the one who got away

IX

Covering up bruises was more difficult than Beatrice thought. Having to return to work immediately after her attack Thursday night and not allowing her body to heal could have risked her entire job. If Connor or Andrew noticed the injuries and connected them to the man's murder, she would have been arrested for sure.

Beatrice spent the entire morning in the bathroom applying pounds of makeup on her jawline where she was struck with the gun. Her hand was cleaned and bandaged so the gash in her palm was completely covered. Her neck was too tender to put makeup over, so she wore a turtleneck to cover the bruising. She felt as if she did an impressive job of covering up her injuries from that night and hoped no one would even notice.

Connor stood by the door in Beatrice's house, crouched down to scratch Pancake under her chin. He was wearing his normal button down with a black tie that was decorated with snowmen. It was the middle of September, but Connor always says that "anytime is Christmas time". As Beatrice entered the room, Connor straightened his glasses and narrowed his eyebrows. She shifted uncomfortably under his glance, but Beatrice stared at him with the same attitude.

"Are you ready to leave?" Beatrice finally asked. "Or are we just going to continue our staring contest in my living room?"

Connor smiled at her and opened the door, allowing Beatrice to walk through. He locked the doorknob from the inside and closed the door behind the two. As they were approaching the SUV, Connor's phone rang from his pocket. He stopped in his tracks and groaned as he saw the caller but reluctantly answered the call anyways.

"Peterson." He flatly answered. As he listened to the other person on the phone, he unlocked the car and sat behind the wheel. Beatrice sat in the passenger seat and watched Connor on the phone. He looked at Beatrice and mouthed "Frank" as he continued to wait for the caller to stop talking. "Okay, thank you, officer. We will head that way now. Thanks."

Connor hung up the call. "We have a new crime scene, so we'll meet Andrew at the police station afterwards."

Beatrice nodded and watched as her house disappeared in the mirror as Connor drove down the road. She was on edge to see the man again and investigate his murder as if she wasn't the one who killed him. Today, she would uncover his identity and put a name to her attackers face. He felt different than the other men she had killed prior to him; he practically killed her in the process. The men she targeted most definitely deserved what they had coming, this man more than anything, but it put that in perspective. Beatrice barely survived her attack last night, is that how the men felt with her? Did she deserve what happened to her, as well?

"Beatrice," Connor drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel as he stopped at the stop light. He glanced in her direction, but she was not listening at all. She was staring at her hands and muttering to herself with tears in her eyes as she was on the verge of a meltdown. Beatrice felt an unbearable knot in her stomach as she was rethinking her entire motive for what she was doing. This entire time, she felt as if she was doing the women of her city a favor and eliminating the horrible, no good, men from inflicting any harm on them. She wanted the men to be as terrified as the women are on a daily basis, she wanted unhinged male fear. She believed she was doing the right thing, but her attack had put everything in a perspective she had not wanted to admit.

"Beatrice," Connor repeated in a more serious tone. He nudged her arm with his elbow and Beatrice resurfaced back to reality. She jumped back at feeling Connor's touch and quickly turned to look at him.

"W-What did you say?" Beatrice was wiping the tears out of her eyes with her hands.

"I just said your name." Connor pursed his lips together. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," She quickly replied. "Nothing is going on. Why do you think anything is going on?"

Connor did not reply. He was hesitant on what he wanted to say.

"I'm fine, seriously," Beatrice lied. She forced a smile to calm Connor's nerves. "There's no need to worry about me."

"What did you do to your hand, then?" Connor nodded down to Beatrice's bandaged hand. She followed his gaze and clenched her fist to better hide the bandage.

"Oh this? I just accidentally cut it when I was slicing up vegetables last night." Every comment Beatrice made was a complete lie to Connor's face. In a way, she believed Connor knew it was a lie as well.

Connor turned away from Beatrice and focused on driving. He pulled the car into the park and drove down to the commotion of wandering police officers and a crowd of pedestrians lingering outside the crime scene. The two climbed out of the SUV and ducked beneath the tape to approach the body. Just witnessing the scene in daylight made Beatrice's stomach do a summersault; she was reliving her trauma all over again.

The man's body was positioned in the exact way Beatrice had left him: laying on his back with his eyes wide open and the gun beside him. Officer Frank Daniels looked down at the man's body and grimaced, shaking his head.

"There was definitely overkill on this guy," Daniels pointed out. "The guy never stood a chance."

Beatrice glared in his direction. She wanted to strangle him. She nearly died because this man attacked her, but he never stood a chance.

"What do we know about him, Frank?" Connor asked as he kneeled beside the man's body to examine closer.

"His name's Larry Kinsman," Daniels recited. "There's not much we could find out about this guy. No job, no wife, no kids. It seems like he was probably some street thug."

"What is the extent of his injuries?" Beatrice asked. She kept her distance from the body, as if Larry were going to spring back to life. She stood cautiously behind Connor with her arms crossed in front of her.

"It seems like one stab wound to the calf, one to the neck, and..." Connor paused to count the stab wounds in the man's chest. "Is this right? Nineteen stab wounds to the torso?"

"Twenty," Daniels corrected. "Whoever did this was some sick individual."

Why were they feeling bad for this scumbag? He deserved every ounce of pain he endured. Larry Kinsman did not deserve their pity.

"It looks like he put up a fight," Beatrice noticed, pointing down to the bruising around his face and the scratch marks on his neck from her fingernails.

"Hm," Connor wondered aloud. Beatrice and Frank exchanged confused looks as they waited for Connor to explain his thinking. "Beatrice, we believe this killer is a woman, correct?"

Beatrice nodded her head in agreement.

"This man is huge. He is 5'11" and clearly goes to the gym, which makes him strong. Unlike the other victims, there's no sign of intoxication which makes me wonder..." Connor rose to his feet and looked Beatrice in the eyes. "I think this victim was a complete accident. There is no way our killer could take on a guy this powerful."

"So, what do you think happened last night?" Beatrice pressed, wanting her colleague to continue.

"I believe that gun is his," Connor nodded to the gun lying beside him. "I believe that he must have somehow overpowered our killer and in result, was murdered out of self-defense. They both seemed to have put up a good fight but the wounds to his hip and calf weakened him enough for the killer to kill him."

Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice noticed someone watching the three of them behind one of the trees in the park. When she raised her head and looked at the set of eyes, a chill shot through her body.

Peeking her head outfrom hiding was Ellie, and she was staring directly at Beatrice.