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10K!

I made it! 20% done! And amazingly still going strong. And while I napped today, I came up with another idea for the novel. Again, I will post it after my writing for those who are interested in following the process more than the words. But for those just along for the ride, here are the next 960 words!


A copy of the Tribune was neatly folded under my arm, and reading it had managed to completely alter my mood. There on the front page was the story of last night’s murder. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, my name had been mentioned. The blood on the wall. The photographs. All was in the article. That was not standard practice, and it meant that someone at the precinct had leaked all that to the press. But why? This was only going to make it more difficult to capture Jack. On the one hand, I know he’d enjoy the press, enjoy knowing that he was bringing terror to another city. But, on the other hand, there would be no surprising him now, or using certain aspects of the crime scene to implicate him. This was an absolute disgrace, and I intended to have a chat with Captain Alistair about it.

After several minutes, I was finally let in and escorted into the building. It reeked of sadness and desperation from the moment I entered. I surrendered my gun and handed the clerk my newspaper as well, and then I was led through the labyrinthine corridors framed with pea-green walls and sickly fluorescent lighting. I was brought into a square, windowless room, the only furniture two chairs and a sturdy table, all bolted to the floor. I took a seat at the far end of the room, so that I could keep an eye on the door. It was an old habit, but it had served me well and saved my life several times. And then I waited.

And waited.

When you hear someone say the wheels of justice move slowly, you can take that as a true statement. One thing I’ve learned throughout my lifetime was that, everywhere I went, the legal system was one of the slowest and most bureaucratic forces on earth. That was not necessarily a bad thing. When it comes to determining if a man is guilty of a crime, it is sometimes better to weigh everything slowly. But, it also had the deleterious effect of keeping many an innocent man in judicial limbo for a long time.

Finally, Carter was escorted into the room. The cuffs were removed, and he took the seat opposite me.

Other than newspaper photos, I had never actually seen Carter. I took stock of him now. The last seven years had not been kind to him. His prison uniform hung loosely on a sickly frame. His dark skin looked dry and gray. He had a lot less hair on his head than he’d had seven years ago, but his thick, curly beard made up for the loss. His eyes were sunken, and he had the look of a defeated man. Even his slouching posture in the chair contributed to that appearance.

“So, what you want? You call me in here just to stare?” While his tone sounded combative, his body language told a completely different story. I leaned forward and placed my folded hands on the table.

“Hello, Harold. We’ve never met, but your case is the reason I ended up here.” Other than Harold raising one eyebrow, I got no reaction to that. I continued. “My name is Leon Smith. I’ve been tracking a serial killer for some time, and Marla Walter’s death fit his profile. So, I came here to investigate. But, before I could even start, you had already been arrested and charged with the crime.”

Harold made a sound somewhere between a snort and a grunt.

“They found enough evidence to convict you, and just like that the case was closed. And here you are.”

Harold shrugged. “Why you tellin’ me what I already know?”

“Because,” I said, leaning in closer, “I know you didn’t do it.”

“Yeah? Well, that makes two of us. And only two of us.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the murder last night.” Another raised eyebrow. “Another girl was killed last night. Same hotel. Same room. Same method. While you were safely behind these walls.”

Carter shot up in his chair, his spine rigid. “No. I ain’t seen none o’ that.”

“It’s true. And this might be your best chance to appeal your case. After we’re done talking, I would recommend talking to your lawyer.”

Carter huffed. “You think I can afford a lawyer? Public defender is all I could get, and look where that got me.”

He might not be able to afford a lawyer, but I could. One more thing to add to my list. “All right, don’t worry about it. I’ll see what options you might have. In the meantime, is there anything you can tell me about the murder? I tried to find the case files, but they appeared to have been…misplaced.”

Carter shrugged again and slouched back in the chair, defeat again evident on his face. “I can’t tell you anythin’, man. I wasn’t there. I had nothin’ to do with it. One second, I’m home watchin’ TV, next thing I know, cops are bashing down my front door and arresting me.”

I sighed. I had a suspicion that Carter would have had nothing to do with Marla’s murder, so he most likely would have no information, but I had had a slim hope that there might be something. “Was there anything strange or different that happened before you were arrested? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nah, man, I was just livin’ my life, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” I stood up to go.

“Wait a second.” 

I sat back down and stared at him as he appeared to travel back in time in his mind. I waited, holding my breath, not wanting to disturb him.

“There was somethin’ strange happened the day before.”


SPOILERS AHEAD!

Okay, so, I realized the major theme of the novel is learning to work with and trust others. Leon’s flaw is that he feels he needs to do everything by himself. He will come face to face with the antithesis of that in Jack, who has finally decided to team up with someone to defeat Leon. We have a second person helping Jack. And that person will be none other than the photographer who took all the photos of Leon. Jack will have shared everything with him and the photog will turn out to be a huge fan of serial killers, Jack the Ripper in particular.

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