12th and Holman

  Construction site

  Several television crews are setting up equipment when Chief O'Leary's unmarked sedan pulls into the dust and debris strewn parking lot. Channel 8 reporter, Mitch Turner, is the first person to notice the Chief's vehicle. Mitch motions for his cameraman to follow him, making his way over to the shiny black police car. While en route, two police officers converge on Mitch and his cameraman, blocking their path.

  "Hey! What's the big idea?" Mitch yells over the noise of overlapping voices and slamming car doors. "I wanna speak to Chief O'Leary."

  "Give it a rest, Mitch!" Junior Deputy Morris Chastain says, breaking through the dense crowd of camera crews and law enforcement personnel. "The Chief just got here. When we know something...You'll know something, okay?"

  "Yeah. Like I'd believe that!" Mitch fires back.

  "Believe it. Or, don't believe it," Morris growls at Mitch. "Either way, I'm gonna need you to back up behind the white line. Come on, pal! Back up!"

  "As a public servant...You should be ashamed of yourself, Deputy Chastain!" Mitch retorts. "You have an obligation to the people of this city. An obligation to uphold the constitution. It's called freedom of the press, Deputy. The public has a right to know what happened here. Why is there a dead cop and a dead young woman? And why is Detective Mackey the only person to walk away from this. Huh? What the hell happened?"

  Deputy Chastain steps directly into Mitch's personal space. He eyes the slimy reporter with slitted eyes, his voice dropping to an even more menacing rumble.

  "Like I said....Mitch. I'm gonna need you to step back behind the white line. Your desire for a Pulitzer Prize winning story...Doesn't supercede our need to conduct a timely and thorough investigation. Our main obligation to the people...Is to prevent little pissants like you from fouling things up. I won't tell you again. Back the hell up!"

  Mitch, unwilling to go toe to toe with the steadfast young deputy, nods to his cameraman and steps behind the white line on the dusty pavement. Morris chin cants sarcastically and prepares to stalk off with his two Castleton PD colleagues. He offers Mitch a warning glance. "Don't cross me," Deputy Chastain's withering stare says.

  Without another word, the three law enforcement officers head to where Chief O'Leary stands by Detective Mackey's side.

  -

  -

  Rachel Corbin's Apartment

  Leaning on the bathroom counter, Rachel uses a wet cloth to wipe dried blood from the inside rim of her left nostril. Ever since Ned administered his hard slap, Rachel's nose has bled off and on. Not much. Just enough for the young woman to keep a washcloth nearby. She grimaces as a sharp pain shoots through her sinuses. Hopefully, nothing is broken in there.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Ned appears in the entryway, watching her with narrowed eyes. Rachel grows stiff, watching Ned in the mirror.

  "Sorry about that, Rach," Ned says in a low voice. "I don't know what got into me. I never should've hit you like that."

  Rachel swallows hard as Ned slowly enters the bathroom. The set of Ned's jaw, and the calculated measure of his steps, tells Rachel exactly why he is there. No. Not here. Not ever again.

  They've played this game of intentional cruelty--followed by intense lovemaking--too many times. Despite all of his nice flowery words, Ned never changes. She's endured practically two days of being scowled at, screamed at, disrespected, and ignored. No. It's not happening.

  "No, Ned. Just...Please. Leave me be," Rachel says, turning to fully face Ned. "I've been up all day. I just want to clean up and go to bed. I have to work in an hour."

  "What's an hour, Babe..." Ned says, saddling up to Rachel with a sly grin. "...When we have all the time in the world? I want you to skip work tonight. Daddy's got a little surprise for you. I got a job, Rachel. A real good one. We won't be hurting for money anymore. I've taken care of everything. You and me...We can go somewhere. Somewhere very nice. Just the two of us. It'll be...Fun."

  Rachel suppresses the desire to recoil from Ned; as he places a hand behind her head and stares deep into her eyes. She stares back, afraid to even blink. Lest, he strike her.

  "I told you...I'd take care of you, Honey. I really didn't want to hit you, Rach. I just...You kept pushing my buttons. And I hate when you do that. Can you forgive me, Rachel? I hope you can. It won't happen again. I swear. Believe me. Things are going to be a lot better from now on."

  Rachel nods, but refuses to speak. Ned closes the distance between their faces to a few inches.

  "I'm so glad you forgive me. I love you, Rachel."

  Ned seals his false promise with a kiss.

  -

  -

  12th and Holman

  Construction Site/Abandoned Shopping Center Parking Lot

  Chief O'Leary makes his way toward Detective Mackey, who is seated on a wooden crate. The detective is obviously distraught, speaking quietly to a police officer standing to his left. The officer, Angela Hargrove, nods understandingly. Several meters away, an ambulance idles with its lights on but no siren. Officer Melbourne's body has already been loaded in the back.

  "What the hell happened, Mackey?" O'Leary barks. "You were off duty. Why didn't you let someone else handle this? My goodness."

  "I...I was the closest unit, Chief," Mackey says in a mournful voice.

  The weary detective rests his head between his hands. Images of Officer Melbourne's strangled face, and the young woman's plummeting body, poking at Detective Mackey's conscience. He continues his explanation, strength and resolve building in his voice.

  "No other officer was even in the vicinity. Oh man. Chief...I did nothing wrong. I'm almost certain Officer Melbourne was already dead when we got the call, Sir. She's been hanging in that room a long time. Whoever set this up...Our lady on the roof was their main target. I'm sure of it. Officer Melbourne's call for backup was meant to get us out here. Somebody else made that call. Or forced Melbourne to record that message. Either way, we're dealing with a sophisticated and connected killer."

  Mackey partially turns on his crate and points toward a tall building in the distance. The detective's eyes narrow with blatant hatred.

  "I'm certain the shot came from that building over there. It has the perfect vantage point. We're dealing with a professional...A sharpshooter."

  "Alright fine," Chief O'Leary says with a loud sigh. "I hear ya, Mackey. We'll talk some more down at the station. Until we've got a body...There's no way to confirm anything. Come on. There's nothing more we can do here."

  Detective Mackey stands to his full height. He glances around at the scene with pain-filled eyes, his gaze stopping at the building where he suspects the killer was holed up. Two lives extinguished. And for what?

  James follows Chief O'Leary through the thinning crowd of people. As he passes by Deputy Chastain, Morris places a hand on James' shoulder.

  "It'll be okay, Mackey. You did what you could," Morris says in a deep whisper.

  James nods but remains silent.