Bite Shift

34

The skirt was folded and in my dresser drawer. New panties had replaced the old. When the shirt was off of me, I just stared at it. What do I do with it? Wash it and return it? Throw it away? Mail it back? Not knowing the right move, I laid in on the right side of my bed and turned away. Minutes later, I was in yoga pants and a t-shirt, heading back for the living room.

I found Rhys hunch over his coffee table with the binder open and the pages in front of him. It was eerily similar to the way Sorin had hunched over the same papers only hours before.

"You'll need more space, let's move to the kitchen. I'll take half and you take half. We will compare notes after." I scooped the binder up from under his face and made my way to the kitchen table. Unsnapping the three rings and pulling the pages free felt like a start to something good.

Maybe, we can really do this. Maybe, we can solve this!

An hour later, I wasn't so optimistic. The reports were extremely detailed on how the bodies were found and in what condition they were in. Each one had been mistaken for something other than a person when first seen. No one ever believes they'll walk up on a dead body. The first instinct was always a Halloween prop or mannequin.

It was never a mannequin.

Each victim had been found in different places. The first, in a creek bed by two, now traumatized, young boys who had skipped school. The second one found, was actually the third victim. She was found in a condemned house. The second victim was discovered next. She was left on someone's private, wooden property. He only found it because he was hanging trail cams for the upcoming hunting season. The last victim, if you didn't include me, was also discarded in an abandoned home that was too close to my workplace for comfort. Four women, four locations, all taken from the same place.

So, why was I attacked at the hospital? It was so close to the building and the risk of being discovered was so high. Was he planning to take me away and drop me somewhere? If so, he'd have to be strong enough to carry a dead body to a car. I doubted he parked close. Did he walk?

Looking at the files only created more questions. It was becoming clear that this was impossible. How could we think that we could figure out something the cops couldn't?!

Rhys jumped up suddenly and disappeared into his office. I heard him rifling through his things; heard drawers open and shut. When he came out, he had a map in his hand. Once spread out onto the kitchen floor, I could see the title.

PENNSYLVANIA, 1987

"That's kind of outdated."

He spoke without looking up. "Nothing has really changed."

He had a point.

He returned to the office and, this time, brought out markers. They were the kind I would have used for a school project in elementary school. I decided to leave it alone and not make a joke about coloring. It didn't seem to matter. Point for me.

He dropped to the floor and searched the map. Once he found what he was looking for, a red marker was extracted from the box and used to mark X on the map. I joined him on the floor for a closer look. The red mark's placement obviously Pittsburgh, where we stood now. The next mark was further away and he wrote a 1 above it. The next X was labeled with a two. Twice more he repeated this until he reached four. He looked up at me and I saw that he was hesitant to do what was next.

"The last was you, at the hospital."

I followed his gaze down to the newly marked map. I saw what he was doing.

"He's dropping them closer and closer. Why? It's so risky for him."

"I don't know. It doesn't seem too smart. He grabs them at the hospital and takes them away. Before or after he kills. That part I don't know. But, why keep the last two so close to the building? Why attack you right outside?"

"Maybe, he can't control himself; can't wait the time it takes to move them." It felt wrong even as I was saying it. Something was off.

"What did you see? Did you see him?" How had I never thought to ask.

He looked up at me and closed his eyes. I couldn't tell if he was trying to remember or wasn't going to answer.

"Just you," he responded, eyes still closed. "I smelled the blood. I ran outside and saw you. I thought you had to be dead. Your throat was a mess of tissue. There was so much blood. But, there was no one else. Just you, on the ground, dying. I didn't look around. I just looked at you and acted."

He opened his eyes and the story was done. My death was only a few sentences.

"He couldn't have been far. He must have heard you and ran. To me it felt like all one thing. The attack and then you. It didn't feel like there was ever a break."

"You were pretty far gone, Katie. I can't imagine your memory is very clear or accurate. Do you remember anything before? A smell? A sound?"

As he asked, he looked... I don't know, almost scared.

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I was listening to music. There was nothing extra. Or, I have forgotten it."

He turned back to the map so I couldn't see his expression. Most likely, he was as frustrated as me.

"I don't know why he is killing more frequently or why he is getting bolder but....." He stopped and I didn't like where this was going. I didn't want to know what he was about to say but, I thought I did.

"He isn't done and he is going to do it again, soon.