Friday, October 24, 2008

A Face in the Shadow Part 1 Chapter 4

Four

“Bye, I’ll see you guys later. I need to go home and soak in a tub.” Jenny waved to her sorority sisters. Wednesday night aerobics had been tougher than usual this week.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to follow you home?” April asked.

“No, I’ll be fine. The police drive up and down the street all the time.” Jen worked to control the waver in her voice.

“I don’t feel right leaving you alone. The other girl had the same rose.”

Bile rose in her throat. “It may still be a prank.”

“I don’t think the sisters would hold on to a prank this long. It’s been three roses. Every sister knows the cops are involved.”

“You don’t need to keep saying that. I know how many roses there have been.” Her face burned hot. The parking lot lights would be too dim to show what must have been a glowing red face. “Plus only our sorority sisters know the cops are watching me. It could be the ones we T.P.ed.”

They stopped next to Jen’s car. April set her bag down by her feet. “I doubt it. They wouldn’t focus in on one person so long.”

“April, it’s a prank. Every rose has been found on a dead body.”

“It’s a pretty sick prank.”

“And when I find out who it is I’m never going to speak to them again.” Jen eyed her sisters for any twitch of guilt. None of them would be cruel enough to put her through this.

“Then why won’t you stay with one of us until things are safer?”

“I don’t want to be around campus.” She leaned her back against the car. The metal against her back made her feel less vulnerable. “I appreciate the offer. I’ll call Logan on the way home.” She unlocked the door and tossed her bag in the back seat to display confidence she didn’t have. “I’ll be fine. Logan isn’t far if I need him.”

“Okay.” April hugged her tight before turning to the sorority house with the others.

Jenny jumped in her car and scanned the parking lot. Once she cleared the buildings on the edge of campus she saw the remaining slivers of red sunlight low in the horizon and partially covered by clouds.

A knot tightened in her stomach. She’d pretended not to hear about the lady killed a couple weeks ago. Education major who lived on this campus. Jen’s hands began to shake and uncontrollable tears gushed down her cheeks. Some sicko was playing with her. Waiting and maybe watching. There was nothing she could do, the police could do. She could drop out of college and fly back to Minnesota. Erase any memory from the campus.

But that would mean leaving Logan. The cool chill of fear melted in the center of her chest. She dialed Logan’s number on her cell phone. After one ring he picked up.

“Hi Jen.”

“Hey. How’s your evening going?”

“Fine. Work was a little crazy but I got everything done. I spent a couple of hours at Mrs. Nylski’s helping her with lawn work. She pays too much for those grounds keepers to let her place go like that.”

“When will I get to meet her? She sounds like such a sweet lady.”

“Soon. How are you tonight?”

“Scared.”

“I’ll come over if it will make you feel better.” He has added a sultry flow to his voice.

“I’m sure you would, with one thing on your mind.”

“Who? Me? Never.”

She smiled. “I need to hear a friendly voice. Can I talk to you while I drive?”

“Sure. I’m on my way over anyway. I was waiting for you to call.”

“Logan I can’t have you guarding me 24/7.” She said it but even as the words came out she hoped he’d insist.

“You could if you’d just say yes.”

“Logan.” Her voice trailed off for a moment.

“I told you before I won’t pressure you. I want you to know that I mean it. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I know.”

“Think about it then.”

“I will.” She swerved to miss a car that stopped suddenly. “I still have three more semesters until my degree.”

“Yes but as soon as you change your mind all I need is a yes from you. The offer remains on the table.” They could have the wedding after graduation. But she would only do this once. Why rush it? Long engagements were so tacky.

“I know. Maybe when classes are-.”

“Don’t worry about when, Jen. I want you to be my wife. I will do what I have to if it means you’ll be mine.”

“Thank you.” She turned in to the parking lot of her apartment. As usual the guy in the red sports car parked sideways. She groaned and parked in the next row. It was the furthest spot from her door. “I’m home now. I’ll let you go and we can talk more tomorrow.”

“I love you Jen.”

“Love you too Logan.” She flipped her phone shut and got out of the car. The sun was gone and a few crickets chirped in the grass a couple of yards away. It reminded her of summers in the country. Here the sound of traffic usually blotted out the crickets and footsteps-

The sound surprised her. Footsteps in a heavy, steady rhythm. It was a jogger. Just in case she snatched her bag from the backseat and put it over her shoulder. Don’t act alarmed. Get to the door. Stay calm. The traffic was unusually calm tonight. That was why she could hear the footsteps echo closer. She reached down and scooped up her books.

“Ouch.” She pulled her hand back from the seat of her car. A white rose, this one full of thorns, sat on the seat under her books.

The footsteps were closer now. She slammed the door and turned to the apartment. The echo from her car door ricocheted between the apartment buildings but was replaced again by the sound of her feet pounding on the blacktop. Her duffle bounced against her thigh. The keys rattled in her shaky fingers as she stumbled up the grassy hill and on to the sidewalk.

In the darkness of the stoop every key looked the same. They rattled as she tried to find the one to the outside security doors. The footsteps sped up.

“C’mon.” One key crossed over another and into the ring. She was trapped now between the security door and the footsteps. A whimper escaped her lips when she pulled the key free and began one by one to stick it in the door. Finally one slid in the hole and she turned the handle and ripped her key back out of the lock.

The footsteps were closer. They padded with an even thump-thump, thump-thump.

The door swung open and she threw the bag inside. It swung back and knocked the keys out of her hand and in the grass behind her. She groped around in the dark grass. Why didn’t they ever mow this stuff? Her hand landed on beer bottle lids and what felt like pebbles or broken glass.

“Hey, hold the door.” A deep voice demanded only a few feet away.

Her fingers wrapped around the keys. She stood.

“Hold the door.” She spun toward the voice. A man silhouetted by the streetlight was less than twenty feet away. In an instant she was in the building. She slammed the door shut behind her, grabbed the bag and sprinted up the steps two at a time. Her heart thumped hard in her chest and the muscles in her legs groaned. Adrenaline pushed her to the third floor. She stumbled down the hall to her door and jammed the key in the lock. Below the security door squeaked open.

“Thanks for holding the door.” A voice screamed followed by an explicative. His voice resonated through the halls and his footsteps fell hard down the hallway on the floor below hers. She closed her door, slid the chain in its holder and double checked the deadbolt.

Footsteps thudded up to the third floor then someone pounded on the door down the hall. She jumped and backed away from her door.

“Does a dark haired lady live with you?” The man said to her neighbor.

Muffled voices followed. A door closing. Then knocking on another door. There were only eight doors on each floor.

Jen walked in the kitchen and pulled a knife from the butchers block on her counter.

Muffled pounds. Three.

Footsteps. Muffled pounds. Four.

“Bang…bang…bang.” He knocked with such force the chain on her door rattled. Jen stifled a scream and gripped the knife tighter.

You are reading A Face in the Shadow by Tiffany Colter.

Tiffany is a writer, speaker and writing career coach. She is a frequent contributor to print and online publications in addition to her regular marketing blog at www.WritingCareerCoach.com

Get each new chapter delivered to you by signing up for the Tiffany Colter Fiction Blog using the link on the right.

This story is copyright Tiffany Colter. 2007. It may not be copied, distributed, sold or included in any larger work without the expressed written permission of Tiffany Colter.

Bloggers may comment on or link to this blog from their own blog. To link directly to this posting click the title then copy the address in the browser.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

A Face in the Shadow Part 1 Chapter 3

Three

“Mrs. Nylski I’m going to throw these roses out for you.”

“Thank you Logan. You were such a dear to bring them over in the first place. Made the house smell so sweet.”

“When I saw them I had to get them for my favorite lady.”

He pulled the dozen mixed roses out of the vase on the small end table and threw them into her trash can. Mrs. Nylski pushed her walker slowly into the front room of her small condominium. The woman was nearly ninety. She’d deserved much better than this teeny place her stingy son had arranged for her.

Logan washed the vase out and put it back in the cupboard. The red haired angel had been all he’d hoped for. Once she was subdued he’d given her the rose, her rose. She was now beautifully frozen in time. Her body would never be tattered by the ravages of time. A perfect pure rose.

“Logan, could you bring me a glass of water when you come out.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Nylski.”

Alpha Mu Epsilon.

She had to be lovely when they found her. For them to understand why he loved her, had to have her.

Logan filled a glass of water for Mrs. Nylski and took it in the other room.

“You need anything else before I go?”

“Did you feed Sammy?” She stroked her ten year old toy poodle with a skinny wrinkled hand. Purple lines crisscrossed thin bones that moved with her fingers.

“Food is in his bowl along with fresh water.” The dog closed his eyes and drifted off on the old woman’s lap.

“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll be fine now.”

“I’ll see you again tomorrow Mrs. Nylski.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

You are reading A Face in the Shadow by Tiffany Colter.

Tiffany is a writer, speaker and writing career coach. She is a frequent contributor to print and online publications in addition to her regular marketing blog at www.WritingCareerCoach.com

Get each new chapter delivered to you by signing up for the Tiffany Colter Fiction Blog using the link on the right.

This story is copyright Tiffany Colter. 2007. It may not be copied, distributed, sold or included in any larger work without the expressed written permission of Tiffany Colter.

Bloggers may comment on or link to this blog from their own blog. To link directly to this posting click the title then copy the address in the browser.

Friday, October 17, 2008

A Face in the Shadow Part 1 Chapter 2

Two

Rachel stared at the final flecks of coco powder and mocha swirling in the bottom of her oversized mug. A few feet away people lined up for their fancy coffees and overpriced muffins, register drawers opened and slammed closed.

“Grande Mocha Up.” Someone yelled over the hollow squeal of baristas steaming milk for countless lattes less than ten feet away. Rachel rubbed her forehead as the clanging sliced through her brain.

“If I didn’t have month end reports to go over after lunch I’d go home.” Rachel said to her mom without looking up. She tried to put her elbow on the table but two mugs and a small plate were almost more than the table could handle.

“You not feelin’ well?”

“Headache.”

“I got some Tylenol.” The way her mom said it sounded more like Tylenaw, something Rachel first noticed when she returned from Michigan. Up there everyone pronounced A’s through their nose.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. What were you saying about Adam?”

“Oh, Yvonne is just being her stubborn self is all. Honestly, I don’t know what your brother sees in that woman some days.”

“Takes two mom.”

“Well she knew when the two of them got married he was deaf.”

Her mom continued on paying no attention to Rachel’s comment. “I tell ya Rachel, don’t know how much worse this old world can get.” Her mom sipped her coffee and held up her finger so Rachel wouldn’t interrupt her monologue. “I watch the T.V. and praise God I raised the two of you before all of this mess. I’d hate to be starting off in these days.” She broke off a bite of blueberry muffin and held it between her fingers as she spoke.

Clearly the conversation on Adam had finished. Rachel followed her mom down this next rabbit trail. “Every generation has their dangers.”

“And you wanna tell me things are getting better.” Mom’s Kentucky drawl did nothing to take the edge off her tone.

“No, just that it is part of the cosmos.”

“The cosmos?” Her mom lifted an eyebrow and squared her shoulders. Why had she chosen that word to use with her mom?

“May be true in the big scheme but here in Woodhaven…well I just don’t know.”

“Excuse me.” A woman hit Rachel in the head with her purse. Coffee splattered out of her cup and landed on her cell phone. Always when she had a headache.

“What is up with all these people today?” Rachel blotted the coffee off the camera lens of her phone.

“Dunno,” her mom wiped the table with a second napkin then continued. “There’s someone killing young ladies, here. Did you hear ‘bout this Fratboy killer?”

Rachel set the large ceramic cup to the side and leaned forward on the table. “I’ve been following it on the internet. Real sicko.”

“I worry ‘bout you workin’ s’ late with this goin’ on.”

“I took self-defense training.”

Her mom waved away the answer. “You screamin’ fire’ll do nothing against a gun.”

“Then it’s a good thing this guy isn’t shooting people isn’t it.” The squeezing pain in her head made it come out sharper than she’d intended. She paused and forced her words out a bit gentler. “Woodhaven is twenty minutes away, mom.”

“You think killers don’t have cars?”

“I imagine they do that’s why I’m careful if I have to leave after dark.”

“Yes but you work such long hours. You should-.”

“I know mom. As soon as we have these new reps trained I won’t have to do their job and mine.”

“And Shannon can’t do any of it?”

“She works new clients and leads I work personnel and bookkeeping.”

“You should be making enough that you could hire a security guy for the parking lot at the very least.”

Rachel dug in her purse. There must be some headache medicine in her bag someplace. How many times would they walk around the same mountain at these afternoon coffee breaks? She found her pill case in the side pocket and swallowed down two pills. “Do they have any leads yet?”

“I get it. Stay out of running your business.” Mom leaned back and folded her arms.

“Yep.”

“Well none they’re tellin’ anybody. The paper said they call him the Fratboy killer ‘cause he leaves some fraternity charm on all the girls along with a white rose.”

“I’d heard about the charm. Alpha something something. Is it for sure a fraternity?”

“I don’t follow all that Greek stuff. I’m sure they’re just guessin’ anyways. D’you hear about the latest young lady?”

“When?”

“Day or two ago.”

“No.” Someone came over and took Rachel’s tray. Her mom lowered her voice and leaned forward.

“She makes number four in the last year. Broke my heart when I saw the picture.” Her mom put her hand over her chest. “She was a beautiful young lady in her early 20s, with such pretty red-brown hair. It was on the front page.”

“I don’t get the paper. I read my news on-line.”

“Right-right.” Her mom wiped at the air then continued. “Said she was an education major but I thought she could be a model easy. Paper said he’s speeding up. They’re coming closer and closer together. They found her in the basement of the library.”

“And nobody saw anything.” How could someone rape and murder a woman without anyone noticing a thing. A shiver ran up her spine. “I don’t know what possess some people.”

“Well that’s exactly it.” Her mom poked her finger on the table as she spoke. “These people are possessed by pure evil.” Rachel nodded her head in agreement. Mom looked past Rachel for a moment, her eyes glassy. “Why don’t you come over this weekend and visit for a bit?” The pleasant southern belle voice was back after a momentary northern lapse.

“Mom-.”

“I know but the people there just adore you.”

“Maybe another time.”

“If that’s how you want it.”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“I know, Rach, I worry. It’s a mom’s prerogative.”

“It would be nice to have one afternoon together without bringing this up?” Her mom’s shoulders fell. So she’d disappointed her mom again. What else was new?

“You’re right. Let’s not ruin our lunch speakin’ bout such unpleasant things.”

You are reading A Face in the Shadow by Tiffany Colter.

Tiffany is a writer, speaker and writing career coach. She is a frequent contributor to print and online publications in addition to her regular marketing blog at www.WritingCareerCoach.com

Get each new chapter delivered to you by signing up for the Tiffany Colter Fiction Blog using the link on the right.

This story is copyright Tiffany Colter. 2007. It may not be copied, distributed, sold or included in any larger work without the expressed written permission of Tiffany Colter.

Bloggers may comment on or link to this blog from their own blog. To link directly to this posting click the title, then copy the address in the browser.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

A Face in the Shadow Part 1 Chapter 1

A Face in the Shadow


Part I: The time of shadows


One

Logan stalked the red-head with his sunglass hidden eyes.

It was time to begin his pursuit.

He meandered at a safe distance from his target. He knew her path and routine. She never deviated. She’d go to her dorm now but in an hour she’d come back down the same walk and into a private study room at the library. Always the same one. In the basement past the bound periodicals and around the corner. She valued her privacy, and so did he.

The air was sticky without a whisper of breeze. A small bead of sweat tickled his cheek as it ran down. He wiped it away then slowed his pace a bit.

Up ahead his lady advanced with quick strides never making eye contact with anyone. Hopefully she’d resist just a little.

He wiped away another bead of sweat. The blond wig was hot. The human hair had been expensive but if any fibers remained the cops couldn’t tie them to him. He went to the left and in the library’s entryway. She turned right up the path to the dorms.

Soon.

The blast of cold air both refreshed and chilled him. He walked past the information desk and check-out counters. Very few students visited the college’s library during the summer months. Three librarians continued their conversation without looking at him. The air smelled of rotting pages and mildew. Air didn’t flow and sounds didn’t carry here.

He went to the basement and stepped through the first set of doors. A few metal shelves lined the walls covered with periodicals that only college professors and their unfortunate students ever read. In the far corner, tucked away from view were the private study rooms. These were rooms designed for a group of students to talk without disturbing other library patrons. They were designed to muffle sounds. In the summer there was little need but she still used them. A creature of habit.

The basement was cold and slightly damp. The yellowed florescent lights created shadows in the far corner of shelves. He turned away from the periodicals and entered the microfiche room to wait. The basement was silent except for a low hum. The air conditioner must be close by. He checked his watch and waited. Five minutes until she’d arrive. The dim yellow screen of the microfiche screamed the headline “The Fratboy Killer claims second victim.”

“I’d hardly call myself a fratboy.” He dropped a nickel in the slot and clicked print. No fratboy would take the time to do all the planning he did. Behind him the door to the periodical room closed with a muffled bump followed a few moments later by the click of the study room door. He collected the articles, returned the microfiche to the drawer and wiped everything down.

“So predictable.”

No one was in the basement, no cameras on the walls. He walked to the far end and looked through the glass. On the other side she lifted a pile of books out of her bag and began to arrange them on the table. His heart thudded and he imagined for a moment how good this would be.

No, he would resist. He needed to be slow, woo her. He had to maintain control.

Alpha Mu Epsilon required it.

It would make the time with his red-haired angel so much better. He smoothed down his shirt and picked off a small piece of black lint. He was handsome. Women were usually willing to exchange small talk with him which worked to his advantage.

This woman was lovely. Long strands of hair hung down from her clip. She aroused in him the urge to steal her away and keep her. Maybe he could…

He stepped back for a moment. No. He’d planned this. Stick to the plan. When emotions took over was when mistakes were made. Bundy’s fall came when he didn’t prepare, he let one get away. Sloppiness was his downfall.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. She turned quickly.

“I’m sorry this room is occupied.” Her eyes directed him back out of the room.

“You are a vision from a renaissance master.” He’d rehearsed the greeting all week. Letting women know how attractive they were was important in the art of Romance. Women had to be lured gently at first. Let them know they are beautiful and special. Slowly they open their hearts.

“Excuse me?” Her voice faltered for a moment. Fear was good. Enough fear to keep her quiet.

He stepped in the room and closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes off of his prize. Her body straightened in response.

“I’ll scream.”

“That wouldn’t be wise.” He lifted his shirt enough to let her see the knife clipped to his belt.

“What do you want?” Her fingers felt around the table but there was nothing on that table strong enough to keep him from his purpose.

“Alpha.”

“What is alpha?” Tears slid down her face. Her eyes were slightly red. It ruined her creamy white skin.

“You’re trying to destroy the moment.”

He grabbed her and spun her around so she wasn’t facing him. Remember the image of her beautiful. He had to lock that image in his head. Anger squeezed him and he shoved her to the floor. She fell forward and her hair splayed out and formed a halo.

Desire consumed him afresh and he pounced on top of her and reached around to cover her mouth with his hand.

“If you’re quiet” he whispered “This will go much better for you.”

She nodded her head and he took what he’d come for. She remained nearly silent and he was only mildly distracted by the tears that ran across the back of his hand. Without standing up he reached around to his backpack and pulled out the noose. A few moments later it was over.

He rolled her over and pushed her hair away from her face. Two startling blue eyes frozen in time. A master’s statue. He slid the rope over her head and and adjusted her hair. He’d preserved her forever.

Inside the bag his hand groped around until his fingers felt the bouquet of roses. The petals were cool and soft against his skin. He pushed back the tissue paper and looked for the one he had for her.

There were thirteen roses most red, a few pink, two yellow and a single white rose. Superstition was the religion of the ignorant. He pulled out the white rose and tied a black ribbon around the stem. It moved back and forth wafting its scent. Flowers knew what it was to give, to share.

Women were very much like roses. They were things of beauty growing from something vile. The best remained pure and grew straight. And when they were most beautiful, just as the bloom began to open it was time to pick them.

And like roses once the flower was removed all that was left was an ugly, rotten stem that needed to be cut off and burned. He laid the rose across her chest with the bloom barely touching her cheek.

“This is yours, precious”

He opened her hand and placed a small golden charm in her palm then pushed her hand closed.

She was his.

Alpha Mu Epsilon.

*******

You are reading A Face in the Shadow by Tiffany Colter.

Tiffany is a writer, speaker and writing career coach. She is a frequent contributor to print and online publications in addition to her regular marketing blog at www.WritingCareerCoach.com

Get each new chapter delivered to you by signing up for the Tiffany Colter Fiction Blog using the link on the right.

This story is copyright Tiffany Colter. 2007. It may not be copied, distributed, sold or included in any larger work without the expressed written permission of Tiffany Colter.

Bloggers may comment on or link to this blog from their own blog. To link directly to this posting click the title then copy the address in the browser.