Chapter Three
Dark and Bloody Ground
The next two weeks Catherine slept well and soundly, dreaming only of Vincent. She desperately missed the feeling that he knew where she was and what she was feeling. She felt lost and adrift on an endless sea of longing. She knew he was alive, but where was he?
Then one night the bloody, brutal dreams returned. She awoke, trembling, bathed in a cold sweat. There would be another killing that night. She padded into the kitchen for a cup of herbal tea, hoping it might soothe her enough so she could go back to sleep. She sank down on the love seat only to rise to her feet, too restless to stay put. She walked out on the balcony; dawn was just breaking. A horrible thought kept trying to intrude into her consciousness, but she was determined to ignore it until she had more proof. Impatiently, she pounded her fist lightly on the parapet of her balcony, trying to relieve the anxiety the dream had raised in her. She paced the balcony floor until the phone rang breaking into her concentration. She ran into the living room and breathlessly answered the phone. "Hello?"
"You’re up?" Joe asked surprised.
"Yeah, couldn’t sleep. What’s up?"
"There’s been another slashing. Myron Levinsky and six of his goons."
Catherine’s stomach lurched, and she collapsed on the love seat. "When, Joe? Where?" she asked in a thin voice.
"About an hour ago. A street person came into Levinsky’s townhouse garage and saw some huge guy in a black cape leaving the scene."
Oh god, it is Vincent, she thought. She was silent for so long that Joe became worried. "Hello? Cathy? Are you there?"
"I’m here," she answered quietly. "It’s just . . . so overwhelming."
"Yeah. Look, kiddo, I want you on this case. You’re good at finding witnesses."
"Thanks, Joe. Give me the address. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes."
*
The murder site was a scene of carnage: blood everywhere, bodies thrown around like rag dolls with torn out throats and abdomens and heads, arms, and legs at odd angles. This was no gangland execution. This was killing for the sheer joy of killing which confused her. Vincent never killed for pleasure; always, he deeply regretted killing anyone. She examined each of the victims, noting that the wounds were similar to the ones caused by Vincent’s hands.
Joe wandered up while she was examining Levinsky. "Pretty gruesome, eh Chandler?"
"Yes, it is," she agreed. Glancing around, she asked, "Where’s your witness?"
"Don’t know. He just disappeared."
"I’ll see if I can find him."
Forensics drove up and began their thorough and careful investigation. Followed by Joe, she approached one of the investigators and asked that they send any information to the DA’s office.
"Well, there’s nothing more I can do here. I’m going back to the office."
"Ok, Joe, I’ll see you later. I have to see someone."
With a parting wave, he replied, "Ok, see you later."
*
She went to the nearest threshold and found her way to Father’s chamber.
"Father?" she called hesitantly. The news she had for him would be painful for him to hear.
"Catherine! Come in." She went to him and kissed his bearded cheek, suddenly realizing how much she loved this remarkable man. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely.
"What is it, child?"
"There’s been another murder."
"Dear god, no. The same?"
"Yes." She nodded. "And there was a witness this time. He described a tall man wearing a black cape."
Father sagged into his chair, leaning his forehead into his hand.
"My head tells me it’s Vincent, but my heart tells me no." She bent over him, trying to comfort him with her presence.
Rigidly silent for several minutes, he suddenly started as a thought struck him. "Head," he mused. He looked up at her with the gleam of an idea in his eyes and asked her, "When you became ill, you said you felt two heavy blows?"
"Yes."
"Which one was the most severe?"
"The one to the head."
"Now mind you, I have no scientific proof of this, but it’s possible that the blow to his head which you felt may have been severe enough to cause him to lose his memory. It’s possible that the Other has taken over." He was pleased with his theory as it fit all the facts that they knew.
She thought over what he had just said, trying to find any holes in it. At last, she nodded her head. "I think you’re right, Father. As severe as I felt that blow to be, it could surely cause major damage to him. It is Vincent, but it isn’t." Pausing for a minute, she said, "I’m a sworn officer of the court. I don’t know what to do. I can’t turn him in, but I’m breaking my oath. What do I do, Father?"
"You must follow your heart, my dear, that’s all you can do."
"Vincent always said that: follow my heart." Taking a deep breath, she changed the subject, "Can you help me find the street person who saw Vincent?"
"We can ask our Helpers, and the children know and care for many street people. Get me a description of him, and I’m sure we’ll find him."
Giving him a companionable squeeze, she started out the chamber. "Thank you, Father. I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ll see you later."
With love and gratitude, he watched her leave, determination in every stride. He had misjudged her dreadfully. She was so strong. Only the absolute loss of Vincent could cause her to falter and lose heart.
*
Back in the office, Catherine began to systematically gather what evidence there was on the slasher. She called the 33rd Precinct and spoke to the officer who had taken the old man’s statement and got a description of him. At the earliest opportunity she sent that to Father. Looking up from her paperwork, she saw Joe and Captain Paul Deering leave Joe’s office.
"How ya doing, Cathy?" Paul asked as she walked up to them.
"Just fine, Paul, if Joe would only quit giving me so much extra work."
"Oh yeah, what is this? Pick on Joe time again," he said in mock anger.
"You love it and you know it," she shot back, grinning at him.
"Wish I had such pleasant company to work with," Paul added.
Joe felt like sticking his tongue out at her but that just wasn’t proper here in the office. "Yeah, well, if you had to put up with what I have to, I think you’d change your mind."
"Now, Joe, you know we all love and adore you," Cathy quipped. He grimaced at her. Getting back to the topic at hand, she asked, "Anything new on the slasher?"
"No, but I’ll see to it that you get whatever I have."
"Thanks, Paul. See you later." She returned to her desk as Joe walked with Paul to the office door.
She looked up as Joe stopped in front of her desk. "Got anything yet, Radcliffe?"
"I may have a lead on the old guy."
"How do you do it?" he asked with honest puzzlement.
"I can’t give my snitches away, Joe. You know that."
"I know, " he said in resignation. "Let me know when you have something."
Absentmindedly, Catherine nodded already engrossed in her work.