Angela Campbell - Something Wicked

This guy must really love horror movies.

She could feel warm breath tease her ear as a woman’s voice whispered, “He’s always been fascinated by death. He’s fascinated by this city. It called to him, and he came. There was another…another he killed, just to see if he could actually do it.”

Her eyes opened, but she saw no one standing at her side. Clearing her throat, she repeated everything for Dylan’s sake.

“Copycat?” He sat down on the edge of the table. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m just telling you what I’m getting. I don’t understand it either.”

“Go on.”

She took a deep breath and paced along the length of the conference table. Nothing else was coming to her. The voice was gone, and so were the images. Slowly she completely lifted the wall.

Candice, you can trust me. I want to talk to you about your death. Will you help me catch your killer?

She spun at the end of the table and turned to pace the other way. The feeling of almost colliding with someone standing in front of her caused her to correct herself and step back. She lifted her gaze as her hands instinctively reached out to grab hold of the person she’d bumped into.

Candice Christopher was even more beautiful in death than she’d been in the college honors portrait attached to her file. Her long, red hair was pulled back from her face, and Alexandra recognized the clothes the younger woman wore as the same from the crime scene photos. The same clothes she’d been wearing at the café.

Okay. Here we go.

“What happened to me?” Candice’s voice trembled.

Alexandra wished Dylan weren’t in the room, because she never liked to converse with the dead with skeptics present. But this time, she made an exception.

“I’m so sorry. You’re dead.”

Candice’s eyes lowered to the floor, and she nodded. “Yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Excuse me? I’m what? ” Dylan said, and Alexandra shot him an impatient look along with a forceful “Shhhhh.” Didn’t he realize she wasn’t talking to him? Geez.

“I’m trying to help find the person who did this to you,” Alexandra said more gently to the ghost. “Can you tell me what you remember? Can you show me?”

Candice’s unblinking eyes fixated on Alexandra’s, and she nodded.

A flash of bright light temporarily blinded Alexandra, and she blinked her vision back into focus. The daylight was fading, the glow of orange glistening on the gray-blue ocean water just beyond the railing. Candice laughed over the backdrop of old beach music. A singer whined out the melody of “Good Vibrations” by the Beach Boys, and Alexandra turned to see a live band of young people playing on a makeshift stage while dancers whirled around her. She spun in a full circle and recognized that she was on a pier.

“I’ve really got to get home,” Candice told someone, drawing Alexandra’s attention back to her. “I’ll call you later.”

With a wave toward a group of three women, Candice began walking down the long dock, her flip flops making a distinct whack-whack sound against the wood. Alexandra followed, even though she knew her feet weren’t moving. On and on the young woman walked, as if the pier kept on for miles instead of the thousand or so feet it probably was, the music growing more and more distant.

Candice reached the end of the pier, which felt deserted and bereft. Her flip flops quieted when she stepped on sand. She turned suddenly at the sound of an animal’s whining. She bent and moved closer to the underbelly of the pier. The daylight had faded so much by now that only shadows could be seen.

Candice clicked her tongue several times. “Puppy?”

The whining continued, luring Candice deeper into the darkness as she cooed and pleaded for the unseen animal not to be afraid. The hair on the back of Alexandra’s neck suddenly lifted as goosebumps chased each other down her arms. She wanted to yell at Candice not to move any closer, but it was too late.

Candice disappeared into the shadows, and Alexandra followed. A pair of gloved hands snaked out of the shadows and snatched the young woman by her shoulders, dragging her further under the dock. Candice’s screams mingled with the howling horn and throbbing percussions in the distance as she fought against her attacker. She tore away from him and ran, sloshing through the surf beneath the pier, but the killer was fast and tackled her at the water’s edge. Alexandra watched in horror as the dark-clad shape of a man plunged a hypodermic needle into her arm from behind and injected something into her system. Candice continued to claw her way toward the water, her movements slowing until eventually her head lowered into the ebb and flow of the ocean’s edge. A bubble broke the surface, and then she went completely still.

“Alexandra!”

Alexandra felt a cough tear through her chest, and she realized she was clutching her throat with one hand and her chest with the other. Why couldn’t she breathe? Dylan had both hands on her shoulder and was shaking her, hard.

“Alexandra! Are you okay?”

She struggled to pull air into of her lungs and whispered “Yes,” feeling more than a little disoriented to see the plain beige walls of the conference room instead of the ocean and sand.

“What the hell was that about?” Dylan’s fingers gripped into her upper arms. He tried to push her into a chair, but she resisted.

“I know how she was killed, and where.”

He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Leaving no detail unmentioned, she explained everything she’d just witnessed. Dylan finally let his hands fall away from her.

He swore and turned on his heels.

“What?” she demanded. “You don’t believe me?”

He placed his hands on his hips and spun back toward her. “That matches information I haven’t had time to put in her file yet. She was last seen at Folly Beach Pier, but her car was found a block away from the cemetery, about half an hour away from the pier. A witness told us they saw her driving away, but maybe…” His voice trailed off.

“Maybe they saw her car, but not her.” Alexandra stepped closer. “She was killed at that pier, Dylan. I know it.”

He nodded. “It would explain the ocean water in her lungs.”

“So you believe me?”

He stared at her for several seconds. “I’m keeping an open mind.”

Happiness rushed through Alexandra at his hard-earned admission, although she didn’t know why. It was always a high when someone came to appreciate her abilities, but she’d never felt so excited about it. Why did she care so much what this man thought of her? She barely knew him. Except in the Biblical sense.

There was a knock on the door, distracting Alexandra from her inappropriate thoughts. A uniformed officer opened the door and gestured at Dylan. “There’s a call for you, Collins. Person insists you’ll want to talk to him about the Christopher case. He refuses to leave a message. You want to take it, or—?”

“I’ll take it. Transfer it to my desk.” He told Alexandra, “Excuse me for a minute.” And then he left her alone.

***

Dylan made it to his desk before the first ring. Snatching up the receiver, he barked, “Detective Collins. I understand you have some information about a case I’m working on?”

Heavy breathing was the only response.

“Hello?” Sinking into his chair, Dylan lifted his hand and rubbed at his forehead. He was tired. Damn tired. He was grateful it was almost six o’clock, and that Alexandra would be leaving soon for the day. He hoped. The woman was a major distraction on multiple levels, and he could use some distance right about now. Distance to regroup and think. And sleep. Man, he hoped he could sneak in a nap after a quick bite to eat. “Hello? Anyone there?”