in some butthole town in southern mississippi, danny got the itch again. he tried to ignore it, but it would not go away. kindly, he asked the trucker he caught a rid with to let him out. not much in this place. not many people. would Lucy approve? only one way to find out.
then someone caught his eye. very beautiful, this woman. a southern belle if ever there was one. what a piece of work she would make.
he stayed out of notice as he followed her about town, watching her do this and that. only thing that interested danny that she'd done was go to church to drop off some clothes for charity. danny wasn't sure why, but he instantly loved this quality about her. she was helping her fellow man. he also overheard her tell the pastor that she'd be back tonight for the service.
there's that spark. perfection.
the local pawn shop had everything he needed. it was set up when church let out.
quietly, danny came from around back of the church and followed the woman home. she lived alone. fantastic. this would be easy. her house wasn't far out of town, but it wasn't close enough that folk could hear someone scream.
danny came into her house through the back door. why did she leave it unlocked? she wouldn't live to regret it. this beauty was dead, she just hadn't stopped living yet.
the next morning, the sun rose on the town and danny was nowhere to be seen. the girl he'd spent the night with, however, couldn't say the same... if she were able to talk, that is.
the pastor was the first to find her, he called the local police. they didn't know what to make of her, hanging upside down and naked from the cross atop the churches steeple. they called in the state boys, who started the investigation. the woman was drained of all blood, but everything else was in tact. the only wound on her body was a small hole drilled in the top of her head. apparently, that's how the blood got out, as a trail ran down the steeple and into the gutters of the church.
the only anomaly at the scene, other than the murder itself obviously, was at her feet. a band of duct tape, one word written on it. a name the troopers had heard just the day before.
"Lucy"
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*In her dream, it was dark. Claire could barely see her hand in front of her face, but she could see the light of the Lucy killer's flashlight as he ran through the trees.* Stop, you son-of-a-bitch! Stop...or...I'll...shoot! *There was no where else for him to run now, so he paused. Lifting his hands above his head, he turned to face Claire. Finally, she would get to see the one who had caused so much pain in person, and it took all her willpower not to cap him where he stood. His face was coming into view when* Ring! Ring! *Starting awake, Claire's hand bounced across the desk until she found the phone. Lifting it to her ear, she squinted through red eyes at the clock on the wall. It read just after midnight, the witching hour.* Yeah? *If this was Tim, she was going to wring his neck. But, it wasn't Tim. It was an agent from the FBI Field Office in Jackson, Mississippi. Another body had been found, and the Lucy killer had struck again.* Thank you. We'll be there in the morning. Don't touch anything until we get there. *After a few more minutes, Claire hung up the phone, now fully awake. With only a brief paused, she dialed another number.* ~Hello?~ *The voice was thick and fuzzy with sleep, just like Claire's had been.
Tim. It's Claire. The Lucy killer struck again in Mississippi. Get a bag and meet me at the office. We leave tonight.
~Of course. I'll be there in an hour.~
No, Tim, you'll be here in half an hour. *Without giving him a chance to respond, she hung up the phone. Her own bag sat by the door, waiting for her. Claire wouldn't unpack it until he was captured, or dead. With half an hour to kill, she decided to get some more coffee.*
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*The sunlight was streaming through the canopy of trees as Claire and Tim pulled up to a white clapboard church. It was conventional in design, with a sharply slanted roof and elaborate stained-glass windows paid for by the parishioners as if God cared for stained glass. The only two distinguishing features were the naked woman hanging upside down on the cross, and the front of the church bathed in her blood. The blood had dried to a dull brown, leaving a dark crusted pool and bathing the shrubs an unnatural color. It was not as gruesome as the stitched together corpses found in the bayou, but it took the air from Claire's chest just as easily. For once, Tim was silent as well as they extracted themselves from the vehicle and approached the desecrated house of God. She flashed her badge, and the uniforms parted silently. The agent who called Claire walked approached, mouth set in a hard line beneath his bushy mustache.* ~Everything left just as it was, like you asked.~
Do you know the victim?
~Camille Crusoe. She lived just outside of town and was very active in the church. She was murdered after evening church on Sunday.~
Sunday, so she died two days ago?
~Yep. State didn't realize at first what they had. We were lucky.~
Great. *Undoubtedly in that time, any number of people had contaminated the crime scene.* We're gonna need prints from all your men, all the state men, local PD. We have to clear them all as suspects.
~Of course, ma'am. *Squinting, she looked upward to where the corpse hung in the breeze, a macabre inverted scarecrow against all that was holy.*
I know I said to leave the scene untouched, but you -really- could have took some good pictures and removed the corpse. *She raised a hand to stop the agent's protest.* I might have been pissed, you are correct, but -that-, *pointing upward* is making me ill. Not to mention it is a bit disrespectful to leave her that way for all of Mississippi to see.
*He nodded, ordering two agents to begin removal of the corpse. *Taking a deep sigh, Claire turned to Tim.* Go to her house and bag anything useful. Send it to Annie, and let's get her started.*A brief nod, and he was gone. *Now the pastor approached Claire. He was a kindly old man, with a thin fringe of white hair and bifocals.*
~How may I assist you in stopping this monster?~
How did he get her up there?
~He brought her through the -church-.~ *The pastor's voice cracked on the last word.* ~Th-That -demon- brought that poor girl's body through the church. He could reach the roof from the bell tower. It's the only way.~
*Claire took the pastor's hand, and squeeed it. Her eyes were kind.* Thank you, sir. We'll get him, I promise. For Camille and all his other victims..*Choked by emotion, the pastor could only nod.*
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*Claire walked through the church, something was nagging her, something not right. Finally, it dawned on her. The Lucy killer had left all his stuff behind in New Orleans. What did he use on the victim? Chances are he'd stopped at a Super Walmart or a Val-U-Save along the route, but what if he'd shopped here? He could still be nearby. Maybe someone saw him. There were a million possibilities. Claire popped open her cell.*
~Hello?~
Tim. Claire. You still have the Lucy killer picture?
~Of course.~
Good. When you get done, I want you to make copies and take them to every store in a 20-mile radius. I don't care if it's a Petco or a Victoria's Secret. I have a hunch he did his shopping here, rather than en route.
~Will do, boss. Anything else?~
No, not yet. *Standing in the bell tower, she had to admire the view. Had the murderer stopped to enjoy the same view when he hung Camille out to dry? Another religious symbol, just as the sanctity of marriage had been desecrated in New Orleans. Maybe Lucy had some religious symbolism, but then why wait so long to draw it out? It just didn't make sense...*
~*~Back~*~
