The Killings by J.F. Gonzalez & Wrath James White

Author:J.F. Gonzalez & Wrath James White [Gonzalez, J.F.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: serial killer
Publisher: Sinister Grin Press
Published: 2013-03-01T14:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

August 7, 1911, Atlanta, Georgia

Robert was back at work in the barbershop for the first time in a week. When he’d agreed to Henry’s bizarre request/demand that he insinuate himself into the murder investigation, he had intended to work for the police during the day and still cut hair at night, but his hours at the police department had stretched long into the evening as one clue led to another before eventually slamming headlong into a dead end. He’d been to the dankest, darkest bowels of the urban wilderness, prowling gin joints, speakeasies, brothels, and gambling halls. His friendship with Henry had purchased him easy access to the seediest dives in Atlanta. Henry had put the word out urging everyone to cooperate with him. He’d filled two notebooks with rumors and suspicions and even a few drunken confessions. Hardly any of it seemed credible. The few reliable bits of information he’d accrued only deepened the mystery, and Robert had never been much for puzzles.

His head was spinning when he finally made it back home at the end of another long evening of so-called police work. He staggered through the door of his modest single-story cottage, uncorked a bottle of gin he’d purchased at one of the many speakeasies he’d been to that evening, and plopped down on his sofa, staring through his front window at the dark, empty street. He was now convinced that he was going about this thing backward. The man he sought wasn’t some low-life criminal. A guy like that wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Someone would have known him. Criminals have friends and friends talk. This guy had to have been some lonely cat with no friends, a regular guy with a face no one would remember. Except his eyes. They remembered those hollow eyes. Robert knew he wouldn’t find a guy like that in a speakeasy. He wasn’t sure how or if he’d ever find a guy like that.

That night, Robert slept fitfully. His dreams were dominated by the image of a dark-skinned man with black, soulless eyes wearing a black pinstriped suit. There was an emptiness emanating from the man, a great sucking void like an open grave on a starless night. The dark man knelt over the body of a woman, cutting her and plundering all her women parts. He could hear the man giggling and making little moaning sounds like the kind folks make when they’re making love. Then the man removed what looked like the woman’s breast and brought it to his mouth where he began to eat, snacking on the dead woman’s tit like he was eating a succulent fruit, dripping with a sweet red nectar.

The man turned toward him, and Robert recognized something familiar in those hollow eyes. Even covered in blood, there was something about the man that made Robert positive he knew him. Then the woman turned to look at him too. She was still alive. Goosebumps rose all over Robert’s skin and he struggled to wake himself as the woman’s mouth opened.

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