Wait and See

Chapter one: Mortal Stereogram

Chapter one

by Darksight

Normally when a storm was imminent, it became evident. A bright, sunny sky suddenly turns very gloomy. Atmospheric temperature suddenly drops. And then you know there is very little time left before the storm hits.

The silence before the storm...

Like the amazing serenity at a beach, when the sea waters suddenly draw back - signalling a fast-approaching tsunami, by which time you know it’s too late. You have nowhere to run.

A storm was coming, figuratively, I knew. It did not take a genius to figure that out. But where would it hit? When would it hit?

“Um, sir?”

I turned to look at Phillips, both hands still on the steering wheel. I was driving him to his neighbourbood. I didn’t want to take any chances with him. After what he’d just seen...

“Mhmm?” I replied, turning my attention back to the road ahead.

“Mind if I ask what that call was about?” Phillips asked.

“That? That was the killer,” I said tersely.

We drove for a while in silence. I could imagine what was going through his head. After all, it was the killer who had called 911, and it had been Phillips who had received that call.

“We’re dealing with a psycho here,” I said. “Calls himself ‘the Artist’.”

Phillips was shaking his head.

“What exactly did he say when he called?” I asked him.

After a pause, Phillips narrated the events that occurred. He had just been about to end his patrol duty when he got the call. The caller had then introduced himself, claiming responsibility for ‘something interesting’ that would be found in a certain incomplete building. Then he proceeded to give the precise location of the place, then hung up. All in less than 30 seconds, so even an attempt to trace the call would have been pointless.

I pursed my lips when Phillips finished speaking. The killer was clever, I had seen. And dangerously so. Systematic in his methods.

The Artist.

I still have a lot of work to do.

I wondered what this ‘Artist’ was planning now. He had to be stopped. Before any more people became an addition to his 5 victims.

Art. I was disgusted at the thought. There were a lot of standard motives for murder - revenge, money, infidelity, differences, even depression - but to call blatant murder ‘artistic’, that was well past revolting.

We had gotten to Phillip’s apartment. I dropped him off and continued on my way home. I needed a hot shower, and then get some quiet time and do a whole lot of thinking.

A sudden vibration in my chest startled me. My phone was vibrating. I took it out of my shirt pocket and flipped it open. The caller ID was ‘unknown’. Huh. Who could that be?

I pressed the receive call button, and put the phone to my left ear, while I continued to drive with my right hand.

“Yeah?”

“Hello, Detective Michaels,” A nasal male voice greeted.

I did not slam on the brakes. But my heart began to pound. I pulled over at a curb and left the engine running.

“How are you calling my number?” I asked.

“I believe you’ve got more pressing matters on hand right now than that, Detective.” he said, very calmly.