The Second Layer

Chapter 4: Ryan

Chapter 4: Ryan

When Ryan came to, his whole body hurt. It actually took him a few seconds to realize that he was in a hospital bed. Another detective, a friend of Ryan's by the name of Carl Overtree, was seated beside his bed. He was actually about to ask Carl what he was doing in a hospital when it all came back to him in a rush. He remembered the house, the dead cops, the man. He remembered flying through the air, the man must've thrown him, and then he must've blacked out when he hit the wall. Which explained the pain at least. And then something occurred to him and he sat bolt upright. Only to have to quickly lay back down when he was immediately hit by a surge of dizziness and disorientation.

"You've got a concussion, you need to relax and rest for awhile," Carl told him, laying a hand on his arm to restrain him in case he wanted to try that again.

"Anne, what happened to Anne?" Ryan asked. Now that his memory of why he'd gone to the house had come back, the only thought circulating through his head was to wonder whether his fiancee was alright.

The look on Carl's face told him everything he needed to know. "No," Ryan mumbled, just shaking his head as he felt tears welling in his eyes. "No, just... Just tell me she's alright. Please, Carl. Just tell me she's alright."

"I'm sorry Ryan. Whoever did this to you killed her," Carl told him. Ryan could feel the tears sliding down over his cheeks. He couldn't speak, he could barely breathe. There was a part of him that just kept hoping that any second he'd wake up and find that it had all been a nightmare. There was a ringing in his ears so loud that he was barely able to hear Carl when he went on. "Look, you need more sleep. We can go over the details and I can get your statement later."

"NO!" Ryan shouted the word, feeling his hands clench around the bed's blanket. He couldn't fight the tears and he didn't want to. He didn't know how he was going to go on without her. But one thing he did know. If even one ounce of information he could give could help catch the bastard that did this, he wanted to give it as soon as possible. "We talk now," he finished in a choked voice.

Carl seemed about to say something but one look at Ryan's face was enough to change his mind. Finally he just gave a short nod. "How many of them were there?"

"I only saw one man," Ryan answered.

"Did you get a good enough look at him to give a description?" Carl asked.

"White, pale. Around five-ten, five-eleven. Early to mid twenties. Very light spiky hair, maybe white or platinum blonde. I didn't get a good look at his eye color," Ryan replied, having to pause here and there as he spoke to take a few deep breaths before being able to force the words out around his tears.

"Any distinctive facial characteristics?" Carl queried.

"No, not that I could see, but..." Ryan paused, his memory of his confrontation with the man finally coming clear. "For a moment his eyes... They were glowing. There was this strange weird blue light."

"It was probably just a trick of the light. Or the concussion itself might've slightly distorted your memory of events. The doctor said that might happen," Carl told him.

Ryan wanted to tell him no, that he was certain of what he saw, but he was sure it would sound crazy. Even when he'd seen it himself, he'd been sure he couldn't be seeing what he was seeing. Pressing this couldn't possibly help things, so instead he just nodded a little. "Maybe," he answered.

"Ryan, we think this was the Two Star Killer," Carl informed him. Ryan remembered the case, the killer had struck eight times over the past few months. He slowly tortured his victims to death and then carved two little stars into their corpses. "He'd only just started on Anne, but the style was the same. Officers Rawlings and James were the first on the scene. We think they split up to search the house. Rawlings came across Anne and the killer. We think the killer killed Anne immediately and then killed Rawlings. By then the other officers had arrived on scene. That's where things get confusing. We need to know what happened from the point when you got there."

Every time Anne's name was mentioned, it was like a lance of fresh pain shot through Ryan. Like salt was being rubbed into an open wound. But he had to bear it for now. Biting back on more tears, he spoke slowly. "When I arrived the door was open. As soon as I went inside, I heard a sound. I ran to the place it came from, and when I got there there were three officers on the ground. They were already dead. There was a man. He started walking towards me. I pulled my gun and told him not to move, and he laughed. It was the strangest laugh. And then..."

"And then?" Carl prompted, after Ryan had trailed off.

Ryan had frozen because he'd realized what he was about to say. How could he say that he'd shot the guy six times and it hadn't even fazed him, that the wounds had in fact disappeared?

Had the guy been wearing a vest, the force of the impact of the shots should've still taken him down, and it should've taken him a short time to recover before he could get back to his feet. After all, kevlar might stop the bullet but it still hurt like all hell. PCP wouldn't explain it either. If the guy was on angel dust he might've been able to take the shots and keep going, but the wounds should've still been there, and there would've been a lot of blood left behind. Ryan hadn't seen a drop of the stuff hit the ground. If Ryan recounted what he'd actually seen, the only conclusion anyone would be able to draw was that his entire memory had been altered by his head trauma. Which meant that even his description of the guy would become worthless.

"I fired at him, I must've missed. He charged me, we struggled for the gun. He was strong. He must've thrown me. The last thing I remember is hitting the wall. After that I blacked out," Ryan finally said.

"That must've been some throw," Carl replied, a hint of suspicion in his expression as he studied Ryan's face. But finally the look cleared as he shook his head slightly, after all he and Ryan had known each other for over six years. "Alright, get some rest. I'll send a sketch-artist in later so we can get this guy's face down. Once you're feeling up to it, we can have you come in to make an official statement. And Ryan, I'm really sorry about Anne. She was a great girl," Carl finished, reaching out to give Ryan's shoulder an awkward pat.

Ryan didn't bother answering, he just gave a short nod before bowing his head. He heard the door open and then close as Carl let himself out, and for a time Ryan lost himself in his grief.