THE MAN-EATER
CARL GRAVES (Third Person’s POV)
“Male. Ex-cop. No family. Found in a ditch… mutilated. Looks like the work of the Man-Eater killer”
“I figured, and this one?”
“Male, late-sixties. Wife’s deceased, missing daughter. Locals say he was a drunk and a deadbeat. There was a gas explosion in his home and he was burnt to a crisp. We still suspect the Man-Eater.”
“If it’s a gas explosion, why is it in the homicide department?”
“The old man never used gas in his home. The tank was planted, and we found this.” The junior officer held out a sealed nylon evidence bag.
Carl took the bag with a frown and reached for a pair of gloves. “What’s inside?”
“A dress,” the officer replied as Carl slipped the gloves on, and unzipped the bag.
“What’s so important about a dress?” he muttered, pulling it out and carefully unfolding it.
It was a crumpled red floral patterned fabric, crusty with splatters of dried blood, ripped and torn on all sides.
His brows knit together. “You found this at the crime scene?” Carl asked.
The officer nodded. “Yes, Chief. No DNA, no fingerprints and no idea how it got there. The victim was clutching it when we found him.”
Carl’s eyes scanned the fabric “You think he might have scorned a woman?”
“That’s what we’re thinking. Hell hath no fury they say” the officer chuckled. “Hey, Carlos! You’re on night watch,” he called out to a passing officer.
Carl barely listened. His fingers had found a small pocket in the side of the dress and something was nestled inside.
A note.
When he pulled it out and unfolded the slip,
Courtesy of Carl Graves. It read,
His heart jolted and his blood ran cold. Cold sweat dampened the collar of his shirt.
The dress looked familiar. Too familiar. He couldn’t place where or when he came across it, but the unease it brought settled like a weight on his chest.
Why was this case circling back to him?
“Where exactly did you get this?” Carl asked again, voice lower this time.
“At the scene, Chief, kinda like it was left there on purpose.” The officer paused. “You alright Chief? You‘ve gone pale.”
Carl cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” He stuffed the dress back into the nylon, after slipping the note quietly into his coat pocket.
He yanked off the gloves and forced a neutral expression. “Any leads?”
“We got lucky, tire tracks at the scene led us to a registered vehicle. The car was bought in a quiet off-the-map town called Tillamook in…
“Oregon,” Carl finished for him, his voice barely above a whisper.
The officer blinked. “Yes, sir.”
The wheels in his mind were turning.
Everything in him screamed that this wasn’t a coincidence. It had something to do with the part of his past he’d buried.
Why Oregon of all places? He had once worked there after a transfer, but it was a long time ago and he had left after something happened. Now this case was bringing back those memories.
Why was it suddenly coming back?
Carl wanted to fly out there himself, uncover this case and sever its connection to him before the wrong person started pulling at the seams of his carefully woven life. He would dig this up quietly, nothing would stop him from running for Senator next year.
Carl exhaled. “You know what I’m thinking, Griffin…”
“Yes, Chief?”
“Chief!” another officer rushed in.
He turned, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I’m in the middle of something. What is it?”
“It’s your son, sir. I think there’s a problem.”
Carl clenched his jaw, he didn’t need to ask which son.
“There always is when it comes to Cash,” he muttered, already walking toward the officer. “What’s he done this time?”
“He called in. Said he’s at the airport.”
Carl stopped, If Cash Graves was back in town, it only meant one thing.
Trouble.
“Send a chauffeur to pick him up and take him straight home.”
“Uh, Chief…?”
“What now?”
“He already left. On his bike.”
Carl groaned. “Great. Just fucking great!”
23 years ago
“Good evening, Officer,” the young girl said softly, offering a smile as the man in uniform approached her.
It was late, the street was nearly empty, and she’d been hurrying home from church. Fear lingered in the pit of her stomach, but seeing the police officer brought a sense of comfort. She slowed her steps, feeling safer.
“Hello, young lady. Out this late from the chapel?” the officer asked, his tone friendly as he matched her pace.
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I just graduated high school. The sisters threw a party for us, and we didn’t realize it would run so long.”
The officer smiled. “That’s alright. You’re safe with me. How far’s your house?”
She pointed ahead. “Not far. Just behind the Johnsons’ place. I hope my Daddy doesn’t get mad at me for being late.”
The officer was silent for a moment…. Then:
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll tell him I walked you and your friends home from church. He won’t be mad.”
Her smile returned. “Really? That’d be great, thank you”
“Of course,” he grinned. Then he stopped walking, and so did she.
“Unless…” he said, cocking his head, “you shared your celebration with me. Graduating high school is a big deal, isn’t it?”
Her smile faltered. She glanced nervously toward her house. “Yes, sir, but… it’s really late…”
He chuckled and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m a cop, darling. I’ve got a badge… and a gun to protect both of us.” He lifted the hem of his jacket slightly to show the holster. “You’re safe with me.”
The young girl shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip.
“Look, I’ve got fresh pizza in my van. We can share a few slices, maybe a can of Dr. Pepper. Then I’ll take you home, safe and sound. Hell, I can even turn on the sirens if that makes you feel better, though I’d hate to wake the whole neighborhood.” He tried to convince her.
She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Okay…”
“That’s the spirit.” He motioned toward the end of the street. “Come on. Just a few minutes.”
As they walked, he kept the conversation going.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Amelia. Amelia Cruz.”
“You’re a sweet girl, Amelia,” he said with a smile. But as his eyes lingered on her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
“Officer…” she said, her voice unsteady, “I think I should go home now.”
“That’s my van, right there,” he said, quickening his pace.
Amelia hesitated once again, but followed. When they reached the vehicle, he opened the sliding door and climbed into the back, holding up a box of pizza.
She stood frozen at the door.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked with a chuckle. “Come on, hop in.”
“I… I have to go home,” she whispered.
The officer’s smile vanished. He jumped out, and grabbed her hair. “Why do you have to be so damn difficult?” he hissed. “I said, get in!”
He forcefully tried to shove her into the van.
“Please, let me go! Help!” she screamed, but he slapped her hard.
Her vision blurred from the blow, and she broke into sobs.
“Don’t cry, you’ll only make it worse” he muttered, clamping a hand over her mouth. “That’ll make me really angry.”
He flung her body into the back of the van.
“You’re safe with me,” he growled before slamming the door shut.