by what had just happened. Some people would've been in a state of shock, but I was a veteran homicide detective and sometimes people killed themselves for no apparent reason. I had a bad feeling about this one. I swear I've never seen the guy in my life but the fact that he knew my name sent goose bumps down my spine. Why'd he killed himself after confirming I was Sergeant Luckett? Sirens blared somewhere nearby. I was completely oblivious to the EMTs, blue-whites, and fire rigs rushing to the scene. I wanted to know who this man was. Why'd he killed himself to begin with?

With all the commotion going on I wasn't surprised to see Mayor Johnson storming out of the glass-metal doors. He looked haggard, completely thrown. He seen the victim then he seen me. He made the connection easily enough.

"Sergeant Luckett, what have you done?" he asked making a beeline through the onlookers. "What is the meaning of this?" He pointed at the dead man missing half his face.

"What the hell does it look, sir? It's a dead man."

"What's he doing leaning against your vehicle?" I knew he wasn't making the implications that I thought he was.

"He was leaning against my car when shot himself."

"And you honestly expect me to believe you had nothing to do with his shooting of himself?" I couldn't believe I was hearing what I was hearing.

"Sir, this man asked me if I was Sergeant Luckett and I told him that I was then he pulled a gun from his jacket and I pulled mine for obvious reasons. And that's when he put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger." I could sense that the mayor wasn't buying my story.

"We'll see when the ballistic report comes back. I just find it hard to believe that a kid like that would kill himself. My theory is that you were overwhelmed with the pressure from the Coed Killer and the press conference tomorrow morning. You got trigger-happy when you saw this guy here by your car. He may have pulled a gun first but you shot the first bullet."

I walked away. I couldn't believe the mayor was trying to pin this guy's suicide on me. He was yelling for me to stop but I just ignored him. If he thought, he had a crutch to lean on for the press conference he'd better think again. I hopped behind the driver's seat, started the engine and pulled away. I was heading over to the station to ensure that the ballistic report touched my desk first before anyone else's.

If there was a connection between my sister's murder and the man who committed suicide. It was an eerie thought but a logical one. Ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the station. I had to tell Graham the mayor's theory of me going completely vigilante.

"So were you there when the guy killed himself?" Graham said.

"Weren't you listening to what I was saying? I told you I saw the whole event. I think he's connected to my sister's murder, David. I mean why else ask who I was then shoved a loaded gun down your throat if not?"

"And you said Mayor Johnson thinks you killed the guy from stress? He has no idea what it's like to be a cop on these fucking streets. All he gets to do is sit in his little office and take phone calls and attend fancy banquets," I could tell Graham was mad as hell at the mayor's allegations. I was like his pet; you didn't mess with me unless he gave you the okay.

"Chill out David and call Mosley before you leave and make sure nobody sees that ballistic report until I've seen."

"No problem, boss. You hitting the Brass Monkey tonight?"

"Maybe later on, why? You tagging along?"

"If I can get Carla away from the tube for a bit, yeah."

"I'll send you a text when I'm ready to head out, then."

"See ya later."

# CHAPTER 47

**I DASHED OUT THE** door. I was ready to hit the haystack for a little catnap. I made an illegal U-turn and headed for my apartment. I entered my place for the first time in the last eighteen hours. My kitten, Gizmo was meowing away as I bypassed her to lock up my Glock. I knew what she wanted; she wanted some affection. She wanted me to pet her. I stooped over and lifted her into my arms, "Hey my Gizmo. Did you miss me? Hmmm? Well I missed you," I kissed her on the nose. She licked me with her rough tongue, her way of saying "I missed you too". I filled her bowl with Frisky cat food. She made her little pit stop for a refill.

I headed upstairs, shedding my clothes along the way. I was completely naked by the time I made it to the bathroom. I let the shower get hot enough for me to bear, and then I stepped under the prickling waterfall. I was cleansing myself of all the problems in this case. I was washing away all the gruesome memories of those victims. I shut the water off and held my head down to let the water drip from my head.

Once I stepped out of the stall, I felt entirely cleansed. I felt rejuvenated, revived. I wrapped myself in a towel and flopped down on the bed. I flipped through the channels to find something of interest until I was ready for the bar. I came across the movie _Life_ starring Martin Lawrence and Eddie Murphy. It was one of my favorite movies. I caught the movie close to the beginning where Martin and Eddie's characters are on their way to prison for killing a white man. I set my alarm just in case I fell asleep. As I watched the movie, I drifted off into a deep sleep.

I was dreaming about Justine, my sister. We were sitting in Christopher Park talking about our plans for the following day. A man I'd noticed kept looking our way. I wasn't thinking much of it, just some guy enjoying the sun. The guy stood up and walked toward us. He had a gun in one hand and a New York Times in the other. The combination of the two items struck me as odd, but I reached for my Glock all the same.

The guy got off a few shots one of those shots struck me in the shoulder. I fell across Justine to protect her. I had to protect her from the shooter! The shooter was on me in a heartbeat. He knocked my Glock out of my hand, and then grabbed me around the throat. I was on the verge of blacking out from lack of oxygen. I clawed at his vise grip but it was no use. I kicked the man in the stomach and he loosened his grip just enough for me to slide my hand in to break his hold.

The guy hurried to his feet as I tried to catch my breath. He was running out of the par, trying to catch a transit bus. I whispered to my sister that I'll be back not noticing that she was dead. I ran hard and fast trying to close to distance between me and the shooter. He made the bus. I missed it. I chased after the bus until my lungs began to burn. I hunched over on my knees letting off a string of expletives. I was so close to catching up to him. I stalked back to Christopher Park, back to where my sister was awaiting my return. As I came upon my sister I seen blood, swell around her chest. I could've sworn that she was okay before I left. I stooped beside her and cradled her in my arms. She was bleeding profusely now.

I bolted upright in the bed. I'd sweated in my sleep. I checked my watch: nine o'clock. I rushed into some pants, threw on a shirt and got myself ready to head to the Brass Monkey. I placed a call to Graham letting him know that I was on my way to the bar.

"Be there in a jiff," Graham said. I knew what that meant. He was probably going to beat me there first but I didn't care. I put on a pair of tight blue jeans, a nice fitting shirt and some spaghetti strap heels. I was looking good I must say, as I admired myself in the vanity mirror. I just hope some of the guys thought the same. It had been too long since I'd made love to anyone. In addition, with all the stress from these cases I was in need for a good stress relieving adventure. Hence, the provocative attire I was sporting. I took out a bottle of "Obsession", sprayed the mist into air, and walked through it. Elegance. I put my Glock in my purse and bounded out the door.

I pulled up at the bar about the same time Graham and Carla pulled up. We waved at one another and found side-by-side parking spaces. We walked abreast; making Graham feel like the luckiest guy in New York. He swaggered about like some cute version of Brad Pitt.

"Don't get big headed now," I warned. "You may be cute but you're no playboy."

We all laughed good-heartedly. I'd never been anywhere outside of work with Carla but she was shaping up to be very pleasant to be around.

"Who're you looking all snazzy for?" Graham wanted to know.

"If you need to know I like to get my groove on every now and again. This girl needs to get laid." The words slipped out before I could filter them. It was the truth. I suffered from a high sex drive.

"Hey cutie pie," someone called out as we entered the bar. It was Agent Keaton! What the hell was he doing here?

"Keaton? I didn't know you drank?"

"Not that often. The Bureau doesn't allow beer guts," he joked.

I blushed. He was staring me right in the eyes. He had beautiful blue eyes.

"You two have fun," Graham called after us. He and Carla were heading to bar and maybe the dance floor afterwards. Carla was a great dancer, sashaying her hips like Shakira.

I was all alone with Agent Keaton I realized. I was starting to feel funny inside. Maybe it was because I was all alone with a gorgeous FBI agent or because I wanted Agent Keaton to make love to me. I had morals and I wasn't about to sleep with some guy who I'd only met once excluding tonight. But God, he was a looker.

"You want to get a drink?" Keaton prompted. He sounded a little irritated as if he'd repeated his question twice.

"I'm sorry. Sure I'll take a drink,"

"Okay. I'll have a Blue Motorcycle for the lady and double shot of Cîroc for me," he told the bartender.

"Oh I've never had a Blue Motorcycle maybe you can just give me what you're having," I said. The bartender gave me a strange look then looked at Keaton as if he was my father and this was my first rodeo. The bartender obviously didn't recognize me out of uniform being that I come in here frequently after the work. I didn't bother to enlighten him either.

"You heard the lady. She's old enough to order whatever she likes."

"Alright two double shots of Cîroc coming right up," the bartender said. He did a little fancy flick of the wrist, tossing the bottle in a cartwheel motion, and then catching it with the same hand as it spilled its contents into the shot glasses.

"Here you go. Enjoy,"

"Are you sure can handle that much liquor?" Keaton asked me.

I shot him a disapproving look.

"I'm a big girl Keaton. I can handle anything you can handle."

"Is that right, detective?"

"It sure is. Now quit beating around the bush and drink up." I slapped him in the shoulder, playful but not hard. He lifted his glass, nodded his head, and then threw the shot back. He must have Irish in him, I kept thinking. I threw back my shot then slammed the glass down on the counter.

"You want to dance?" I grabbed his hand before he gave me a sure answer.

"How about another round first then I'll be loosened up a bit."

We order three more rounds instead. I was definitely tipsy. But I was comfortable with it because my friends and this handsomely good-looking guy surrounded me.

# CHAPTER 48

**I WOKE UP THE** following morning feeling blissful as ever. I was about to go to the bathroom when I noticed that I was naked! I never fell asleep naked unless—someone groaned next to me I rolled over and seen a mop of blond hair. Oh my God! I'd slept with my partner! The blond hair became more noticeable as Agent Keaton stretched and yawned.

"Good morning?" He grinned. I can't believe I was in bed with Agent Keaton. No wonder I woke up feeling refreshed. I rubbed my hands between my legs and noticed how moist I was. Perhaps, Mr. Keaton was indeed a good lover.

"I need to run to the bathroom then if you'd like we can have some more sex. But after that, there will never be another night where we end up in bed together. I have a pet peeve about sleeping with colleagues and I've break my own rule." I padded over to the bathroom. I peeped inside the trashcan in search for a condom wrapper or a used condom. I didn't see any. Shit! We'd fucked unprotected. I buried my face in my hands. I needed to make an appointment for the health clinic as soon as possible.

"Is everything alright in there?"

"Yeah I'm fine just having a major meltdown is all," I called back sardonically. And I was, I never have unprotected sex with anyone unless we were together long enough that I knew you weren't swapping fluids with someone else. I felt dirty. I had to march out there and confront Keaton about the importance of condoms. I wanted to know if and why he spent himself inside me. I wanted to know why he hadn't used a condom to begin with. I'm thirty-one and I still use condoms.

I walked back into my bedroom. It was interrogation time.

"Why didn't you use a condom when we had sex last night mister?" I asked my hands on my hips. I was still ass naked but I didn't care. I wanted an answer.

"We did use a condom; you practically shoved a condom on me before you went down on me."

Wait? What? I don't go down on complete strangers; I almost never did that.

"Then where's the condom or the wrapper?"

"It's right here." He searched under the sheets and revealed a used condom or so he expected me to believe.

"Give me that," I marched over and snatched the condom from his grasp. It was definitely a used one all right. Semen residue was all over my hand. I threw the damn thing on the ground, wiping my hand on my leg. "You better have another one or else we're not doing it again."

He pulled a Trojan from his pants pocket, ripped the top off and put the condom on his penis. I could see he was rock-hard under the sheets. I walked over and straddled him. I took his penis in my hand and guided him inside me. I was still sore from the night before and instantly felt the soreness. We went at it for the next thirty minutes. I was going to be late for work but I wanted to finish what I started. Afterward we lay next to each other staring up at the ceiling. I was oozing semen of my own. I ran to the bathroom and wiped myself. I turned on the showerhead and ran back to the bedroom.

"Do you mind changing those sheets while I'm in the shower?"

"Sure. Where's your linen closet?"

I pointed next to him.

"Right there." I dashed back into the bathroom and stepped inside the stall. I lathered myself thrice before rinsing off and stepping out to towel down. I wrapped my hair up in a towel and walked to my closet for my work clothes. Keaton was an expert at sheet changing; my bed looked like it was suffocating from the tightness. I wondered how many sheets Mr. Keaton had changed.

"Is the shower good and hot still?"

"Maybe a bit too hot for you to handle Mr. Keaton," I smiled.

Ten minutes later, we were in my Jeep. He'd left his car at the bar stating that he didn't think, "I was fit to be driving". That's probably how he ended up in my bed in the first place. Sly devil you. Men were so cunning when they wanted to be. However, I wasn't complaining I enjoyed my morning tryst.

# CHAPTER 49

**"DO YOU NEED ME** to take you by the bar to pick up your car?"

"If you don't mind that would be greatly appreciated."

I parked in my designated parking space. I was still a little sore as I walked across West Tenth Street to the station. I'd dropped Keaton off at his car so he could make to the FBI office downtown. I didn't expect to see Graham in for another fifteen minutes. But I was surprised when I walked in our cubicle and he was feverishly hard at work. He was starting to make some ground on the Coed Killer. He was keeping it to himself. I was temporarily off the case so it was his for the moment. He and Keaton had been watching both Chester Lewis and Samuel Lewis. Samuel was supposed to be brought in for questioning after his last class ended at NYU. He hadn't heard about his late girlfriend. We was testing a theory before we told him about her murder. If he was the killer, he was a great actor. He was still keeping a "B" average in all his class, which was good for a law major.

"So did you fuck him?" Graham asked as I was sitting down my bag.

"Yes, father. And I fucked him good," I joked. As I mentioned before Graham tends to think he's my guardian angel. My Gabriel. No one gets though my front door without his saying so. Sometimes I wonder if he's the Sergeant and I'm the obedient detective.

"Was he respectful?"

"He changed the sheets for me if that's what you mean."

"I mean he didn't force himself on you?"

"David you know if any man tried such a thing they'd be dick-less. Now are you going to tell me why you're here so early?"

"To be the best you have to out do the best,"

"I'm not sure I follow,"

"I'm thinking this Samuel guy is getting cocky. I mean yeah it would be a stupid move to kill your girlfriend knowing you will be suspect number one. But if you're a cocky sonuvabitch, you'd kill your girlfriend then play completely innocent when questioned. I'm preparing for him if he tries."

This is why I fought for him to be promoted to detective. Graham had an eye for detail and I admired that about him. It took Commissioner Wilson a while to give in but once he was promoted, Commissioner Wilson hadn't regretted the move yet.

"So you're thinking Samuel is involved in the murders as well?"

"Yes and no. He's managed to come up with an alibi that's solid as shit. I'm starting to think his mother is lying about him being home so he doesn't get in trouble for breaking the curfew."

"It does make sense," I said. "A struggling mother protecting her young. Plus if he were the killer living off campus that is a convenience for him."

"Yep, but what if he's working with someone?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What if say, he and Chester are working together and they're using Stanley Lewis to take the blame for it all."

"Yeah but there's one missing puzzle to that theory: why would Stanley leave the area without telling us about his whereabouts?"

Graham mulled over that one for a bit. He hadn't noticed that missing puzzle piece.

"Okay scratch that theory. I still believe someone is setting Stanley Lewis up and that's why he's on the run."

"That's what Agent Keaton believes also after reviewing the surveillance footage. Jackson Smith finally gave him a name. Some guy named Preston Morales, ever heard of him?"

"Nope. Doesn't ring any bells."

"Well keep working on it. I'm going up to Narcotics to run the name by Carla."

"Tell her papi said hey."

I was giggling all the way over to Narcotics. I didn't stop until Carla looked up from her desk, questioningly.

"What's so funny?" she asked, a pen poised in her slender hand.

"Your papi," I giggled.

She gazed at me confused. "My what?"

"Your papi," I repeated. "David told me to tell you 'your papi said hey',"

She blushed a rose red. She and Graham have been calling each other all sorts of lovey dovey names lately. Last night at the Brass Monkey, she'd called him "Sweet meat". I didn't ask what she meant. I just went with it. They were madly in love. And I wanted that kind of love but seemed to find it so elusive.

"Well I guess I'm going to have to have a little talk with my papi later on." She smiled a toothy smile. "So what's brings you by? I haven't heard anything else about the drop spot if that's what you're here for."

"Actually, I came to see if you ever heard of a Preston Morales?"

"The name does ring a bell. Here let me check our records." She started pecking away at her keyboard. After a minute, she looked up.

"Preston Alonzo Morales, born in '81 in Spanish Harlem. Several B and E's, grand larceny in '01, served two years in Riker's. Busted for several pounds of marijuana six months after being released. I knew his name rang a bell somewhere. He's also a runner for The Cartel."

"We think he's trying to throw the Coed killings investigation. Do you have a mug shot of him?"

"Yeah." She clicked the mouse and blew up a mug shot of Preston Morales.

"I think that's the guy from the bank robbery surveillance footage. I don't know for sure but if my memory serves me right, he's the one from the footage. Can you print me a copy so I can cross reference it?"

"Sure no problem," she clicked her mouse a couple times and a printer sounded somewhere from behind. I rushed over and snagged the photo from the printer. It was definitely the guy from the surveillance footage. I thanked Carla Davidson for her help. I rushed back over to my division. I had the golden ticket to the Chocolate Factory.

# CHAPTER 50

**THE GHOST WAS ON** the move again. He'd successfully confused the hell out of Sergeant Luckett the other day with the suicide. He'd been only a couple steps behind her. He could've taken her right there in front of the Mayor's office. The thought of killing the detective made him yearn even more for her fate. The Cartel was supposed to meet with him in thirty minutes, that was enough time to make another kill, he thought. He was eyeing Sandy as she tried to act normal.

He knew all about Sandy's past: the prostitution, the coke addiction, her new job as an informant. She thought she was a real slick bitch. However, she wasn't slicker than The Ghost; he was slicker than a can of oil. He'd seen her come out of the Sixth Precinct station two days ago. He knew she wasn't there filing a complaint; she was snitching. The Cartel was notified of her disloyalty. He had no other choice than to place her name on his list. The Ghost offered to do the job, stating that he was sure to make her last moments as blissful as ever before he gutted her.

The Cartel had postponed the drop for two more weeks from its original date. However, he made sure to play along with Sandy's game of manipulation. He didn't want her to know he was on to her. That would cause her to go into protective services. In addition, you don't go into protective services when you're dealing with The Cartel. Right now, Sandy was giving a blowjob to some guy in his car. The Ghost noted that it was indeed an undercover cop. The "blowjob" was just a ploy. It was her way of blending in while she parlayed all The Cartel's information. Clever. She exited the car, taking something that resembled cash for her duties. But it wasn't cash; it was a note folded up like cash. The Ghost had caught her reading a note from an undercover two nights ago, that's how he knew she wasn't that good of an actor.

The undercover pulled off and The Ghost pulled in his spot. He rolled down his window and called her over. "Hey honey why don't you come here a second let me talk to you,"

Sandy looked around as The Ghost was talking to someone else, "Who me?"

"Yeah you come here baby,"

Sandy cautiously advanced on over to the passenger window.

"What can I do for you?" she asked seductively.

"I want a blow job. I saw you giving that guy a decent blowjob. I want one."

She looked around nervously.

"Okay how much you got?"

"Twenty bucks,"

"Okay." She climbed into the passenger's seat. And The Ghost was on her.

He jammed his fingers between her legs while bringing a knife to her throat. Then he said in a raspy voice, "Didn't mama tell you never get into cars with stranger?" He sliced open her throat right there in the passenger seat of his stolen car. He wiped the car down of any fingerprints. Then he slammed the knife into her chest, for good measure. He looked at his wristwatch; he still had fifteen minutes to spare. Talk about a record kill.

I'd burst through the doorway to the office I shared with Graham. I was waving the photo I'd gotten from Carla earlier that day, around like the American flag. Graham fixed me with a puzzled look that read: "What is your problem?" I knew he would feel just as excited once I told him what I uncovered.

"This is the man from the bank robbery. The guy in the surveillance footage," I said, winded. I flopped down behind my computer to send Agent Keaton an email before trying to call him.

Graham squinted at the photo.

"So who is he?"

"His name's Preston Morales. He's one of The Cartel's runners on this side of town. Carla looked up his record to see if he had a rap sheet. And boy he had more than a few ticket violations that's for sure." I explained everything Carla and I had seen on his background and how Narcotics had him on their radar.

"So he was the one holding the gun in the bank robbery?"

"Well according to Keaton he is. Jackson Smith, the guard I told you about uttered the name after making a deal with the U.S. Attorney General. Whoever this killer is he's going through a lot to not get himself caught."

"You know I never remembered to ask: were you not able to get a good look at the guy who put the snake inside your toilet?"

"Not really. I've talked to the sketch artist and he wasn't able to match any faces to any mug shots."

"Maybe we should get him to match a face with this Preston Morales guy,"

"Good idea." I picked up the phone. "And do me a favor call Detective Michaels and see if he's made any progress with my sister's murder."

# CHAPTER 51

**I CALLED OFFICER REGAL** , our sketch artist for the Sixth Precinct along with several others. I asked him to cross-reference my description of the guy who'd place the venomous snake in my house with Preston Morales. He told he'd get back to me in a few and I said, "Okay". I hung up and looked over at Graham. "Well?"

"He just said that there's no leads as of yet but that he's working diligently on the case,"

It had been three days since my sister, Justine, was reported dead. I was hoping that something would have come through on her case. I got this eerie thought that my sister's murder was somehow connected with the Coed Killer. It was a revelation that I yearned to not have any truth behind it. My computer icon was flashing for my Gmail account, Keaton had finally emailed me back. I quickly opened the email, eager to see his reply. Instead, I was hit by a wave of nausea. The picture on my screen was gruesome enough to make anybody with a heart for animal sick. Gizmo, my kitten I'd bought a week ago was nailed to my front door. There seemed to be some sort of note attached to her. I zoomed in on the note and I froze as I read the two words repeatedly:

YOU'RE NEXT!

I was in a trance. I staring at my Gizmo hanging from my front door. Somehow, this killer was getting intimate with me. He'd found a way inside my house! He'd killed an innocent creature. I hadn't noticed Graham standing over me looking at the email. It wasn't until he touched my shoulder with his hand that I realized he was there.

"We need to get to your place now!" he said, grabbing his coat.

I sat there glued to my chair. I couldn't believe it, first my sister now my Gizmo!

"Sagittarius?" Graham prompted.

"I'm coming," I said standing up slowly.

We bounded down the front steps of the station and hopped in my Jeep. Graham drove this time. I wasn't in no shape to drive. We sped toward my apartment near Christopher Park. I held on to the dashboard as Graham weaved between cars. We braked hard in front of my apartment. I rushed out of the passenger side and froze once my eyes landed on the front door of my apartment. There wasn't a dead kitten nailed to my door. In fact, there was anything nailed to my door. I looked over at Graham who was seething.

"I don't understand," I said, crying.

"Stay here."

He walked up the steps his feet splashing on the rain-soaked steps. He scrutinized the front door thoroughly. He was looking for evidence of blood I was certain. Finally, he turned to me and said, "I don't see no blood whatsoever. Maybe the killer was just trying to get to you. Here, let's go inside."

I walked up the steps, house key in hand.

We entered my apartment. I hadn't been home since earlier this morning after having sex with Agent Keaton. The place looked lonely and dark. I reached for the light switch. Nothing.

"That's odd. I could've sworn I paid the light bill last week,"

"He was here alright that's the only logical explanation there is. He was probably hoping you'd be coming home late by yourself. Completely vulnerable."

I listened as Graham spoke of the terrible misfortune I was sure to have stepped into if not for that disturbing email. I hugged myself and thanked God for protecting me. Suddenly, there was a rustle. Someone was still inside. Graham heard it too and raised his Glock. I had mines drawn as well. My heart was pounding against my chest as I walked further inside my apartment. If the killer was still here, he had a small advantage over us; he could be hiding in a small alcove somewhere. I forced myself to think of happier thoughts but it wasn't working that well. Urgent footsteps rushed past us. We let off a few rounds at the attended target but we didn't have luck on our side in the dark. The front door flew open and a tall figure moved swiftly out into the night. Graham and I rushed over to try to get a shot off while the intruder ran through Christopher Park. However, by the time we got into position he'd vanished almost into thin air. Like a phantom

# CHAPTER 52

He'd gotten away.

**I COULDN'T BELIEVE THE** audacity this killer had. Graham and I had been in the same room as the Coed Killer! I had dispatcher put out a BOLO on him. I gave her a very vague description of him: tall, fair skinned a noticeable limp. I hadn't been able to see more of him because of the darkness of my apartment. Graham had demanded that Commissioner Wilson place a security detail around my place. It didn't go over well with the Commissioner but he got Wilson to grant to security detail.

"You mean to tell me you woke me up in the middle of the night for a security detail?" I overheard Commissioner Wilson yelling at Graham. The Commissioner was pissed.

"Sir, with all due respect, but I fear that this killer isn't going to stop coming after Sergeant Luckett until he kills her. I'm just asking that you put two patrolmen stationary for her sake." I heard Graham respond. I was watching his facial expression. I could tell that Commissioner Wilson was succumbing to the fact that my life was in danger. Finally, I seen Graham close his phone and sigh heavily. He walked over to me.

"Well?" I prompted. I was eager to hear what Commissioner Wilson had to say.

"He doesn't like the whole thing one bit, says we don't have the budget to spare two officers. But he okayed it anyway. He's making some calls now and expects someone to be outside your house in about fifteen minutes." Graham looked completely defeated. I could see this killer was taking a toll on him too.

"You're not staying here until they arrive, are you?" I wanted to know. After the unexpected events of the night before with Agent Keaton, I didn't trust myself alone with another law enforcement officer.

"Yes," he said. "I'm staying here until one of them shows up,"

"Really, David you don't have to I'll be fine. Trust me."

"I have no problem staying Sagittarius and besides Carla hates it when I come home late, it wakes her up."

"How do you know she isn't already awake right now? Maybe waiting for some sex? Who knows," I was trying to get him to go home, even to his car. Anywhere except for my place. I understood how much Graham loved Carla. I didn't want to jeopardize their relationship over unwanted sparks flying between us.

"I tell you what; I'll stay in a squad car across the street. How's that?" he suggested.

"Perfect,"

Soon after I'd gotten rid of Graham's company I went back inside and tried to concentrate on why I was being targeted by the Coed Killer. Who was he really? Did I know him? Did I do something to piss him off? Those questions kept circulating inside my head until I finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

The following morning I'd woken up drenched completely in sweat. Did I have yet another dream about the Coed Killer? I didn't know for sure but I knew I wasn't drenched in sweat because I was hot; it was forty something degrees outside. I padded to the bathroom for a quick shower before work. I left Graham a voice mail to let him know that I wasn't going to be in until lunchtime. After my shower, I dressed moderately, grabbed my keys and headed downtown to visit my former confidante, Michelle Lewis. I wanted to see if she'd reconsider and tell me where I could find her brother.

Traffic was backed up at nine that morning, early commuters trying to beat the morning rush hour. The traffic was inching forward one inch at a time. However, after ten minutes I was able to take a detour and arrived at the Metro Correctional Facility about a quarter after. There was a different Officer standing sentry. Her name was Officer Kevlar according to her lapels. She was looking rather chirpy might I add to be spending her time guarding the city's jail.

"Good morning Officer," I said as she waved me through the metal detector. "I'm here to visit Michelle Lewis," She gave me a distraught look like I'd spit in her face.

"That one," she said, shaking her head. "She's in the 'hole'. Bitch tried to attack one of the guards the other night. Nearly cut his eye out with some makeshift shiv."

"Really? So I take it she can't have visitation albeit she's under investigation?"

"Negative. But if you'd like you can visit someone else."

She was grinning hard.

# CHAPTER 53

**"NO THANKS," I TURNED** and walked away. I had to get in there and speak with her. I needed to see if she'll tell me where her brother is hiding out. I pulled out my phone to check and see if there were any messages for me. Nothing. I punched the "Three" button on my speed dial and waited for Agent Keaton to answer. After he didn't answer the first time, I called again.

"You must have nothing better to do than to blow my phone up, Sergeant. What's up? I'm a little on the busy side right now." Keaton spoke firmly into the receiver. I flashed on how firmly he had spoken to me the night we'd made love. He definitely enjoyed being in control.

"I want to know why Michelle can't have visitation while in the segregation. She could tell us where her brother's hiding."

"Sagittarius, if she was going to be forthwith about her brother's whereabouts don't you think she would've the last time you talked with her?"

"Okay but the point of the matter is this; we need to catch this killer before he continues to rack up the body count all over New York. It's a strong possibility that Chester Lewis is our guy. Even you agreed about that."

"I also agreed that this is a federal investigation and that your role in the matter is nothing more than a consultant. In addition, the only reason for that is that you have a knack for details. Look I'm not trying to give you the boot but it's best if you're on the sideline. The killer is already targeting you don't you get it?"

I hung up. I didn't have time to listen to him rant about a bunch of bullshit. Men and their egos. If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have a case to begin with. The Feds could be assholes about this kind of thing it's ridiculous. I walked quickly to my Jeep a little paranoid that I had someone call out my name before committing suicide. I climbed in behind the wheel and headed to the station. The whole way there, I kept thinking of a way to bypass the jailhouse visitation rules. I was closing my car's door when my cell phone rang.

I answered more annoyed than ever.

"Look asshole if you're going to sideline—"

"Sagittarius Joanne Luckett. That is no way to answer your phone young lady. That filthy mouth deserves a good cleansing."

There wasn't anyone within a 100-mile radius that knew my full name. I didn't expect to be hearing from my Aunt Josephine. She lived close by, in Chelsea. But we hadn't spoken since I decided to become a homicide cop instead of some girly nurse for Brooklyn Memorial Hospital. She strongly believed that being a cop was a man's job. I disagreed completely. Now that my sister had been murdered, she wanted to talk. Great timing, Aunt Josephine.

"Aunt Josephine?"

"Who else were you expecting? The Tooth Fairy?" Her sarcasm was laced by her thick Northern accent.

"Always the sarcastic one, Aunt Jo?"

"And you're always the potty mouth,"

"So what blessings are you bring me on this cold October morning?" I gave her a little bit of my sarcasm I'd picked up from her as a child.

"Unless you're really getting married like the Catholic girl that you are, none. I'm calling about Justine—"

I cut her off. "There's nothing to say about Justine. I'm bringing her justice and unless you're going to be giving me some intriguing information about whom might have killed her this conversation is over." I was starting to get teary-eyed. I didn't like crying in front of people.

"Actually I was going to ask you if you remember her boyfriend from college."

"I remember him why?"

"Well he called me a week before Justine had been killed. He told me that she was scared to live by herself. That she was being followed home every night after work."

"What? He told you that?"

I was completely blindsided by this news. Literally, I was speechless.

"Sagittarius?" she prompted.

"Have you spoken with Julius since her murder?"

"No not really?"

"Not really?"

"I mean I've tried to call him and inform him that something terrible has happened to Justine. But he never returned my call."

I sat thinking for a spell.

"Do you have his address? I'd like to stop by unannounced to talk with him."

"Umm let me see," I heard some papers being pushed around. "Here we are Julius Williams lives in Brooklyn." She continued giving me the full address while I scribbled it down. We said good-bye and I disconnected the call. I was feeling a wave of anger at the thought that my sister's ex-boyfriend knew about my sister's stalker/killer. And he didn't think to call me about it. I stood up from where I was sitting outside the station and walked inside.

# CHAPTER 54

**THE GHOST WAS LAYING** on top of his bed, reading the latest Jane erotic novel. His fiancée, Daisy was showering so he was able to fantasize about the main character in the novel. The character was a black, voluptuous stripper named Candy. The name definitely fit her character, he thought as he read on. He had recently moved in with his fiancée after receiving grave news that one of his closest friends had died. They had grew up together in Albany and had been inseparable as kids. It was a tragedy that had affected him dearly but he was The Ghost and to him feelings went right through him.

Daisy sashayed naked from the bathroom looking beautiful as ever. The Ghost slowly closed his novel. He was aroused. It had been a long while since he and Daisy had made love to each other. Every time she made herself forthcoming, he would tell her he needed to rest for his long day "on the job". She had no idea that his job allowed him to sodomize innocent women he so chose to take. However, tonight he was more forthcoming than ever before. Reading several chapters about a stripper blowing off customers in the "Champagne Room" and giving exclusive lap dances that allowed a customer to go inside her was all it took for The Ghost. He gathered Daisy by the waist and thrust himself inside her, all the while fantasizing about all the women he'd shared this moment with. He even thought of Daisy as Candy from the novel. And that made the love making all the more enjoyable.

After he was done with Daisy, he excused himself to the kitchen for a midnight snack. After he made sure Daisy didn't come down behind him, he let himself into the basement where he kept his variety of serpents. They hissed as he entered almost as if they were saying, "Hello father?" He smiled at the idea and continued. He checked to make sure all of his "other children" were tucked away securely.

"Daddy will come for all of you in due time. Daisy here just has me stuck. I can't seem to come to letting something happen to her," The Ghost whispered to one of the snakes. The snake hissed in response. Telepathy was such an up-and-coming venture, he thought. Who says animals don't understand?

He crept back into the kitchen just in time to hear Daisy walking down the stairs.

"What's taking you so long? I'm waiting for round two don't keep a girl waiting all night," Daisy said, leaning against the kitchen wall, arms folded over her chest.

"After mating a man must quince his hunger," The Ghost said, pulling out sliced smoked ham and wheat bread. "I'll be up in a sec just make sure you're good and ready for me." He kissed her deeply then smack her on the bottom. "Off you go now,"

After another blissful lovemaking experience, The Ghost and Daisy lay panting on the bed. Completely spent. Daisy was slowly drifting off to sleep. He waited until he was sure she'd fallen asleep before he was dressed and headed out into the night. It was time. It's time to quince my hunger, he thought, as he walked through Washington Square. He stopped in front of the University and looked toward her dorm room. It was time to hit home again. In addition, what better way than to start at the very place where it all began?

Graham and I had been cutting up, trying to brighten each other up despite the circumstances. He was telling me about an 11-54, which is police code for a suspicious vehicle. It was a funny story.

"So Officer Macintosh gets a call about a suspicious looking vehicle sitting in front of this old lady's house. He goes and checks it out and notices that the car is rocking back and forth. Therefore, he parks behind the car and gets out. Walks up to the driver's window and sees that no one is up front but the car is running. Then he hears some girl scream 'fuck me papi' and catches two Hispanics having a little too much fun. He raps on the window and the girl just looks up, gives him the middle finger, and keeps on doing what she was doing. Macintosh opens the door and says 'you shitkickers want to tell me what's going on here?' I mean it's obvious you'd think but then he mimics the girl's father. The girl jumped off her boyfriend so quick he thought she was going to go streaking down Broadway for kicks and giggles."

"Really? How did he know what her father sounded like?" I asked. I was in tears it was so funny.

"He said he just improvised once the girl flipped him off—"

# CHAPTER 55

**CARLA DAVIDSON BURST INTO** our office. She had a grave look on her face. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts before she finally spoke up. "It's Sandy," she stammered. Something had apparently happened to our inside person with connection to The Cartel. I've never seen Carla so shaken my entire time working with her.

"What's going on honey?" Graham was out of his seat with his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and shook violently as she tried to tell us what had happened to Sandy.

"They...they killed her, David. They slit her throat and left the knife in her chest. She...she was found dead in a stolen car near Jones Street. It was horrible. Dr. Kozak said she'd been dead for over thirty-six hours. Why did it take people so long to notice her? She was right in the front seat." I knew why people in the city disliked the NYPD and seeing another dead body was like seeing the New Year's parade every year.

"So what now?" I wanted to know. Sandy was our only hope to helping Michelle. Now we had to start all over from scratch. Sandy was a good CI and no one would be able to replace her, but we had to look through the NCIC database for any potential candidates.

"I don't know Sagittarius she was the department's best CI. My lieutenant is in hysterics about her death. My job may be in jeopardy due to her death."

"Baby don't worry about what Lieutenant Braxton is saying about your job being up for grabs. He can't blame you for her death you had no control over that," Graham reassured her. He was still hugging her tight against his chest. It was a rare intimate moment between the two as coworkers. They both looked vulnerable. And there wasn't anything wrong with it. I had to call Metro Correctional to see if they'll relay a message for me. I excused myself, left the two of them in private, and made a phone call.

"Hi this is Sergeant Luckett of the Sixth Precinct. I want to know if there was a way for you to relay a message to Michelle Lewis for me." I spoke to Captain Sergio over at the Metro's administrative building.

"I'll see what I can do for you Sergeant but I'm not making any promises."

"I understand Captain but just tell her that Sandy was killed for unknown reasons she'll know who I'm referring to."

"Sure thing Sergeant."

We disconnected. I wondered if the Captain would actually make an effort to relay the message. It was possible but I didn't expect it to be done. Captain Sergio had soared through the ranks in the Correctional Facility. He wasn't known for keeping his word and some even called him lazy. I wasn't the judging type but he sounded unconcerned about relaying the message. I looked at my wristwatch and seen that it was closing in on twelve o'clock. I had an uninvited meeting with Julius Williams, my sister's ex-boyfriend. I grabbed my coat and headed over to Brooklyn Heights, where Williams allegedly resided. I was going out of my jurisdiction big time. I couldn't bring Williams in for questioning but I could question him casually at his residence. And that's exactly what I intended to do. I took Varick Street to West Broadway, then got on the Brooklyn Bridge and arrived in Brooklyn Heights twenty minutes later. Williams lived right on Cranberry Street. His man cave looked tidy and well equipped with the latest in technology.

I unfolded myself from behind the wheel and walked up to the front door. I rapped my knuckles hard against the wooden door. Williams opened the door and was surprised to see me on his porch.

"Sagittarius?"

"How you doing Julius? Long time no see, huh?"

"Yeah," he said, scratching his head.

"You going to let me in or am I just going to have to stand here?"

"Oh sorry, here come on inside." He stepped aside to allow me access inside. When I crossed the threshold all the high tech gadgets blew me away. Everything from flat screen TVs to the latest Apple desktop.

"If you're here to question me about Justine I can't help you," he said.

I turned to face him.

"Oh you can help me Julius you're the last person she contacted before she was killed. You knew a lot about her situation than my aunt Josephine herself knew. Please have a seat and let's talk. It won't take long just a few questions." I noted that the same nervous twitch he had since first meeting my sister was going crazy.

"I guess I can manage a few questions anything for my Justine," he said taking up a seat in front of me.

Preston Morales watched as Sergeant Luckett entered Julius Williams' brownstone. He'd been following her for the past twenty-four hours. The Cartel had instructed him to keep a close eye on the Sergeant and that's what he was doing. He wrote down the time and date that Julius and Luckett had met. Then he pulled out a Canon Power Shot digital camera and snapped several pictures. After he was done, he called The Cartel and told him what had developed.

"I followed her from the station and she led me to Julius' brownstone in Brooklyn. She's been inside now for over thirty minutes. Should I move in on them both?" Preston Morales spoke quickly into the mouthpiece.

"No. Wait a little while longer. She's closing in on us but not fast. Head back and wait until we have a better time to get her."

"Okay." He hung up. He fired up the engine not caring if the two heard him or not. He headed back to West Village.

"Preston says the sergeant is in Brooklyn. See if you can find anything inside her apartment that ties to us," The Cartel said to The Ghost.

"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment I'll get to it when I'm finished," The Ghost answered.

"You'll get to it now like I've asked you!"

Silence.

"Did you forget? I don't work for you anymore," The Ghost said.

"Lewis, my boy you will always work for me rather you know it or not. I still have those videos of you and your sister that could get some major hits on Facebook or YouTube."

"Leave my sister out of this, Hector. I mean it she's innocent in all of this."

"Then I suggest that you get over to the sergeant's apartment."

"Whatever," The Ghost said, slamming the phone close. He was pissed. The bastard had threatened to expose him and his adopted sister's videos together. The Ghost wasn't having that. No one messed with his MiMi absolutely no one. He started up his car and left the hunt. He'd be back for Kelly Newton some other time. Anticipation is the best orgasm known to man, he told himself as he drove away from New York University.

#

#

#

# 

# PART THREE

#

# GONE WITH THE WIND

# CHAPTER 56

**I WAS CROSSING THE** Brooklyn Bridge on my way back to West Village when thoughts of Julius and my meeting kept flashing in my head. "So you she called you and told you that a man was following her?" I'd asked.

"What're you suggesting Sagittarius? That I'm just making this up as I go?"

"I'm just trying to get the facts right, Julius. So why didn't you contact me about this?"

"Because I didn't want to worry you. It could've been her paranoia of living alone. I knew you'd be busy with all your cases so I went to your aunt Josephine, who obviously let you in on it anyhow."

"None of that still justifies why you bypassed telling me a detective for that matter," I'd gotten completely frustrated with his senseless excuses. I knew Julius was an honest person; he'd always had been.

"Look you came here for answers and now that you're getting them and you're not happy. What else am I supposed to do in this situation, Sagittarius?"

"You should've came straight to me with whatever you knew about her situation. Now I can't help you with not being a prime suspect in my sister's murder. But I will let you in on a little secret of my own. You listening? Okay Julius, I know you didn't kill my sister. We have several suspects who's looking good for the murder of not only Justine but some others."

"Okay I don't get it. Why are you here then?" he'd asked.

"To do what detective's do best detect if something's not adding up. And so far, everything you're saying is adding up. Look I need to be getting back across town before someone recognizes my absence. I shouldn't have to remind you but make sure you don't make any plans to skip town. Regardless of what I've told you you're still a suspect in Justine's murder." And that's when I stood and went for the door.

A man behind me leaning on his horn brought me back to reality. I looked ahead and noticed that I was stopped for no reason. I must've been in deep thought over my conversation with Julius. I punched the accelerator down and moved my Jeep forward across the rest of the Brooklyn Bridge. I got on West Broadway, followed it onto Varick, and was parked in front of the station in no time. From the looks of things, no one had noticed my absence. I hurried across the street and through the glass-metal doors. Graham was waiting for me when I got back along with...wait Agent Keaton? I hadn't seen him since the morning after our little tryst. He'd shunned me from the Stanley Lewis investigation. Now the man I'd once found irresistibly attractive was also awaiting my arrival.

"Keaton?" I still didn't understand his presence in this.

"Sergeant," he nodded at me. "I know this isn't an ideal place to discuss what I'm about to tell you but—"

I cut him off.

"Don't tell me the bastard struck again?"

"Actually, we don't know really. Remember Jackson Smith?"

"Yes, I remember. What about him?"

"He's dead. He was found stabbed to death in his cell. We believe that whoever is trying to set up Stanley Lewis had had Jackson killed for talking with us."

"Any idea who killed him?"

"A guy by the name a Francis Perez. Former MS-13 member now serving a life sentence for two counts of murder."

"You thinking this Francis guy knows Preston Morales?" I asked.

"It's a strong possibility. But what really scared us is the note lying beside Smith's body."

"What?" I prompted. My stomach was starting to knot up badly.

"The note said that if you continue your snooping around people are going to keep dying."

# CHAPTER 57

**MY MIND IMMEDIATELY FLASHED** on Julius. He was next! I grabbed my coat and dash out the station. My car was directly across the street so it didn't take me long to get to it. Behind me, Graham and Agent Keaton was calling after me but I had to warn Julius about what was happening. I peeled away just as Graham slammed his fist against my window. You'll understand in due time, David, I prayed silently. I forced my Jeep all the way up to 80 as I flew down the Brooklyn Bridge, grille lights flashing, sirens blaring. I screeched to a halt in front of Julius' beautiful brownstone. I had an eerie feeling creeping upon me. Something terrible had already happened. I could feel it almost. I didn't bother knocking and drove my foot through the door. The door gave in to the weight of my kick and I advanced past the splintered doorframe. "Julius! Julius!" I called out.

I searched the entire lower floor and still no sign of him. I was about to run up the stairs when something caught my eye. A leg was sticking out from under the stairs. I knew who it was but tried to tell myself otherwise. Julius Williams lay wide-eyed on the floor, his head barely hanging on by a flap of skin. They'd gotten to him before I could stop them. I knelt beside his body and let the tears flow. I had failed yet again. First my beloved sister now her ex-boyfriend. I knew I had to call this in so I got myself together and made the call to dispatch.

"This is Sergeant Luckett of the Sixth Precinct. Badge number 3392. I have a possible 1-87."

"What is your location Sergeant?" the dispatcher asked.

"933 Cranberry Street in Brooklyn,"

"Okay EMTs and medical assistance is en route."

After hanging up with the emergency dispatcher I paced the lower level of the house. I was trying to figure out how they'd gotten to Julius before I did. I was just here less than forty-five minutes ago, I kept thinking. Then that's when I figured it out. Whoever had followed me and after I'd left, they came and murdered him. If only I would've stayed or brought him over to the station for more questioning he'd be alive—

Sirens were blaring nearby I rushed to the front door and seen all the emergency responding officials baring down Cranberry. Neighbors from the entire street emerged on their front porches. I ran out into the street and flagged down the EMTs and fire rigs. A stretcher rushed past me and inside the house. I waited outside for an officer to question me. It was protocol for all responding officers. A young looking Hispanic officer I knew from the Eighty-Fourth Precinct walked over to me. We were good friends despite the fact that we were in two different precincts.

"Sagittarius what's going on?" Officer Cortez Gonzalez.

"I knew the victim Cortez?"

"What'd you mean?"

"Julius Williams used to date my late sister Justine in college. He was killed by the people involved in my investigation over in the Sixth."

"He was killed in retaliation?"

"Pretty much. I'd come over here about an hour ago to speak with Julius about my sister's death. We'd talked for a while and then I left. I got back to my station and was told someone connected to my investigation was murdered in his cell. There was a note lying next to his body that said if I don't stop snooping around people around me are going to turn up dead. So I thought of Julius and rushed over and this..." I was beginning to cry. I couldn't help it. Julius was like family even though he and my sister had ended their relationship a while back.

"It's okay Sagittarius," Cortez said hugging me. It felt good to be hugged.

I wiped the escaping tears from my eyes and continued. "And when I got here I found him dead under the stairs."

"Look why don't you get back over to your station and I'll let Detective Samson know to keep you in the loop about your friend," said Cortez. I thanked him and made the painful walk to my car. I took one last look at the house. Both my sister and her ex-boyfriend Julius had once shared it. I started the car and headed back to the station. I was completely torn up inside. It's nothing like having your love ones snatched away from you. It's sort of like having a knife to the chest. It was time for a much-needed vacation. However, I wasn't going on no vacations until I brought this killer along with his counterparts to justice.

#

# 

# CHAPTER 58

**PROFESSOR IAN WILLIAMS WAS** grading his student's essays on the Human Anatomy all of his students had different views regarding the human body and all its key components. One student in particular, Kelly Newton, had an astonishing way of viewing the human anatomy. In her essay, she referred to it as "God's sacred temple". Williams found that rather cute coming from a girl who tarnishes her "temple" with marijuana and other toxic chemicals. He liked Kelly a lot. She was beautiful, smart, with a warm sense of humor. She understood that life was short and you had to live everyday as if it was your last.

He placed her two-page essay aside for a much closer examination. He was dying to see what "God sacred temple" entailed. He spent several more minutes grading the rest before going back to Kelly's. He read intensely for next five and a half minutes before he finally came to the end. Kelly definitely had a religious viewpoint of the human anatomy. She quoted excerpts from the bible that forbade varies contamination to the body. His interest was piqued when he come upon a paragraph, where Kelly had compared herself to the Virgin Mary. Kelly Newton was a virgin! Professor Williams was completely blindsided by the implications. He had a strong yearning for Kelly Newton and being a virgin only served to intensify the feeling.

He had to take a break from the paper grading. He stood up abruptly, knocking over a can of Pepsi all over the papers he'd been grading for the past two hours.

"Shit!" he cursed to no one in particular. He ran into the kitchenette for some paper towels.

"Damn you Kelly," he whispered to himself as he tried not to smear the ink on the papers. After he'd gotten the remnants of the Pepsi cleared, he went upstairs to get dressed. It was still light out and he needed to get his mind off Kelly and the things he wanted to do to her.

She's your student, for Christ's sake! Get a grip of yourself, Ian.

He'd kept fighting his self-conscious all the way out the door and into the cool night's breeze. It was time for the hunt of his life. It was time he finally lived like there wasn't no tomorrow.

The Ghost had been waiting to take some time off from school to take his fiancée on a nice vacation. Daisy had always wanted to go to Paris, the city of love. The Ghost had promised to take her there some day when he had a couple of weeks away from school. It was a quarter after eleven on a Tuesday night, a school night. He and Daisy both had an eleven forty-five flight to catch to LAX. They were just going there and would be back Wednesday afternoon. Nobody would miss them while they celebrated their one-year anniversary, would they? Of course not.

The Ghost also had other plans on his agenda once they'd touched down in LAX. A nineteen-year-old girl from Oakland wanted to meet him in person. They'd been talking "on the down low" for months now and finally they wanted to meet one another. Her name was Maggie Allison, cute, smart, and very sophisticated. Exactly his kind of woman. She was an undergrad student at UCLA. She was taking up Creative Writing as her major. She'd attended Oakland High School, two years before and was top of her class with honors. Cute, smart, and sophisticated.

"So where are we staying honey?" Daisy asked, as their flight was called.

"Somewhere special, my love?"

"I hope its The Ritz-Carlton," she said gleefully.

"Like I said it's somewhere special, dear."

Perhaps, I could arrange for you to stay in a cardboard box, on Sunset Boulevard. That can be your Ritz-Carlton.

A few hours later, they started to descend at LAX. The Ghost had prepaid for a rental to meet them at the airport's main entrance. He spotted the Hertz rental fifteen feet away and tugged Daisy's arm in the general direction. He opened the passenger's door for her and closed it behind her. He smiled at the day's agenda. He had little time to get it done and over with. Maggie Allison was a cute but tough Hispanic girl but she was ready for The Ghost. He hummed a funny tune as they drove to their hotel. Was it The Ritz-Carlton, you wanted to stay at my dear? Well this is as close to The Ritz you're getting, he thought. He pulled into a Motel 6. The looked on his fiancé's face registered complete and utter shock.

# CHAPTER 59

**"THIS IS WHERE WE'LL** be staying?" she asked with obvious disdain.

"Yep they had a good sale going. And besides they left the light on for us," he replied quoting the motel chain's famous slogan.

Daisy rolled her eyes.

"I hope there isn't any cockroaches or anything in here."

"Trust me honey, this Motel 6 is quite different from the one's we'd acquired for quickies when we first met."

"We'll see." Daisy said. She had been getting under his skin the entire flight. He was ready to kill her right here at the Motel 6. He flashed on the way he wanted to kill her: sliced throat, fingernails torn off, sodomized by a lengthy snake. The icing on the cake, he thought.

"Care to go out for dinner, honey?" he asked trying desperately to get his name off her demise.

"No I'm okay. Not feeling too good, jet lag you know."

"Here honey let me get it," The Ghost rushed out from behind the driver's seat and ran over to the passenger side. "You know I like opening the door for you love," he smiled genuinely.

"Yes I know. I just wanted to go ahead inside so I can lay down for a bit. I'm feeling nauseated."

He stepped aside to allow her to squeeze by. He watched her fiercely as she swayed her hips toward the motel room. Tonight was going to be extraordinary. Hot sex du jour.

Professor Ian Williams had found himself standing in front of the girl's dormitory. Kelly Newton's dormitory. He didn't recall driving or walking here. It was like something from the "Twilight Zone". One moment he was at his apartment grading papers and the next he was standing in front of Kelly Newton's dorm room. You're losing it, my friend, said the eerie voice inside his head. You need to march right back to your apartment right now! However, Professor Williams ignored the voices inside his head. He knocked on the door and prepared for the following events.

"Professor Williams?" Kelly Newton looked groggy as if she'd been woken up.

"Sorry to have woken you up. I was wondering if you would take a walk with me just around the campus. I want to discuss your grades on your essay: The Human Anatomy."

"Umm," she began, looking around. Her roommates were fast asleep. "I guess it'll be alright. We do have a curfew, Professor you know that, right?"

"Yes I do. We'll be back before anyone notices."

Kelly Newton was wary but she went back inside and came back out dressed for the occasion. It was a simple attire: NYU sweatpants, a baggy shirt, slippers and an everyday New York trench coat. She reminded the professor of his sister when she was in high school. He'd dubbed it "The Lazy Girl" attire.

"Ready?" she asked timidly. She was looking unsure about going out this late. And the professor didn't blame her. The good girl has definitely gone bad.

"I'm ready," he said leading the way. Kelly struggled to keep up with his pace. This was supposed to be a conversational stroll. Why's he in a hurry, she wondered as she finally caught up to him.

"So what do you want to talk about?"

The professor whipped around, Kelly took a couple steps back. "Me and you?" he said revealing the Beretta from beneath his coat.

"Holy shit baby, you're extraordinary. I swear you keep getting better and better every time." The Ghost padded out of the bathroom, glistening with sweat. His body was rose red all over. He and his wife-to-be had been at it for the past two and a half hours. Daisy was quite the lover. That's why The Ghost had chosen her when they were first introduced by, Preston.

"Well," she began, blushing a rose red of her own. "I guess I am. I'm starved."

"So am I." He walked over to where his clothes lay on the floor beside the bed. He dressed quickly, throwing the occasional, "Are you dressed" "Hurry up".

After they were dressed and ready to go he asked, "Have any suggestion baby?"

"A friend of mine told me about this placed called Mélisse. It's French it located just off Wilshire Boulevard."

"Well than if you're in a mood for French dining let's hope they have the finest bottle Pinot Noir. When in the mood for French why not go all the way?" He started up the engine. He set his GPS for their destination. A female's voice repeated their destination.

# CHAPTER 60

**THE FOLLOWING MORNING AFTER** the gruesome discovery of Julius Williams' body I was sitting at my desk going over new angles on the Coed murder case. Graham had happily returned the job back over to me and I was equally as happy to have it back. After Sandy, our informant, was murdered a couple days ago, the surveillance team was hesitate to move forward on Hector "The Cartel" Martinez. Carla and I had talked briefly about a game plan to help our dear friend former ADA Michelle Lewis.

"Has your friend from the FBI made any more progress on Stanley Lewis?" Graham asked, taking a timid sip of his Starbucks.

"Actually, Agent Keaton and I aren't on speaking terms at the moment. After he'd stopped me from seeing Michelle the other day, I hadn't thought of asking him anything. You know how I am about men thinking they're better than women are because they have all the muscles and stuff. We women have what most men continue to lack and that's a brain." I was upset with Agent Keaton all over again. I had been doing wonderful by not thinking about the man and now Graham had to go opening his mouth; bursting open old sores. Dammit!

"You know how the FBI gets about a case that they consider 'theirs'. I had a bad feeling about him the day we met at the Starbucks. He was the smug type a little cocky for his own good."

"Yes I know please don't remind me. I've already boosted his ego by sleeping with him and I don't need nothing else to be ashamed of—" I stopped in mid-sentence. I'd just thought of something. "Would you care to ride with me downtown to visit Michelle? I'm sure she should be out of the hole by now."

"I guess I could tag along in your journey to spitefulness. One of these days Sagittarius, someone is going to stop you," he said, smiling. "But I won't allow that to happen, no worries."

We left the station and bounded down Broadway until we reached the Metro Correctional facility. Officer Timmins was the building's security detail for today. He was a green officer, no more than a couple months out of school. If we weren't allowed access to Michelle this morning, he would be the first to inform us of such. All rookies tended to follow strict protocol, even if there's no brownie points involved.

"Good morning, Detectives? Here for visitation?"

"Yes actually we are. Is Michelle Lewis able to have visitors this morning?" That was the million-dollar question.

"Give me a minute and let me call up to find out for you."

"Thank you Officer." He radioed someone from on the fifth floor; I presumed and got a confirmation within seconds.

"She's being allowed limited visitation, Detective—"

"Luckett. I'm Detective Luckett and this is Detective Graham," I said gesturing to Graham. "I apologize for the delayed introductions. We're kind of in a hurry."

"Right. Well she's only allowed to visit for fifteen minutes and that's all. Are we understood?"

Well, well, well are they teaching audacity in the academy now? Are we understood? Quite some bold words for a rookie.

"Yes, Officer we're understood," I said, stifling a laugh. Rookies.

We took the elevator to the fifth floor. I could see that construction had taken place since my last visit. Perhaps, this was the reason why I wasn't allowed to visit her then, I thought. Nevertheless, I quickly shook the absurd thought from my frontal lobe as I walked into the stark visitation booth with Detective Graham on my heels.

"So how's life on the other side?" Graham said, before I could shut him up.

Michelle Lewis looked sickened; she looked like a cancer patient. Her eyes had sunk further into her skull. Her skin was giving off a transparent look; her blue veins look all the more prominent.

"I've seen better days David," she answered straining a smile. My mind flashed on a mad woman responsible for her brother's wrongdoings. That lunatic was none other than Michelle Lewis.

I went for the juggler like always.

"So you care to tell us where Chester is hiding?"

"Is this what you brought me out of my cell for? To ask about Chester? To torture me with more of your lies?" Her face contorted grimly. The madwoman lives.

# CHAPTER 61

**"YOU KNOW IT'S A** matter of life and death. Your brother could easily be cleared if only you would help us locate him, Michelle. Young girls are continuing to die out there and you're sitting here playing 'Protect thou brother' when innocent lives are at stake. What the fuck is your problem?" I had enough with these games. My blood was boiling and it was only a matter of time before a bomb went off inside. I was very good at controlling myself; keeping the dragon at bay. But Michelle Lewis was about to awaken the very dragon I'd been keeping at bay throughout this entire investigation.

"What is my problem," she repeated. "I'll tell you what my problem is. I'm sitting here in a stinking cell going mad while you're accusing my brother of killing and raping those college girls. Instead of finding out who framed me by placing cocaine inside my house you continue to throw wild accusations at me and my beloved brother. Where is the justice in that, detective?" Clearly, we weren't going to get a location for her brother. We were wasting more time. Graham and I decided to conclude our little visit. If she didn't want to help clear her brother's name, then so be it. I wasn't going to beg her.

We took the same elevator back down, waved good-bye to Officer Timmins and jogged across the busy streets of downtown Manhattan. In the car, we exchanged grave looks. It was about time for the Coed Killer to strike and we were nowhere close to catching him beforehand.

"So what do we do now?" Graham asked from the passenger's seat. He looked worn out and ready for a break in the case as well.

"We do what we do best: we interrogate each of the Lewis' except of course Stanley until someone cracks."

"Words spoken from a true crime stopper," said my voracious partner in crime.

Parked on the other side of the street, Preston Morales watched the two detectives exit the Metro Correctional building. They didn't look content at all, as they jogged across the street. Morales watched as they sat in Luckett's Jeep for five minutes before she finally pulled away from the curb. He pulled out his phone and called The Cartel.

"They're on the move again, sir. Apparently, they've just left the Metro looking for some dumb luck. I'm following them as we speak."

"Good work, Morales I always knew you had it in you. Be careful and report back to me as soon as something new develops," The Cartel said.

"Will do." He snapped his phone shut and continued tailing the dark green Jeep.

"David, do you see that white car a few cars behind us?" I said. I happened to glance up in my rear view and saw a white sedan ducking out from behind the car in front of it.

"I see plenty of white cars behind us. This is New York fucking city, you're bound to see a pink or neon green car. What's the problem?"

"I think it's following us, Graham?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"You're just being paranoid for no reason, Sagittarius. Loosen up a bit, stay focus."

"I'm not being paranoid, okay? The way the car keeps moving over into the oncoming traffic makes me wonder." I took a sharp right just to see if I was correct. Bingo! The white sedan did the same.

"See? He's tailing us, David."

"Has he been following all morning?

"I don't know. I only noticed him when we left the Metro."

I was beginning to wonder if this had any connection to the person who shot at us in my apartment the other night. It was a logical connection after all.

Who's paying you to monitor me? Hector Martinez? Preston Morales? Or Chester Lewis? I wanted to pull over and give the bastard the middle finger as he passed by, but he wouldn't be passing by would he? He was ordered to monitor me and if I pulled over things might get a little ugly.

"You think we should call for back up?" I asked, my hand hovering over the radio.

"No, this could just be some asshole trying to cause trouble," my partner replied.

"Then I'm pulling over right now," I said in my defense. I had unholstered my Glock and was preparing for the worst-case scenario. This was New York City; the city where people killed cops for pleasurable reasons.

"This could get slightly ugly, Serge?"

"Slightly is not the right word. Highly fits the description better."

We slid out with our guns drawn. And so did the driver of the white sedan.

Back in Los Angeles, The Ghost had finally gotten his fiancée asleep. She wasn't used to the time difference and The Ghost had convinced her to get a little more rest before they caught the flight back to the East. She had been a little repulsive at the idea and so he'd found a pressure point located just under the jawbone. He placed the right amount of pressure that would cause immediate unconsciousness. He pulled out a syringe filled with basic anesthesia. He pricked the skin and administered a high dosage of Atracurium. A neuromuscular blocking agent that relaxes the skeletal muscles. After checking her pulse, The Ghost went out into the early morning and commenced his hunt for Maggie Allison. The morning's first kill should be pleasurable. Matin petit dejeuner...A morning's breakfast.

# CHAPTER 62

**THE GHOST HAD KILLED** Maggie Allison so easily and quite sloppy if he had to criticize himself, which he often did. Maggie had been a feisty girl, clawing away at him as if he was an oak tree ripe for the stripping of its bark. He'd did something he hadn't done with any of his other lovers. He'd released the snake down her esophagus and watched her squirm, as the venomous reptile made its way inside her. The look of sheer horror was unmistakable in Maggie's eyes; it was almost comforting. He flipped her onto her stomach and pried open her slender legs. She'd mumbled in protest but was unable to contest him due to her mouth being duct taped so that the snake didn't find its way back out. He wanted her to suffer very much. He loved the thrill of it.

Maggie Allison looked up at him questioningly. "Why." Was the expression she wore as he prepared to rape her again. Damn those beautiful eyes, he thought. Why such a pleading expression my dear? Isn't this what you lived for? A man who knew how to please you? All sort of questions were bouncing around inside his head. He didn't know the true answer to neither of them. Why would I? I'm no psychologist.

After he'd finished defaming her, he removed the Smith and Wesson .45 caliber from his pants pocket. He held the barrel to her temple and whispered into her ear, "You know, you really are an exquisitely attractive woman. I'm sorry this has to happen, but I saw the rejection in your eyes the moment we met. And I hate rejection." He placed a pillow under the barrel and fired. A small "poof" was heard from the gunfire and that was the end of Maggie Allison.

The Ghost gathered his things; he had a plane to catch in less than two hours. He wiped down everything he remembered touching: the door handles, the nightstand. He was meticulous about everything not just the women he chose. After double-checking his work he made for the door...A cell phone rang from behind him. Shit! He'd forgotten that she had mentioned that she told a friend that she was going out with some person. It was a requirement for all female students at UCLA. It was part of the "buddy system".

Dammit, how could I have forgotten to ditch her phone? How stupid of me! He knew there wasn't no time for chastising himself. He had work to do. He went in search of the phone. He found it easily. It was nestled between her jeans and panties. It must've slipped out during my haste, he thought. He needed to be more careful. He grabbed the phone along with her panties. He brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. Maggie Allison was very lovely. He rushed out of the hotel room and got into the rental car he'd purchased under the name Chester Lewis. And headed back to pick up Daisy for the airport.

Chester Lewis stood nervously in the presence of Hector "The Cartel" Martinez. He'd been walking along Broadway when a group of thugs jumped him. The next thing he knew he was standing in front of this man. Hector Martinez. He'd heard rumors about the man known as The Cartel, but had thought of them as what they were; rumors. Now standing in the same room with the man, he was starting to have second thoughts all together. Was this truly the one they called The Cartel? On the other hand, was this some impostor, claiming responsibility for all the gruesome works done by the real Hector Martinez.

"They're some serious people looking for you Chesty. I mean the FBI, DEA, and HRT, that's just to name a few. I must say you're a very wanted man," The Cartel had begun, jovially.

"I guess you're one of those serious people," Chester responded, gaining a little confidence.

The Cartel chuckled at his slight.

"How's Michelle holding up in the Metro? Heard the place wasn't so pleasant to law officials of her statute. You ever wonder how the city's infamous prosecutor ended up in the Metro?"

"I believe she was set up by someone."

"Any wild guesses who that someone could be?"

Chester Lewis thought about it for a second.

"You?" he concluded.

"And the grand prize goes to you, Chester Lewis. Congratulations."

Chester snapped.

"You bastard how dare you?" He lunged forward for an attack but was cut short by the butt of a gun to his head. He staggered onto his knees.

# CHAPTER 63

**"YOU MUST BE REAL** stupid if you think that move was going to be successful. Mr. Lewis I didn't take you to be a fool." The Cartel stood from his chair and walked over to where Chester rested. "You have one option Mr. Lewis; I want you to do me a favor. I want you to take out Sergeant Luckett and her partner. If you do that for me, I'll see that your sweet sister is released from her cell along with all the charges against her dropped. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes we have a deal."

"Good," The Cartel said. "Now we can relax and take a deep breath. For a brief moment I thought I was going to have to kill you. Thank you for your time, Mr. Lewis. We'll be seeing each other real soon. Take care now." Chester Lewis was escorted from the room and tossed outside the building's front door.

"See ya around bud," one of the goons called over his back as the door closed behind him.

Chester Lewis brushed himself off and walked back to his hid out, the sewer. Nobody would ever think to look for him there it was a daring discovery even Sergeant Luckett wouldn't have expected. He had to take out Sagittarius Luckett he'd been told. That was the only way his dear sister would go free, back to her normal life as a prosecutor. I must do what needs to be done in order to protect my sister. I must do the unthinkable.

"So how did you like California, babe?" The Ghost and Daisy had finally settled back inside their Upper Manhattan apartment. They'd landed over an hour and half ago. He had the sudden jet lag now. Daisy had been completely quiet the entire flight back. Probably still suffering from the side effects from the anesthesia, he thought. He jumped in the shower and was ready for mind-blowing experience from the novel he'd been reading. Daisy had fallen mercifully back to sleep when he entered back inside the bedroom. He shook his head and commenced to reading more about the life of Candy the sensational stripper.

The next morning Daisy had beaten him awake for the first time since they've met. She was downstairs making breakfast with nothing on but a pink bathrobe. He loved it when she did this; it nearly drove him crazed. "What ya cookin', darling?" he asked groggily.

"You're favorite: bacon, egg whites, and a hefty stack of pancakes," she answered, humming a familiar tune.

"M-m-mmm good." He found a seat with a plate and silverware set out for him.

"Here you go," she said, raking the pan clean of egg whites and bacon. "You want a separate plate for your pancakes?"

"You bet cha!" The Ghost exclaimed happily. It wasn't everyday he received this sort of treatment. He had to cherish it, appropriately.

"Did you hear about the woman they found murdered in the Ritz hotel late yesterday evening?" Daisy asked.

Of course, I did honey, why you think we rushed to the airport?

"No I haven't who're they saying done it?" He wanted to know badly. He had a bad feeling that he'd left something behind that would place him at the scene of the crime.

"Turn on the television it's all over the news." She handed him the remote and he gladly took it off her hands.

"Wow. At least she went out with style."

"Honey," she said, offended.

"I'm just saying. The killer could've killed her in some stinking alley and left her body to rot in a Dumpster." He checked his wristwatch. "Shit baby, I have to run, class begins in thirty minutes." He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for the breakfast by the way, it was good." He was out the door. He had heard the news anchor say it. "The LAPD are completely puzzled by this murder," she'd said. Were they really?

#

# 

# CHAPTER 64

**THE GHOST SLID INTO** Professor Capricorn's class, undetected. Casper the friendly ghost, he mused as he took his place next to his Biology II partner. She was a looker. And he had resisted the urge to ask her out on a date. She isn't my type. She was a sweet girl, with buckteeth, pigtails and smelled of lavender.

"Did I miss anything, Sonya?" he asked, trying to make conversation but failing miserably.

"Nothing important," she answered. "Just simple facts about marine life beyond the surface."

"You're right not too important." He went back to reading his textbook. He was burning up. He looked over at the thermostat, attached to the wall. Sixty degrees. So why was I burning up?

"Are you alright?" Sonya asked, concerned.

"Yes just a little hot is all. Is it hot in here to you—?"

"Mr. Morales?" Professor Capricorn squinted to make sure. "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

"No ma'am," The Ghost replied. He was counting down the time until this class was over. He had other things to attend to, more important matters. The bell sounded. He couldn't have been happier in his life. Time to see what's behind door number three.

The man who'd been tailing us yesterday had gotten away. It was another embarrassing moment neither Graham nor me wanted to look back on. However, we had to do an incident report and we had to go into complete detail. It was a requirement that Commissioner Wilson took very seriously. There was already a pending lawsuit on the NYPD from a former officer. Graham had been on the phone with his girlfriend Carla for thirty minutes, explaining how he'd botched the case. Okay I take that last part back, those were my words.

"I just got off the phone with a detective with the LAPD," my partner burst into our shared cubicle, looking grave. "And you won't believe what he's saying, Serge."

"Don't tell me our Coed Killer has went West coast on us?"

"Yep. According to Detective Allen, a young girl's body was found mutilated in the Ritz hotel. A house cleaner on duty discover the gruesome remains and called the LAPD immediately. This has been the first homicide at the Ritz in years."

"And they believe that the victim is connected with the Coed Killer?" I asked. It was very possible that our killer had moved his killings away from home base.

"They researched his MO through ViCAP. If this wasn't a federal investigation before it sure was now."

We needed to book the next flight to LAX. I maneuvered my Jeep through Little Italy, the Williamsburg Bridge and took the Long Island Expressway to Grand Central Parkway. Thirty minutes later, I was pulling into JFK International airport. I located a parking deck with Departure posted high above and parked my Jeep. Graham and I hightailed it inside to the ticket booth. The place was jammed pack, bustling with busy, impatient New Yorkers ready to catch their flights. I shoved my way to the front of the line and slammed my badge down in front of the woman staffing the counter. She looked up, shock and aggravation registered on her face.

"Can I help you detective?" she strained a smile.

"I need two plane tickets to LAX pronto." I spoke loud and quickly over the buzzing crowd of passengers. She didn't hesitate one bit. She starting pecking away at the monitor in front of her. A few seconds later, she asked for my method of payment. I handed her my Visa and waited.

"You're all set, Ms. Luckett. Your flight will be leaving out momentarily, please enjoy your flight," she chirped sweetly, handing back my credit card. We went and found a seat near the gate. I kept looking at my wristwatch wishing time would move a lot faster. Suddenly, the PA system announced our flight was to be departing in three minutes.

"FLIGHT 6630 WILL BE DEPARTING IN THREE MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TOWARD THE GATE. I REPEAT FLIGHT 6630 WILL BE DEPARTING IN THREE MINUTES.," the PA system attendant announced

I looked over at Graham, who was texting Carla. The two were becoming more and more like husband and wife by the day. "You two planning on getting married soon?" I joked, walking over to the gate.

He laughed.

"Why'd you asked that?"

"Because every time I turn around you two are telling each other about your cases. I need you to be focused, David.

"I am focused, Sagittarius. Relax."

# CHAPTER 65

**WE WENT THROUGH THE** gate.

"I haven't been on a plane since I was in college," Graham said the moment we stepped on the plane. "Everything has changed drastically."

"And so has security thanks to our friends from 9/11."

We located our seats and took up residence gladly.

"Think we'll run into our killer friend in Los Angeles?" he asked, pulling out his iPod.

"Let's hope that if we do, we're ready for him on all angles. I've only been to Los Angeles a few times. And each time something was always occurring. Murders, armed robberies. I used to think Compton was dangerous but uh-uh, Los Angeles has them beat on the dangerous part."

Graham shoved in his ear buds and mumbled, "I'm looking forward to a little action rather or not it's regarding our investigation." Axl Rose crooned _, "Welcome to the Jungle"_. My partner was preparing himself for the Coed Killer. He was sending him a personal invitation. Welcome to the Jungle. The NYPD jungle.

We landed at LAX a couple hours later. I was star struck as I disembarked the massive Boeing 770. I was in Los Angeles! The place where dreams come true. I was just hoping that my dream of catching this homicidal maniac would come true. Therefore, I could grieve my sister's death. I'd missed her funeral ceremony the day before yesterday. Honestly, I'd been planning to attend but was overwhelmed by this case that I'd forgotten all about it. The simple thought of it left a hollow hole in my chest. My aunt Josephine had called my phone several times, leaving several voice-mails. I was completely ashamed of returning her calls for the simple fact that all I was able to say is, "I was too wrapped up in catching a killer I'd forgotten Justine's funeral." I could imagine the disgusted expression on my Aunt Josephine's shallow face.

I shook my head and focused on the reason we were here in LA. The Coed Killer had possibly relocated. We were walking toward the car rental section of the airport in search of a rental. Hertz, Avis, and Enterprise they all looked plausible but we settled with Hertz as usual. We clambered inside the mid-size Toyota Camry and headed towards LAPD headquarters just off One-Hundred West First Street.

"Care to tell me a little bit about this Detective Allen?" I asked as we closed in on the LAPD headquarters. I took a left onto West First Street and parked in front of the station.

"Not much to tell. He graduated from the FBI academy top of his class. He transferred to the LAPD right after graduating. He grew up in Oakland and wanted to reunite with his roots. He's one of LA's best detectives; so good they even named an expressway after the guy."

"Some shining knight huh?" I was starting to get jealous. I didn't like competition especially when I'm involved in a case. We were a team but when you had a detective who deemed himself prom king before even being selected; it just made for a long, hard investigation.

"Take it easy, Sagittarius he isn't like Agent Keaton. He's a bit more modest about it. At least that's what I've been told."

We exited the car.

"I just hope he's right about his assumptions. We're not even supposed to be here let alone working the case. If the FBI or Commissioner Wilson for that matter gets wind of this we'll be spending the rest of our career doing traffic violations."

"Well I sort of told a white lie. I told the guy that we were working alongside the FBI, consulting. And he was thrilled at having a shot at a career changing arrest," Graham confessed.

"So we're here in Los Angeles on nothing but a complete lie?" I was about ready to strangle him.

"We both needed some kind of break, Sagittarius and this may be it. The break we so desperately need.

"And you think that telling a 'white lie' is going to help? Gosh, men can be so stupid!" I stormed off toward the glass-metal doors.

"Sagittarius relax," he called after me. I whipped my head around like a viper ready to strike.

"If you tell me to relax one more time I'm going to deck you in the mouth!" I was seriously considering it right that moment just for him telling a 'white lie'. I was just grabbing for the door when it was opened from the other side. A handsome looking man stepped out and nodded. I didn't know who he was but my partner did.

"Detective Allen? How's it going?" Graham asked, extending his hand.

"It's going good, Detective," he replied taking my partner's hand in his. "Glad to finally meet you. And who's this beautiful woman?"

"This here is my partner, Sergeant Luckett."

"It's nice to meet you, Sergeant," he gave my hand a good pump.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Now let's get down to business shall we?"

"Sure thing let's head back inside." He held open the door for me. I blushed a bit. In New York, you couldn't find a half way decent enough man to do such a thing. Note to self; come to Los Angeles for the real gentlemen.

# CHAPTER 66

**WE'D LEARNED A LOT** about the victim, her name was Maggie Allison, and she was a student at UCLA. Her roommate had filed a missing person's report with the magistrate. Her roommate was a 20-year-old student named Missy Nu.

She'd gotten worried when Maggie wasn't returning her calls. She claimed that Maggie almost never stayed out late without letting her know. She assumed it was because she was involved with some guy she wanted to keep secret. I'd asked Detective Allen where I could find Missy during the day and he'd told me that she's at her apartment. Graham and I found her apartment easily enough and was standing on her porch rapping hard on the door.

"Missy Nu, this is the police we'd like to have a word with you!" I yelled through the door. My hand was hovering over my service weapon. There wasn't the slightest bit of noise coming from within. I looked at Graham and nodded, and then I planted my foot through the door. We rushed in; expecting to find the body of Missy Nu sprawled about the apartment. Unfortunately, as we rushed in, we noticed that we'd made a grave mistake. We had kicked in the wrong door. The place looked completely empty all except for the thousands of dust bunnies. I looked back at Graham and he just shook his head. Missy Nu had moved.

Out on the lawn, we tried to brainstorm our next move. We had no idea where Missy had relocated to and the chances of her still attending school were slim to none. We had to move fast if we were hoping to catch her.

"Let's try the school first we may be wrong about her leaving school," I said. I was hoping to God that we were wrong. We climbed into the rental and head to UCLA.

We pulled in front of the Dean's office and asked to speak with him immediately. Moments later, we were ushered into his office. He was an elegant man, well mannered. I could tell all that from the decor of his office. He had on a perfectly tailored suit when he stood to greet us.

"What can I do for you, Detectives?"

"We're trying to locate Missy Nu. We have reason to believe she has key information on the abduction and murder of Maggie Allison." The dean looked mortified. It was obvious that he was not used to this kind of services. A person in his position shouldn't.

"You believe Missy Nu is involved somehow?"

"Yes we believe she is involved." I wanted to keep the dean in the dark as much as possible.

"Ms. Nu would do such a thing. She's an A-honor roll student, had the highest SAT scores I've seen in quite some time. I couldn't possibly see Ms. Nu doing something like this to a fellow classmate."

"It's always a shock to everybody once the truth comes out, sir. But I assure you justice will be served."

"Which agency you said you're from?"

"We're with the NYPD Sixth Precinct. We're here consulting with the LAPD," I looked over at Graham, who stifled a giggle. He gotten me to believe that we were here consulting with the LAPD. I eyed him vehemently.

"Is something funny detective," he asked, he was looking at Graham who did a horrible job at playing it off.

"Oh I was just—just thinking about something my partner said earlier today. My apologies." He was red in the face.

The dean looked at him suspiciously.

"Right something funny from earlier nothing wrong with that I don't guess." He looked back at me. "Any real reason why the LAPD isn't here themselves?" The dean was proving to be a much better detective than Graham and I.

# CHAPTER 67

**"THEY'RE OUT IN THE** fields, looking for Missy Nu," I said the lie so quickly it felt natural.

"Well if you need to know Missy hasn't reported back to class since Maggie was found in that hotel. I had no idea where the kid ran off to. She was innocent. She has nothing to do with what happened to Maggie, Detectives."

I could tell our meeting had come to an abrupt conclusion. We left the dean's office without another word. But something about the dean's demeanor was odd. As if he was hiding something, as if he knew something, we didn't. I didn't like the feeling at all and I wanted more than to keep a close eye on the dean. But I knew that if he caught us watching his every move, he'd call the LAPD chief of police and we'll be toast.

Dean Milton walked over to a concealed closet, blended into the wall. He knocked on the door and announced, "You can come out now Missy. They're gone." Missy Nu stepped out, suspiciously at first, looking around before finally coming out. She went over to the dean and kissed him deeply.

"Thank you," she whispered. The dean worked his hand up her skirt and inside her panties. He worked his fingers expertly between her slender legs. She pushed him away. "Not right now," she hissed, playfully slapping his hand. The dean obeyed and removed his hands. She got up and walked over to the door. "What are we going to do about Maggie?"

"We'll figure something out we always have."

I was driving us back to the airport. We needed to get back to the station before Commissioner Wilson got to snooping about. My cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, and couldn't register the number. I looked over at Graham who was urging me to answer. I answered and Detective Allen spoke firmly from the other end. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to talk to the dean?" I didn't know what to tell him.

"We thought it would be helpful to the investigation."

"What? To not inform me of bold actions taken in my jurisdiction?" he shouted back.

"Look, you need to calm your voice down a notch. I'm not disrespecting you so I'm asking that you kindly return the favor," I said. He toned it down a bit but not much.

"Look all I'm saying is if you're going to go questioning people you need to let me know. I don't like getting phone calls from people asking me why detectives from another agency are questioning them."

"Okay Allen we were wrong okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Well there you go I stroked your ego. You happy now?" I was not used to being talked to like some rookie cop. And I wasn't about to have it.

"You need to get back to my office. There's been another killing and I don't think this one is connected at all. I may have jumped the gun a bit when I said that the Coed Killer was here in Los Angeles."

What? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The Coed Killer hadn't been in Los Angeles to begin with? Wow.

"So you mean to tell me you wasted me and my partner's time for nothing?"

"Yes I'm afraid so. But it wasn't on purpose I swear. I honestly thought the Coed Killer had murdered Maggie Allison. Everything was the same: the sodomizing of the snake, all the way down to the slitting of the throat."

"With all due respect, Detective Allen but you're an idiot," I said before hanging up on him. Graham looked at me questioningly.

"Well?" he prompted.

"The fucking Coed Killer was never in Los Angeles, David. He's still back in New York probably laughing his ass off at how quickly we jumped the gun on this one. Not to mention the fact that I spent over five hundred dollars on plane tickets." I veered off the freeway and headed toward the airport. I parked the rental in the return section. We made our way inside the terminal and found the gate. I showed my two-way ticket to the woman operating the gate and Graham and I were on our way back home.

We landed back at JFK around six-thirty that evening. I found my Jeep easily enough, in spite of its difficult location. Under one of my wipers was a note. I knew before opening it who it was from but to my astonishment it wasn't from the Coed Killer; it was from Chester Lewis. Chester Lewis had left me a note! He was still somewhere in town. Scribbled on the paper were five words: My sister was set up.

I looked at Graham and we both knew what our next move would be. We were going to have someone run the surveillance footage from the time we left to the time we came back. Something told me that we were going to see Chester Lewis placing that note under my wiper. However, something else told me that Chester Lewis isn't that dumb to be caught on video.

# CHAPTER 68

**IT WAS A QUARTER** to seven by the time we managed to make inside the terminal and over to the reception area. A toothy woman about thirty-one named Cassandra, smiled and greeted us cheerfully as we approached.

"How may I help you detectives tonight?" she asked eyeing my partner seductively.

I stepped forward, ruining her moment of mere seduction.

"We'd like to speak with your security detail. Perhaps someone who works with the surveillance footage," I said triumphantly.

"Oh." Her mouth shaped into a perfect _"O"_ as she turned a shade red. "What seems to be the problem?" Her entire demeanor changed in one instance. I was starting to have that effect on people.

"Nothing major, just like to see who placed this on my windshield." I thrust the note I'd found in her face.

"May I?" she groped for the note.

"Be my guess."

She read the note for what seemed like the millionth time before handing it back to me. A look of confusion surfaced on her face. I knew she wouldn't have the slightest clue as to what that note meant, no matter how much she tried. But I gave her an "A" for effort.

"This was found on your windshield?" she continued to look dumbfounded.

"Yes I'm a detective I have no reason to lie, ma'am. Now please page your head of security."

Cassandra grabbed the receiver from its cradle and paged the head of security over the PA system. "Can Alfred Hensworth report to the reception area? Alfred Hensworth to the reception area." She placed the phone back down and looked up. "He'll be over shortly if you want to take a seat."

I forced a smile and Graham and I found seats nearby. Graham had been completely quiet the entire affair, which was not him at all. Finally, after taking a seat he spoke.

"A bit jealous wouldn't you agree?"

"Don't get the big head, David I was doing my job. I had no idea she was hitting on you or even had intentions of doing so." That was a lie. I knew the woman was making a move on my partner the moment we walked up to her desk.

"Anyway, what you think will transpire from this note?" He eyed the note clinched in my hand conspicuously.

"I'm counting on a break in the case. If the man in the surveillance is Preston Morales then we have our guy for the Coed killings—"

"And if it isn't Morales?"

"Then I guess we'll have to keep searching until we find the bastard." I was all worked up again and I decided to cut our conversation short for a quick breath of fresh air. As I opened the terminals entrance, doors I spotted something I wasn't expecting. I was staring at Samuel Lewis and he was giving me one of his best stare downs he could muster. What the hell was he doing here? I wondered. Could he have been the one who placed the daring note underneath my wiper? Was he the one, in fact, responsible for the Coed Killings? We'd interviewed this kid twice and each time his story checked out. His mother had sworn he was at home watching Sports Center when his late girlfriend, Susan Garrett, had been murdered. I was starting to wonder if Mrs. Lewis hadn't lied in order to protect her son. I was surely going to find out.

"Samuel Lewis!" I called. "You stay put and raise your hands high enough so I can see them. Do it now Samuel!" I drew my Glock as I walked toward him. He had his hands damned high. I slowly started to lower my weapon when he burst into an all-out sprint. He maneuvered between stationary cars as if he were running right through them. Like a Ghost. I didn't have time to run and grab Graham so I chased after him.

# CHAPTER 69

**WE'D BEEN RUNNING FOR** quite some time before I noticed that Samuel had hurdled over a chest-level fence and around a brick building. I ran hard after him then suddenly—I saw Samuel stooped over near a Dumpster, obviously catching his breath.

"Samuel Lewis, you're under arrest for resisting arrest and conspiring to murder Susan Garrett." I went for my cuffs when he turned to face me. To my disbelief, I was staring at a total stranger. I knew what Samuel Lewis looked like and this guy was not Samuel Lewis. Somehow, Samuel had managed to set up his own escape route. I had to admit it was perfectly well played. I apologized to the guy who continued to heave up his remains of dinner. I felt like a complete idiot for chasing this guy. On the other hand, was I really chasing Samuel Lewis before he'd managed to dupe me?

The man wiped the chunky residue with the back of his hand. "What?" was all that came out of his mouth before being followed by another fierce vomiting fit. I backed away and struggled to get my bearings. I had no knowledge of where I'd ran off to. I looked for street signs to give me some kind of clue as to where I was. Old Rockaway... North Boundary Road...Rockaway Boulevard...It was slowly becoming clear to me as to where I was at. I had managed to chase the prick into Springfield Gardens, which was a good ten miles from JFK. I spotted a cabbie dropping someone off nearby and hailed him over to where I was standing. I clambered into the back seat and pointed toward the airport. The cabbie got my message and made for the airport.

Five minutes later, I hopped out of the taxi, shoved a few bills at the driver and walked into the terminal's entrance. I looked up and spotted Graham with his arms crossed over his chest standing next to some man I didn't recognize.

"Where the hell have you been?" Graham screamed. I understood exactly where he was coming from. I'd taken off without notifying him. It was a code we law enforcement officials stuck by: when assigned a partner your partner is your responsibility. In other words, if you had a partner you didn't make decisions without your partner.

"I spotted Samuel out in the parking area snooping. I asked him to stay put and that I needed to ask him a few questions. And that's when he booked it. I pursued him and well it turned out he had set up a perfect get-away plan or so I believe." I didn't want to disclose the fact that I might have been chasing a mere stranger up and down the streets of Queens.

"So we might be seeing Samuel on those surveillance tapes instead of Preston Morales?" Graham asked.

"I wouldn't doubt it he is one of the prime suspects in the Coed Killings. Is this the man over the security department?" I faced the man next to Graham.

"Yes this is Alfred Hensworth who's offered to help us in any way possible."

Hensworth extended his hand.

"Pleasure meeting you Sergeant," he smiled warmly.

"Likewise." I took his hand in mine and shook assertively. "May we see the tapes from first thing this morning all the way until now?"

"Certainly, Detective."

We followed Hensworth to a hidden door near the terminals entrance. It was set up like any old surveillance room: CCTV monitors mounted high on the walls, leather swivel chairs, cases of hard drives. It was like General Demps' command center. I walked over to where a monitor was viewing my Jeep and the surrounding cars.

"Rewind this one back to this morning."

"Certainly," Hensworth stroked a few keys and moments later, I was looking at Graham and myself getting out of my Jeep earlier that morning. Seeing myself that early in the morning made me realize why I had to have three cups of coffee before stepping out of the house.

After a series of fast-forwards I yelled, "Stop!" We all gathered in close as the image made itself clear.

Preston Morales had stuck the note under my windshield wiper, not Chester Lewis, Samuel Lewis, or Stanley Lewis. This made two different sightings of Preston Morales and his involvement with the Coed Killings.

"Sonuvabitch," Graham muttered.

# CHAPTER 70

**"I CAN'T BELIEVED WHAT** I'm seeing, Sagittarius!" Graham had been pacing the small office frantically for the past five minutes, muttering to himself. "This maniac has been toying with us this entire time. He could've very well been the one behind the murders and even the venomous vermin that made its way to my door step."

I can't remember the last time I'd seen him like this. It was very odd coming from such a gentle-hearted man. But I guess everyone has an inner beast that could surface at any moment. "David sit down, you're starting to make me a bit wary." I demanded my partner but he blankly ignored my request and continued his pacing venture. I turned to face Hensworth, who was still staring, intently, at the image of Preston Morales. "Any suggestions?" I asked.

"Uh...no not at the moment. I'm no fancy detective like you guys so my opinion doesn't really matter," Hensworth said, solemnly.

"Alfred you're just as involved with this investigation as we are. Without your surveillance footage we wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the person behind the note." I assured him as best I could. I was really beginning to get irritated with Graham's pacing. Luckily, for him, he noticed my agitation before I could let loose on him.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay." I walked over, looked over Hensworth's shoulder, and said, "I need a copy of that."

"Sure, no problem." He clicked the mouse and the sound of a nearby printer hummed to life. Seconds later, I had a copy of Preston Morales stuffing a note underneath my wiper. Whenever we do catch up to him, we'll have enough to get him to roll on The Cartel. Graham and I both thanked Hensworth for all his help and left. We'd a long day that didn't end so fruitfully. It was time to hit the Brass Monkey for a few drinks.

We entered the loud, noisy bar and went straight over to the bar stand. I was in the mood for a couple rounds of Jack Daniel's, my all-time favorite. Randy, the bartender and the owner had our drinks sitting in front of us. He could spot our faces from miles away if he needed to. We'd been his favorite customers since he took over the place seven years ago. He'd tried to sweet talk me into being his "bar assistant", stating, "Homicide work is no place for a cute thing like yourself."

I was flattered but still turned the offer down. "My beauty can be quite an asset in my department," I'd told him. I'd only been with the force for three years at that point and had more job offers than the average homeless man in Manhattan had.

"Long day?" Randy asked as we took our seats.

"You have no idea," my partner said.

"I'm sure you've heard about the Coed Killer, Randy?" I said.

"I've heard about it from Candice Spencer on NY1 earlier this week. She said 'the police are in a frenzy about the whole affair."

"Fuck Candice Spencer," I said loudly, before I realized what I'd said. Heads turned in my direction as I tried to hide my face.

"Someone's got a bit of animosity against Candice Spencer," Randy joked. He knew how much her lies had affected me. I nearly lost my job because of one of those notorious lies. If it wasn't for the article written by another reporter, I'd be shoving horseshit for the NYPD instead of solving murders.

"You know how much she hates the bitch Randy," Graham said, with a sly grin.

I punched him in the shoulder.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he yelped then laughed.

"Because I wanted too." I grinned back and threw down another shot.

# CHAPTER 71

**I GLANCED UP AT** the "Breaking News" ticker at the bottom of the television. Someone else had been killed only hours ago. Why wasn't I informed of this? I wondered suspiciously. I was the head of the Homicide division. I figured that maybe I'd had a bit too much to drink and wasn't seeing it correct. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes to be sure. And yep I wasn't hallucinating. Someone had been murdered and it was linked to the Coed Killer.

I grabbed Graham's arm and pointed. "He's struck again, David," I half slurred. Graham looked up then immediately felt his pockets in search for his phone. He pulled out his wallet, placed two twenties on the table, and grabbed me by the wrist.

"We have to go now!"

I yelled over my shoulder what I intended to be a "thank you" but it sounded completely different. Damn Jack Daniel's, I thought as the night's cool air stung my cheeks. We climbed into my Jeep, this time with me in the passenger's seat for obvious reasons. Graham took the keys from my hand, fired up the engine, and peeled off. He radioed dispatch about something and picked up speed. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to yellow crime scene tape and a small army of crime techies sweeping the area. I was in no shape to be here and Graham knew it. He advised me to "sit tight" before he dashed out the driver's side.

I watched under hooded eyes as several crime techies went about dusting for fingerprints, DNA, and other signs of physical evidence. I spotted Dustin Mosley heading my way and sobered up as best I could. But my heart instantly sank when I spotted a news van with; NY1 stenciled on the side. It was more than likely news reporter Candice Spencer. She would have a field day if she got wind that I wasn't on the scene due to being partially impaired by alcohol.

"Why ya not out here where the action is, Serge?" Dustin asked, as he leaned on the window.

"I—I'm not feeling well," I lied.

He scrunched his nose as if he smelled something odd.

"Have you been drinking Serge?"

"I've had a couple shots. I'm choosing to stay here because I'm don't want to make a poor judgment call due to my minor impairment."

"You don't have to worry about me ratting you out, Serge. I know what it's like after a long day's work. If it wasn't against the rules, I'd be drunker than a skunk right now. So sober up and join us when you're ready. I wouldn't want you to throw up on my crime scene and messed up the whole investigation. This one's gruesome as if the killer took a step up on this murder. I'll see ya shortly." He walked off and I was finally able to relax. The killer had stepped up his game? How so? I wondered as my brain tried feverishly to make a connection.

After a moment, I forced myself out of the passenger's seat. I'd managed to sober up just in time before I spotted my boss Lieutenant Allen James. It was rare for any of us to see him in the bullpen, and even more rare for us to see him at a crime scene. He was one of those political assholes who wanted to make a name for himself in D.C.

"Hiya doin' Luckett?" Lieutenant James growled as I approached.

"I've seen better days, sir," I said, keeping my eyes downcast. I couldn't afford to let him noticed I'd been drinking too. That would've been an immediate disciplinary hearing followed by a boot to the ass.

"I'm starting to worry about you, Luckett. This kind of stuff usually is taken care of by now. What's going on?" I wasn't trying to tell my lifetime story to him but the guy was pleading with me? Why not?

"I've been going through a lot, sir. My younger sister was murdered a couple weeks ago and it's been hard on me. But don't worry I'm not letting it affect my judgment."

I was lying. It was doing more than impairing my judgment. It was causes me to make bad decisions, like drinking on the job. I was a good cop but I was still human beneath this uniform.

"Look Luckett, I understand how you're feeling but you need to remember; you have a job to do. I don't mean to be an asshole but coming from your senior officer, I'm doing my job by confronting you about what's not being done about these murders. I haven't been able to get any work done much less get any shut eye because I've been getting calls from the mayor and others like him.

"I'm here showing my face because you're the senior officer in command and you've been doing a horrible job containing this mess!"

After hearing his ranting fiasco, I remembered why I hated his guts. He was an asshole. A bureaucratic asshole, I reminded myself. I brushed past him, ignoring his continuous rants and entered the sickening crime scene. What I saw next was the unexpected. Mosley had hit the nail on the head; the killer had indeed stepped up his game.

# CHAPTER 72

**I WALKED THROUGH THE** foyer of the immaculate condominium and saw him sprawled between the living area and the kitchenette. I had to rub my eyes to make sure I was truly seeing the Commissioner's body on the floor. Commissioner Wilson had been shot between the eyes, meaning that our killer was a good shot. We were looking at a potential ex-military guy. Could Preston Morales have been ex-military with the record he has? Been some type of sniper? Special Ops? Those were the questions floating around my cloudy mind when Chief of Detectives Anderson walked over, shaking his head. "I don't understand this prick! Why would you kill the police commissioner after murdering, excuse me slaughtering a handful college coeds?"

"I have no idea Chief maybe he's trying get to someone in the department." I was wondering the same thing. Why switch you M.O.? "Hey, Chief what's that?" I pointed to a piece of paper lying next to the Commissioner's head. I could've swore it was there a second ago but then again I had had a couple of shots of Jack Daniel's prior to coming here.

"Did you drop that or something?" he asked, eyeing the piece of paper.

"I don't recall having anything in my pockets if that's what you're implying, sir," I said, involuntarily patting myself down.

"Well it certainly wasn't there just a minute ago, Sergeant," he said, his face turning beet red. "Don't try to insult my intelligence, Luckett!"

"Sir, I'm telling you that," I pointed down at the piece of paper. "That doesn't belong to me. Obviously the killer is still lingering here." And that's when it clicked. "Search the house now!" I yelled, kicking open the door to my right. I stepped inside gun held high. I didn't want to believe that maybe the killer was one of our own. It happened all the time in departments across the country. Officers get tired of being paid less for risking their lives and go on a killing spree. Therefore, it wouldn't surprise me as much as it would disappoint me if our killer were one of our own. I heard "clear" being called out in different areas of the condo.

I walked back out scanning every officer and detective closely. My gut was telling me that the killer was close. But why you can't tell me who the killer is, I kept thinking. This would save the department a whole lot of time and mention money. I walked over to Mosley after losing yet another internal battle and asked, "What's the ETA on the Medical Examiner?"

"He should be here any second now," he answered, scribbling down something on a notepad. I decided to go outside and wait on him.

"Hey, where have you been?" called the voice behind me.

I turned.

"I've been talking with Chief of Detectives Anderson. Where have you been?"

"Trying to understand this psychopath," said my partner, a fierce look in his eyes.

"That's something they don't teach us at the Academy. I guess that part of policing was overlooked for obvious reasons, of course."

"Still I can't help to think about everything that's been going on. Everything from the venomous snakes to the sodomizing of innocent coeds. This guy is sick."

"How do you know we're looking for a guy?" I asked, busting his chops.

"I don't. But no woman in her right mind would do some of the shit this killer is doing."

"You recall a woman named Lorena Bobbitt?"

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

"That's a woman crazy enough to do something like this. I mean cutting off your husband penis while he slept beside you. And then cover it up by claiming he raped you?" I could see he was beginning to realize that not all psychopaths were male.

# CHAPTER 73

**I CALLED EVERYBODY INTO** the living area and was planning to grill each one of them until Chief of Detectives Anderson interfered. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Luckett?"

"Something I should have considered a while ago."

"Which is?" he prompted.

I turned to the men and women of the Sixth Precinct and asked, "Is there anybody who wants to step forward and explain the madness behind these gruesome murders. I will give you my word and make sure you are not penalized to the maximum."

"Excuse me, Sergeant," said a cop named Benny. "Are you implying that one of us killed all these people?"

I looked Benny straight in the eye and spoke firmly, "That's exactly what I'm implying, Benny. Would you like to tell us something? Perhaps why you're sweating in the middle of November?"

"This is bullshit I don't have time for this shit." Benny started to walk away but Chief of Detectives Anderson grabbed him by the elbow.

"I believe a senior officer has asked you a question," he said, tightening his grip. "Let's show some respect, what do you say?"

Benny jerked out of his grasp and turned to face me. "I'm hot and I've been running a fever here lately."

I knew he was lying through his teeth. He was hiding something because he was excessively nervous to be "running a fever". I had had enough and before I knew, I drew my Glock and drove my forearm into his throat, pinning him to the wall. With my gun in his face, I yelled, "This was our Commissioner that was murder, Benny! Do you understand what that means? It means not everyone in this room is fucking around with you or your lies! I will happily blow your fucking brains out!" Graham bulldozed his way through, prying me away from him. I should've shot the bastard while I had the chance. But the cons outweighed the pros in this matter. Therefore, Benny would live to fight another day.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Graham yelled at me, grabbing my shirt collar in his hands. "Have you lost your mind completely?"

I wasn't trying to talk to him; I had a killer to catch. I kneed him in the groin and stormed off. I got into my Jeep and peeled off. I knew a disciplinary hearing was coming for my actions back there but now I didn't care. Someone in that room was the killer...wait is that? An officer who looked rather young was walking in the opposite direction of the crime scene. I wouldn't have given it much thought if it wasn't for the fact that he resembled Preston Morales! I did an illegal U-turn and at the same time so did the Morales-look-alike. I screeched to a stop and jumped out of the car. I followed down the path where I'd seen the officer head through. He ducked around a corner and I was right behind him—but when I went around the corner I seen another body. This one an officer. Morales?

I crept up on the officer and was shocked to learn that it wasn't the person I thought it was. It wasn't Preston Morales! I whipped out my cell phone and called dispatch. I told them my general location along with my badge number. "This is Sergeant Luckett, badge number B2323. I have an officer down I need an ambulance immediately." I hung up the phone and said a silent prayer before getting up to look for Preston Morales. I knew my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

Suddenly my cell phone buzzed. I looked at the caller ID; it was Graham. I didn't want to speak with him earlier and I didn't want to speak with him then. However, knowing my partner he wasn't going to stop calling until I answered. So I answered, "What do you want, David?"

"Where the hell are you? Dispatcher radioed us saying that there was an officer down and you called it in? Tell me you didn't shoot that officer, Sagittarius, say it isn't so?" my partner pleaded.

"He was down before I got to him. I was in pursuit of Morales. Somehow he'd managed to get a hold of a police uniform."

"So he was there when you gathered everyone in the living area?" he asked.

"That's my guess. But how did he get a hold of a uniform?"

"Maybe he knows someone on the force."

"Or maybe he took it from the Commissioner's house," I said.

"Well after you took off we read the message on the piece of paper—"

"And?" I prompted.

Graham sighed loudly.

"It said 'you think you have me on L.D.' then he said 'PS, you're Sergeant is having a mental break down over her sister's murder'." And for some strange reason the L and D were capitalized and with the P and M in the second part of the note as well. We're running a code analysis on the note as we speak. Hopefully we get a hit on something." I was thinking about the message that the killer had wrote. He'd crossed the line when he mentioned my sister's murder. I was beginning to wonder if he had a hand in on her death.

# CHAPTER 74

**PETER LOWRY WAS WAITING** in line at the Bank of America on Broadway. He'd been standing in this farcical line for fifteen minutes. Some grandpa from the Walton's was arguing about some stupid retirement account that hadn't fully matured. C'mon gramps, there's other people who have business here also. Lowry remained calm, caressing the chrome metal barrel of a Smith and Wesson .45 caliber, he had in his jacket pocket. He had another form of business to deal with. Peter Lowry had been a lucrative businessman who'd decided to do business with the bank some years back. However, he'd lost every bit of money to his name because the CEO, Jared Lexington, had embezzled money from his account and made it look as though it was fees. But Peter Lowry knew better than that. He didn't come to being such a lucrative individual by penny nickeling his way up the totem pole.

The line was beginning to move; now that the elderly bastard had realized that no matter how much he argued he wasn't going to get anything from that "retirement account" he'd been bitching over. Lowry was next in line. He removed the note from his jacket pocket, patting his Smith and Wesson for good luck. As he walked up to the cute bank teller, he'd noticed that she was expecting him. She was expecting him? How?

Her immediate body language told all the telltale signs of someone who sniffed a bank robbery from a mile away. Her right hand seemed to be hovering effortlessly over the silent alarm button banks across the country were using. However, when he looked up into the teller's eyes she was unwavering even for a cutie pie like herself.

"Good morning sir, how may I help?" she said leaning forward. He could see she had a pleasantly looking bosom. He swallowed hard biting back the urge to yank down her brassiere.

"I need this," he said, pushing forward the note. She read over it while he watched her right hand closely. If she so much as breathed on that silent alarm, he was opening fire. Seconds later the teller looked up, a blank expression on her face.

"Sir, I'm not at liberty to discuss this matter any further—" She went rigid. Peter Lowry had jumped the gun. Literally. He pointed the fine piece of machinery at her face and whispered, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Now be a doll and put the money in the bag and no one gets hurt. All I want is what's owed to me. Nothing wrong with that right?" She shook her head from side to side. "Good now let's put a move on."

The teller hurried as she tossed stacks after stacks of bills into a pillowcase-like bag. The entire time she kept saying, "God please don't let me die. Please don't let me get killed."

She handed the bag over the counter to him and he smiled and raised his gun. "Oh no, what're you doing?" she pleaded.

"Sorry baby I can't leave behind any witnesses." He shot her twice in the chest. Chaos opened up throughout the entire bank.

Security guards yelled into their radios, "Shots fired, I repeat shots fired!" Far away, sirens were barely audible; help was on the way. Lowry starting shooting every bank teller operating the desk, except one. A short stocky looking man with a horseshoe hairline. His name tag red J. Lexington, CEO.

"Please don't shoot me I'll give you whatever you want. Just please don't shoot me!" the CEO begged. "Here look here's the key the vault. Take it all!"

Lowry came down hard on Lexington's face, sending blood and spittle scattering across the room. "You had your chance two years ago for that but you never offered. It's time you pay your dues, Jared."

"H-h-how...do you know m-my...name?" Lexington stammered uncontrollably. He looked as though he were about to shit bricks.

"I'm the motherfucker you embezzled money from you bastard! 1.3 million. Disappeared over a course of six years. Do you have any idea what it's like to lose such a major amount of money in that amount of time? No, of course you don't because you were the one doing the taking!

# CHAPTER 75

**"LET ME EXPLAIN TO** you what happened after you stole all my life's savings: my wife of ten years filed for divorce claiming 'irreconcilable differences'; I had to file for bankruptcy; I lost my four bedroom house in the Hamptons along with the condominiums I owned. Therefore, it's too late to make me any sort of offers. It's time you meet your maker once and for all—"

"THIS IS THE NYPD. I UNDERSTAND THERE'S A MALE SUSPECT INSIDE? IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, YOUNG MAN I WANT YOU TO COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP HIGH. IF YOU COME OUT NOW I'LL GIVE YOU MY WORD NO ONE WILL SHOOT! BUT IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY, FOUR SNIPER'S ARE GOING TO TAKE YOU DOWN. THE CHOICE IS COMPLETELY UP TO YOU," came a voice over a PA system.

The police had gotten there quicker than Peter Lowry had anticipated. He wasn't finished yet. He had to show the world that he was still the most powerful man in New York City. He dragged Jared Lexington over to the nearest window to see what his chances of escaping were. Once he seen the entire force standing outside, he knew he wasn't going to leave that bank alive. He barricaded the doors as best he could before returning to the counter. His plan had been infiltrated. A phone rang, breaking the silence, from somewhere behind the teller's counter. Lowry snapped his head around trying to pinpoint where the phone was located. He walked over to the phone and waited until it rang again before answering it.

"Who is this?" Lowry growled into the receiver.

"I think I will be asking the questions from here on. What's your name son?" the male voice seemed almost sincere, caring. But Lowry knew it was a skilled tactic used by law enforcement around the world to sweet talk a suspect.

"Listen up cop; I want one point five million dollars in my account in less than two hours. If it doesn't appear in my account another person will die." Lowry slammed the phone in its cradle. He needed to get things back under control. This was not the way to show the people of New York City that he was still powerful.

Outside Lieutenant Benson Caldwell and Sergeant Lindsay Foxx from Robbery were trying to come up with a plan to get Peter Lowry to cooperate. They couldn't give him one and a half million dollars without being able to trace where it's going and whom it's being wired to. But they had a new plan that could possibly work.

"Do you want to give that tracing device a go Sergeant?" Caldwell asked.

"I do but what if it doesn't work? What if we aren't able to get that money back after we apprehend this guy?"

Lieutenant Caldwell thought about it for a minute. "It will be a chance we'll have to take, Sergeant. This city needs to know that we have everything under control, which is going to be more challenging than this right here. We need to stick it to this guy and prove that at least the Robbery division had dotted all their "I's" and crossed all our "T's".

"So let's make the call," said Foxx, picking up the receiver. She dialed the bank's number again and waited. She was starting to worry if he was going to pick up until—

"Unless you're calling to tell me that my money is in my account then I'm hanging up," came the angry voice through the earpiece.

"Wait!" Foxx yelled. "We need to know where we're wiring the funds to."

"Good comeback Detective," Lowry taunted. "I want the funds to go to William Massey. Bank account number 436587908123. Routing number 235487098. I expect those funds in that account by six o'clock this evening or someone else dies. Do I make myself clear, Detective?"

Foxx paused briefly only to gather her thoughts and get the "thumbs up" from her boss Lieutenant Caldwell, then, "Yes we're clear." She hung up and let out a long sigh. "I can't believe we're going through with this sir."

"If you have any other suggestions please step up and let us in on it," Caldwell snapped back. He didn't like the idea any more than she did. But he had innocent lives on the line if he didn't cooperate. They called up the city's treasurer, Susan Dempson, and asked her to wire the one and a half million to William Massey. The response he received back was not one he expected.

"And may I ask why I'm wiring a million dollars of the city's tax money to this person?" she asked, disdain seeping through her voice.

"No you may not ask, Ms. Dempson. You're paid to do a job and a job is what you will do. There's lives at stake here I don't want to have to load more bodies on the meat wagon then I have to." He disconnected the call and called the bank back. "Is this the man in charge?" Caldwell asked.

"This is he, any good news? Or just a way to tick me off again?"

"I'm Lieutenant Caldwell, what's your name?" Caldwell said calmly.

"I'm hanging up now," Lowry responded slowly taking the phone away from his ear.

"Okay, the money is being wired to you as we speak. It shouldn't take too much longer—"

Silence.

"I'm hanging up now," the maniac repeated, the line going dead.

Lieutenant Caldwell stared at the phone in disbelief. William Massey had hung up on him. Or was William Massey his alias? Either way he hadn't responded positively to his message. And that could mean bad news. Lieutenant Caldwell said a silent prayer for those who were still alive in the bank.

# CHAPTER 76

**SOMEONE DEMANDING ONE POINT** five million was holding up the Band of America on Broadway. Graham and I were called over to the scene because some of the hostages were being murdered in retaliation. Whoever this man was, he'd killed one of the bank's security guards. Again, my partner and I were being dragged to another crime scene. We arrived fifteen minutes later to what looked like a scene from the Inside Man. I was beginning to feel like Denzel Washington's character Detective Keith Frazier, in the movie. I quickly spotted Sergeant Lindsay Foxx from Robbery and walked over. She wasn't too pleased to see me and the feeling was mutual.

As I approached, she turned and barked. "What're you doing here, Luckett? This here is a Robbery case."

"Someone was reported dead which makes it a Homicide/Robbery case, Lindsey. What's your problem today?" I said. She really stuck out her chest after that question.

"My problem is I don't need you stepping all over my case. This is my division and if I deem your presence relevant I'll give you a shout."

"There's no need for that, Lindsay. Chief of Detectives Anderson has already deemed it, relevant that I be here. Here why don't you call him and confirm," I said handing her my phone. She looked at it as if it was some plague from the book of Exodus.

"Whatever. Just make sure to stick to homicide details only. The last thing I need is for some hot head from Homicide fucking up my investigation."

"Lindsey, you've got one more time to insult me and—"

"What you going to do, Sagittarius? Deck me in the face? Go tell the Chief of Detectives what a bad girl I was?"

I fought hard not to kick her ass right here in front of the Robbery division. It would have definitely made my day. Everybody wanted to press my buttons today. What was it with people today? Are they crazy? Or just plain stupid? I was still throwing those questions around when Graham ran over to me. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing I can't handle, David." I walked over to the HRU, or Hostage Rescue Unit, and spoke with the commander. "Key me, Chuck. What's going on?"

"Some guy is threatening to knock off a bank teller every hour if we don't comply with his request."

"And that's the one point five million dollars?"

"Yes. But I have snipers in place to take him out once the chance presents itself."

"Has anyone tried to talk with him about this?" I asked.

"No. No one is willing to go near this psychopath. He only has two choices: come out with his hands up or come out in a body bag. The mayor isn't going to comply with his request."

"Let me give it a shot."

"What are you talking, Sergeant?"

"Let me go inside and talk some sense into the guy," I said.

"Are you nuts?" Chuck said.

"If the shoe fits—"

He radioed the snipers and told them to cease fire that I was going inside. I'd never done this sort of thing in my life. I just prayed that it wouldn't backfire. I strapped on a Kevlar vest and I was told it would be best if I were unarmed. However, there wasn't no way I was walking in that bank with no firearm. It just wasn't going to happen. I started the long walk toward the bank's entrance, looking back every few feet. I was scared to death of what I was doing, but I didn't want any more bloodshed if I could help it. I gripped the bank's door and heaved it open. Instantly, I spotted the man behind this whole altercation, because the smooth metallic "click" of the gun he gripped was pointed in my direction. Holy shit, what the hell have I gotten myself into?

# CHAPTER 77

**PETER LOWRY WAS BUSY** flirting with one of the bank teller's when the doors to the bank burst open. Without hesitation, he moved with the precision of a commando, aiming his .45 at the intruder. The person was—a woman? He studied her appearances more closely before realizing she was a cop. This woman was braver than the other cops, he thought, watching her progress forward.

"Stop, right there," he called out. He had to admire her audacity for a woman. He could tell she'd done this several other times before. No cop would place himself or herself in such a dangerous environment without having done so before. However, if she was bold enough to risk her life, then she was bold enough to have a weapon on her as well.

He walked over to where she stood, circling around her as he took in her entire being. She was confident all right, even hinted at defiance. Oh, he liked that about her. She was sophisticated. A wonder woman. "Come here and lean against this wall so I can frisk you," he demanded. She walked over to a nearby wall and assumed the position. Lowry took his time, running his hands slowly over her robust figure. Once he ascended the inside of her thighs, he cupped her vaginal area with his hand. The woman shifted uncomfortably, muttering an oath under her breath as he continued upward, "I apologize about that officer, and I do tend to be greedy at times."

While he'd been fondling her he had failed to notice, the weapon attached to the side of her pants leg. It had made its way out of the holster. She was afraid that it was going to clatter to the floor before she could stop it. Luckily, she'd managed to catch it just in time. As Peter Lowry walked away, Sergeant Luckett dropped to one knee, feigning an attempt to tie her shoe. As she bent forward, she neatly tucked the gun back inside her ankle holster. Then she stood up and walked over to a group of people huddled together, looking anxiously at her as she approached.

"It's going to be alright. I'm Detective Luckett and I want you to know that the entire NYPD is right outside that door," she threw her thumb over her shoulder.

"What brings you in here, detective?" Lowry asked, leaning up against the counter.

"I want to talk some sense in you."

"Flattering. But I don't need any sense talked into me. I know what I'm doing I'm—"

"Going to get yourself killed?" Luckett finished his sentence for him.

"No. I'm going to show these rich CEOs around the world that there are people out there who will show them how it feels to be looked down upon. How it feels to have everything you ever worked for taken away from you in a snap!" Tears were streaming down Peter Lowry's face. He wiped them away roughly with the back of his hand.

"What is your name?" Sergeant Luckett asked.

"Peter Lowry, but my friends call me Pete."

"Listen up Pete, there are about I don't know, five...six—maybe seven snipers locked and loaded outside this building. They're only giving you two options: surrender now or be killed. You don't want that do you, Pete?"

He mulled over it for a moment. "I have nothing else to live for. Everything has been taken from me: my wife, my business, my finances, and my estate. What do I care what happens to me?"

"Because deep down you're not a violent guy. I bet you don't even know how to use that gun that's in your hand. Why don't you just give me the gun so we can all go home?"

"No!" Peter Lowry yelled, aiming his gun at a young woman. She was an innocent, cute and girly. She had to be no more than twenty-one early, twenty-five at the oldest. Lowry depressed the trigger and a pink mist splattered against the walls. Creating an ominous image of death like those from Dante's Inferno, painted on a canvas.

A woman from the group screamed. Sergeant Luckett was about to reach down for her ankle holster, when she noticed that Lowry had his gunpoint at her now. She slowly raised her hands up, defensively, and tried to talk with him. "You've already shot one cop I don't think you want to kill another one, do you?"

"At the end of the day you're just like me; a regular human being. So why would I care if you live or die?"

"It's your decision," she said solemnly.

Back outside, Commander Chuck Luger was in a frenzy. "I can't wait any longer, snipers get into position we're taking out this bastard. I repeat take him out!" he yelled into his radio. Moments later, glass shattered as several rounds broke through, all aimed at the target. For a half a minute, nobody moved or said a thing. Then, "Send in the team," said Commander Luger.

I was holding my eyes closed, waiting for the rain of bullets to pierce through me. Instead, I was rained on by shards of broken glass as several windows shattered all around me. I covered my head and at the same time reached for my ankle holster. After the chaos was over, I gazed up, scanning for any signs of Peter Lowry. He was gone—Laying on the floor, a gaping hole in both his neck and shoulder. Was Peter Lowry.

I shuffled over to where he lay, blood gurgled out his mouth as he tried to speak. This was the second person I'd witnessed dying before my very own eyes. I couldn't stand to look of pain on his face as he lay choking on his blood. I took out my Glock and aimed it at his forehead. I was about the depress the trigger, when the entrance doors burst open and in came the Hostage Rescue Team, or HRT for short. After they rushed over to where I was crouched making sure I wasn't hurt, I stole a glance down at Peter Lowry. He wasn't suffering anymore. His eyes were wide but there wasn't any soul left inside. Peter Lowry was dead. I walked out and was immediately bear hugged by my partner in crime, Detective Graham.

"The next time you do something crazy like that again I'll kill ya," he said, jokingly.

We laughed. I was happy to be alive. I'd made a bold decision that paid off in the lives of many. However, I was saddened by Peter Lowry's death, a man who just wanted to be loved again; I learned a valuable lesson. You can't always be someone's Saving Grace.

# CHAPTER 78

**THE GHOST WAS SIPPING** a cup of coffee and reading the _New York Times_. He nearly spit up his coffee as he watched the breaking news about the attempted bank robbery downtown. The idiot, Peter Lowry, had allowed that lady cop talk him to his death. What a sly fox you are, detective, he thought. Only a fool who had no common sense would have succumb to you. He was pissed that a fellow criminal had been so naive. He sat down his cup and pondered on how he was going to encounter Sergeant Luckett later that evening. He knew she was a sharp cop and always had her bullshit detector on. He'd nearly gotten himself caught by her twice already. This time he was going to try a different tactic, a more physical approach than before.

He went down the hall to his bedroom. It was vacant because he'd sent Daisy away for a few days. Therefore, he could have time to think, as he told her. She'd looked disapprovingly at him as he packed her a suitcase. "This is unnecessary, Bill," she'd protested. "What could you possibly need to think about?" But The Ghost wasn't in the mood to answer her. Now, looking around the room he'd remembered what it was he came in there for. His lock picking tools. It was the Holy Grail for criminals around the world.

He slid open the bottom drawer where he kept it and—it was gone! He heaved pieces of clothing over his shoulder as he searched the entire drawer. And still it was gone! He stood up, his breathing more haggard than usual. He knew what had happened to it. Daisy. His fiancée had been snooping through his things or perhaps his mother had. Either way, someone was going to be punished and the way he was feeling he didn't care which one was punished. He flipped opened his cell phone and dialed his mother's number first. After the fourth ring, she answered, unpleasantly.

"What is it?" she growled into the phone.

"You've been going through my shit, haven't you?"

"You watch your mouth when you speak to me, young man. I'm still your mother!" she retorted.

Not for long you nosy bitch, he thought.

"Answer my freaking question!" The Ghost snapped.

His mother knew not to test her son's anger. When tempers flared between her and her son. Her son always won. "No I have not been in your things."

Satisfied with her answer, he said, "Thanks that's all I needed to know." He hung without saying another word. That only meant that Daisy was the guilty one; and boy was he going to bring havoc to her world.

The Plaza was a luxurious five star hotel located just off Fifth Avenue in downtown Manhattan. That's where Daisy decided to go after her fiancé had given her the boot. The place was very expensive but with her father's credit card, nothing was expensive, she mused. She had been reading a novel on the silk chaise accompanied in every room. She was just getting ready to run a bath when suddenly there was a knock on her room door. That's funny, she thought. I don't remember calling any room service? She walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. To her utter surprise, it was Bill, her fiancé. What the hell was he doing here? And how did he know I would be here? She shrugged her shoulders and opened the door. Before she could say, "Hi", she felt her body go rigid, her muscles tensing all over. A look of confusion swept over her face as she stared into her lover's face.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Daisy. I know you've been going through my personal stuff," said The Ghost, stepping inside to break her fall. He carried her body over to the bed. He walked over to where a bouquet of roses sat prominently on a dresser. He broke off every rose petal and tossed them about the bed. He wanted this kill to be bordering on romantic. He cuffed her wrist to the bed posts then waited as she began to come to. He then, duct taped her mouth and stripped the remains of her clothing until she was completely naked.

# CHAPTER 79

**HE MOUNTED HER AND** began thrusting himself inside her. He watched as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. It was as if she were asking him, "Why?" Well you know good and well why, darling. You can't go rummaging through garbage and expect like to get sick. As he was about to reach his climax, he quickly grabbed the gun from under the pillow. He placed the gun over her face so that she would see her fate. His body started to tremble as the last of his climax was about to surface. He place the barrel of the gun in the pillow and pulled the trigger simultaneously as he climaxed.

He unmounted her and stared briefly at her limp body. Daisy was quite the beauty. However, she made a terrible mistake that just couldn't go unpunished. But he was pleased to have gotten one last fuck out of her before killed her. He clean up his semen, making sure not trace evidence was present. He had plenty of time to ensure that no hair follicles or any other physical was left behind. After confirming that the place was wiped clean, he left the room, smiling as he went.

Deputy Attorney Carlos Santina had been trying to call his daughter, Daisy, for the past three hours. He kept getting her voicemail. He knew that she wasn't asleep because he was monitoring the credit card he'd given her for her birthday. Looking at the recent transaction on his laptop, she had just made a purchase at a nearby McDonald's. McDonald's? His daughter hated McDonald's! Why was she eating their food all of a sudden? He picked up his phone and called the Commissioner Lucas, the new commissioner who'd replaced Commissioner Wilson.

"Commissioner Lucas, speaking?" the commissioner answered.

"Hey, it's Carlos. Look I need a personal favor."

"Sure what is it?"

"I need you to send a patrolman over near the Plaza hotel."

"What's going on?"

"Something isn't right, Commissioner. My daughter hasn't been answering my calls but her credit card is obviously still being swiped."

"Carlos, your daughter is just ignoring you so she can have some fun. Loosen up a bit will ya? But I'll have one of my guys do a loop around for ya,"

"Thanks."

Carlos hung up the phone. He was starting to get a strange feeling about this. Daisy never ignored him like this. He had to get down to the bottom of this. He decided to call her fiancé, Bill Kennedy. Kennedy answered on the first ring. "What can I do for you, Mr. Santina?" The kid was a real prick and Carlos still didn't know what his daughter seen in him.

"Have you spoken to Daisy? I've been trying to call her all day."

"Daisy and I haven't spoken since our break up, six months ago. She's texted me awhile back that she'd started seeing a guy she went to school with. I think she said his name was Bill too. She told me that he reminded her a lot of me."

So Daisy didn't bother to tell me she was dating someone else? Carlos was completely beside himself on what he was hearing. This only made matters worse.

"Thank you for your time," he told Bill before disconnecting the call.

He went into his cabinet and took out a tumbler of vintage Scotch. He was going to nurse this heartache the old fashion way. As he drank, he tried to figure out why he hadn't heard back from her. He was trying not to think of the worse but it seemed the most appropriate. In addition, that's when an idea too far fetch for even a person of his stature; he was going to see what was going on at the Plaza hotel.

# PART FOUR

#

# CASPER'S NO FRIENDLY GHOST

# CHAPTER 80

**I'D GOTTEN A CALL** from our newly appointed Commissioner Redrum, wanting to see me in his office, immediately. I was expecting to hear about my encounter with Sergeant Foxx, earlier. But walking into the commissioner's plush office, I knew that wasn't what this meeting was about.

"Close the door, please," the Commissioner said, urgently. "Take a seat. This may take a while."

This may take a while!

"What's going on, sir?" I said the hairs on the back of my neck standing.

"Nothing for you to get worked up over, Sergeant." He combed his fingers through his dark hair, a sign of stress. "I just got off the phone with Deputy District Attorney Carlos Santina."

I'd heard many good and bad things about the man. Some of the stuff not so professional. Nevertheless, he has prosecuted more crooks that Crooklyn had went back to their native name, Brooklyn. Santina was a feared man, who never took no for an answer. I could only imagine what the conversation between him and the Commissioner entailed.

"What did he want?" I asked. I was ready to hear the bad news, if there were any.

"He seems to believe something has happened to his daughter, Daisy. And with all the stuff that's been going on so far, he wants someone to be on the case, discreetly. I tried to ensure him that perhaps, Daisy, was trying to be a kid without having to worry about daddy smothering her."

"And how did that go over with him."

"Not well. He's demanding that I send someone immediately to the Plaza Hotel, where his daughter's credit card was last used."

I flashed back on the murder that had happened at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Los Angeles. The killer had murdered the victim after only being checked into the hotel for less than a few hours. I had to ask the question, "Did his daughter purchase the room for herself?"

"You'll have to talk with Carlos," Commissioner Redrum answered.

"Is he in his office?"

"He should be but I need you keep him from going over to that hotel alone. The man's worried sick about his daughter and I fear he's considering taking matters into his own hands."

That was the entire city's issue. Everybody wanted to do the police's job. They don't understand that we are constantly trying to solve case after case, when yet another one emerges.

"I'll do what I can to keep him at bay, sir." I turned to leave, the entire time thinking about the DA's daughter. If this was indeed the work of the Coed Killer, this makes twice that he's targeted someone in relation to a prominent politician. Whoever this killer was, he needed to be apprehended.

I walked into my shared office, Graham hovering over some notes, and found my seat in front of him. He looked up but only briefly as he was mentally preparing to ask, "What happened now?"

"What was your meeting with the Commissioner about?" he finally mustered up enough courage to ask.

"I'm off to talk to District Attorney Santina about his daughter—"

Before I could finish my partner interrupted me. "Tell me this bastard hasn't gotten to the District Attorney's daughter?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I'm going to go speak with him, personally, to see what's going on. According, to Commissioner Redrum, Carlos is completely beside himself." I shrugged into my navy parka, wrapped my scarf around me and made for the door.

"Wait," Graham said, he to putting on his parka. "I'm going with you."

Outside, the temperature had dropped a good bit, as night fell. We hopped inside my Jeep and I cranked up the heat. After the car had warmed up to a comfortable feel, I headed to the Courthouse.

We jogged up the stairs to the courthouse, taking the steps two at a time. Inside, we found District Attorney Carlos Santina's massive corner office, on the third floor. We knocked, a voice announcing, "Come in."

We stepped inside and closed the door behind us. As we looked up, the leather chair behind the mahogany desk swiveled around. Sitting in that chair was none other than FBI Agent Max Keaton.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Graham asked, taking a step forward before I placed my arm in front of him, stopping him.

"I can very well ask you the same," Keaton said, smugly.

"We're here because District Attorney Santina asked for us," I said, realizing why Graham hated the cocksure bastard.

"Well it's quite obvious that the DA isn't present. I was asked to come speak with Mr. Santina about a matter regarding your dear friend, Ms. Lewis."

# CHAPTER 81

**I'D FORGOTTEN ABOUT MICHELLE** and that she'd worked under the Deputy Attorney. Still something wasn't quite right about Keaton's demeanor. He wasn't acting like someone here to question another; he was acting like someone who was trying to eliminate another. I scrutinized him closely as I asked, "Any progress on Michelle's case?"

"Actually, it's being taken over by the FBI. It's being classified as an organized crime in affiliation to Hector Martinez," he said.

"Why?"

"Because the kilos of cocaine found in Ms. Lewis' apartment belonged to Hector Martinez."

"And how do you know that?" I asked, expectantly.

"Because his logo is printed on its exterior. Remember we're talking about a Kingpin not some punk."

"Glad to hear you know so much about him," Graham said, his jawline tensing.

"It's my job to. My resources are endless," Keaton said.

"I bet."

I stepped outside to make a quick call to the Commissioner. I had to tell him that Carlos was nowhere to be found and that the FBI was here to speak with the District Attorney.

"Sonuvabitch! What the hell do you mean he wasn't there?" the commissioner yelled from the other end.

"When Detective Graham and I got here he wasn't here. And the only person who was here was Special Agent Keaton, with the FBI."

"And what was Agent Keaton's reason for being there?" Commissioner Redrum asked.

"He claims he was here to talk to the District Attorney about Michelle's case. He didn't go into details."

"Well you and Graham need to keep Keaton in your sights. The FBI has been known for sticking their noses' in places where it doesn't belong. Something's up and I want you to find out what it is, Sergeant."

"Yes sir."

"And Detective," he began, solemnly. "Be careful out there."

"I will sir," I hung up. Commissioner Redrum was right about one thing: something was definitely up and it wasn't just the gas prices either. I stepped back inside Santina's office. Graham was crouch down, reading the different legal titles; Agent Keaton was stuffing something behind his back as I continued inside. We met each other eye.

"I guess I'll be heading out," Keaton said, walking around the massive desk. "If you two happen to bump into Mr. Santina, tell him the FBI, wants to speak with him in regards to Michelle Lewis." He snickered as he brushed past me and out the door.

"So," Graham began, brushing off his pants. "What did the Commissioner say?"

"That we needed to keep a close watch on Keaton and the FBI. He agrees that something isn't adding up with their eagerness to convict Michelle. I mean, why wait this long to come speak with her boss? Michelle's been locked up for what, a month now?"

"We need to find Carlos," Graham said.

"I know the best place to look."

Preston Morales was sitting in a dark blue sedan, waiting to hear back from The Ghost. The Ghost had went ballistic about something Daisy had done and killed her. This certainly raised the stakes a bit, being that Daisy's father was Carlos Santina, the second most feared man in the state of New York, aside from Hector himself. Carlos is the reason why The Cartel has never been busted for selling drugs. The man was dirty himself, having been intimately involved with a few prostitutes working for The Cartel. Maria Sanchez, one of The Cartel's best call girls, was serving an eighteen-month sentence for prostitution, courtesy of Carlos Santina.

A few years ago, Carlos was having an ongoing affair with Maria and had fallen deeply in love. She was doing her job: sucking, stroking, and being submissive. One day, Carlos had phoned her asking if she would come by while his wife was out of town. She said yes. And the two rendezvoused and had a series of trysts. Afterwards, Maria stopped seeing him. Completely. No phone calls, no sexting, no nothing. And Carlos had gotten pissed and set her up to be busted for illegal prostitution. He sentenced her to twenty-four months but reduced it to eighteen. And ever since, he's been in The Cartel's debt.

But with the murder of his daughter, things could spiral out of control. Morales had been told to forget about the lady detective and keep watch at the Plaza Hotel. Therefore, that's what he was doing when he spotted Carlos Santina, running down the sidewalk. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He watched as the man rushed inside the hotel's lobby. Morales could only imagine what was about to transpire in the next couple of hours. He fired up his car and pulled off casually.

# CHAPTER 82

**WE RUSHED DOWN FIFTH** Avenue towards the Plaza Hotel, sirens blaring, and grille lights flickering. I screeched to a halt in front of the entrance. Graham and I bound through the metal doors, racing towards the reception area.

"Daisy Santina?" I said, flashing my badge. The woman behind the desk looked at me, alarmed. I elaborated. "What room is Daisy Santina in?"

That got her attention. "She's on the fourth floor, in room four-oh-five."

"Thank you."

We jogged over to the elevator bank and waited. Once on the elevator, I pressed the fourth floor and we ascended. We stepped off, walking briskly down the hallway, counting the room numbers...401...402...405! We braced ourselves, mouthing to each other as to who was to cover the other. We counted to three...one...two...three! I placed the heel of my foot near the doorknob, splintering the wooden door.

Carlos Santina was hovering over his daughter's lifeless body. She was laying nude on the bed, rose petals lay around her body in a grotesque manner. Graham turned his head, half out of respect and half out of horror. I could tell by looking at her that Daisy was a beautiful woman. Her features were doe-like, almost angelic. Poor Carlos was sobbing over her body. EMTs and paramedics were en route along with more officers.

"She was my first," Carlos sobbed. "Why did she have to be the one to die? Why?"

"I don't know but we're going to find out, sir." I didn't know what else to say. We'd been chasing this killer for over three weeks. I was beginning to second-guess my competence as a detective. Maybe I've run my course. Maybe I'm washed up. I knew this kind of thinking wasn't going to help find the Coed Killer. However, sometimes I beat myself up for the many fuck ups that occur in my life.

"Find this madman! Find him now!" Santina bellowed suddenly. He was getting red in the face. He clambered to his feet, stumbling a bit before quickly regaining his balance.

Dr. Draco Kozak, the city's medical examiner, walked into the room. He asked everyone to step away from the body so he could exam it. Carlos watched in amazement as the ME, lifted his dead daughter's body to exam laceration marks.

"Time of death seems to be about three hours ago. You see this melted skin here just above her left eye," Kozak said his thick accent more noticeable than before as he pointed to the glob of melted skin. "This indicates that the killer shot the victim at point blank range. Even though he used a pillow as a suppressor, still the damage is done."

Carlos had no idea how to decipher this medical lingo. "Does that tell us who the killer is?" Carlos asked.

I stepped up.

"No sir. That's a more detailed explanation to your daughter's death."

Santina's cell phone rang. He pulled out his phone, glanced at the caller ID and winced. A look of dread swept over his face. I assumed it was wife, Isabella, calling to see what's going on. He excused himself and I signaled for Graham to keep an eye on him. Dustin Mosley and his team of techies were already dusting for prints. Mosley was standing nearby, snapping pictures of the crime scene, when I approached.

"Think we'll ever catch a break?" I asked, trying to make light if the situation.

He raised his camera up, "I certainly hope so. This guy's starting to make a huge name for himself with the media. Did you catch NY-1 last night?"

He was referring to my arch nemesis and her news network, Candice Spencer. I wasn't surprised that she was running her big mouth, making up wild rumors about the case. That was her MO. She built a name for herself by making lies and telling them to the public.

"Nah I didn't." I answered.

"She's dubbing him The Ghost, like that movie with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore."

The Ghost, I thought. How fitting? That's a great name for this guy.

"She's quite a character Dustin, you know that. She—"

POW...POW...POW...

# CHAPTER 83

Gunshots.

**THE KILLER WAS STILL** lurking about the building. Graham, me and several other uniformed officers went in pursuit. We split up: Graham and I taking the fourth and third floors, the other officers taking the first and second floors. I heard another round of shots fired. It sounded like it came from below me! I quickly thought about my partner because he was below me on the third floor. I rushed down the stairs of the fire escape, bumping into walls as I descended. I didn't care about the bruises I was worried about Graham. I started yelling his name, as I got closer to the third floor. I saw Graham leaning against the wall gripping his arm. He looked pale, blood oozing between his fingers. I rushed over to him, scanning him all over as a mother does her pup. He was my best friend.

"David...how bad is it?" I asked, scared to hear the answer.

"I'll be fine just go after him! Go after Morales!" Graham said, wincing.

Wait—did he just say Morales? Preston Morales was the one behind this? That news only fueled my anger even more. I hated Preston Morales. In addition, I wanted nothing more than to see him to a prison cell, dead or alive.

I met one of the other officers on my way downstairs. He looked at my bloodied hands.

"My partner was shot, he's fine. Let's move!" I ordered.

We made it to the lobby where total chaos had broken out. Women and children were shaken up badly. The reception woman was nowhere to be found, probably hiding underneath the desk. Morales was nowhere to be found. I cursed myself for not being fast enough. I pushed open the doors to the hotel out of mere frustration. I looked up and down the streets just in case I spotted Morales. Paramedics were pushing Graham out on a stretcher. He looked broken, not himself. He smiled weakly as he went past me. Still trying to be upbeat even after being shot.

"I'll meet you at the hospital," I said as they placed him inside the ambulance. I watched as they rolled away, the sirens deafening.

I climbed behind the wheel of my Jeep and slammed the door. I had to gain control of this case. I also had to make time to mourn my sister's death too. It'd been two weeks since she was discovered in her brownstone apartment. And this case has deprived me of properly mourning Justine's death. I checked my wristwatch: it was 7:02 p.m.

I fired up the engine and headed toward Bellevue Hospital, where Graham was being treated. The entire ride there I prayed that he would pull through.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Preston? You don't go shooting people without my authorization! Do you realize what you've done?" The Cartel was furious. Preston had placed them all in jeopardy with his incompetence and trigger happiness. The Cartel was considering teaching him a valuable lesson.

"Bring him over here," he said to one of his goons. They grabbed him roughly by the crooks of his elbows and dragged him in front of The Cartel. The Cartel removed a silenced pistol from the inside of his coat. He aimed the gun between Preston's eyes and grinned.

"No please! I made a mistake—I won't do it again!" Morales pleaded, tears running down his cheeks. The Cartel paused, slowly withdrawing his gun.

"Next time I won't be so merciful." He turned and walked away. Preston clambered to his feet shouting "thank you's" as he brushed himself off. The goons followed him to the front door. And moments later Preston Morales was by himself on the lonely streets of downtown Manhattan.

Graham had made a good recovery and was announced to be in stable condition. When I walked in the room after waiting two hours while he underwent surgery, Carla, his girlfriend was hold hand at his bedside. He looked up when I walked in, and flashed me one his lady killer smiles.

"Sagittarius!" he said, gleefully.

"How're you feeling, buddy?" I replied, cracking a grin of my own.

"A little sore but I'm not whining about it."

We shared a laugh.

"Well I need you to hurry up and get better. We have a lot of work to do." And that's when I noticed the look on his face. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"I've been thinking about this for quite some time now—I think I'm going to turn in my badge, Sagittarius," he said gravely.

I was taken aback. David Graham, who had been my partner for over six years, was planning on retiring. He was still young, thirty to be precise, but I guess the Force can age a person behind their years.

"It's not something concrete, Sagittarius," Carla Davidson said. "It's something that we've talked about over the past months. We plan to have a life together, maybe a few kids here and there. We just want to make sure we're here for them."

I understood where she was coming from. I was waiting for Mr. Right to show up at my doorstep. But I knew I could just keep dreaming. Because the truth of the matter is, an independent woman intimidates most men. And it didn't help that I was a cop, a very outspoken cop. The only person I ever loved I caught him fucking another woman in our bed. So you tell me, what are the chances of true love? Exactly.

"Well I hope you at least help me catch this killer before you turn in that badge." I was starting to cry. I was losing a close friend.

Graham seen me crying and said, "Sagittarius it's not set in stone yet. Stop crying, you're making me feel bad."

I had to get some fresh air. I hated being oversensitive. It always occurred at the wrong times. "I need to get some fresh air. I'll be back later on to check on you." I tilted my head forward in departure and took my leave. As I walked away, the tears just broke loose. Sagittarius Luckett was in love.

# CHAPTER 84

**PRESTON MORALES HAD TO** rid of the nosy little cunt, Sergeant Luckett. She was starting to stir up a lot of shit. And it was time for her to go. He was posted down the street from her brownstone apartment, awaiting her arrival. He stared in his rear view mirror, as headlight beams made their way down Perry Street. It was Sergeant Luckett. He watched as she unfolded from behind the wheel and walked up the stairs to her brownstone apartment. He waited two minutes, exactly, before he too extracted from behind the wheel. Two minutes. That's how long the average person took to get settled in, he mused.

He walked casually up the steps and knocked on the door. He counted to ten, and then raced around the side of the brownstone where the exterior power breaker was. He listened and waited for Sergeant Luckett to go back inside before he cut the wires, cutting off all power to house. She was in for a fight of her career and she didn't even know it. He slid on a pair of black gloves; screwed on a suppressor to his gun; checked the mag; and recited the Lord's Prayer _. Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be thou name, Thou kingdom come, thou will be done..._ He crept around the building, peered up inside the dark house _. On Earth, as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread..._ It was now or never.

I'd just stepped inside and gotten nice and comfortable, when suddenly there was a knock at my door! What the hell was it now? I tossed my shoulder holster on the nearby coat rack and made for the door. When I opened it, no one was there! Huh, that's odd, I thought, closing the door back, suddenly—Darkness. I couldn't see anything not even my own hands, as I stuck them out in front of me. Then I realized what was going on. I was being ambushed!

I groped aimlessly for my service weapon, which I'd left on one of my many coffee tables. Shit! Where is it? Outside, I heard footsteps creeping up the steps. An intruder! I dropped to one knee, flipping the odds in my favor and continued groping the nearby tables. Ah hah! I wrapped my hand around the butt of my Glock 17 and aimed it in the general direction I thought was my front door. Then I listened and waited. But I didn't hear anything. The intruder must've thought better, I told myself. But I was wrong.

Suddenly, the doorknob rattled, not loud enough to cause alarm but loud enough to let me know someone was attempting to break in. I braced myself, slowing down my breathing. The door creaked open, revealing a silhouette. I couldn't tell if it was male or female. Therefore, I waited for the intruder to emerge from around the corner, but nothing happened. Seconds went by and I was beginning to think everything was okay...Until—

"Yuhooo! Is anyone home," came a male voice. "I know you're in there Sergeant. C'mon let's have some fun, huh?"

I wasn't in the mood for having fun especially with some asshole breaking into my apartment. I fired a double tap through the wall near the door, hoping I'd hit him. He returned fire, forcing me to retreat behind an ottoman. I was trying to figure out if this was the killer or Preston Morales. On the other hand, perhaps they're one in the same, I told myself. Either way one of them, if not both, were responsible for Graham being placed in the hospital.

"You know I hate it when someone sticks their nose in places it don't belong," said the intruder. "You know what I do to those nosy individuals?" He stepped inside the foyer. "I kill em, that's what I do to them."

I shot up from behind my hiding spot and let off another double tap. I heard him scream in agony, as I tried to pinpoint where he was. I knew that wherever I'd shot him he was hurt. I started walking towards his labored breathing but was startled by the clinch around my left ankle. I panicked, as women do in the horror movies, and started clawing to get free. I'd forgotten that I had a gun in my hand, which would have ended the bout quickly. Animal instinct overpowered my logic. I heard the smooth metallic click and knew what was to happen next. I threw up my hands, in defense, as I dropped to the floor. A shot rang out, catching me my collarbone. I grimaced as I landed on my back, my anklebone cracking under the pressure. I yelped. I'd been shot!

# CHAPTER 85

**THE INTRUDER COCKED** HIS gun again. I started scooting backwards, hoping he couldn't see what I was doing. "You fucking bitch! You're going to pay for that one, baby!" the intruder warned, laughing maniacally. I was in a bad bind, with my shooting arm completely out of commission, it was no way I was going to make it out this alive. I tried desperately to lift my arm to fire, but I couldn't feel no movement.

The intruder started firing warning shots, which seemed more like shoot-till-you-your-mark shots. I was lucky my intruder couldn't see where he was shooting or I'd be a dead cop. I could tell by the way he was walking that I'd hit him in the leg somewhere when I fired. He was stomping like a zombie with a broken foot, as he advanced on me. To the left of me, I could hear Gizmo having a fit with all the commotion going on. I prayed that nothing happened to him throughout the altercation.

Very faintly, I could hear sirens. Help was on its way! And I wasn't the only one who heard it either. The intruder grunted something noncommittal and shuffled away from me. He was about to get away and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop him. He vanished and Agent Keaton materialized in the doorway of my apartment, shining a Maglite in my face. Uniformed NYPD personnel accompanied him. I was looking for Graham, when the sickening revelation hit me. My partner was still recovering from his gunshot wound!

Paramedics and EMTs gathered around me: checking my pulse, inserting IV needles into my arm, placing a breathing apparatus over my mouth. I was helped onto a stretcher and wheeled outside to the waiting ambulance.

Keaton was by my side the entire ride, asking me questions that sounded like, "What happened back there?" "Who did this to you?" "Are you okay?" However, the only thing I could make out was a fading voice, something god-like, like you see in the movies before someone dies. My eyes were becoming heavy making it hard for me to keep them open and soon after, I drifted off into a deep sleep.

I woke up to a sharp pain in my shoulder. Only then did I realize why I was lying in a hospital with my arm in a sling. There was some leftover food sitting on the cart that's must've been from dinner. Hospital food is the worse, never having the right amount of seasoning or portions. I was hungry for a burger from McDonald's. A Big n' Tasty with a large fry. A nurse walked in and introduced herself as Nurse Daniella. She was pretty with violet eyes, and full lips. She was carrying what looked like pain meds and I happily accepted them. My shoulder hurt like a sonuvabitch and I wasn't the type to complain much.

"Here I've got you some Ibuprofen for the pain. Doctor Winslow will be with you momentarily," she said as she placed the two capsules in the palm of my hand. She assisted me with drinking water, holding the cup upright so that it didn't to spill all over me.

"Thanks," I said, feeling relieved for the painkillers.

"Now you get some rest before Doctor Winslow gets here."

I nodded and Nurse Daniella exited the room, quietly. I turned on the TV and flipped through the local channels until I came upon something interesting. There was Law and Order Special Victims (how ironic) Criminal Minds CSI: NY. Every channel seemed to be police based. I decided on Scooby Doo instead. I laughed joyously as a harmless Jack in the box startled Shaggy. Then someone knocked on my room door and in walked who I assumed was Doctor Winslow.

"How are ya?" he asked, taking his place on a stool near my bed.

"I'm ready to get the hell out of here."

He chuckled.

"Well you won't be going home no time soon, Ms. Luckett. That bullet was real close to your heart. You're lucky to be alive. We're going to run a few more tests to make sure everything is functioning properly." He stood up and just like that, he was gone.

I was still trying to figure out who had broken into my apartment and attacked me. My bets were on the Coed Killer. For whatever reason he was after me. There hadn't been a coed murder I over a week now and I was beginning to wonder if perhaps he'd changed his MO and was going after law enforcement. If so, being a sitting duck wasn't the best approach to apprehending him. I needed to get the hell out of this hospital, Graham too.

Preston Morales looked up at the Bellevue Hospital, plotting a way to get inside unnoticed. The hospital had a history of its own; being built four years after George Washington was born, in 1736. And forty years later, the Declaration of Independence was signed. But today, he thought, history was about to be remade. He wanted to finish Sergeant Luckett off and get her out of the picture completely. His leg was pretty banged up from his encounter with her hours ago. And he was in no shape whatsoever to be paying her a second visit. The Cartel had advised him to get in touch with The Ghost and let him finish the job. But Preston declined, stating that he wanted to finish what he started. Now here he was contemplating a way to kill the bitch finally. He was about to exit the vehicle, when he got a better idea. Oh, he had a much smarter way to handle this.

# CHAPTER 86

**AGENT MAX KEATON WAS** in his office at the Manhattan field office, when the call came. He knew who it was. It was Preston Morales. He and Morales had been working closely together, sharing information. Right now they were discussing, a way to eliminate Sergeant Luckett. She was getting to close to solving the case.

"Any idea how we can eliminate the sergeant?" Preston said.

"I'll take care of the girl you make sure her little pet is taking care of," Keaton replied. He was scribbling down some notes. He was the best person for the job. He'd been intimately involved with the detective and he was convinced that he could break down her metal barriers.

"Have you spoken with The Ghost?"

"No. He was told to stay under the radar until I gave him the okay. Luckett is a smart cop. She'll be the first one to catch on to what's going on. I can only divert her for so long. I need to locate District Attorney Carlos Santina. I need to find him before the local cops do."

"Give me a few days and I'll locate him," Morales said.

"You handle the DA and I'll take care of Luckett."

"Deal,"

Keaton disconnected the call. He had work to do. He grabbed his coat as he dashed out the door. Outside, the snow flurries were in full swing, covering the streets of downtown Manhattan with a sheet of snow. He located his Impala easily enough, jogged over, and hopped behind the wheel. It was freezing cold inside the car but he had no time to waste. Sergeant Luckett was due to be discharged from Bellevue Hospital today.

He parked in the "no parking zone" in front of the entrance. He jogged inside and nearly ran into Carla Davidson, the narc from Narcotics. He'd only met her once, shortly after Sandy, her informant, was found dead in the passenger seat of a stolen vehicle.

"Agent Keaton," she said by way of greeting. "Are you here to see Sagittarius?"

"Actually I'm here to give her a lift home. She"—Carla cut him off.

"We got it covered, thanks. Both her and David are set to be discharged today."

"Really it's no bother. Me and Sagittarius have some unfinished business to handle," he sighed heavily, and then continued, "I've been such an ass to her after we went for drinks that one night and I just—I just want to apologize to her."

Carla knew what he was referring to. Sagittarius had expressed continuously on what an asshole he was for using her for sex and then shunning her afterwards. She doubted Sagittarius wanted any apologies from the prick but she wasn't for sure.

"I don't know if she's able to have visitors at the moment," she lied. "But you can go find out."

Keaton walked down the hall in search of her room. He spotted a nurse's station with an attractive red-haired nurse manning the station. He walked over to her, said, "Ma'am I'm looking for Sagittarius Luckett, I'm with the FBI," he flashed his credentials. Her eyes got big at the sight of his badge.

"She's— in the room right around the corner," she stammered.

He went around the corner and knocked on the first door he seen. There was no response. Therefore, he knocked again, this time with a sense of urgency. Still no answer. That's odd, he thought. He grabbed the doorknob and pushed opened the door. He looked around the room and sure enough she was nowhere in sight. He was about to turn and walk back to the reception, when he heard a slight rustle from behind him. He spun around but not quick enough. Sergeant Luckett was fully clothed, holding her Glock inches from his face. He was puzzled; he wanted to know how she'd managed to dupe him like this?

He tried to calm her down. "Whoa, whoa take it easy, Sag. I'm not the bad guy. I just came by to check on you, see how you're doing."

"I'm obviously doing just fine. You knew that, you came here for something much different, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Empty your pockets, Max," she ordered.

"What?"

"I said empty your pockets!" she repeated, angrily.

# CHAPTER 87

**HE EMPTIED HIS POCKET:** A gun, a pair of Zip-ties, black latex gloves. If she didn't know, any better she'd thought he was preparing to commit the perfect crime. With the contents from his pockets, it was clear to her that Keaton had an agenda. And she was on that agenda.

"Look I can—" But she wasn't hearing it.

"I had a strange feeling about you, Max. Ever since you tried to keep me from speaking with Michelle, I knew something wasn't right. You came here to kill me, didn't you Max?"

He burst into a fit of laughter. "Are you serious?" he said half laughing. "That's ridiculous and you know it."

"So you aren't denying it?"

"Fuck yeah I'm denying it." He was calculating a way to overpower her. And if he were to get caught in a scuffle, he could say it was self-defense. Besides, she was the one with the gun.

"Sit down on the bed," she ordered.

"You want me to sit on your bed?" he said condescending.

"That's what I said."

"I just wanted to make sure. Can't piss off the person holding a gun, you know?" he was messing with her, trying to throw her off balance. He saw his opportunity and swung his arms upward, bringing them back down with force, connecting with her shoulders. She yelped as her Glock clattered to the floor. He kicked it underneath the bed. He walked over to where Sagittarius lay holding her shoulder and kicked her. She inhaled deeply as pain jolted through her midsection. Tears welled up in her eyes. She braced herself for another kick. This one sending her sliding across the linoleum floor.

Keaton walked over to her, squatted beside her and said, "Maybe next time you'll keep your nose where it belongs." There were urgent footsteps coming from behind, Keaton whipped around to see the nurse from the reception hurrying over.

"What happened to her?" she asked, squatting beside him.

"Whatever meds you gave her is causing her to make bad judgement calls. She pulled a gun on me! As she forgot, I'm the FBI. So I took her down," Keaton explained. Nurse Daniella looked at the damage done to her patient and knew she wasn't just "taken down" she'd been beaten pretty badly.

"Okay," she finally said. "But I'll still have to file an incident report."

"That won't be necessary. My department will make sure all the paperwork is done properly.

The room door opened for the second time as Carla Davidson stepped in, looking pissed. "Agent Keaton!"

"Carla as I explained to the nurse here, Sagittarius pulled a gun on me so I had to defend myself."

"By beating the living crap out of her?" she yelled.

"Carla I'm going to need for you to lower your voice."

"Or what you're going to beat me to a pulp as well?" she retorted, her face contorting in rage.

Agent Keaton didn't have time for petty arguments. If she didn't want to calm down then fine, he thought. He headed for the door, but Carla barred the door, standing in front of it.

"Detective Davidson step away from the door. This is coming from a senior officer!"

Carla smiled.

"You aren't no senior officer to me. You're nothing but a crooked agent. Who loves to get rough with the women?" She could see the thick vein bulging from his forehead. An indication he was pissed.

"Detective, I'm not even going to dignify that accusation with a response."

"Then don't," she reached for her holster at the same time so did Keaton. Only Keaton didn't have a weapon to reach for. He'd emptied his pockets earlier including surrendering over his Glock. Carla extended her arm, revealing a Glock of her own.

Keaton couldn't believe what was happening. Two female cops were overpowering him. He was completely botching this mission. These women weren't letting him out of this room and that was going to make things difficult.

He raised his hands defensively. "No need to get aggressive. I'll do what you want. Jeez." But he was always calculating, always trying to gain the upper hand. His FBI training was more intense than what they taught the local cops. He walked over to the bed and sat. It was going to be a waiting game from here on out. His superiors were going to take his side, regardless.

Carla's cell phone rang and she took her eyes off him, only for a split second. But that split second was crucial, because he regained control of the situation. With lightning fast quickness, he was on top of Carla, disarming her. He slapped the phone to the floor, then slammed his forearm into her trachea, pinning her to the wall. They scuffled a bit, both trying to gain advantage until Keaton found a pressure point and applied pressure. Carla slumped to the ground then picked up her discarded phone.

"Hello?" he said.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then, "Who is this?"

"This is Agent Keaton, who is..." but the line went dead. Keaton knew he had to get out of there. He rushed out of the room, leaving both unconscious detectives laying on the floor. He stopped by the reception and asked her if she'd seen a man run by.

"He was medium build, about my height wearing a janitor's uniform," he described his scapegoat.

"No sir. I didn't."

"Call security and have them lock down the place. There's a killer on the loose!"

Nurse Daniella didn't hesitate one bit as she placed a call to the security guard. When she looked up, Agent Keaton had vanished.

Like a ghost...

# CHAPTER 88

**DANNY FISHER WAS STEPPING** out of the shower, when his cell phone rang from the other room. He'd just finished having sex with an escort, courtesy of Hector Martinez. She wanted another round, he thought, as his phone continued to vibrate. Patricia was quite the lover. Performing all sorts of aerobic positions, fetishes and Danny's favorite; dominance. He'd climaxed quicker than normal and he wasn't the one-minute type. Patricia was special, taking great pride in the art of seduction. Danny padded into the bedroom, in hopes that Patricia was calling him for another visit. He was disappointed when he gazed at the caller ID and seen Max Keaton's private number highlighted.

"What can I do for you, Max?" he said, annoyed.

"Letting you know you can come out of hiding now. Both the sergeant and the other detective are temporarily out of the equation. I know you been having an itch that's been needing to be scratched."

Danny chuckled.

"Thanks for making light of my predicament, Max. I'll remember to return the favor."

"No problem, my friend. Listen, I was thinking maybe we can go out on one of your adventures together, sort of like a Bonnie and Clyde reunion."

"I usually don't cross swords, Max," he joked. "But I'll think about letting you join me one day. I got to go."

"Alright," Keaton said, laughing. "Make sure to keep in touch."

Danny disconnected the call. The Ghost was resurrected; back from the dark depths of the crypt. He walked over to his nightstand and pulled out his notepad. This was where he kept a list of all the girls' he wanted to defile. Kelly Newton was next on his list. He'd spoken with Professor Williams about their tutoring session, in which, Williams had become more infatuated with Kelly's beauty. Williams had told him about the dream he had that was so vivid, he woke up shivering from adrenaline.

In the dream, he described how he'd woken up to find himself in front of the girls' dormitory and knocking on the door to talk with Kelly. He and Kelly had decided to take a walk around campus and that's when he attacked her. Danny had encouraged him to act on that infatuation and make the dream come to life. But Professor Williams was reluctant, and chose to end the conversation instead.

Tonight, The Ghost was about to bring that dream to reality but with a much more satisfying ending. He looked at the slithering creature, flicking its two-prong tongue out, and slowly raised its head. He withdrew a picture he'd gotten from her dorm room and admired how remarkable she looked. "You are quite the beauty, my love," he said aloud. He shoved the picture back in his front pocket and headed out the door. There was six inches of snow that blanketed the streets of Manhattan. This was going to be a picturesque murder for the ages, he thought. He tucked his chin further inside his coat and he picked up his pace. Ten minutes later, he was standing on the doorstep where Kelly Newton shared her room with another girl. Deja Vu, he thought. I never thought the French word had a true meaning.

He didn't even bother knocking; he knew the door would be open. After all he and Kelly Newton had been secretly having sex for a while. And tonight he had requested that her roommate joined them. He was rock hard the moment he stepped inside. Both Kelly and her roommate Rebecca Simon were laying naked performing cunnilgus on one another. Kelly was moaning uncontrollably as The Ghost spread open Rebecca's rectum and gave her a rim job. After Rebecca's rectum had loosen up, he stuck his penis inside and began thrusting aggressively until he climaxed. Kelly grabbed his penis in her hand, and teased him before stuffing her mouth with his penis. She performed oral sex quite exquisitely, The Ghost thought. Once he was hard, again he turned her over and mounted her.

As the two girls lay exhausted, on the bed. The Ghost produced two lengthy ropes. "Let's spice it up a bit," he said, taking their hands and feet and bonding them together. He placed a blindfold over their eyes along with a gag for their mouths. Once he was sure they couldn't see what was about to transpire, he removed the snake and placed it inches from Rebecca's wet vulva. He took his index finger and slowly caressed the inner walls of the vulva. Rebecca shuddered with pleasure, mumbling her approval through her gag. She opened her legs involuntarily and the snake found its way inside her.

# CHAPTER 89

**KELLY NEWTON WAS LOVING** this S&M performance. She had released multiple orgasms with Danny; the most she's ever experienced. She was in love. She was waiting patiently for her turn when she felt Rebecca shuddering from something Danny was doing to her. She smiled. Danny Fisher was a modern day Casanova. A love machine. However, there was something about the way Rebecca was writhing around that caused a sense of alarm. Maybe he's done something that caught her off guard, she thought. But that wasn't the case. Something was happening to her friend and she was tied up and couldn't see what was going on.

Suddenly, the bed got still and Kelly could hear her heart slamming into her chest as her mind began to wonder. Then, "Open up for me, baby," came Danny soft, angelic voice. She relaxed a bit and let her legs apart. She felt Danny's fingers expertly probing her vulva. She loved the way it felt. She was literally on the verge of an orgasm when suddenly he withdrew his hands. What a tease! He's probably examining how wet he'd gotten me, she mused. She was definitely wet all right; she could hear the wet sound her vulva made when it was stimulated, as she moved from side to side. Then suddenly there was pain in her pelvic, excruciating pain. Then, she went ramrod as something unusual slid inside her. What the hell? The pain only got worse the further the object went inside her. She was crying, her pelvic area on fire; then out of nowhere she felt something like thick water running down the sides of her neck. Was that...blood? She wondered. She noticed that her breathing became labored and each time she took a breath, more warm liquid ran down the sides of her neck. And that's when she realized what had happened. Kelly Newton was dying! Danny, her lover had murdered her!

The Ghost had gathered his things and vanished out the door. He didn't feel sorry for what he'd done. It was like an everyday chore to him. We make trash we take out trash. Was his motto. He had blood all over his hands. He needed to get back to his apartment and scrub them clean before he left a trail for the cops. That would be stupid he chastised himself. He used the corner of his coattail to open his door.

He rushed over to the bathroom, stripped off all his clothes and hopped inside the shower stall. He was nervous. For once in his life, he feared that he'd messed up. He started thinking about how the cops would look at the crime scene. He wondered what kind of angles they would look for. He was about to called Max Keaton, but thought better of it. You just need to get a grip, Danny, he told himself. You're panicking. And he was panicking; he wasn't used to thinking about the killings after they were done. The feeling of paranoia mixed with remorse was completely new to him. Almost unbearable. He'd always deemed himself a stoic person, incapable of showing emotion. After his shower, he decided to read one of his many Zane novels. It'd been awhile since he'd picked up a novel. He picked out the novel Purple Panties and sat down to read. It was going to be a long and cold night. Man, he missed having Daisy there to warm his bed.

I looked ugly as I stared at my refection through the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Agent Keaton had nearly beaten me to death and yet no one believed my story, not even Commissioner Redrum, our newly appointed police commissioner. Carla had tried to vouch that I was telling the truth because she too inflicted the same treatment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing; Max Fucking Keaton was getting away with assault! I was furious. Completely beside myself. I'd just gotten my ass handed to me and had a witness to the affair.

"So you're telling me this bastard is off the hook for assault?" I asked the commissioner. "Where the fuck is the justice in that?"

"If you plan on continuing your career as a detective in my department, I advise you to show some respect when talking to me! You've had plenty of altercations with fellow law enforcement. Commissioner Wilson, Lord rest his soul, had written you up countless times for insubordination among other things. Frankly, I don't see why you're haven't been demoted from a sergeant."

"Because I'm a good cop, sir," I snapped.

"You may be a good cop but your attitude and respect for your superiors suck! I've never been talked to by anyone the way you talk to people and goddammit I'm not about to start. Now we can butt heads or we get along as fellow law enforcement is supposed to get along. Now this is your one and only warning, Sergeant Luckett. I will demand respect and I will get that respect, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal sir," I said reluctantly. I couldn't believe this paper-pusher wannabe hard ass was insulting my intelligence. I was going to confront Keaton myself I knew he was the Coed Killer; I just had to get everyone else to join the cause.

Doctor Winslow knocked on the door and Commissioner Redrum turned as Winslow continued inside. "How's it going doc?"

"It's been better I'd say. If you don't mind—" he eyed the door.

"Oh, right," he turned to me. "I'll talk to you later."

After the commissioner had, left Doctor Winslow sat down on the bed next to me. He smelled good. I was starting to getting embarrassed by my appearance. I looked a hot mess!

He cleared his throat. "Sagittarius, I apologize about what you've been through in the past seventy-two hours. It's a tragedy in itself. No woman should have to prove that she'd been assaulted by anyone." He shifted his weight. "I'm discharging you but I'm recommending you to seek counsel. Talk to a psychologist, someone who can help you through this emotional time in your life."

"Thanks doctor, it's good to know that they're still some half way decent men still around." I started to kiss him. I don't why I just wanted to kiss him. Maybe it was because of his sentimental approach or the fact that believed my story. Either way, I had found my lips pressed tightly against his. He hesitated a moment but placed his hand behind my head and kissed me deeply. When we broke loose, it felt awkward.

"I'm...I'm sorry about that Doctor Winslow I—" I stammered.

He placed a finger on my lips. "Don't apologize I'm not offended." He stood up and left. I sat there feeling foolish for dreaming up a teenage love affair. I went over to the sink and scrutinized the bruises on my face. They weren't as bad as I'd thought. A little make-up and it would be completely unnoticeable. I put on a pair of ladybug-looking shades and walked out the door. As I left, I phoned Carla Davidson and told her to meet me at The Brass Monkey. We had business to discuss.

# CHAPTER 90

**I MET BOTH CARLA** and Graham at our favorite bar joint, The Brass Monkey, a little after eight that night. We ordered shots of Jack Daniel's and got straight down to business. "I can't believe the commissioner," Graham began. "It's no reason why he should downplay your assault just because you've had prior altercations with fellow law enforcement." Graham had been more than pissed about what had happened to me; he was furious. After me and Carla told him it was Agent Keaton, who'd done it, he nearly had a fit of rage. "I knew something wasn't right about that scumbag!" he'd said. And he was one-hundred percent right. I just gave the man the benefit of the doubt and it nearly cost me my life.

"I mean he wouldn't even listen to what I had to say about the incident. He just stuck out his hand like some high school preppy chick. No offense to you Sagittarius, but I didn't look like I'd been attacked but I was hacking up bits of blood when he entered the hospital room to begin with." I was beginning to like Carla a whole lot more. She'd stuck her neck out for me and she didn't have to do that at all. I knew that if Graham did decide to hang it up, he'll be safe with Carla.

I threw back my shot glass and slammed it down on the bar. "I say we set Keaton up. Lure him to some place where we can interrogate him without worrying about the legal aspect," I suggested, signaling the bartender for another round.

"And how do you expect us to go about this plan of interrogation? The man isn't going to want to talk to us after what he'd done," Graham said. He had point. If I knew FBI and all those other counterterrorism spooks, there wasn't a chance in hell that they'd fall for a simple ruse. But I had another idea to add.

"I could seduce him and make him think that I'd been missing him, despite the beaten I'd taken. And suggest that I've been feeling a little X-rated and wanted to have a little fun," I said.

We burst into laughter. Even the bartender, who overheard what I'd said, joined the laughing fit. It was a ludicrous idea that could prove deadly if not executed perfectly. But with my alcohol-consumed mind, that idea wasn't the least ludicrous; it was brilliant. Shows why drinking isn't good when you have to make life and death decisions.

"Well, check this out," Graham began. "If he is in fact the Coed Killer and with the sexual methods he uses. It's not really a bad idea, I mean, if Sagittarius is really up to it," he turned to Carla, "I mean me and you baby, we can hide somewhere just as a safe precaution."

Carla liked the idea. "Yeah I guess that would even out the odds. Are you up to the challenge?" she asked me. Hell yeah I was up to the challenge, was what I wanted to say but I had to admit I was a bit nervous.

"Uh—I think I'll be okay with that. As long as you guys are nearby, in case some shit goes down—

"Don't worry we'll be there," Graham said, reassuringly.

"Okay, tomorrow we go through with the plan. We meet up at my place at nine sharp. Don't be late guys," I said as I got up to head to my Jeep.

Security guard Billy Allen had been dispatched to check on Kelly Newton and Rebecca Simon. Reports of them not showing up for their first and second class brought a little concern. Therefore, Billy was the guy who was responsible for checking on the students. Allen knew all about the female student's who'd been murdered recently. The last security guard had turned in his resignation shortly after the last killing had occurred. Fucking pussy, Allen had thought after taking the job. Who the hell signs up to protect people and then quit the moment danger comes lurking? He'd happily accepted the position. He was joyously whistling and swaggering as he closed in on Kelly and Rebecca's dorm room. He knocked and waited for a response. After a few seconds, he knocked again this time calling out their names.

"Kelly Newton and Rebecca Simon! This is campus security, are you girls' alright in there?" he called. He turned the knob and noticed that it was unlocked. Stepping inside, "Not to bother you girls' but people—" he froze. Kelly and Rebecca nude bodies were sprawled across the bed. Flies were buzzing around their gaping mouth, some landing on the congealed blood on the neck.

# CHAPTER 91

**ALLEN TOOK A TIMID** step forward, quickly covering his mouth as bile attempted to escape his esophagus. Both girls' neck had been slit from ear to ear. There was congealed blood near the girls' vaginal area, an indication of sexual assault. He said a silent prayer for the poor girls as he called 9-1-1. As he spoke to the emergency dispatcher, he heard a slight hiss sound. He turned and nearly dropped his cell phone as a dark looking snake slithered out of Kelly's vagina. He stared, wide-eyed at the spectacle, forgetting all about the dispatcher on the phone.

"Hello, sir? What's going on?" a faint voice came from the dropped cell phone. He shook his head violently and picked up the phone.

"Sorry," he said. "A...live...um...a live snake just came out of her vagina. I don't—"

"Sir is the woman dead?" said the dispatcher.

Allen was quiet for a spell. He'd never seen anything like this in his entire life! Where the hell they do this kind of shit, he thought. The Middle East?

"I need the police, firemen, hell I need the National Guard if possible," he spoke to the dispatcher. She told him that help was on the way. He closed up his phone and kept an eye on the reptile that had made its way out of Kelly's dead body.

Agent Max Keaton was a brilliant man, that's why the FBI had recruited him to begin with. He'd overheard what Sergeant Luckett and her Nancy-Grace-wannabes were plotting. He'd secretly attached a recording device into her badge, along with a tracking device inside her work shoes. He'd secretly administered these devices while he was squatted down beside her at the hospital. He'd nearly been caught when the nurse had stormed inside the room. My resources are endless he'd told them. And all jokes aside, they were. However, he was going to play along with the sergeant's attempt for revenge. He had an ace up his sleeve that they didn't know about. He called Chester Lewis and told him the good news.

"Hey Chester, this is Special Agent Keaton with the FBI. I have some good news for you. We found out who framed your sister."

"Who?" Chester prompted.

Keaton sighed for effect before continuing.

"Sergeant Luckett had your sister set up so she could pin the coed murders on you without your sister interfering."

"You're kidding me?"

"One thing I do not do Mr. Lewis, is kid around."

"Are you guys going to arrest her?"

"You bet your ass we are. We're headed to her place now. I want you to be there to witness the arrest. Where are you?"

"I can meet you at Washington Square," Chester said.

"I'm passing Morningside Heights right now I'll be there in thirty." He hung up. Chester Lewis was his ace in the hole.

Thirty minutes later, Keaton was pulling up to Washington Square. At first, he thought Chester had stood him up, and then he spotted him waving from across the park. He jogged over to the car and hopped in the passenger seat.

"I was beginning to think you got cold feet," Keaton said, pulling away from the curb.

"No way man. I've been waiting for whoever set up my sister to be arrested. Where're we headed?"

"Sergeant Luckett lives over near Christopher Park, a nice brownstone apartment."

"Where's your back up?" Chester asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Somethings don't require backup, Chester."

"What do you mean?"

"She's a woman for Christ's sake how hard do you think it'll be to arrest her?"

The rest of the way they sat in complete silence. When they got in front of a nice looking brownstone apartment Chester asked, "Is this her place?"

"It sure is. Do me a favor, hand me that gun in the glove compartment, will ya?"

Chester hesitated. Something wasn't right about the cop's nonchalant demeanor. He opened the glove compartment and handed him the gun. Keaton slid on a pair of gloves and stepped out in the cold night's air. With his back turned, he screwed on a suppressor and shoved the gun in his coat pocket. He turned, and jerked his head towards the brownstone and waited as Chester got out. Once Chester caught up, he turned, withdrawing his gun and aimed it at Chester.

"What the hell man?" Was all he said before Keaton executed a double tap to his chest and head. He unscrewed the suppressor, hopped behind the wheel and called in the shooting.

"Hey, I just heard something outside my window and when I looked saw a man lying on the ground and a woman running away," Keaton told the dispatcher.

"And your name is?" the dispatcher prompted.

"Tony, Tony Bennett."

"Okay Mr. Bennett help is on the way."

Keaton fired up the engine. Part 1 was completed now it was time to finish it.

# CHAPTER 92

**I WOKE UP TO A** bang at my front door. Instinctively, I reached for my Glock as I made my way down the vestibule to my front door. I slowed, as red cherry-looking lights flashed across my curtained window. What the hell was going on? I looked through the peephole before opening the door for Detective Michaels. My breath caught in my throat as I thought about, Justine. Maybe something new has developed in her murder investigation, I told myself. Michaels stepped inside the foyer and the look on his face was grave.

"What's going on, Chuck?" I asked.

"Someone was shot at point blank range, right outside your door. Dispatcher says that the nine-one-one caller described you as the shooter."

I nearly fainted by the news; luckily, Detective Michaels was there to catch my fall.

"That can't be possible. You have to believe Chuck. You believe me, don't you?"

He was quiet for a minute. "The victim was Chester Lewis, Michelle's brother. There were some concerns about the way you interrogated him that makes this murder all the more circumstantial. Commissioner Redrum is on his way here along with Special Agent in Charge Keaton." I knew I was getting my badge and gun taken once the commissioner arrived. However, I swear I have nothing to do with the murder of Chester Lewis, even though he's a sadistic rapist.

"What about my sister's case? Can you tell me what's going on?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you."

Outside, the crowd of uniformed officers parted as Commissioner Redrum and Agent Keaton made their way inside my apartment. I peered out to see Keaton meeting my eye, with a sly foxlike smile on his pudgy looking face. I still didn't understand his role in all this but I was beginning to realize that I would be shortly.

"Commissioner," Michaels said by way of greeting, nodding. He turned and left out the way he'd come in. I was left alone with two of my worst nightmares, Commissioner Redrum and Agent Keaton. Keaton went about my house as if he lived here while Commissioner Redrum offered me a seat.

"You obviously know why we're here so I'll save you that lecture. You cannot seem to keep a lid on your anger, can you?"

"What are you talking about, sir?"

"Don't sit here and try to insult my intelligence, detective!" he bellowed, slamming his meaty hand down on the ottoman. "You know damned well what I'm talking about. You murdered Chester Lewis because you were upset."

"No—"

"Shut up! Chester was coming here to ask you about his sister and you lost it. You were still seething because no one wanted to believe your story that a federal agent assaulted you."

"That is not—"

"Silence I said! If you think for one minute that I'm going to sit here and listen to your lies, you sadly mistaken. I don't want to hear it as of right now you're officially relieved of your duty. I need your badge and your service weapon. You are not under arrest as a yet, but once this investigation reveals you as the murderer you'll be joining you friend Michelle down at the Metro."

Special Agent in Charge Keaton had been roaming about Luckett's brownstone when he overheard the yelling from Commissioner Redrum. He was not even trying to hear or see if she had an alibi. What a shame, what a shame. He knew that he couldn't swap out the murder weapon with the one she had on her now. She was carrying his Glock and he had hers. He'd made the switch during their scuffle at the hospital. My resources are endless. All he had to do was produce this gun and once ballistics runs an analysis on it, it'll be a perfect match as the murder weapon. Moreover, if questions came up as to how she'd obtained his service weapon; all he had to do was say she took it from him when she'd attacked him back at the hospital. The perfect crime. He walked back down the vestibule, carrying the murder weapon.

"I found this in the bedroom, Commissioner," he said walking into the living room.

Commissioner Redrum peered up, then eyed Sergeant Luckett. "Any more weapons we need to know about?"

"That's not mine," she pleaded.

"It's the same one we issue at the department. Let me see the serial number, Agent Keaton."

Keaton lifted the gun to where the commissioner could read the serial number. He nodded, and Keaton retreated the Glock. "Sergeant Luckett that gun was issued by the NYPD. Where did you get this gun?" he asked raising the one he'd taken from her only moments before.

Luckett shook her head. "That's the gun I was issued six years ago when I joined the Force."

"Impossible, Detective,"

"How?"

"Because this here gun has a different set of serial numbers is how. Agent Keaton let me see your weapon." He reached out and took his weapon. "Mmm, this here was issued by the FBI. How did you come across it, Detective?"

"Like I said I've had that weapon since I joined the Force," Luckett said, angrily.

Commissioner Redrum stood up.

# CHAPTER 93

**"I'M GOING TO HAVE** Ballistic run tests on these two guns. If it turns out that, you stole a piece of federal property or that this other gun was used in the murder of Chester Lewis. I promise you, detective I'll bury you under the jail and you will be charged with the coed murders. Good day detective." Agent Keaton held opened the front door as the commissioner walked through. The medical examiner had come and gone and so had the CSI technicians. Today was a gloomy day in the city that never sleeps.

I paced back and forth after the commissioner and Agent Keaton had left. I had to figure out how I ended up with a federally issued weapon. I swore I've had that weapon for six years. Not once had I lost it or it'd been stolen. I knew that the ballistic report would show that that was indeed a federally issued Glock. And the way my luck has been going as of late, it'd show that it was reported stolen as well. I wanted to call Carla and David but feared they'd been told not to contact me. They seemed to be the only ones willing to believe my side of the story. Everyone else was completely against me. And when the commissioner threatened to charge me with the coed murders that was like a slap in the face. I wasn't cut out for prison. The way Michelle looked every time I'd visited her was sickening. I had to make myself think! Think Sagittarius, your life depends on it!

Gizmo, my little furry friend came prancing into the living room, meowing up at me. It was dinnertime, she was telling me. I went over to the kitchen, opened up a can of Frisk, and dumped it into her little bowl. She must've been starving, because seconds later she was nearly done.

"I'm not going to have no fat kitty running around here missy," I scorned her. She just looked up at me and cocked her little head to the side. A why-not look. She was more than adorable; she was my princess!

I was heading back into the living room when my phone rang. I rushed over to see whom it was calling, but when I looked at the caller ID, it read, unknown. I normally didn't answer unknown calls but under the circumstances, it called for immediate action. I hit the SEND button and placed the phone between the crook of my neck.

"Hello?" I said after a moment.

"Are you ready for the grand finale?" Keaton's voice came through the receiver.

"Keaton?"

"The one and only. Look, I'm sorry about the way things ended but at least you'll have a nice cot downtown at the Metro."

"You framed me for murder?"

"Ah, I might have told a fib or two. However, the point is this, as I told you before my resources are endless. Your career is finished. I bet Justine would've been disappointed in your actions. Too bad she dead. She was kinda cute for a loner."

"You stupid son of a—" But dial tone blared in my ear. Keaton was doing more than framing me for murder; he was taunting me about it. If there was ever a worthless piece of scum, he was it.

I knew there wasn't no way that I was going to win against the FBI. Especially with the commissioner siding with the Feds. He was my only shot at getting out of this mess alive. I tried to call Graham but got his voicemail instead.

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Detective David Graham of the NYPD homicide division. I'm unable to take your call now but feel free to leave your name and the reason for your call and I'll return your call. Thank you, and have a great day," Graham's voicemail said to me. I left a quick voicemail.

"Hey, its Luckett give me a call back ASAP. I think I'm being framed by Keaton!" I clicked off. I need somebody to confide in, someone to leaning on. I was not enjoying the single life anymore.

# CHAPTER 94

**DETECTIVE GRAHAM HAD BEEN** temporarily assigned a new partner. Her name was Brittany Allison; she'd recently been promoted to detective but hadn't done much work in Homicide. Graham still missed his old partner and wanted her back so badly, that he kept mistaking Detective Allison for Sagittarius. The two were responding to another Coed killing at the University. It'd been almost two weeks since the Coed Killer had slain anyone. The crime took place in one of the dorm rooms. A security guard, who'd discovered the bodies, was still shook up.

"How are you holding up?" Graham said, extending his hand to the guard.

"I've never witnessed anything like what I witnessed in there, man. A fucking snake coming out of a chick's vagina was like something from a Ripley's believe it or Not episode."

"What's your name for the record?" Graham asked producing his mini notepad.

"Billy Allen," he answered, shifting his weight to his right.

"Is it okay if I call you Billy? Or would you prefer Mr. Allen?"

"You can call me Billy if you want."

Graham turned to his new partner and nodded.

"Okay Billy, we're going to ask you few general questions, is that alright?" Allison said a look of concern registered on her face.

"Sure, anything to help out."

"How long have you been working here at the college?" she asked.

"About a month."

"Did you know the victims?"

"I've seen them around campus but I didn't know them personally."

"Okay, Mr. Allen here's my card if you think of anything else no matter how small feel free to give me a ring," Allison said handing him her card.

"Will do, Detective."

Graham and Allison walked into the dorm room. The room was dark, not much light coming through the window. Graham could barely make out the figures laying spread-eagle on the bed. Their bodies were starting to decompose, a sign that they'd been dead for quite some time. Dr. Kozak had determined that the cause of death was internal bleeding. Both victims suffered pelvic damage, along with cuts and bruises from the bondage.

"This guy is a sadist for real. My God, is this what every crime scene looks like by this guy?" Allison asked, shocked.

"This is nothing compared to some of the other crime scenes. What's the time of death, Dr. Kozak?"

"Between eight to ten hours by the looks of this congealed blood. Oh, are you Detective Graham's new partner?" he said, turning to Detective Allison.

"Yeah I'm actually just filling in temporarily. It's nice to meet you though."

"Likewise," he turned back to Graham. "If there's no more questions I'm going to take the bodies back to the morgue for the autopsy. I'll have a report ready for you in the morning."

"Thanks, Dr. Kozak," Graham said as the ME prepared to pack up. He turned to Allison. "Let's go talk with some of the victim's teachers see what they can tell us." He and Allison headed for Professor Williams classroom first. They met the professor at one of the academic centers. He wasn't too enthused to be talking to the detectives.

"Professor Williams?" Graham said extending his hand. "I'm Detective Graham and this is Detective Allison, we're from Homicide. Care if we ask you a few questions?"

"Do I need my lawyer present?" he asked.

"Not unless you have some kind involvement with Kelly Newton and Rebecca Simon you don't." Graham answered.

"They were in my Biology class if you consider that involvement."

"Have you had any other classes with either of them?"

Professor Williams began to sweat, perspiration forming on his brow, causing his skin turn a shade of pink. He looked like he was breaking out in hives from the way his skin began to flare up. Both Graham and Allison exchanged looks at one another. Graham decided to apply more pressure, he felt like he'd struck a nerve.

"Did you conduct any other classes with either Ms. Newton or Ms. Simon? Maybe a private tutoring session?"

#

# 

# CHAPTER 95

**PROFESSOR WILLIAMS BEGAN TO** stammer as he said, "I...I need...some water. My throat's a little parched." He cleared his throat as he stood up to exit the room. He went down the hall and pulled out his cell phone. He couldn't even hold the phone without having a Parkinson's fit. He almost dropped the phone when Danny's voice boomed from the other end.

"Hello?" Danny said.

"The cops are here, they're here! They know about the private tutoring session I'd done with Kelly. They think I killed her!"

"Calm down, Professor Williams. They're just trying to make you sweat, which I bet you're already doing. They don't have shit on you I'm the one who killed those pathetic broads, not you. Relax, go back in there and demand for a lawyer and they'll leave you alone."

He was right, Williams thought. If he lawyered up, they had to end their questioning. He walked back inside the academic center and declared, "I want a lawyer, Detectives."

The two detectives stared at him in disbelief. They were hoping to pressure him into a confession but Williams had anticipated their move before they could. Now they were left with no leads.

"Okay, it's your choice but keep in mind that once we walk out of that door we can't cut any deals with you," Graham said, standing.

"I understand."

Graham held the door open for his partner as he turned to face Professor Williams.

"Here's my personal cell phone number, if you decide to change your mind just give me a ring." He handed him a card and walked out the room. Williams stared at the paper, then balled it up and tossed it in the trash bin. He didn't need to call this guy. What was he supposed to tell him? I know who murdered those girls. He knew better than to rat on someone, besides he was just as guilty as Danny was.

I decided to call Graham back since I hadn't heard back from him. I knew he had to be busy working some case to not my calls. After the third ring, I was beginning to lose hope that he'd answer until I heard his raspy voice. "Graham here,"

My heart skipped a beat. "Hey! What's going on? You know how I hate being kept out of the loop."

"Another pair of coeds were murdered today. We just left the crime scene—"

We?

"You have a new partner?" I wanted to know.

"Yeah—but she's temporary."

She...

"What's her name? I might know her," I asked, still being nosy.

"Brittany Allison, she's from Major Crimes."

"I've heard about her," I said quickly changing the subject. "So tell me about these murders."

"Sagittarius, you know I can't—"

"You're condemning me too, David?" I said, hurt.

"No, no. Of course not. I'm just letting you know that I was told not to discuss any information about new cases with you, per the commissioner."

"So the commissioner is counting me out? Throwing me to the wolves?"

"You have to understand how everything looks from his perspective. He's getting a lot of pressure from the media to close this case. And not to mention the crap he went through after taking the job to begin with. He has some big shoes to fill."

I understood that. But what I didn't understand was why he was counting me off? I was still innocent until proven guilty. Or do they not abide by that any longer?

"The murder?" I prompted.

"Oh right, so the two women were discovered by a campus security guard named Billy Allen. Guy says he knocked on the door several times before walking in. And when he walked in, that's when he saw the girls' spread-eagle on the bed. It was gruesome, same MO, same everything. It was definitely the work of the Coed Killer," Graham told me.

So the Coed Killer was back in action.

"I wish I was in the game and not on the sidelines. I'm thinking about buying a gun as a backup. If Keaton really wants to hurt me I'm almost positive that he'll keep trying until he kills me."

"Just don't do anything stupid, Sagittarius. I need your help with this case; it's killing me that I'm on my own right now. Detective Allison is a good cop and all but she doesn't have a clue as to where to look for this killer." Graham sounded stressed. He really wasn't used to leadership roles. I knew if anyone could solve a case it would be him. I've learned a lot from him as far as interrogation tactics; he was one of the best interrogators I've seen.

"You have my word, David. I'll be a good girl...for now."

He laughed.

"You be a good girl until we close this case."

"Well alright, I suppose I can manage to do that for you, David," I succumbed. I needed to do my own investigation to help Graham. I walked into the kitchenette to check and see if Gizmo needed any water or food. I decided to treat her to some warm milk for being such a supporting companion. I knew I could always count on her to keep my spirits up, even when I'm not in the mood.

It was still snowing outside when I peered out the living room window. NY1 meteorologist had said New York was expecting to get two feet or more of snow. This was the perfect day to cuddle up with a cup of hot cocoa, a nice chick flick and that special someone to hold you tight. Unfortunately, I had all of those except for the latter. Before my sister's funeral, my aunt Josephine had talked to me about some guy she wanted me to meet. Right now, I was strongly thinking about calling her and taking her up on the offer. However, since I wasn't able to make it to Justine's funeral, I doubted the offer was still up for discussion. My aunt Josephine was old school when it came to family issues. I'd been raised Catholic and one thing we Catholics preached about was family. But I was going to call her anyhow just to see if the opportunity was still up for grabs. I was in desperate need of companionship I'd do anything to have a man cuddled up next to me...well not exactly anything.

"Hey Aunt Josephine," I said a little more loudly than I'd anticipated. "It's Sagittarius. You remember when you mentioned that guy you wanted me to meet?"

"Yeah what about him?" my aunt asked sounding too much like Fran Drescher from The Nanny.

"Well I wanted to see if you'll set us up for a little blind date."

"Blind date," her nasal New York accent purred. "The hell is that?" I'd forgotten how old my aunt Josephine was.

"It's a date between two people who've never met before," I explained.

"Oh. Well I don't know if he's still interested—" Great. I'd blew it!

"Damn," I said not realizing my aunt was still on the other end.

"Sagittarius Luckett you know better than to use that language around me!" Aunt Josephine scorned me. "I don't know what's gotten into you to make you use such nasty words!"

"My apologies Aunt Josephine. But can you find out if he's still interested?"

"I'll see what I can do for you, darling. I'm still disappointed that you didn't show up for your sister's funeral. That job of yours should not come before your family."

"I know Aunt Josephine." I didn't want to get into this conversation. I felt bad enough with all the bullshit going on. I told her that I had some work to finish up, and thankfully, she let me go.

"Alright," she said. "Make sure to keep in touch."

"I will." I hung up.

I needed to find something proactive to do while I was under investigation.

# CHAPTER 96

**AFTER I'D GOTTEN OFF** the phone with Aunt Josephine, Graham had called me. It wasn't like him to call me at this time of hour, but I guess the situation called for it.

"Hey, Sagittarius," Graham said when I answered. "Sorry to bother you this late but I got a text from Doctor Kozak and guess what?"

"What?" I prompted.

"We got a hit on a DNA match and you're not going to believe who it matches. I didn't even believe it myself."

"Let me guess Agent Keaton?"

"Nope. Try a Mr. Ian Williams, who's a professor at the university who I also interviewed earlier today. Williams had been each of the victim's professor and it was rumored that he and Kelly Newton had scheduled a private tutor session days prior to the murder."

"And what was the tutoring session for?" I asked.

"Biology. And get this Dustin was able to get a warrant from Judge Jones to search his computer hard drive. And you know what we found?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"We found poisonous snakes and reptile phobias in his Google search engine."

"It sounds like the Coed Killer to me. What's the next step?"

"Well he doesn't know that we're looking at him as the killer. Therefore, the commissioner is not taking any chances with this guy slipping away. Therefore, he's dispatching ESU from Lower Manhattan to assist in bringing him in. I wish you were able to be here when we have the scumbag in custody."

"Me too. I have some personal questions to ask him about my sister and her ex-boyfriend," I said, solemnly.

"I'll find out what he knows about your sister's murder. But I need to get off here and get some rest before the morning. Good night Sagittarius."

"Good night." I hung up. Finally, we were making some ground on closing this case. I knew it wasn't going to bring back any of the victims to their families but at least they could be at ease knowing that the killer was behind bars. I'd just turned off my night lamp, when my cell phone started vibrating. I looked at the caller ID and was baffled by the number registered. Hesitate; I raised the phone to my ear, "Hello?"

"This isn't over," said the female voice. "I'll be back soon." The line went dead. I sat up, my heart doing gymnastics inside my chest. I was completely confused by the phone call. Was this the Coed Killer? A female sadist? I was about to call Graham back to tell him he was going after the wrong person. But I decided it was futile and closed my phone back. I tried to relax my breathing and soon I drifted off into a deep, dark sleep.

"Does anyone have eyes on the suspect?" Borough Commander Dan Stewart barked into his radio. The NYPD along with Lower Manhattan's ESU squad had surrounded the brownstone where Ian Williams resided. Detective Graham and Detective Allison were waiting behind their patrol car, their guns drawn.

"We have eyes on him, sir," said a sniper, who was posted across the street on the top floor of the apartment.

"Good," said Commander Dan Stewart. "Nobody makes a move until I give the okay. Understood?"

"Ten-four," came four other voices.

"Alright Graham," Stewart said turning to him. "You and your partner stay behind my guys. Make sure you have your Kevlar on before we storm the place."

"We got that covered Dan," Graham replied.

Commander Dan Stewart looked both detectives over once and nodded. "Perfect. Sergeant Russell Ryan will give you the details I'm going back to the command station to feed you Intel." Commander Dan Stewart walked off, leaving Graham and Allison in the hands of Sergeant Ryan.

"Okay," he began. "It looks like we have our work cut out for us. Graham you will stick with Allison and me you will be tagged with Officer Malloy and Officer Tanner. I understand this is your first rodeo but I won't hold it against you." Allison flashed him a fake smile with a roll of her eyes.

"Thanks I'm flattered," she said.

# CHAPTER 97

**SERGEANT RYAN LED THE** way up the steps to the brownstone, followed by Graham and the others at the flanks. Graham took to the left side of the door while Ryan took the right. They counted to three and kicked in the door. A flash grenade was thrown inside, after the explosion all five officers rushed inside. Graham had never actually been in an emergency response situation before. He was sweating as he cleared the dining area and the kitchenette. He wiped his brow as he proceeded to the next room. He kicked in the bathroom door and Ian Williams sat on the stool. He looked to be praying or something. He hadn't flinched when the door burst open; he just kept his head down, mumbling to himself.

"Don't move! Put your hands where I can see them!" Graham yelled taking a step forward. Urgent footsteps came from down the vestibule as Sergeant Ryan, and the others had rushed to the sound of his voice. The simultaneous clicks from the M16s were fearsome. Williams finally looked up from his mumbling chants, a look of dread in his face.

"Ian Williams, you're hereby under arrest for the murders of Kelly Newton and Rebecca Simon," Sergeant Ryan said, signaling his commandos to arrest him. They jerked him up off the stool and shoved him through the door.

Outside, Graham and Sergeant Ryan exchanged some crazy police moments. "So what did Williams do once you interrupted his praying session?"

"The bastard didn't even flinch when I stormed in. It was like he was in a trance," said Graham, laughing.

"Yeah until he heard the sounds of those M16s."

They laughed. Ian Williams was sitting in the patrol car, glaring at both cops. Graham turned and met his eyes and pantomimed a smoking gun and aimed it at him. Williams quickly looked away as if he knew what lay ahead of him once he got to the station. Graham and Allison climbed back inside the patrol car and headed toward the precinct. Ian Williams was in for a surprise. Not only was the media going to rip him apart but the families of the victims were going to also.

As they pulled up, NY1, CNN, and other international news media were camped out in front of the precinct. Candice Spencer was among the posse, no doubt trying to get an exclusive. However, Graham wasn't about to ruin the investigation by leaking any information. He knew the drill, he'd been on the Force long enough to know better. He sidestepped Candice as she hurried over, microphone in hand, as he escorted Ian Williams inside. And the questions came raining down. "Detective Graham is this the end of the Coed Killings." "Where is Sergeant Luckett?" "Has the FBI conducted their investigation on Sergeant Luckett?"

"I have no comment," said Graham as he hurried inside the station. He took Ian Williams into Interview Room One. After uncuffing him, he exited the room and stood behind the mirrored glass. He and Detective Allison watched as Ian Williams sat anxiously, mumbling to himself.

"What's he saying?" Allison asked.

"Maybe he's praying."

"It's a little too late for that."

"How do you want to go about this interrogation?"

"Well you know more about this case than I do. And besides I thought we had to wait until the FBI got here."

"This was my case before the FBI got their noses involved. Between you and me, they're the reason why my partner is under investigation. But I'm going to get ahead of the game. I'm going to squeeze something out of this scumbag before they get a shot at him." Graham was out of control, she thought. He must be delusional if he thinks he'll get away with stepping on the FBI's toes.

"I'm afraid that I'm not going to be involved in this act of valor. I'm sorry but I love my job—"

"If you love your job like you say, then you know that innocent lives were taken by this scum and you witnessed with your own eyes the gruesomeness of it all. So for you to take the easy way out is not something someone who loves his or her job would do. The NYPD frowns upon cowardliness, Detective Allison."

"Are you calling me a coward detective?" she asked, taken aback.

"If the shoe fits then yes I am." He walked into the interrogation room and sat across from Ian Williams.

Williams stared at his hands until Graham cleared his throat. He looked up and shook his head. "You have the wrong guy?"

"Is that right? Humor me?"

"I didn't kill those girls. I'm innocent."

"That's what every guy says when he's sitting in that chair you're in. Do you think we waste the time bringing someone in if; the person is innocent? Hell no. That's a lawsuit on the City of New York. We know you killed those girls along with the other codes that were murdered. But what we don't know is if you killed others."

"What?"

"You killed Justine Luckett didn't you? You were jealous because she chose Julius over you, isn't that right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"You and Julius attended Fordham together and that's the same college Justine attended also. My theory is this: you and Julius were boys, close friends. He told you about a smoking hot chick that you liked. Over the years you plotted a way of revenge for being made a fool."

"You're wrong!"

"Am I? Because the evidence proves otherwise."

"You don't have shit on me. Did you arrest me for the death of some bitch I've never heard of?"

"Not necessarily, but it's a show stopper. So tell me about the Google searches we found on your computer."

"What about them? I didn't know that searching Google was illegal."

"It is when it connects you to a murder. Why were you searching poisonous reptiles?"

"I'm a Biology professor for crying out loud."

"Don't you think that it would look kind of suspicious being that the killer had used poisonous snakes in the killings?"

"I wouldn't know anything about that, Detective."

"Really? Then who would?"

Williams thought for a moment. "Danny Fisher is the guy you want to speak with."

"Why would I speak with someone else when I have you right here?" Graham asked, smiling.

"Because that's the guy who murdered those girls."

"So you're telling me that you've known who murdered these poor girls and you withheld this information from the police?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sounds like it to me. Let's see so that's Obstruction of Justice, Accessory to murder in the first degree, Kidnapping along with Terrorism. You're looking at spending the rest of your pathetic life behind bars if you're lucky. But I'll make sure the death penalty is brought into the equation." He stood up.

"Wait," Williams said. "You have to believe me I didn't murder anyone!"

"Too bad I don't believe you," Graham said walking out the room.

# CHAPTER 98

**"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU** interrogated our guy," Agent Keaton said, pacing in a tight circle.

"I do believe that the NYPD was the one who apprehended Mr. Williams, not the FBI."

"It doesn't matter you had orders not to make contact with the suspect until I was present."

"I don't have to sit here and listen to this," Graham said standing up.

Keaton pushed him back down. "I don't think you have much of a choice."

Graham stared up, defiantly. "You better get your hands off me!"

"Or what?"

Without giving it much thought, Graham exploded up from his seat, catching Keaton with a left hook that sent him reeling. He walked out, slamming the door in his wake. Allison whipped her head around at the sound of the door slamming.

"What's going on?" she asked, shocked.

"Nothing of importance let's get out of here. I need to speak with the commissioner." They rushed down the hall to the commissioner's office. After being cleared to enter, they stormed inside.

"I need to speak with you, sir," Graham said, flexing his hand.

The commissioner placed his eyeglasses on the desk and steepled his hands as he gave Graham his undivided attention. "I'm listening,"

"It's about Agent Keaton."

"What about him?"

Graham told him how he had went into the interview room to speak with Ian Williams. He mentioned how Keaton had called him into a separate room and chastised him about "messing with his suspect". Things got physical, resulting in Keaton catching a left hook.

"So you assaulted Agent Keaton?" the commissioner asked.

"I defended myself, sir," Graham corrected.

The commissioner sat there a moment. He liked Graham a lot, the kid was a good cop. He didn't want to punish the kid but God; he couldn't go around assaulting federal officials. He took a deep breath, and then exhaled.

"I'm going to overlook what you did this time. But don't let it happen again, understood?"

"Yes sir." Graham stood up and left the office. He met Detective Allison outside the office and said, "I'm heading over to Sergeant Luckett's place you can come along if you like."

"What is she like?" she asked, jogging to keep up.

"She's a cop." He smiled.

Ian Williams was still sitting in Interview Room One when Agent Keaton knocked on the door before entering. He was not in a mood for another insult from these wannabe noir cops. He hadn't killed anyone and he damned sure wasn't going to keep being accused for it either. He peered up as Agent Keaton pulled back the chair across from him.

"Good afternoon Professor."

At least this one knows how to address me with respect, Williams thought. Perhaps the only one.

"Good afternoon," Williams replied.

Keaton withdrew a piece of paper from his manila folder. Pushing it over he asked, "Do you know who this person is?" He pointed at the picture.

Williams stared at the photo for a brief moment before answering.

"I've never seen this man before in my life," Williams said.

"Okay," Keaton said. He placed the photo back inside his manila folder. "What do you know about The Cartel, Mr. Williams?"

"Who?" Williams said, puzzled.

"Hector Martinez. What do you know about him?"

"I don't know who that is?"

"Tell me about Danny Fisher then?"

The sound of his name caused Ian Williams to quiver. His brow started producing sweat beads. Keaton took note of all this.

"Is there a reason why you seem a bit...nervous, Mr. Williams?" Keaton asked.

"No—no reason at all," he stammered.

Keaton smiled.

"You're free to go Mr. Williams, but keep in mind that you're still under investigation, which mean you are not to leave the country under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Keaton held the door open for Williams and watched as the man rushed through anxiously. He smiled at the thought of getting away with the perfect crime. The NYPD was completely at a loss as to who the real killer was. He'd managed to get Sergeant Luckett out of the picture and he had the commissioner on his side. And Detective Graham was too busy chasing his own tail to realize anything out of the norm. That only left one other person: Detective Carla Davidson.

# CHAPTER 99

**CARLA AND I HAD** decided that it was time to start building a case against Agent Keaton, something that he couldn't deny. We had talked to a close friend of mine; who'd done a little private investigation work for local attorney as well as the NYPD. Jack Pierce, was one of the best private investigators in the city. He got results that others would've had a hard time obtaining. Now we were stationed across the street from the brownstone that Carla and Graham shared. We had been here for the past twenty-four hours, waiting for Agent Keaton to show his face. We knew it wouldn't be long until he came after Carla. I'd actually told Carla that he was coming after her too and that I had a plan to catch him in the act. She didn't hesitate a bit, within twenty minutes, we talked to the woman who lived across the street, and we set up shop. I phoned Jack and told him what was going on and he was all game.

"It's been awhile since an old man's been off the sidelines," he'd said.

"Most people don't recognize greatness, Jack. But I do."

Outside, Keaton was pulling up to the curb in front of Carla's brownstone. The snow was still coming down but that hadn't stop Keaton from sticking to his plan of elimination. The sounds of Jack's HD Canon digital camera made for a perfect melody as it clicked away. Keaton wasn't going to be able to get himself out of this one; we had solid evidence of him at Carla's apartment. Unless there was having some sort of romantic affair, which there wasn't, between him and Carla then he didn't have a logical reason for being there, uninvited.

"Oh we're going to nail this bastard," I heard Carla call out from behind me.

"You're damned right we are," I assured her.

Now, we were watching as Keaton looked around to see if anyone was watching him as he attempted to break inside Carla's apartment. Jack's camera clicked rapidly, catching Keaton's break in. After he got inside, we watched as a light came on upstairs. Carla and Graham's bedroom! We held our breath, Carla and I, as we watched Keaton rummage around the master bedroom. We didn't know if he was looking for something or someone. Our bets were on the latter.

"Surely, he would realize by now that I'm not at home," Carla said, completely fed up with the idea of her apartment being trashed.

"Carla calm down. We're going to nail this sucker for all he's worth. Let him trashed the place it'll be all right. At the end of the day we'll be the winners," I tried to reassure her. I wasn't that good at reassuring people when I was in the same boat as they were. That came from bad relationships that caused me a lot of hurt.

"You know what? You're right. I'm not going to keep stressing over this mess." She pulled out her phone. "I need to call Graham and see how he's doing."

"No," I said, slapping her phone out of her hand. "That wouldn't be a good idea. It'll mess up everything."

"Sagittarius I wasn't going to mention anything about Keaton."

"Doesn't matter it's best to not call him at all. The less he knows, the less his mind wanders. Think about it, say, you call him; he's automatically going to want to know where you're at and what you're doing. That could make things difficult if you tell him you're at the store."

"How?"

"Because it's possible that he'll want to come see you. Look the bottom line is this: we have Agent Keaton in our sights and we don't need to mess that up."

"Okay fine I won't call him."

Fifteen minutes later, Keaton eased his way out of the brownstone apartment. He even took the time to reach behind the door to turn the lock. He hurried to his car and a few seconds later, he was driving down the street.

"Unbelievable," Jack said. It was the first time he'd said anything since Keaton had arrived. "And I thought the cops around here were crooked."

"Hey," I said, taking offense to the comment. "Not all cops are crooks, Jack."

"Well if you're going to get all sentimental on me then fine not all cops are crooks,' he joked. Jack was a darling. He knew how much to say to keep from offending a person but he could also be a real wiseass. After his wife had died five years ago, he somewhat let himself go. He would be drunk in the local bars, unable to drive himself home. Cops from all seventy-seven precincts had dragged him out of the bars and drove him home. Only two years ago, after a short trip to Hazelden, a rehab facility in Lower Manhattan, did Jack get his life back together and went into private investigations. I was happy to see how much he'd grown since my early days with the NYPD.

"Well, Jack I appreciate you coming out here to give us a hand," I said, smiling.

"It's been a pleasure Sergeant." He shook my hand. "Agent Keaton needs to be behind bars."

We waved good-bye as he climbed into his car and drove off. Carla was hugging herself still not accustomed to the cold winters compared to South America.

"Carla how long have you lived here?" I asked.

"Eight years now."

"And you're still not used to the cold yet?"

"Where I come from this time of year the temperature is in the lower sixties."

"I bet you miss those warm days on a night like this."

"Oh you have no idea."

We laughed. Then we laughed some more. We had plenty to laugh about with the evidence to put Agent Keaton behind bars and I hope that we can be a step closer to catching the Coed Killer.

# CHAPTER 100

**THE FOLLOWING MORNING** I walked inside the station clutching the photos from the night before in my hand. I hadn't been in the station in quite some time and the looks I received from my colleagues confirmed it. I marched right into Commissioner Redrum's office on the eighth floor of One Police Plaza and slammed the photos on his desk.

"You might want to have a look at these," I said, bitterly.

He looked at the manila folder marked _AGENT KEATON_ with disdain.

"And what the hell am I supposed to be looking for Sergeant?"

"In that folder you will find photos of Agent Keaton breaking into Detective Carla Davidson's apartment last night. Also—"

"And how did you come about obtaining these photos, Sergeant?" he asked cutting me off.

"I had a private investigator take them sir."

He seemed to be mulling over the information. He slid the folder closer to him and leafed through it. I couldn't read his expression and was having a hard time seeing if he was shocked.

"This is um—very incriminating on Agent Keaton's part. What was he doing at her apartment?"

"The same thing he was doing at the hospital. Trying to get rid of us."

"Again, why would a federal agent want to get rid of you and Detective Davidson?"

"Because he knows we're on to him and his involvement with the Coed Killings."

"I need to discuss this further with Assistant Director in Charge Carl Sexton and see what he wants to do about this."

"When can I have my job back?"

"I'll be in touch with you sergeant. If this check's out I wouldn't have an issue with you getting your job back." He picked up his phone and that was my cue that the conversation was over. I turned and walked out. I knew there had to be something I could do to expedite me getting my job back. Technically, I wasn't supposed to be walking around the station on suspension, but I needed to see if Graham was in our office. I peered inside our office and there wasn't no one inside. I didn't want to get in further trouble so I decided to leave.

Special Agent Mike DeVito whose real name was Daniel Fisher Sr., was sitting around the dinner table enjoy a nice tenderloin, courtesy of his wife Beth. Beth was quite the cook: mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli was the works. His son Danny Boy was chowing down on some mashed potatoes when his father spoke to him.

"Hungry son?"

"Yes sir," Danny said.

"Must've had a long day, huh?"

Danny froze a spoonful of potatoes halfway up to his mouth. His father knew what he did for a hobby; hell, his father had showed him the trade. He flashed back to when he caught his father hovering over a woman when he was a kid. He had been coming home from basketball practice and was dropping off his gym bag in the basement. He wasn't even paying attention when he rushed downstairs. His father was completely nude and so was the young looking woman he was having sex with. His father whipped his head around and starting walking towards him. Lying next to the woman's head was a glass box. Upon closer examination, Danny had discovered that the box inhabited a snake.

"Danny you mustn't tell your mother about this, you understand?" he'd told him.

"Yes sir." He always kept his father's darkest secrets. He was a daddy's boy and proud of it.

"Son, sometimes you have to succumb to the animal within you. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Not really dad."

"This cunt here thought she was invincible...until she met me. God doesn't like people who fears the creatures he placed on this earth. The Lord doesn't believe in phobias and such other nonsense. He made man to have dominion over all creatures. It would be a complete slap in the face, a sign a mere disrespect to show fear for such creatures.

"So I am punishing her by having sex with her then allowing God's creature to finish the job. It's a perfect concoction of pleasure and pain and every woman has to endure it."

"So you're punishing her for misbehaving?" Danny asked.

"Exactly son. And you must do the same to all women who fear God's creatures."

And that was the beginning.

# CHAPTER 101

"DANNY?" DEVITO PROMPTED.

"Sorry dad I was thinking about something I'd done today," he lied. "What was the question again?"

"Did you go for a hunt today?" That was code for "kill".

"No I was just observing," he replied. That was code for picking a prospect.

"Did you get your homework done?" Beth asked a stem of broccoli between her teeth.

"Yes ma'am. But we had a substitute teacher for Biology today. Something about Professor Williams was under the weather."

Oh, he was under the weather all right, DeVito thought. He had gotten a call yesterday from Keaton about Ian Williams sitting in a federal jail cell. Williams was his scapegoat. Preston was going to have a former gang member dispose of the little weasel once he was in general population. He was the only real link to what was going on with the female students. And with Sergeant Luckett and Detective Graham out of the picture, they could live in peace. The perfect crime for the perfect family.

"I'm sure Professor Williams will get better soon. Did they say what happened?" Beth said

"No just that he was under the weather. He may just have a cold or the flu," Danny said.

"Will y'all excuse me, I need to make a phone call," Mike DeVito said, exiting the room. Once he was in the clear, he pulled out his phone and dialed Keaton's number. "Hey what's going on man? Are we in the clear?"

"Just need to tie up a few loose ends nothing for you to worry yourself about," Keaton said.

He disconnected the call. He'd heard all he needed to hear. Everything was going to be taking care of. He walked back into the dining area and finished his supper.

Assistant Director in Charge Carl Sexton had just gotten off the phone with NYPD's Commissioner Lucas Redrum. He was not happy with what he'd heard about one of his agents. He had called Agent Keaton into his office shortly thereafter to discuss the disturbing news.

"I got a call from the commissioner. And let me tell you, he's got some interesting information regarding you."

Keaton feigned confusion.

"What about me?"

"The commissioner is emailing me some very incriminating photos of you breaking into Carla Davidson's apartment. I want to know why you were breaking into a woman's apartment, Agent Keaton."

Keaton had his work cut out for him.

"I don't know sir."

"You don't know why you were breaking into a woman's apartment? Agent Keaton what do you know of the Coed Killings?"

"Not much just what Sergeant Luckett and her partner informed me about."

"Agent Keaton give me your badge and your weapon. And when you remember why you were at Ms. Davidson's apartment obviously uninvited, then we can talk about your future with the Agency. You're hereby relieved of duty. Get the hell out of my office."

Max Keaton stood in shame and walked out of the Director's office. He didn't look back nor did he say another word as he went. He went into his office and cleared house. He walked out of the building with a box containing his belongings tucked under his arm. Max Keaton was a free man. And free men were prone to dangerous affairs.

# EPILOGUE

#

# TOMORROW'S A NEW DAY

# CHAPTER 102

**I HAD FINALLY GOTTEN** the call from the commissioner that I was getting my job back. I was showered and ready to go when Graham knocked on my front door. I grabbed my coat and shoulder holster off the coat rack and made for the door. Graham greeted me with a warm smile.

"Good morning buddy?" he said, smiling.

"Morning handsome," I smiled back.

We hopped in his car and headed to the station. To my surprise, walking into the station I was met with a warm welcome from all my colleagues.

"WELCOME BACK!" Everybody chimed.

I had tears in my eyes. I never felt more at home and more welcomed than I did at that moment. And the surprises didn't stop there either. Commissioner Redrum came around the corner, his arms wide as he embraced me in a hug.

"I'm sorry for not taking up for you," he whispered in my ear.

"You were doing what anyone in your position would've done. There's no hard feelings." We broke away.

I walked down the hall to my office and nearly ran into an attractive looking woman. She looked a bit familiar, like we'd met at a coffee shop or something. She stood and extended her hand in a greeting.

"Hi, I'm Detective Allison," she said. "I've heard so much about you!"

Ah hah! That's where I recognized her. She was a detective from Major Crimes.

"It's nice to meet you," I said taking her hand in mine.

Graham walked in behind us.

"Oh I see you've met Detective Allison?"

"Yes we've become acquainted."

"It would be nice to continue the chit chat but we have work to do," Graham said.

Daniel Fisher whose alias was Mike DeVito had received the news from his counterpart, Max Keaton. Keaton had told him to skip town and that's exactly what Fisher was doing. He threw open a suitcase and starting piling clothes inside it. Beth kept asking, "What's going on?" But Fisher just ignored her.

"Pack a suitcase if you want to live!" he yelled.

Pack a suitcase if you want to live, she thought.

"What are you implying, Dan?"

"Look, there's some things you won't understand just pack a suitcase so we can get out of here."

Beth Fisher did what she was told. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from downstairs. She peered downstairs and saw shadows outside the door. She went to her husband, "Someone's at the door Dan," she told him.

Shit!

"Agent Mike DeVito! This is the NYPD come out with your hands up!" came the voice on through the bullhorn.

"Mike DeVito?" Beth said, confused. "I think they're mistaking us for a different family. We're the Fisher's."

I married a frickin' dolt, he thought.

"Elizabeth go back upstairs and let me see what's going on."

He opened the door to several M16s as well as every law enforcement officer in the city.

# CHAPTER 103

**"AGENT MIKE DEVITO OR** should I say Danny Fisher," Sergeant Luckett said. "You're under arrest for the murders of the NYU coeds, Danielle Pickens, Kelly Newton, Rebecca Simon, Daisy Santina, Sarah Ingram, and Kayla Stewart. Along with Susan Garrett and Maggie Allison." She cuffed him and maneuvered him to the awaiting patrol car.

After solving the Coed Murder case and locking both Max Keaton and Danny Fisher up, I still felt void. My sister's killer hadn't been found and there's no telling if Keaton and Fisher played a role in it. In addition, Preston Morales was still on the run. Neither Keaton nor Fisher were giving up his whereabouts. I received an offer for a promotion to lieutenant but declined the offer. I needed to be in the streets not behind a desk pushing paper around. However, Commissioner Redrum agreed to let me continue to work in the streets and that he would take care of the paperwork. I happily accepted the promotion on those terms. I had to move into a different office, which was going to take some time to adjust to. Commissioner Redrum met me in my new office carrying a manila folder.

"I got something for you," he said. He handed me the folder.

"What's this?"

"You remember Maria Sanchez?"

I tried to place the name and that's when I realized whom he was talking about. Maria Sanchez had been convicted after being busted for prostitution. She had been sentenced to eighteen months. I started doing the calculations in my head and eighteen months was up.

"What is it now?" I said, regretting the question.

"Well she's out on parole and being that you have a thing for attracting people to come after you. You might want to get in contact with her parole officer."

I had received a call from a female a few nights ago and now sitting here looking at a dossier I knew Maria Sanchez had called me. Now I needed to prepare myself for the inevitable. This was a great way to start out my new promotion.

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Drake Casanova is the author of "A Terrorist at Bay". He was born in New York, before moving to the Blue Ridge Mountains. He currently resides in North Carolina. He is a father of two and spends most of his time tending to his children. When he's not spending time with his children you can find him in a secluded area working on his next installment.

## When revenge is sweeter than forgiveness and a killer is on the loose, how do you overcome the inevitable?

Please see the next page for an exciting preview of NYPD Honor: Return of the Black Widow

**THE BLACK WIDOW WAS** getting ready for her night out. It had been a long time since she'd been on a date. She was nervous as hell. _Act natural and everything will be fine_ , she told herself. Nevertheless, whatever she told herself didn't work. Her phone vibrated on the dresser it had to be her date. She picked up the phone and raised it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said, her voice trembling.

"Hey, it's Paul, just making sure we're still on for tonight."

Paul Dempsey was a detective from Narcotics. She'd met him at a local bar called _The Brass_ _Monkey_. She was familiar with the spot, witnessing all of the cops gathering there after work. Dempsey was a cutie: tall, fair-skinned, very muscular, with green eyes.

"Yes we're still on for tonight, baby. I'm getting ready now."

"What are you wearing for me?" Dempsey asked.

"Well," she teased. "If I tell you then it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Yeah I guess you're right. Look, I'll be there to pick you up at seven o'clock."

"I'll see you then," she hung up. She went to the closet to find her leather case of surgical knives. Paul Dempsey was definitely in for a surprise. She chose two very special knives: a long one and a shorter serrated one.

She checked her wristwatch: it was 6:45 p.m. She stood in front of the mirror one last time to make sure her make-up and hair was perfect. Outside, she heard the sound of car brakes. She glanced out of the window and saw a pair of taillights. She quickly stuffed the leather case of knives into her purse and went downstairs. Dempsey exited the driver's side to open the door for her.

"Thank you, Paul," she said, ducking her head as she sat down.

"It's what a gentleman is supposed to do."

As they sat in the car for a moment, Paul thought about leaning over to kiss her. She had that kind of magnetic force about her. As if she'd read his mind, The Black Widow leaned over the armrest and kissed him. Her lips tasted like something Utopian, almost like pure ecstasy. Each time her tongue touched his, he shivered. All the while, The Black Widow was slowly sliding out one of her knives, when there was a knock on the window. They both were startled, as a Maglite shined in their faces. The Black Widow rolled down her window.

"Is there a reason you're shining your light in my face?"

"Ma'am, this is a parking space not a lounging area. You and your boyfriend here need to find a room. When I come back through I don't want to see this car," the patrol officer said as he walked back to his car.

"Don't worry about him Monica," Paul Dempsey said. "I'll make sure his sergeant knows how disrespectful he was to his superior officer."

Monica smiled. She loved when men lived such heroic lifestyles, always wanting to be a women's rescuer. She caressed his arm lightly as he started the car. She kind of liked Paul Dempsey, too bad she was going to have to kill him.

"Where to baby?" Dempsey asked.

"I know a little area near Central Park, kind of secluded."

"You're a freak, aren't you?" he said, excitedly.

You have no idea, she thought, as they drove. She wanted to make this a clean kill no matter what. This was going to be her very first kill. Just the thought of it sent chills down her spine. She was practicing a new trade, a murder apprentice, one that she'd read about as a teenager. They all had experienced their first kill and adopted a thrust for more. They were pulling up in front of Central Park, when Monica pointed to where her secret spot was located.

**"WE'LL HAVE TO WALK** there if you're okay with that."

"For you baby," Dempsey began. "I'll walk the entire country blindfolded."

He was a charmer, that Paul Dempsey but there was no way you can out charm death. As they approached the secluded area of Central Park, Dempsey was already trying to get her clothes off. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and slid his hand inside the front of her skirt. That was a big no, no. The Black Widow spun around and struck like a cobra, as she inserted the knife in the side of his neck. Instinctively, his hands shot up to his neck as blood gushed through his fingers. She stared at him as the blood drained from his neck. This is how it feels to take a life, she thought. Somewhere inside, a strong yearning erupted. It was the same feeling she'd felt when her father was murdered in front of her, after she'd told a friend about her molestation. The warm blood splattered across her face when he slit her father's throat. Now she was experiencing déjà vu.

She had to get moving before someone walked by and seen what she'd done. She stuff the blade back into her purse and hightailed it through Central Park and back to where they'd parked the car. Her heart was racing and her adrenaline was cruising through her body. She was on a high that was better than any kind of drug. She cruised the streets of Lower Manhattan until she came to Christopher Park. She parked the car and walked the rest of the way home. She had made an audacious move by leaving the car there. But she wanted to send a message to the NYPD.

She made it back to her apartment unscathed. She stepped into the shower and let the water beat down on her body. She wanted to wash away all her of sins and be completely reborn like Nicodemus. She remembered when her beloved mother used to tell her that story as a little girl.

_"And I say unto thee except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God,_ " her mother would say.

_"How can someone be born again mommy_ ," little Monica would ask her mother. Tears would form in her mother's eyes as she replied _, "I say unto thee except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot see the kingdom of God."_

Her mother was a devout Christian and taught Monica everything she could about the bible. Her father was a whole different monster altogether. Monica was terrified of her father, to the point, that if her mother was at work she would shut herself up in her room until she got home. But either way, her father still managed to come inside her room and molest her repeatedly behind her mother's back. It wasn't until she'd been introduced to The Cartel that she felt safe. The Cartel had taken care of the monster and he wasn't going to ever hurt poor little Monica anymore. She owed her life to the man and soon had repaid the favor.

It wasn't something she was proud of; but a debt was a debt, and The Black Widow always kept her word. She stepped out of the shower stall, grabbed the whitest bath towel she could find and dried herself. She noticed some blood on the towel and she was about to panic until she realized what it was. It was her time of the month. This was going to complicate things.

She opened her medicine cabinet to make sure she hadn't missed a day of her birth control pills. Afterwards she opened the sink cabinet, pulled out a Playtex sport tampon and inserted it. After it was secured, she followed up with her panties, followed by her Hello Kitty pajama shorts. Then, she padded into her bedroom and settled in the night.

Around 3:00 a.m., a dark figure hovered over her. She sensed him before he even spoke. She opened her eyes and stared up at the very man who'd murdered her father.

"It's been a long time, Monica," the dark figure said.

"You knew the circumstances Danny I was set up!" she sat up on her elbow to get a better look at him. He was still handsome with his foreign features.

"I won't let them hurt you anymore. I've protected you since you were a little girl and I feel responsible for you being set up. But rest assured we will get revenge." She loved it when he displayed such gallantry.

"That won't be necessary, baby. I have my own method of revenge. I don't want you to get yourself back involved. You've done enough for me already and I can't thank you enough. I'm a big girl now, okay, I can handle this on my own."

The dark figure pulled back the curtain and stared out below as he said, "If you need me for anything promise you'll reach out to me?"

"I promise," she replied.

The dark figure leaned over and kissed her softly on the forehead. Monica took in his sweet aroma and when she opened her eyes he was gone. She thought of Nicodemus being reborn again as she drifted off to sleep.

**IT WAS A NICE** warm day when I decided to take a little walk around my neighborhood. I'd been on a little vacation after closing the Coed Murder case three months ago. Former FBI agent Max Keaton had been sentenced to life in prison without a chance for parole, for his involvement in the case. His accomplice, former FBI agent Mike DeVito, whose real name was Daniel Fisher was given the death penalty. It had all been a well-deserved punishment for both of them. The only issue was that Preston Morales was still on the loose. Keaton nor Fisher would give up his whereabouts, not even for a lesser sentence. Talk about a dedication. They were sick. Morales had been placed on the FBI's Most Wanted list, but there hadn't been any information as to where he might be hiding. I knew he wouldn't be dumb enough to stick around town with all the cops looking for him.

Aunt Josephine had kept her word about the guy she'd wanted to hook me up with. His name was Jesse Collins, he was cute with hazel eyes, brown hair and a heart pumping smile. And he wasn't an asshole either, which was good. We'd been seeing each other for a couple weeks now and things were starting to get serious between us. I'd told him about my ex and how I'd caught him fucking another woman in our bed. "So for the record, if I ever catch you cheating you might as well cut your dick off and throw it in a blender. Because when I'm done with you you're going to wish you had," I'd told him on our second date. He too shared his experience about his ex also. Ironically, we had similar stories about our exes. I was on my way to his apartment which was fairly close to where I stayed. This was my last day of R&R before I was back to catching the bad guys and I wanted nothing more than to spend it with Jesse.

I walked up the steps and knocked on his door. After a brief moment he opened the door. My heart was hammering away inside my chest the moment my eyes laid on him. He must've just stepped out of the shower or this was the way he answered the door for everyone. He had a baby blue towel wrapped around his waist and his upper body was glistening. He invited me inside.

"Sagittarius!" he said excitedly. "Come on inside. I was just stepping out of the shower. Can I get your something to drink while I run upstairs to get dressed?"

"I'm fine thanks." He padded up the stairs and I couldn't help looking at his bottom.

Jesse came down the stairs in some gym shorts and a tee. I don't know what it is with men showering just to get sweaty again. We had planned on going for a little jog since the weather had been promising the past few days. Even though I was on vacation, I still needed to stay in top shape.

After our jog, we went our separate ways. I was just walking into my apartment when my phone rang. I was still on vacation, technically, but the damn phone just kept on ringing. I saw that it was Graham and answered. "Hey, what's up?"

"I wouldn't normally do this but"

I was hoping like hell he wasn't about to say what I thought he was.

"The commissioner needs you to come back early. Paul Dempsey, from Narcotics, was found dead in Central Park this morning. A woman walking her dog discovered the body. Pretty gruesome shit from what the CSU guys are saying. I'm on my way over to the crime scene now."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I knew Dempsey he was head of the Narcotics division until he was asked to step down after failing a drug screen. He was a decent cop, one that deserved to be avenged.

"I'll meet you there as soon as I can." The words stinging as they came out of my mouth. Was it too much for a girl to ask for a little peace of mind? One that came without murderous bastards? I felt something brush against my leg and looked down to see my tabby cat, Gizmo. She'd gotten used to brushing up against my leg when her food bowl was empty. I went in pursuit of Frisk, her favorite, and refilled her bowl.

**AFTERWARDS, I JOGGED IN** my bedroom to grab my towel and washcloth and went for a quick shower. Ten minutes later, I was wrestling with my shoulder holster and walking out the front door. Fifteen minutes later, I was driving through Lincoln Square looking for a place to park. The place was crawling with blue-whites and CSU techies. I found a place to park easily enough and clambered out from behind the wheel. I reached back inside to grab my badge and placed it around my neck.

I walked past The Obelisk, which is the oldest American monument. I saw more techies near the neoclassical Bethesda Fountain, famously known as the Angel of Waters. I spotted Graham and Detective Allison crouched down by the body I presumed belonged to Paul Dempsey. As I closed in, the miasma coming from the dead flesh was unbearable. I took out a handkerchief that I always brought with me and covered my nose. Graham must've heard my approach, because he whipped his head around. "It's about time you've gotten here. What took you so long?"

"I'd just walked in the door from a jog when you called. I had to hop in the shower before coming over."

He rolled his eyes.

"Women," he muttered.

I got closer, and seeing Paul Dempsey lay slaughtered like a pig made me wonder: what the hell were you doing out here Paul? There was a nice size hole in the right side of his neck, congealed blood caked the wound.

"Damn it Paul," I whispered. It's one thing seeing a dead person you didn't know but it was a whole new feeling when it was so close to home.

"I'm thinking this was a robbery, Serge," Graham said.

"Yeah I'm with him on that one," Allison said.

"What makes y'all come to that conclusion?"

"His wallet and his car keys are missing," Graham said.

"Who's to say he even drove his car?"

"Good point," Graham admitted. "But his wallet?"

"That's a start. But we can't make that our main focal point. That's what the killer wants us to think. The underlying fact is where we need to start. What was Paul Dempsey doing here to begin with? Certainly, he wasn't going for a late night stroll through the park," I pointed at his clothes. "So I'm going to see if maybe someone spotted him with someone." I walked back towards the track where joggers, and dog walkers did their morning's trek. I was sure nobody seen anything pertaining to the murder of a NYPD cop, but I was going to keep my hopes up.

"Excuse me ma'am?" I waved down a woman about thirty. "I'm Sergeant Luckett with the NYPD can I talk to you momentarily?"

"Uh...sure why not." She walked over to a nearby bench and I followed.

"A murder occurred here sometime last night. I can't give any details on the matter. I just want to know if perhaps you saw something or overheard someone talking about what happened here last night."

"Honestly, I normally take a jog through here at night but I skipped last night."

Interesting.

"Why's that?" I asked.

"My husband had the night off and we decided to spend time together at home."

"Oh I see. Anyone else you know that jog's through here?"

"We jogger's usually stick to ourselves. Jogging is not something that requires conversation detective."

"Right. Okay, here's my card if you have any more information don't hesitate to give me a call."

"I will." She started to get up but I wasn't finished.

"Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"

She hesitated longer than necessary. "Mary Catherine."

"Mary Catherine what?" I prompted.

"Cox," she said getting up and walking off.

I don't know if it was the way I looked or the way I asked, but Mary Catherine Cox was acting very strange.

Mary Catherine Cox was glad that she had gotten away from the detective when she did. Sergeant Luckett was known to be smarter than Einstein himself and if she had of stayed a minute longer her cover would've been blown. As she closed in on a Dumpster, she started peeling off the cosmetic facial mask she'd made and tossed it in the trash. Now she was The Black Widow; Mary Catherine Cox no longer existed. Now she knew who was working on solving Paul Dempsey's murder. It was time to up the ante. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Sandy Mitchell's number.

Sandy and The Black Widow had become best friends over the course of several weeks. Sandy used to be an informant for the NYPD before she faked her murder. Sandy had picked up a girl who had the same build as her and applied a cosmetic mask that mimicked her features on the girl's face. The girl had been eager to make a name for herself and a few extra bucks in her pocket. She taught the girl how to weld a knife with just the right arc. And once the cops discovered the poor girl's body hours later, Sandy had taken it upon herself to join forces with The Cartel.

"Half the NYPD is over here in Central Park I'll be there shortly. Make sure all my cosmetic equipment is ready."

"Okay, I'll see you when you get here. And Monica?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

"I'm always careful."

