She Will Be Mine

Chapter 2

Before Charlie could even say goodbye, Des was halfway up to the third floor. He sighed as he watched that fabulous booty run away, and replayed the image in his head as he walked into the elevator. I really should just ask her out already, Charlie thought as he pushed the button for the 50th floor. But today would not be the day. Too much had happened already for that.
The news was already playing in that annoying little elevator TV. The channels had only been notified less than 30 minutes before, and they already had every news station in all of New York at the scene. Charlie read the heading under the annoying TV reporters blabbing away. As if they know anything, he thought. The heading was bold and in read letters. New York Women Snatcher Snatches Again!!!! It read and pierced his vision. He was getting a headache already. This was the last thing the New York Private Eye needed. They were already getting doubts put into their program with their inability to catch the rapist already. They had been called incompetent, lazy, and selfish, even though no one else wanted to go out and find the missing women. They weren't even missing really. The killer had that kind of sick humor to return the victims to the exact place that they had been taken 2 days later, but mangled and bloody and most definitely dead. This was the 5th women taken to date over a 3 month period, and the PI had hit a blank corner. The man left no clues, no remains to where he was taking these women, or who he was. Charlie was so determined to find the man just so he could rip him to shreds. The man was a sick being, one that deserved whatever they had coming towards him.
His headache only seemed to grow as the 50th floor was finally reached. Exiting, he ran towards the chief's office, knowing that once he was done with Des, he would be next. TV's flashed by him as he made his way down that long hallway, but he paid little attention. He was more concerned on how Des was taking this whole thing. Mass murders weren't really her strong suit, and anybody would understand that after what had happened to her. Granted, she could kick some serious ass when she needed to, but she didn't like it, and voiced that opinion to anyone that would listen.
Charlie could remember the day like it had happened last week, and not 10 years before. They had all been in high school, Des and the gang. Almost all his coworkers were. It happened to be the week before graduation when the horror struck. No one had even seen it coming. In the middle of the night on a spring morning, some whack job had decided to lose it, and performed the most grotesque murder that Charlie had ever seen. It wasn't an ordinary murder either. It was a slaughterhouse. A person had held a grudge against the Hunt family, something against them in particular.
Des had previously lived with her mom, dad, and 2 siblings in that quiet house. Des was the oldest of the three, with a twin brother and a little sister to come after. She was the oldest, but only by three minutes, and she was reminded every day before that night. Her brother Isaac and sister Sara were very close and important to her. The whole family was. And that sick jerk wiped out all of them that night, leaving Des very, very confused. No message was ever sent, the murders never claimed, and no trail ever left behind. The killer had just waltzed right in, and he got to waltz right out.
From that day on, Des had vowed to get her revenge. Everyone on that block had loved that Hunt family and someone had to pay. The Hunts were a great family, with parents as Environmentalists and with three brilliant kids to boot. No one had anything against them, it just wouldn't be right. They never held grudges, and had helped every person on that block when they needed it. They gave out there time and effort, and when it was really needed, their money to help these people. And for someone to just go in there the way they did, it just made everyone that much angrier.
After graduation, Des changed her major in college. She would no longer be going to Veterinarian school. She was going to find the jerk that had murdered her family, and keep something like that from ever happening again. She worked harder than anyone in that school, and was the best in her class. She pushed and pushed herself until some people thought that she might break. She narrowed a four year degree into just two, only because she worked so hard. She tested out of courses that she felt confident about, and was as scary as hell of you got in her way. She was going to become the best PI this city had ever seen. And she had just about done it.
Many people had not been shocked in the slightest at her change. They encouraged it, Charlie included. And she hadn't been the only one to change. Charlie switched, along with 15 other of their friends. They wanted to make that killer pay for what he had put all of them through. Most of the people that switched had been helped by the Hunt family in one way or another, and they wanted to pay their dues, as well as seek revenge on their murderer. After she made the public change, they all quickly followed suit. They all wanted to make that person pay, whoever they turned out to be.
Charlie shocked himself out of his flashback when he nearly walked into the door that opened in front of him. Des was just walking out, anger blazing in her eyes. "You can go in now," she whispered. Her voice was scratchy and her hands clenched. Charlie didn't know if he really wanted to.
He knocked on the oak door looming before him. The gold emblem depicting a large bird going after its kill was before the name Malcolm Murphy. The voice belonging to that name answered curtly after that knock, and Charlie tentatively entered.
The big man, as he was referred to behind his back, stood facing the window of his vast and large office. The windows stood the length of the room, giving a beautiful view of New York City. The office itself was nice enough, large in fact, compared to the rest of the floor. The chief barely allowed anything but the best. A large mahogany table took up most of the room. It was covered with newspapers screaming titles about the latest disasters that ruled New York City. But most, not unlike the Times, chose instead to zero in on the current conflict, the one that not even the PI could piece together.
​The owner of this desk and the owner of the lovely business known as the New York PI was a big man, hence the nickname. Of African-American descent, Murphy stood at a fine 6'7", and weighed in over 400 pounds. He was a pro heavy weight wrestler turned cop after the glory days, and the only thing he hated more than losing was not knowing things. A Mississippian all the way, his accent only snuck though when he was angry or frustrated. Now was one of those times. Whenever a new case came out, be it issues of a bank robbery in the downtown or a cop chase in the upper city, he wanted to know who it involved, just so he could merely stop it. And because no one could figure out this current predicament, that made the chief a very ticked off man. The man had been working with the PI in New York before Charlie was even born. Multiple times he had been asked to retire, and every time his reply was "I'll retire when New York stops killing people," and no one questioned him since. This case was the only one proven to stump him; he held the record of the fastest case solved. The fastest case involved a robbery of almost every bank in New York. Before he was even asked to step into that one, the chief had not only discovered who was behind it, but how to stop it. And just like that, the case had been solved.
​"So," the booming voice spoke again. "I take it you've heard the news,"
​"Yes Sir, I have, and it doesn't look particularly good," Charlie's headache was fast progressing into that of a migraine.
​"Have you heard the real story?" the chief walked over to his large wheel top chair and proceeded to sit. He gestured that Charlie do the same.
​"Not entirely Sir, just that there was another women taken, and that no clues were left behind again," Charlie massaged his left temple and looked out the window. The chair underneath him squeaked in protest as he pivoted to face the man.
​"Well, you were right about that. There is another woman gone. Taken from her house in the middle of the night. It just isn't right!" Murphy's hand slammed down onto the desk, and Charlie jumped at the sudden noise. "I mean, this is the fifth innocent involved, and we still have nearly nothing to go on," Charlie looked up at that.
​"Nearly nothing Sir?" he asked. "I wasn't aware that we had anything at all,"
​"Oh, that," Murphy reached into one of his many overflowing drawers and handed him a sheet of yellowed copier paper. The generic kind of copier paper, one that could be bought at any drug store, with no tell-tale way of guessing its origin. Charlie pulled on a pair of gloves and examined the paper. On the front was a note, and once he read it, Charlie clenched his fist in anger. Poor Desiree, he thought to himself. And poor Desiree was right.
​The note was generically written, with no unique handwriting or ink to make it decipherable to anyone. It was short and to the point, but it still stuck a knife in a sore spot and then added salt to the wound.
​To a Ms. Desiree Hunt, I am glad that we meet again. I have thoroughly enjoyed meeting you again, even though I already know you. I have been watching you for some time now, and I must admit, I like what I see. I am happy to say that you shall meet me soon, and that we will be together forever. I tried to catch your attention when your family died, but your adorable little brain didn't understand my meaning. Yes, I killed your family, but it was so the both of us could be together. You will understand soon enough.
​​​​​​​​With love, your future family
​Charlie was disgusted. But now he knew who he was dealing with. Not only was he a filthy molester, but a cold blooded killer and wanted killer at that. His heart raced at the thought of this person touching his Des. He had to protect her.
​"Pretty despicable ain't it?" Murphy grabbed the paper back and folded it in his hand. "As if Des hadn't been through enough in her life. But now she has to deal not only with her arch nemesis, but her family's killer as well. I am tempted to take her off the whole case," the chief began to pace his office. He always had to pace when he talked. There was an indent on his floor of his favorite pacing paths, worn down by many discussions and issues.
"The only good thing about this situation is the fact that now we have a chance. We can run every type of diagnostic on this piece of paper to find out where it came from so we can try and stop this pervert. I swear to God, this may be the last thing that I do, but I will find this man," he slammed his fist down in emphasis.​
"You do whatever you need to chief, just don't take her off the case," Charlie was getting worked up now. "She needs this. For herself more than anything else," Charlie pointed towards the door, and Des in the distance. "You know more than anyone how much she needs this,"
​"Now hold up now, I didn't say I was," The chief chuckled, and his coffee cup swiveled in his hand. "I only said that I should, for my own sake. I don't want to be around when I set that girly on him. She packs a mean punch," he laughed and walked back to his seat. "I only want to make sure that she has someone to look after her if I do let her continue. We all know you have the sweets for her, so I knew I could count on you for that job. You seem to get to her in a way that the rest of us can't understand, and it only seems right that you should watch after her,"
​Charlie quickly turned his back to the chief, not wanting him to see that color that his face was quickly turning into. There was no point in denying it. Everyone knew already. "You can count on me chief, I will take good care of her," Charlie was already walking towards the door, the door leading to safety.
​"Good. You can leave now Michaels. I just wanted to make that point clear," Murphy gestured towards the door.
​"Chief, what do you want my first move to be?" Charlie paused just before the entrance, almost wishing he hadn't asked.
​"Des knows what to do; all I want you to do is make sure that you go with her. I know she can take care of herself, I'm just worried for that killer," Murphy chuckled as Charlie walked out. He heard a measly "good luck" muttered in his exodus. Charlie shut the door behind him, and walked over to Des' office. It was lushly packed with a bean bag chair, a desk, a coffee maker, and a computer. Des currently sat in the chair, with her coffee in one hand and laptop in the other. Her hair, a beautiful dark brown with small streaks of red, hung from a ponytail that emerged out of the side of her head. It was begging to be touched, and Charlie was tempted. He knew it was a coward's act, but something held him back. He instead knocked on her door and waited for permission to enter.
​Des looked up, exhaustion creeping into her eyes. He could tell that she had been recently crying, and his heart went out to her. He wanted to do nothing more than scoop her up in his arms and take her out to dinner, but he knew that now was not the time.
"Come in," she said and stood up, stretching her lean frame over her legs. Charlie could hear joints popping and she walked over to open the door fully. "So you heard huh?" she smiled grimly. "Not only do I get to catch a perv, but a family killing perv at that," she laughed halfhazardly, but Charlie could tell that her usual spunk was missing. She was grieving, and everyone could see it but her. She held her chin high as she walked over to her desk, sat in her chair and laid her feet on top. Hands only slightly shaking, she grabbed her coffee and took a long sip.
​"How are you doing Hunt?" I asked her. "Are you holding up OK?" I reached to grab her hand. She pulled it away and held it to her side before he even reached her. She was in her own little world, and even he didn't know how to penetrate it.
​"Mumph," Des tried to brush off his concern. "I just cannot wait to finally put a face to the man that ruined my life," she stood up again and walked over to her window. Besides the chief, Des had the nicest office in the level. She had always been favored by the chief, but then again, with her being the only women in the New York PI, the office would have its perks. Most women didn't last a week here with the hard hours and long weeks, but Des had lasted 10 years, and people were recognizing her for it.
​Charlie didn't know what to say. He wanted to go over and comfort her, but he knew it wasn't his place. As far as he knew, Des wasn't seeing anybody, and whenever she was asked she merely claimed that her job was as sufficient a boyfriend that she needed. He sighed in frustration and clenched his hands. He could see she was hurting as she tried to act nonchalant. Des chucked her coffee can into the garbage and screamed as she pushed against the window frames. Charlie could see her muscles tensing as she took a few very deep breaths. Slowly, she moved back over to her computer and sat down.
Charlie continued to watch her as she watched her screen. She tried to look relaxed, but her demeanor and her frame was tight with anger and stress. Charlie could practically see the knots forming in her shoulders as he spoke next.
"So Des," he started out. "What's the plan?"
​She looked up. "Charlie, here's what I am going to do," Charlie smiled at the determination coming out of her voice. "I am going to find the ass that messed with me, and I am going to kill him." And with that statement, she stood up, and marched right out of her office.
​"Des!" he called after her, but it was useless. She had already sidled through the closing elevator doors and marked the first floor. She waved halfheartedly, and then was gone. Charlie through his hands up in frustration and walked back to his office. He would talk to her later. He needed to come up with a game plan as well as her. He needed to be prepared when the lion was let out of her cage.
* * *
​The killer laughed at the whole interaction. He blended in like everyone else, and was slipping in right under their noses. They hadn't the slightest clue that he really was, and they never would. He walked over to the janitor's closet that was right next the elevator, and let himself in.
​Once inside, he opened the little box that controlled the movement of the elevator, and began to work. If he played these cards right, he would be one step ahead of those lazy PI detectives again.