Strangle the Heart - Chapter One

"Alright," Cameron said, fighting with the remote. "As soon as I get this thing to work, we're going to go over the preliminary profile on our killer."

Cait resisted the urge to grab the remote from Cameron and push the right button. He certainty wasn't what one would call technically savvy, but with Diana Blue watching her every move she just pushed herself deeper into the leather and let Cameron flounder.

Finally the white screen came to life and the first slide displayed. Cait instantly recognized it as a split shot of all four victims. She knew this was to shock everyone into a refined state of focus and outrage.

"First, the Unit," he said, meaning the Criminal Behavioral Unit. "Isn't completely done with this profile. As you all know, we think we have another victim in Seattle, but that hasn't been one hundred percent confirmed."

"C'mon, Cameron," Tony Richie said. "We know it's one of his. It's the same MO, right?"

Cameron held up his hand. "We'll get to see in a couple of hours."

"So what do we know now?" a man Cait hadn't seen before asked.

"The Unit has built a rough sketch of our perp based on forensic analysis, rudimentary victimology and the crime scene characteristics." He clicked to the next slide, which was a split representation of the four crime scenes. "We'll start with the latter because, honestly, there's not much there."

"There's not much to any of it," someone near Cait mumbled, but she tried to ignore it.

"You're all aware that each of the four, maybe five bodies have been found in seedy hotel rooms. Searches of the neighborhoods has turned up zilch. We haven't been able to find a single witness who remembers seeing anything. It's as if our killer just appears and disappears. The only evidence we've uncovered at each scene has been a cryptic note, but we'll get into that later."

"But I heard there wasn't a note at the Seattle scene," Diana Blue blurted out, and all eyes, including Cait's, turned on the woman who blushed almost as red as her hair. "Sorry," she mumbled only loud enough for Cait to hear.

Cameron nodded curtly, which Cait knew was his way of biting his tongue. He turned to the group. "For those of you who don't know, this is Diana Blue. She's a - -" he paused for a second. "She's a high level FBI guest, so treat her with respect." He looked back at Diana. "Thank you, Ms. Blue. The information about the note wasn't released to anyone but my team." His gaze shifted to the room. "But we'll go over all the details of Chris Simmon's murder in Seattle."

"I'm sorry," Diana repeated, not making eye contact with anyone but Cameron..

For some reason Cait felt sorry for this woman. She was obviously only trying to help and had no idea how hierarchical the FBI was. Besides, this was the first time she'd seen any vulnerability in the woman. Without thinking, Cait's hand landed on Diana's arm just as she caught sight of Rosales shaking his head. 'Bastard,' she thought. 'You just wait until you screw up.' She gave Diana's arm a quick pat of reassurance and let her hand drop back to her lap.

"Anyway," Cameron said, pushing a button to advance the presentation. "The crime scene has been a bust so far. The Unit's conclusion is that the killer meets his victim elsewhere and brings them to hotels."

"That's quite a stretch of psychology," someone said, and most of the room chuckled. As much as they relied on the Profiler's report, most agents still felt the psychologists couldn't find their ass with both hands let alone an elusive and dangerous criminal.

"Yeah, well, sometimes the obvious needs stating," Cameron replied, using the remote's laser pointer to focus on the picture of the first victim. "Moving on to victimology."

Cait always hated this part. It was much easier to think about the victims as numbers or just names on a report. Sure, she knew they all had lives. All had mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, children and people who loved them. Most victims lived good lives and did nothing to deserve their fate. But to Cait, it was poignantly painful to have some psychologist lay it all out clinically for the purpose of finding their killer.

"First victim. Still an unknown."

"Are the Florida State Police still cooperating in locating this woman's identity?"

"Yes," Jay Krouse answered. His assignment was working as liaison with the various State and local law enforcement agencies. "No hits so far."

"No one is looking for this poor girl?" Diana Blue said, under her breath, but Cait didn't answer. What could she say? Sometimes people just weren't missed.

"Second victim, Anne Benedick," Cameron said, circling the girl's University of Georgia picture. "We've gotten a good idea of this girl's movements prior to her murder. The Unit has made the following assessment based on her background check, family interviews and behavior." He lifted a piece of paper from the table.

"It is our conclusion that Anne Benedick was a random victim. Her background shows a very controlled woman with defined goals. Her childhood was normal middle class. Both parents lived in the home and are still married. Her immediate family includes a younger brother who is currently serving as a Marine corporal at Camp Pendelton. Family was close. Her personal life also appears normal. She was nearing completion on a Master's in Education with plans to teach. As of three months ago, Ms. Benedick became engaged to Richard Crane, who is completing his Ph.D in Philosophy. So far Mr. Crane is not a suspect, but Georgia police are keeping him under surveillance."

"So how'd this clean cut girl end up dead in a crappy hotel? Doesn't make sense."

"Which is probably why they think she's a random victim," Rosales said, his eyes glued on Cameron for approval.

"But why the note?" Cait asked, leaning forward on her seat. "Doesn't that point to this victim failing the killer in some way?"

"Good point, Cait," Cameron said, flipping to the next slide. "It also makes us question the lack of violence." He pointed to the picture which showed Anne Benedick as she was found in the hotel room. Her head lay on a pillow and with the exception of wide open eyes, her face looked relatively calm. "So for the basis of our investigation, we're going to assume the killer randomly selects his victims, gains their trust and even gets them to rent a room."

"And he's never seen," someone added. "We have a phantom serial killer."

Cameron ignored the comment. "There's no sense walking down the same road with the other victims right now. So let's move into the forensic analysis." He pointed at Cait. "Cause of death?"

"Cardiovascular collapse caused by an overdose of cocaine."

"Cocaine," Cameron said. "Not a typical weapon, is it?" He looked around the room. "Anyone here every remember a case where a killer used drugs?"

"Yeah," Tony Richie said. "Poisons have been used for ages."

"True," Cameron relented. "But what about cocaine?"

"Not as a weapon," Tony confessed. "Not that I can remember."

"It's an interesting choice, isn't it?" Cameron queried.

"What are you getting at?" Cait asked, her mind unable to distinguish what he wanted.

"Think people," Cameron said. "What does the cocaine tell you?"

The room fell silent, and Cait racked her brain for anything that might make sense to Cameron's line of questioning. She looked up. "It's cleaner than a gun," she said.

"Yeah, and?"

"Easier to get, too," Miguel Rosales added. "You can buy it on almost any street corner."

Cameron lifted another sheet of paper. "Especially this grade," he said. "The cocaine our perp used can be bought anywhere and there's nothing to distinguish it from other brands. Lab analysis on the cocaine listed it as similar to 99.1 percent of all street grade cocaine."

"So we can't track it like we can a gun or other weapon," Cait concluded, rewarded when Cameron nodded.

"Exactly," he said. "So what does that say about our killer?"

"He's smart," Diana Blue said, her body leaning into the conversation and her dark blue eyes alight with interest.

"Yes. The Unit thinks he's very smart. Now, tell me why a smart killer uses cocaine to kill." He raised his finger. "Other than the fact that we can't track it."

Again the room fell silent and Cameron made eye contact with each person, finally resting on her. "C'mon, Cait. You've been over the evidence enough. Tell us how cardiovascular collapse works."

Cait furrowed her brow. "From what I know, cocaine works as a stimulant on the central nervous system, specifically the brain and spinal cord. The amount needed to get a reaction can vary based on the individual. Injecting it directly into the blood stream is the quickest way to feel it, and usually means you have to use less of the drug."

"Yeah, but what does cocaine do to the body in overdose?"

She thought for a moment, trying to remember the phrasing of the ME's report. "Cocaine in any dose," she began. "Causes the body to speed up, which gives that buzz feeling. Physically it causes an increases in the blood pressure. Fever and convulsions could precede death. Secondary stroke may result when the blood vessels constrict which causes the flow of blood to the brain to be reduced. The respiratory system can shut down, followed rapidly by the heart and central nervous system."

"Okay," Cameron said, nodding his head. "For those of you who haven't read the ME report, I suggest you do." He looked around the room. "So now what does cocaine tell you?"

"He likes to cause them pain," the man directly across from her said.

"What else, John?" Cameron asked.

"That he probably watches."

"Agree?" Cameron looked around the room. "Disagree?"

"Or he doesn't like to get his hands dirty," Cait heard herself saying and she felt Diana's eyes turn on her.

"Why's that?" Cameron asked.

Cait shrugged. "Just another possibility." She looked at Diana, who gave her a shy but encouraging smile. "I just don't see the killer as cruel."

"How can you stay that?" Rosales accused. "Jesus, Edmunds. He makes their last moments horrible."

"No more so than any other killer," she responded.

"Just think of the pain they must be in." Rosales shook his head. "And he probably sits there and watches them convulse and die."

"We don't know he watches," Cameron said, bringing the room's attention back to him. "In fact, we can't find anything to suggest he's been in the room."

"C'mon, Bill," one of the older men present said. "Are you suggesting he pricks them with a syringe full of cocaine and pushes them into the room to die?"

Cameron shrugged.

"Then why hasn't any of the victims tried to call for help?" Al Decker said, his head resting on the palm of one hand.

Cameron looked briefly at the questioner and then back at the room. "All I'm saying. people, is that at four crime scenes, forensics hasn't found any trace evidence to indicate or link our killer to any scene. No finger prints, hair fragments, skin cells or fibers. How do you figure that one, Al?" Cait looked from Cameron to Al Decker, who next to Cameron was the most experienced agent on the plane.

"I figure that if this is the best the profiler's come us with, we're fucked."

"What about the third victim?" Cait asked, mostly to keep the briefing from degrading any further.

"Lucy Black was 28," Cameron said, flicking the presentation to the woman's diver's license picture. "For those of you who don't know, Cait Edmunds was currently assigned to the Phoenix office, and prior to inviting her to join the team, I asked her to do the prelim work on this murder." He looked at Cait. "You want to lead us through this one?"

Cait leaned forward so she could see the whole group. "There's really not much more to tell on Lucy Black than the others," she began. "Phoenix police were called to a run down motel on what's locally called 'Ho Row.' Ms. Black was found in an upstairs room two days after her death."

"Why so long?" Diana Blue asked, her blue eyes intently focused on Cait.

"Hotel manager said he was short on staff and the room must have been overlooked on the cleaning schedule. There was also a 'Do Not Disturb" hung on the door." She looked around the room. "Body was found on June 20th in a very decomposed state."

"After only two days?"

"Temp in the room was 117. Air conditioner had frozen up sometime during the first night." She saw a few people wince, but she kept going. "Phoenix PD called us in right away, so the majority of the crime scene was preserved. Again we found no prints or evidence other than the killer's note."

"So what's with the note?" Diana asked, her blue eyes appearing to only see Cait.

"Bill?" she asked, forcing herself to look back at Cameron.

"Yeah, the note." He pushed the button several times before stopping on a picture of four notes. Each note was a colorful display of letters cut from various magazines. The first note read; 'Am I asking too much' The next one read; 'My eye in vain is seeking.' The third note read; 'I know my destiny.' The fourth note read; 'Truths are illusions.'

"As you can see they are alike enough to suggest it's all the same killer, but different enough to raise questions."

"What is he asking for?"

"The Unit thinks the killer is either seeking some truth or validation of his ideals or lifestyle. Theory is that because the victims are all women, the killer may have some supressed rage against a female in his life and he might be looking for either approval or apology. The women are all in the same age range. We think most were single."

"So what about the victims does the killer like?" Diana asked.

"That remains to be seen. Background checks are still on going and maybe we'll turn something up that helps link them together." He looked around the room, settling his gaze on Cait. "So until then we work off the theory that he's randomly picking these women."

"It doesn't make sense," Cait mumbled, cringing when she felt Diana turn towards her. She knew she'd have to explain that later.

Cameron looked at his watch. "We've got about a half hour before we land. The Seattle office has arranged a briefing on the latest murder when we arrive. Until then, do what you need to do."

Cait cringed when she saw Cameron flip off the projector and walk towards Al Decker. Her gaze traveled around the room hoping someone would make eye contact with her and she could go to them, but everyone was opening lap tops or PDA's. She felt Diana's eyes on her and she smiled weakly.

"You're not into the interview, are you?" she asked.

"Is it wrong to feel a bit self conscious?" Cait said, staring at her shoes with interest.

Diana's hand landed on her arm. "Of course it's not wrong. If you weren't feeling self conscious, I might be worried about you." She lowered her head, trying to make eye contact with Cait. "But honestly, I don't want to be invasive with you. You don't have to answer anything you find uncomfortable."

Cait looked up. "What if I find it all uncomfortable?"

"Then talk about the job. There are a lot of women out there who want to know what it's like to be an FBI agent."

"Tell them to watch Silence of the Lambs. That's the whole story."

Diana laughed. "C'mon, Cait. Give me a chance. I'm a good reporter and I promise I'll tell your story honestly."

Cait shook her head. "I don't have a story to tell, Diana."

"I think you do."

"Based on what?"

She smirked. "Would you buy a reporter's hunch?"

"Why me?" Cait asked.

"Because you're interesting. This case is interesting." Two bright blue eyes captured her. "And because telling your story can help other women aspire to bigger and better things."

"You really are a feminist, aren't you?" Cait asked, shaking her head.

"Aren't you?"

"I live for me, and I assume everyone else does something similar."

"That's not true, is it?"

"Do you answer with a question all the time, or only when you're working?"

"I don't know. Do you always shift the attention from yourself when you feel uncomfortable?"

"Of course," Cait replied, looking at her shoes again. "Especially when I'm uncomfortable. And," she looked up at Diana. "You make me very uncomfortable."

"It's because I'm watching you and you're not used to that." She leaned closer. "You usually do the watching, don't you, Cait?" Slowly she leaned back in the leather seat and crossed her legs. "So watch me for awhile. Tell me what you see."

"Is this a joke?"

Diana shook her head, causing her red waves to dance around her face. "Absolutely not," she said. "You have every right to know me, too."

Cait regarded her for a moment, her keen eyes roving up and down the woman, surprised when Diana didn't flinch. Obviously this woman either had nerves of steel or she was used to this type of scrutiny. That made more sense. She was a reporter, and it was a given that she would be used to having others look at her. Unlike Cait, who preferred to stay in the background, this Diana Blue appeared quite at ease in the light. In fact, peering closer at her cat-like smile, Cait somehow knew she needed to be the center of attention. 'Just like Lauren,' she thought.

"So Agent Edmunds, what do you see?"

"My ex," she said before her brain clamped her lips shut. "Sorry. I didn't mean physically." Although they did share a similar smile.

For the first time since she'd met her, Diana looked taken aback. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended," she finally said.

"Me either," Cait said, forcing a weak smile. "I'm a little conflicted on the subject."

Diana nodded with understanding. "I see. Recent break-up?"

"This morning," Cait said, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

"I'm sorry," Diana said, her hand touching Cait's shoulder. "It'll get better with time, you know."

"Sure," she said, flexing her jaw for control before looking up at the reporter. "So what do you need from me?"

Diana stared at her for a moment, her blue eyes so deep, but so clear. Cait felt some understanding pass between them, but whatever they decided upon she wasn't sure. "Trust me, Cait," she said, softly. "The story I want to tell will come naturally or it won't come at all. Just be yourself. Act like you normally would and trust me enough to be honest. That's all." She leaned forward, her knee brushing against Cait's. "You have my word that anything not work related will stay between us. As it should be among friends."

'Is that what we decided?' she thought. 'To be friends?' "Alright, Diana," she said, lifting her eyes slowly. "But I need your word that if I don't want something in this story, then you'll leave it out. No questions asked."

She saw the reporter open her mouth to object, but then close it with a brief nod. "I don't know if I can promise the no questions part, but if you feel strongly enough about it, then I'll honor your wish and leave it out." She held up her finger in interjection. "But it can't be something that fundamentally damages the story."

Cait thought for a moment. "Fine," she conceded. "If it fundamentally damages you story, then we call it quits all together, and the story's off."

"Now wait a minute - -" Diana began, but Cait only shot her a hard glance and the woman closed her mouth. "We'll talk about that last part later," she said, smiling sweetly in her victory.

The FBI agent leaned back in her chair and smiled at Diana Blue. She did remind her a lot of Lauren. Perhaps that was why she felt such irritation when they'd first met. Or maybe it was because Diana Blue seemed to pursue you until you had no choice but surrender.

Lauren did that, too. It was one of the reason Cait had gone out with her in the first place. For a solid month Lauren had asked her out, but after her last disastrous relationship, Cait wasn't interested in a repeat performance. Lauren had slowly cut away every negative reason Cait could conjure until she had nothing else to say but yes.

That had been a little over three years ago, and even though she and Lauren had run their fair share of uphill battles, Cait had come to believe that Lauren would always come after her. That's why it hurt so bad to know Lauren hadn't even cared enough to call her one last time.

"Cait?" Diana said, softly shaking her back into reality. "Put your seatbelt on." She followed Diana's finger towards the captain's warning light. "We're coming into Seattle."

"Thanks," she mumbled, grabbing for her belt.

"You okay?" Diana asked, her warm hand settling on Cait's arm and spreading a not unpleasant burn to her skin.

"Fine," Cait said, pulling her arm away in sudden confusion.

"This is really exciting for me," Diana said, leaning back in her seat and beaming a smile at her. "Thank you for agreeing to this."

Cait just nodded, wondering exactly why she had.

"I've never done this before," April slurred, shaking the room key at Jane, who lurked in a deep shadow. "It feels so," she smiled seductively. "Bad," she purred, running her hand up Jane's jean covered thigh.

"Where's the room?" The words were hard to say.

"Back of the complex," April answered, stumbling a little. "Just like you said."

"You sure you want to do this?" Jane asked, the syringe filled and ready in her pocket. This was April's last chance to escape. If she agreed to go with her to a hotel room then Jane would have no choice but to act.

It wasn't her fault. She'd told April exactly what she wanted, even though that concept was become fuzzy. Maybe she was asking too much. Her deep blue eyes drilled into April with a silent plea to flee from her.

"Of course I do," April breathed, leaning into her for a kiss, which Jane twisted out of easily. She couldn't leave behind any physical evidence now.

"Then lead the way," Jane said, bowing to April in honored defeat.

"Chris Simmons was found in a motel room about ten hours after his death," Seattle Agent Paul Rugio said, pointing at the screen.

Cait looked at the man's post mortem picture, trying to not see the bluish tinge to his skin or the vacant stare in his graying eyes. She'd seen too many dead people to dwell on the philosophical need to explain the phenomena. The screen flashed to the next image, a dank, dirty hotel room.

"Scene was not disturbed by Seattle police. We were immediately called in, and our forensic team has been collecting and qualifying evidence." He pushed the button again. "This is why we called your group in, Cameron."

A shred of paper displayed on the screen, showing three short, handwritten lines. She immediately picked up the differences between this note and the others. Maybe the killer was in a hurry and hadn't taken the time to cut and paste his note before hand.

"As you see, the content of this note is very similar to the ones taken off your other victims." Rugio said. "It reads; 'I was looking for something that wasn't there. I waited and searched. Maybe I was asking for too much.'"

"Why's it handwritten when the others were magazine cuts?" Tony Richie asked, his hand poised over a note pad.

"We don't know," Cameron answered.

"Maybe he was rushed," Cait offered.

"It's possible," Cameron said, taking a swig of a Diet Dr. Pepper. "But for whatever reason, this gives us the first solid piece of physical evidence we've gotten."

Cait watched the room nod in agreement. Everyone was nervous about the lack of physical evidence. It was as if this killer just vanished. There were no similar hair or skin fibers found at any scene, and if it hadn't been for the note this case probably wouldn't have been tagged as serial. The note alone made all the difference.

"Any ideas on why the switch in victim gender?" Al Decker asked, turning towards the room.

"I think it strengthens the theory of random selection," someone said from behind her, and Cait cringed. "There's never been any sexual abuse before or after death. Is that the same in this case?"

Rugio nodded. "Victim was found fully clothed with no sign of any violence."

"Autopsy report?" Cait asked.

"Still waiting for the ME to complete that," Rugio explained. "We expected it by five today."

"Prelim findings?" Cait pushed.

"Appears to fit the pattern of your other murders," Rugio said, looking around the room uncomfortable. "A single syringe was found in the victim's arm. Lab has identified it as cocaine."

"That's the only two connections," Cait mumbled, grabbing her pen to make notes.

"What do you mean?" Diana asked, leaning closer.

"I'll tell you later," Cait whispered back, trying to not notice Diana's perfume, which all of a sudden seemed to target her senses.

"Something to share, Agent Edmunds?" Cameron said, and Cait felt the whole room turn towards her.

"No, sir. Just making notes."

"Want to enlighten us on your opinion?" he asked, and she knew from his tone of voice that he was taunting her. She looked right at him and smiled.

"Not at this time, sir. When I'm more sure of my theory, I'll be glad to enlighten you."

"Uhuh," Cameron said, giving her a half smile. "Make sure you do."

"So are we going to the scene?" Miguel Rosales asked, and she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck.

Cameron shook his head. "Not this time. The Unit feels there's a good chance the killer might still be in Seattle."

"Based on what?" someone asked, and Cait couldn't wait to hear the response.

Cameron leaned forward and pulled a manila folder from his briefcase. "We're still formulating this theory, but background checks on the previous victims show similar email correspondences with personal ads."

"Meaning what?" Cait asked, interested in this development. She hadn't known there was a possibility of a personal ad.

"We've checked the email accounts of Lucy Black and Anne Benedick and found that both women were placing and/or answering personal ads." He held up his hand before the room could explode. "Hold on. This doesn't change our theory that these women were randomly picked, it's only a lead that needs to be followed."

"So why Seattle?"

Cameron shrugged. "Both Anne Benedick and Lucy Black's email accounts listed at least one email to a Seattle based ISP. We're preparing the paperwork to serve on the company for its records."

"Any connection between the San Diego victim Sarah McMillian and Seattle?" Tony Richie asked.

"Not yet," Cameron responded, dropping the file on the table. "Okay, people, this is how it's going to work today." He pointed at Cait. "Edmunds will pair with me to retrieve the records from the computer company. Rosales, since you communicate better with computers than people, you'll be investigating all Seattle based dating services for leads. Decker will liaison with the Seattle office for transfer of evidence and findings. Richie will lead the rest of you to the scene and Chris Simmon's neighborhood to begin canvassing it."

Rugio stood up before everyone could scatter. "ME reports and forensics should be back by five. I'll make the file available to everyone."

"Thanks, Paul," Cameron said, fixing a dark stare on everyone. "Get out of here," he bellowed like an upset father. "Come back with something we can use."

"What the hell was that?" April said, spinning around so quickly Jane barely had time to withdraw the syringe from the woman's leg. She quickly flipped it up against her arm so April wouldn't see. "I felt something prick - -" she stopped speaking and stood there a moment, the pupils of her eyes growing large and small and then large again.

"You okay?" she asked, dropping the syringe in her pocket and lifting her hand to the woman's shoulder.

"I'm dizzy," she breathed, turning it into a giggle. "And my heart is beating so fast. That's so weird."

"I think you've had too much to drink."

"Maybe," April rasped, wiping at a sheen of sweat appearing on her forehead.

"Open the door," she said, pointing at their room. "Let's get you into bed."

"I'm sorry," April said, turning the key and pushing the room door open.

"Don't be," she said, watching from the dark hallway as April crossed the room and fell onto one of the gold colored bed spreads.

"I feel so funny," April laughed.

"Too much vodka, I think," she said, stepping into the room and using her elbow to swing the door closed. "Just lay still until it passes."

"My heart feels like it's going to explode," April said, rolling onto her back and smiling at her. "Never had vodka do that before." Her mouth opened to suck in a huge amount of air and for the first time she saw the fear enter April's dark eyes. "What's . . . happening . . . to . . . me?" she gasped, holding a hand out to her.

She didn't respond, but watched mutely as April's chest lifted and fell with increased precision. She knew it wouldn't be long now. The cocaine she'd injected was racing through her veins, causing her blood pressure to rise and her central nervous system to overload. Eventually the body would begin convulsing and the skin would run liquid with fever. Respiratory failure was almost certain with the dose she injected. Survival wasn't an option, and as she bent to look into April's eyes, she almost felt sorry for the woman. "It'll be over soon," she whispered, almost wanting to reach out and smooth her sweating forehead.

But she didn't. Standing up she removed a zip lock baggie from her jacket which contained her note. She read it through the plastic, not sure if it really captured the pain she was feeling. "Asking equals failure," she said, looking down at April, who's skin was flushed bright red.

"I told you what I wanted," she said to the dying woman. "You said you understood. Why did you lie?" She opened the plastic bag and dumped the note on the battered nightstand. "Is finding happiness asking too much?" she mused, sticking her hand in the bag and touching April's burning forehead. "I'm sorry for you," she said, standing.

"It won't be long now," she whispered, walking to the door and turning off the lights. Darkness consumed the room, and she waited long enough for her eyes to become accustomed to it before using the plastic bag to pull open the door. The sidewalk was just as empty as before, and she clicked the door into place behind her.

Stuffing the plastic bag in her pocket, she tugged on her ball cap and walked quickly towards the back of the complex. This was always the tricky part. She could plan everything down to her escape route, but she could never control the behavior of others. All it would take to undo her would be a chance meeting or viewing by someone.

The pace of her steps remained calm and relaxed despite the inner need to run as far from her latest failure as possible. She needed to look like she didn't have a care in the world when inside she felt such disappointment and shame. She'd hoped again. Believed again. All for naught.

With a small jump she crossed from the parking lot of the motel into the back alley of a liquor store. The stench of stale beer and urine was almost overpowering, but she kept walking.

Continued in Chapter Four

Note: Chapter Three was posted in early December, 2001. Look for Chapter Four by mid or late December, 2001.

Thanks for reading. If you have any questions or comments, please email me at Pallas3@yahoo.com