Gregg Hurwitz - The Tower

It would be easy, but not quite what he wanted. The woman in the mask had scared him, but he had dominated her. The boy was nothing next to that.

He cleared his throat and found his voice again. "Brother King, Sister Queen. So much contradiction harmonized in a single pair. Play, children, and see each other not."

Allander stood naked in front of the full-length bathroom mirror and stared at his pale, bruised body. His dirt-covered feet had left marks on the white carpet. Gazing at the mirror through his tangled locks, he looked at the crusted blood on his bottom lip, the swirls of dried salt that clung to his chest, the small leaf of seaweed pasted by his left nipple, and the thin, wiry stubble that sprouted unevenly around his jaw and throat.

Peeling off the tape, he looked at the red slit in his finger. It was a brand, he decided. They had marked him like an animal, right across his own fingerprint.

He reached out his hand and touched the mirror. "What have they done to you?" he said aloud, his query bouncing off the white walls of the bathroom.

Allander sat on the love seat in the living room wearing a royal-blue silk shirt and a loose pair of pants with a drawstring. He had showered, shaved carefully, and re-dressed his finger. He had decided on the exotic outfit after trying on several; he felt it looked somehow princely on him.

He swirled some milk around in his highball glass and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. After a few minutes, his head lolled back, and in his mind he caught a glimpse of an overweight man pulling a clown mask over his unruly hair. Images of heads with the eyes gouged out and a hand wiping a white mask from a woman's face flashed rapidly through his mind. He awoke with a start, the glass of milk sliding from his grasp. He watched the milk spread across the carpet, sinking into the soft fibers. It reminded him of semen.

He was instantly alert, his eyes darting around until he realized where he was. "Ah, there's the rub," he said, and walked to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

The boy and girl lay next to each other, the sound of their breathing all that interrupted the perfect silence of the room.

"Leah?" the boy said.

"Ssssshhhh, Robbie. Don't talk. We don't know what the man will do."

"Is he gonna-" Robbie's breath caught in his throat and he started gasping, sucking air in and out through his wavering lips. Leah pressed his hand tightly.

Robbie finally regained control of his breathing and continued. "Is the man gonna hurt us?"

Leah didn't respond right away, but squeezed Robbie's hand again. Their palms were both sweating profusely and the moisture mingled to make a slick seal.

"I think he already has," she replied.

Jade awoke as sunlight filtered through the curtains and fell across his eyes. He threw back the thick black comforter and rolled out of bed. Stretching his arms over his head, he cracked his back from its base to just below the line of his shoulders. Then he rolled his arms back over his head to pop his shoulder sockets. He let his head go limp and swung it back and forth, groaning with pleasure as he felt the little snaps running up the sides of his neck.

He enjoyed waking up alone now. He had had any number of girlfriends in the past, but stayed with them only until they got in the way. Eventually, of course, they all got in the way.

His last relationship had reached the point where she stayed over several times a week. But then she began to get annoyed when he got called out at night. He could hear her sighing and rolling under the covers as he spoke on the phone.

She had been there the night he got the call on the Black Ribbon Strangler. Three o'clock in the morning, he was out of bed and dressed in seconds. She looked over at him, eyes and jaw set firmly. "It's just not normal, Jade. You're not even with me when you're with me. You're consumed with your job. Consumed with it. I can't stand it anymore. Not like this."

His back was to her as he pulled on his shoes.

"Guess that doesn't leave me with much of a choice, does it?" he answered, and she started to smile. "Door locks behind you on your way out." He got up and left without even turning around to look at her.

"Without even turning around," she had sobbed to her friends later.

That was the last time he had spoken to her. And the next night seemed like the best night of sleep of his life.

He especially appreciated his solitude in the morning, like now, as he walked over and opened the blinds, letting in full sunlight. His bedroom, like the rest of the house, was sparsely furnished. Bookcases, filled with psychology and forensic pathology texts, faced his bed from the left side. A few pictures were arrayed on top of the shelves: Jade and Tony at a baseball game, Jade running the hundred for the UCLA track-and-field team, Jade at the batting cages. Next to them was a picture of a young boy with drooping features. It was an old snapshot with creased corners, and the small metal frame around it was greatly worn.

Jade walked over to his bookshelf and picked up the framed picture of the boy. He held it tenderly for a moment, then ran his thumb across his lip and set it back down. The normal scowl returned to his face.

After jumping into his Nike cross-trainers and a pair of running shorts, Jade mixed himself a fruit drink and swallowed it in a few gulps. The screen door banged twice behind him as he took off down the street, enjoying the fresh morning air.

His knees rose with his hands at the apex of his stride. His arms swung, relaxed, his elbows bent to perfect right angles, betraying his background in track and field. The sound of his breathing echoed in his head as he made his way through a network of streets, and he timed his step by it. He barely saw the trees and mailboxes as they whistled by; he kept his eyes focused on the ground, about ten feet in front of him.

Beginning to speed up his pace, Jade legged his way up a steep incline, driving himself against the slope. He reached a near sprint and the veins stood out against his thighs and calves. A silver chain danced against his neck as he ran.

He swept the back of his arm across his forehead and the diver's dial on his watch cut into his flesh. He didn't even notice the blood seeping out as his feet jarred on the pavement.

Turning the corner, Jade eased into a slower jog as he entered La Vista de los Arboles, a community park. Although it was in a bad part of San Jose, Jade stopped to stretch. He was accustomed to far worse places. The park was located on the edge of a gang zone, but Jade wasn't easily intimidated. Even gang members wouldn't want to tangle with someone like him.

He leaned forward against the fence to stretch his calves. He liked to stretch once he was well into a run. The park was a little under the halfway point of his workout, so it was a good place to break and loosen up.

A kid leaned back against the fence about twenty feet down from Jade, talking to a friend. He wore low-slung jeans and a sideways baseball cap, and he had a beeper latched to his front pocket. A cigarette was stuck awkwardly in the corner of his mouth underneath a bad teenage mustache. The smoke carried all the way up to Jade. He hated smoke.

The park was usually quiet this early in the morning, but as Jade glanced around, he noticed a group of boys gathered in the jungle-gym area, past the kid with the cigarette and his friend. The boys wore buttoned-up shirts, sweaters tied around their waists, and blue corduroys. They weren't quite in their teens, yet their faces had the early trappings of apathy. They looked very out of place.

Jade started to walk over to them. As he passed the smoker, Jade reached out nonchalantly and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. He broke it in half with a flick of his thumb and dropped it, never turning his head.