Sketch of a Murder

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I watched Dawn slip the surveillance leash of the two detectives Sergeant Slowater had stationed around her condo. The girl's time on the streets as a young person had obviously taught her adequate evasive tactics. Not as good as the ones I had learned from Father, but even he would have given her a grudging acknowledgement for a good job.

Once I was certain Dawn would arrive without baggage, I hurried ahead to our mutual destination.

She stepped through the unlocked front door, turned and dead bolted it, per my instructions. Still following the instructions, she walked into the living room where the only illumination was the silvery light of the full moon pushing its way through the loose weave of the curtains. She sat down on the couch, pulled out a black scarf and blindfolded herself.

Hidden by the deeper darkness beside the stairway to the second floor-an excellent surveillance spot for the front entryway as well as the living room-I observed Dawn. My admiration for her increased as the silent minutes wore on and still she sat there. Waiting.

In spite of the quiet of my footfalls, Dawn knew when I stepped close behind her. I could tell by the slight cocking of her head as she listened. By the way tension pulled her into a slightly straighter sit. But, she didn't break and run. She didn't rip off the blindfold and try to see me. She sat there. Waiting.

Finally, in a conversational tone, she said, "I know you're there. Are you done playing cat and mouse? Can we begin this interview?"

I held the pistol in my left hand and the expensive voice synthesizer in my right hand. "You're quite brave, Dawn. I admire that in a woman."

"Umm-hmmm."

"No, really. Few women develop that particular trait. I think our society makes women weak." I leaned a hip against the back of the couch.

Her head swiveled to follow the slight sounds accompanying my adjustment of position, but there was no indication that my move frightened her. "Is that why you think you have to save them by killing their attackers?"

She knows I'm standing right here, right behind her left shoulder. Still she is focused on our business. I am so proud of her. "Very good question, but long ago I accepted that I cannot save anyone. Not the women, not the children. I have, however, been called to exact God's Justice upon the perpetrators. In doing that, I consequently prevent that particular perpetrator from continuing his devastation."

She shifted slightly towards my voice, like we were two friends simply chatting. Her cool nerve brought a smile to my lips. "Hence the moniker, The Avenger."

"That's right. Your last article wasn't as comprehensive as I would have liked. The police must be putting a great deal of pressure on you."

She pursed her lips. "Some. There are times I feel like I'm sitting on a picket fence and the pickets are jabbing me in the ass while you're pulling one way and they're pulling the opposite direction."

My smile widened at the imagery. "Refreshing. Your honesty about that conflict is quite refreshing. Most reporters would have denied that they were heeding any police pressure."

She spread her hands. "No reason to lie."

I stuck the pistol in the waistband of my jeans, at the small of my back. "I've been watching you."

Her face scrunched in a 'well-duh' expression. "That's pretty obvious. The question I have is why?"

I placed one arm across my chest and rested my opposite elbow on my fist. "Why?" With anyone else, I would have played dumb, made them spell out their question. Not with Dawn. I had too much respect for her. "We have a lot in common."

"Such as?" She raised her brows.

"The way you lost your family." I watched her stiffen as I succinctly replayed her past. Amazing woman. Other than the initial stiffening, she controlled her emotional response, almost as well as I can control mine. "I didn't mean to cause you pain. I simply meant to answer your question."

She waved a hand, brushing away my gauche summary. "I asked. You answered. I suppose you wouldn't care to divulge your sources?"

A chuckle spilled from my mouth. I hadn't chuckled in a very long time.

A sideways head movement said she hadn't expected any different answer. "Didn't think so, but I would have liked knowing how a person breaks into a sealed juvie file." She let the silence between us stretch for a few moments. "I'm batting a hundred here." She slid gracefully into her next topic. "Did you lose your family to violence?"

My mouth firmed into a grim line. "Oh, yes. Evil men have been destroying families, such as ours, in numerous ways for millennia."

She drew her left leg up and tucked her foot under her right thigh then laid her hands on her lap. "So you decided to make them pay for that destruction. How long have you been doing this work?"

Pleased by her recognition that what I did was my Work, I couldn't help but reach out and stroke her silky blonde hair. She neither flinched nor pulled away. At that moment, I felt so close to her, like our association was destined to be. "I have a gift for you."

"Yeah?"

I removed a compact disc case from my windbreaker pocket. "It's a DVD. I believe you'll find it fascinating."

"You do realize I will share it with Sergeant Slowater?"

With deliberate slowness I took her hand from where it rested against her blue jeans and placed the compact disc case in it. I could feel her fingers searching my hand for any clues under the guise of accepting the DVD. Instead of infuriating me, I felt like a parent with a precocious child, proud and pleased. "I will find it amusing to observe the reaction of the good sergeant."

Rotating the DVD in her hands, she tilted her head. "You talk like you see her all the time."

Almost without conscious thought, I stroked her hair again. "Aren't you a clever one."

She shrugged. "Whose house is this?"

"A person I know."

Though blindfolded, she perceived that I had moved and scooted around on the couch to follow my voice. "Is he your partner?"

I wondered if she could hear the pleasure in my voice even with the synthesizer. "If I say yes, you won't believe I would give up my partner, and thus a lead to myself. If I say no, you will think I am lying."

For a long moment, she didn't say anything. "That sounds like a conditional yes. He's associated with you in some way, but maybe he doesn't know about the killings?"

With a touch of sternness in my tone, I reminded her. "Executions, Dawn. They are executions. Now, I believe we've run out of time. You recall the last condition of our meeting?"

She nodded.

With a black, leather-gloved hand, I held an eight-ounce glass over her shoulder where she could easily take it. "I hope you like orange juice."

"Love it." She took the glass and raised it, as if toasting our partnership. "Bottoms up." She drank without hesitation.

Minutes later she slumped on the couch where she sat.

Later that night as I crawled between my new 1200-thread-count cotton sheets, I wondered how my colleague handled the surprise I had left for him.