Rougestrega
01-31-2004, 06:18 PM
Run, run, have to get away…
Can’t let it catch me… find a hidey-hole
Safe, warm, dark, can’t get me then.
NOISE, that noise
Where?
The phone. What time is it? Glance at the clock says 3:30.
“This is McCann.
Another one? Same as last time? Where? I’ll be there.
Procedures will be followed this time.
Understand. No wiggle room for a deal to be cut when we catch him!
See you in 60.”
Getting dressed, I run over details from the other cases.
Stemming back over the last 20 years.
All 15 to 17
All female
All raped
All from religious families
All staked out on a full moon night
The only detail not made public is the glyph carved on the stomach.
Sick bastard.
Tucking in my shirt makes me wince a bit. Not as bad as before.
Not so often now. Heavy pants, boots, vest, holster and my Blackhawk.
Keys in hand and I’m gone.
Arriving at the scene, I check off protocols. Good, are all in place.
“Detective, over here” a Sergeant calls out. Up the hill, through scrub brush,
dead leaves crunching under foot, I find my team.
Preliminary information is dispersed about the newest victim.
Name, estimated time and manner of death, family will be notified
to come to the morgue to identify the body.
Nodding as I take it in, the latest junior M.E. whistles low about the glyph.
Walking over, coffee in hand, I tell him to be quiet. Have some respect.
The look on my face silences him temporarily. Back to my team, I hear coming from junior “What’s with her? This is victim number 11. She makes it sound personal!”
Turning back to junior, I yell out what most of the team already know
“She’s victim number 12 and Yes, it is personal you twit!”
Wincing a bit, it’s not as bad as before. Not so often now.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Rougestrega
Can’t let it catch me… find a hidey-hole
Safe, warm, dark, can’t get me then.
NOISE, that noise
Where?
The phone. What time is it? Glance at the clock says 3:30.
“This is McCann.
Another one? Same as last time? Where? I’ll be there.
Procedures will be followed this time.
Understand. No wiggle room for a deal to be cut when we catch him!
See you in 60.”
Getting dressed, I run over details from the other cases.
Stemming back over the last 20 years.
All 15 to 17
All female
All raped
All from religious families
All staked out on a full moon night
The only detail not made public is the glyph carved on the stomach.
Sick bastard.
Tucking in my shirt makes me wince a bit. Not as bad as before.
Not so often now. Heavy pants, boots, vest, holster and my Blackhawk.
Keys in hand and I’m gone.
Arriving at the scene, I check off protocols. Good, are all in place.
“Detective, over here” a Sergeant calls out. Up the hill, through scrub brush,
dead leaves crunching under foot, I find my team.
Preliminary information is dispersed about the newest victim.
Name, estimated time and manner of death, family will be notified
to come to the morgue to identify the body.
Nodding as I take it in, the latest junior M.E. whistles low about the glyph.
Walking over, coffee in hand, I tell him to be quiet. Have some respect.
The look on my face silences him temporarily. Back to my team, I hear coming from junior “What’s with her? This is victim number 11. She makes it sound personal!”
Turning back to junior, I yell out what most of the team already know
“She’s victim number 12 and Yes, it is personal you twit!”
Wincing a bit, it’s not as bad as before. Not so often now.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Rougestrega