Red Ribbons in Her Hair Ch. 04

The safe house was a small two story crack house in a side of town that she'd never thought to be in. It had been taken over in a raid and had been used since as one of the five safe houses around the city.

It wasn't pretty, old siding and an even older porch sagged across the front of it, giving it an abandoned feel. One of the gutters along the front was missing and two of the windows were now covered in plywood. The grass was over grown and the fence needed painting.

Graffiti covered the walls in colorful sayings with words spelled in different and interesting ways.

Most of the buildings in the area had graffiti. Some was even artistic enough to be interesting and she stared at it as they drove slowly through the neighborhood. But some of it was in bad taste.

Big white letters on the side of a church, sprayed across beautiful stained glass windows shocked her the most, proclaiming that "God is dead, Rico rules!"

They ushered her inside the small house, her elbows held by two plain clothes officers who took her right up the stairs and left her in a small bedroom. Kaylee looked them over as they introduced themselves and told her of the rules she was to abide by during the next few days while she stayed with them.

Chuck was tall and thin, wearing jeans that were just a touch too tight and too short. He wore a plain white tee-shirt under a short leather jacket and when he moved, the jacket pulled back just enough so she could see the butt of a huge gun stuffed in a holster under his arm. He moved with jerky strides, and quickly, as if he had too much nervous energy and didn't know how to expend it all. Just being around him made Kaylee tired.

Jack was almost his direct opposite. Short and stocky with dark hair and skin that bespoke of Italian heritage, he carried himself with a suave kind of charm as if he knew the ladies loved him and had to prove it to all of them. His jeans were dark blue, almost looking as if he'd just pulled them off the shelf of some store to throw on.

He strutted around the room; his hands busy with the deck of cards that were tattered and ragged, almost as if he used them a lot.

Kaylee sank onto the bed after they left, staring out the small window in the room at the house next door. Its shades were drawn, as if it had turned its back on its neighbor, a feeling that Kaylee was beginning to understand.

Tears crept down her cheeks and she pulled out the small pillow, wrapping it against her stomach as she curled onto the bed.

* * * *

Joy filled him.

That was the only way he could express it to himself. She'd found his present, she had to know how he felt. Kaylee. She would be his. He danced around the room in uncharacteristic glee, picking up the big orange cat that had been sleeping in a small square of sunlight.

"She'll be here for us, Buddha," he said to the disgruntled feline. "She'll take care of us, and love us. We'll be a family. Who knows," he said, putting his face up to the cat's, "maybe I'll even get you a girlfriend, too."

The cat dug his nails into the man's arm, determined to make his point that he wasn't happy about being so rudely awaken and then ran from the room when he was unceremoniously dropped. But the man wasn't fazed. He was too excited.

It had been so easy, all of it. Killing the bitch had been the hardest part. He'd had troubles enjoying her, her flabby body and ugly colorless hair hadn't been much of a turn on. But he'd managed, closing his eyes and letting images of the others superimpose over her face.

But the rest, staging the office, forcing her to write the note, watching the cops, that had been easy and a huge rush to his senses. It was so easy to blend in, so simple to become part of the crowd, to fade from view as others more colorful took the spotlight. He'd had only one moment of fear, when Kaylee had stepped from the police cruiser and scanned the growing crowd.

But her eyes had passed over him as had all the others.

He'd followed her to the police station, even though he had wanted to stay at the scene until the bitch had been brought out. His need to be close to Kaylee had won him over and he'd followed the cruiser, staying far enough back that even the more experienced police officer hadn't noticed him.

She'd been in there forever, making him think that they'd snuck her out a different exit. And they had. If he hadn't gotten out of his car to walk down the block at that exact moment, they could have snuck her past him. But as it was, he saw her, sitting in the back seat of the unmarked car, a privately owned vehicle, he'd bet.

He'd tailed them to that little house in that terrible neighborhood. And he'd laughed as he drove by, noting the cocky swagger of one of the cops and the way his eyes had roamed over Kaylee's ass as she'd turned away to go into the house.

He'd take the cop's eyes out for that. And he'd do it while the cop was still awake, feeling every single inch of pain.

Now he waited. He wanted it later, dinner time. He had a plan. And then Kaylee would be his. A thrill shot through him, a pleasure so great that his cock hardened in his pants at the thought of how he would take her tonight. And when the drugs worked, he would strip her naked but for the tiny red lace thong that he'd bought. He'd slip that over her skin himself, not allowing his hand the pleasure of actually touching her there, between her legs where that tiny strap of silk would rest.

He would wait until she was awake, and then, that first night would be his again, her standing in the mirror, firm breasts swaying as she moved, her hand imprisoned in that lacy red silk, her fingers stroking her flesh as she dreamed her dreams, staring into the mirror.

His hand slipped over the front of his pants, stroking his firm shaft, the light in his eyes dimming as he remembered the way she had looked in the meager light of the lamp on the dresser. Her dark hair had gleamed like a satiny cape across her shoulders, teasing his eyes with glimpses of her full breasts, the tips hard from her caresses.

Her body was taut and firm with the sweetness of her youth just turning into the full curves of maturity.

With a gasp, he cut off his memories, giving his cock one last firm stroke and the mental promise of even better things later. It was almost that time. His plan would work and she would be his. He had no doubts. With a grin he reached for the phone and dialed the numbers he knew by heart.

* * * *

Kaylee was lying back on the bed, her mind a blur of bleak thoughts as she stared at the stained and cracked ceiling. There was a television playing down the stairs in the ancient living room as the detectives sought to amuse themselves during the length of their stay. Jack and Chuck sat in folding chairs, arguing over the baseball game that was playing on the old black and white TV set that the department had allotted for them.

She could hear their voices and supposed that they gave a tiny bit of comfort. At least they let her know she wasn't alone in this oasis of grime and filth. And cockroaches, she thought with a shiver of disgust, hearing the scurrying patter of their feet against the aged wood of the floor.

She sat up, pulling up her feet to wrap her arms around her knees and stared out the tiny window. Jack had advised against lights, wanting any activity to be in the main part of the house where they were. She couldn't understand it, if she were trying to break in; she'd go to a window that was dark, not one where light shone out. But then again, she wasn't a cop.

With a sigh, she reached out for her purse, dragging the heavy bag over to paw through it looking for the gum that she'd stuffed in there this morning before this whole thing had begun.

When the knock on the front door came, it startled all of them. Jack and Chuck looked at each other and then at the front door.

"Who is it?" Jack called out.

"Roberto's Pizza," a male voice hollered back. "I gotta a pie out here with the works, ordered and paid for by um... hang on."

They could hear a rustle of paper and Jack got up and headed to the front door.

"A Detective Hampton," the voice continued.

Chuck grinned. "Good ole Gabe, I knew he wouldn't forget us out here."

"Hold on," Jack yelled, flipping the locks on the door.

Roberto's delivery guy stood just outside, a bright red hat on his head with a small Italian guy throwing pizza crust into the air prominent upon the brim, red and white striped shirt that was grimy and stained with red sauce and flour and jeans. In his hands he held a huge pizza box, on top plates and utensils and a two liter bottle of soda. "Here you go, happy eating."

Chuck took the food while Jack reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

"No," the delivery guy said. "It's all taken care of. And it's my pleasure. Enjoy." He turned without another word and walked down the cracked cement pathway, disappearing through the gate.

"Cool," Jack said, closing the door and clicking the locks back into place. "Go get Kaylee before you stuff yourself," he said to his partner.

"Yeah," Chuck said, laughing, "Gabe shoulda ordered two pizzas. Babysitting's rough work."

Kaylee let herself out of the small bedroom she'd been ordered to, skipping down the stairs, and came into the living room. "Walls in this place are paper thin, guys," she said, a slight note of warning in her tone. She'd heard them discussing her this afternoon, in not quite business like ways. It'd been more along the lines of Chuck and what he thought of her ass.

Chuck's face turned red and Jack laughed. He sat the pizza down on the small coffee table that was missing a leg, held in place by a stack of paperbacks. It wobbled slightly before steadying.

Jack turned to look at Kaylee as he opened the box. "Hope you're hungry," he said. Then he noticed the look on her face. It was a look of horror as she stared into the pizza box.

"Fuck!" Chuck yelled, scrabbling backwards and pulling his pistol from its holster. Jack turned, feeling his stomach flop before steadying, a sense of surrealism surrounding him as he stared at the five fingers laid out upon the top of the pizza. Blood had oozed out of the edges of the ragged wounds, making them look as if they'd been ripped off the hand, not cut.

"The pizza guy!" Chuck yelled, running to the door and peering out the side window carefully. "It had to be the pizza guy." He reached down for the door, turning to look at Jack as his hand unsteadily unlocked the door, reaching for the knob and turning it.

"Chuck, no don't open the..."

The slamming of the door against the far wall interrupted him, an arm reached in, knocking Chuck's hand that held his pistol up above his head. A shot went off, the slug embedding itself into the ceiling. Suddenly there was a knife in the hand coming in through the door. With infinite precision, he slit Chuck's throat, blood spurting across the room from his carotid artery.

Chuck grabbed his throat, a sick gurgling sound coming from between his lips. Blood shot through his fingers in time to the beating of his heart as it quickly drained his life from him.

"Chuck, God..." Jack stood up, reaching for his pistol, knocking over the coffee table. "Get in the bedroom," he shouted at Kaylee as the door outside remained partly open, the arm gone into the darkness just outside. "Stay in there!"

He grabbed his phone, using the wall just outside of the entryway to block anyone's view of him from the doorway. Hitting a speed dial number, he shouted into the phone as soon as it was answered.

"This is Detective Jack Montero. We have an officer down at safe house three. Perpetrator is still on scene. I need back up, now!" He closed the phone.

With a last gasp, Chuck's head slipped to the side, the wound gaping, blood trickling from where it once spurted. Jack gave his partner one last look and then concentrated upon the job at hand even as he knew he'd never get the look in his partner and friend's glazed eyes out of mind.

Sidling close to the wall, he swung around stealthily making his way towards the doorway. Stepping over Chuck's sprawled legs, he slid to the door, peering out the small crack. When he didn't see anything, he slipped his toe into the crack, throwing it open and spinning low.

The sound of glass shattering had him jumping backwards, turning to look at the back of the house. "Fuck me, he's coming in through the kitchen window," he hissed, sprinting towards the back of the house. "Dammit, where's my back up."

Jack slid against the wall of the hall that led to the kitchen, his back flat against it. He held his duty pistol down, pointing it at the floor as he took a quick glance into the dark kitchen. A leg and arm were on the window ledge. The asshole was trying to climb in the house!

"Freeze! Don't you move mother fucker!" Jack screamed as he whirled into the room, his gun drawn and pointed at the body in the window.

"Oh trust me," a voice hissed in his ear, a knife pressed to his throat, "he won't be moving a muscle. Look again."

Jack did, cursing himself when he saw the blood that slowly dripped off the arm of the body in the window. He'd have thought hand, but most of it was missing.

"Delivery boys are so stupid. A fake badge and they don't ask any questions. I swear when you people go to the schools to give classes on safety, maybe you should mention that psychos like me can come up with many ingenious ways to get to our next victims." He tapped the knife on Jack's throat, the super sharp blade slicing tiny nicks that stung and filled quickly with blood.

"I'll be sure to tell my captain that, first thing, asshole." Jack could barely breathe. In his mind, he was saying good bye to his wife, Lori and their two kids, Wendy and Jimmy.

"Drop the gun then, like a good boy. We don't have much time and I'd rather not have to spend it fighting with you over the gun."

Jack couldn't see anything of the man except for the red and white shirt he must have taken from the pizza boy. And of course, the faint light glinting off the knife at his throat was a very visible reminder of the situation he was now in.

He carefully did as he was told, letting the barrel of the gun swing forward, using the trigger guard to lower it to the floor. He was pulled backwards and away from the weapon towards the bedroom that Kaylee was in.

"She's beautiful, isn't she? So young looking, so perfect with that beguiling tawny skin and dark hair. I need to thank you for looking out for her so well for me. Maybe I should write a letter of commendation to your captain?"

"Don't fucking bother," Jack hissed, moving because he had no choice. If he could only stall the man, back up should get here. The officer down call should have them streaking in from all over the city.

"Such rudeness, Detective, when I just wanted to leave a small compliment for such a brave man." He opened the door, pushing Jack through it first. Kaylee was standing by the window, her eyes wide.

She couldn't see much of the man, his face hid under the Roberto's Pizza hat. The rest of him was hidden behind the detective.

"Oh, God," she whispered, seeing the knife and the trickles of blood that slowly seeped from Jack's throat. "Please," she begged. "Don't hurt him."

"That is completely up to you, Kaylee. You come to me and don't make a fuss, I'll knock him out and leave him alive. If not, well, then he'll be as dead as his partner down stairs. It's up to you."

"Don't, Kaylee. Don't worry about m..." Jack shut up as the knife jabbed harder into his throat, the cut stinging like a paper cut between the fingers.

"Shut up. All you cops talk too much. We don't have much time, Kaylee. You need to make your decision. Come with me and save his life or stay where you are, and some poor women will be raising her children by herself."

Kaylee stared at Jack, seeing the calm look on his face, a look that said he accepted his fate, determined to see it out like a man would. But she couldn't let that happen. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and took a step forward.

They all three heard it at the same time, a car door slamming outside, voices and the sound of running feet. The man holding Jack turned his head, his hand moving a bare inch from Jack's throat. It gave Jack the leverage he needed, and he jammed his elbow back into the man, bringing his other hand up to block the knife and feeling it slide into the skin of his palm.

"Run Kaylee," he shouted, throwing his weight back and into the man. "Get the fuck out of here."

Kaylee didn't wait, she raced to the door, feeling fingers slipping through the ponytail she wore, tearing at strands of her hair as he tried to gain purchase on her. Then she was past him, almost falling down the flight of stairs as she ran for the front door.

Seeing the dead body of the man who'd been just talking about her ass a few minutes earlier made her pause, but the sound of the fight upstairs galvanized her, and she jumped over his legs, slipping a little in the pool of blood before catching herself enough to race through the door.

She'd expected police, lots and lots of police to be racing toward the building. She'd expected spot lights and helicopters, news vans, something. But the only car visible besides the delivery boy's was an ancient truck across the streak, four teenagers standing around outside.

Panic struck, tearing talon like claws into her belly, making her feel nauseous and dizzy. Her mind whirled as she tried to figure out what to do, standing in the doorway of the safe house. She heard a footstep on the stairs and a voice calling out to her. "Kaylee, you should have come when I told you to, now you have two dead cops on your conscience."

She ran, not towards the teenagers, for she knew this maniac would have no problems with killing boys, but toward the back of the property. There was a hedge there and she ducked under it, wiggling her way through the thick greenery to the back yard of the house behind the one she'd been in. Still running, she cut through a side yard, ducking down an alley way and climbing over a small fence.

A dog, his teeth gleaming in the light of the street lamps, jumped out at her from his doghouse, which he'd been tied to, scaring a shriek out of her. She fell to her hands and knees, skinning her palms on some rocks trying to scrabble away from the animal and felt his teeth just nip at the back of her bare calf.

Running was all she could think of, not where she was going or why she didn't stop to ask for help.

He'd killed those cops, he would kill anyone who tried to protect her. She had no choice, she had to run.

Stumbling from a dark alley, she blinked, her eyes blinded by the bright lights of town. The section she was in came alive after dark, with neon lights flashing from bar fronts and strip joints. There were people on the streets here, people who stared at her with curiosity, but not a one offered help, even if Kaylee would have taken it.

A man came up to her, his eyes roaming over the white shirt and black skirt she was still wearing from when she'd gotten ready for work so early, was it only this morning? He reached out his hand, trying to touch her cheek, but she ducked away, turning to run the other way.

"Hey, bitch!" he yelled after her. "I was only trying to be friendly."

Kaylee finally took shelter in an alley, ducking down behind a dumpster that was full of trash, hugging her legs with her arms. She was cold and scared. She had no money, no identification and she'd left her purse back in the safe house. She didn't even have her cell phone with her.

And then it began to rain.