~ Spotlight ~
Excerpt
In the Beginning
Two men lingered in the mouth of an alley off Calvert St. Passing a bottle back and forth, they watched people go by, waiting for the right one. Some of those who passed were students who had stayed late at the university. Despite the chill in the air, they were wearing only jeans and shirts. Others, a little better dressed in off-the-rack suits, seemed to be on their way home from work. Those that passed wearing finer clothes probably had early dinner reservations and tickets for the theater or symphony. None of them were the one the men were waiting for -- an attractive woman alone, one too pre-occupied with her own business to take the precautions needed to walk alone in the city.
“Remember, George,” said the younger of the two, “this time I get to pick.”
“I hope you pick better than the last time, Fred,” his brother complained. “That one didn’t last more than two days.”
The brothers had done this before. The first time was a bungling affair, their victim yelling and fighting all the way to their van. It was only luck -- good for them, bad for her -- that no one heard her screams. The second time was a little smoother, but still not perfect. By now, though, after their fifth time, they had it planned out and were working it smoothly.
The alley they had chosen opened on to a parking lot. At this time of day, it was empty. The people who parked there for work had already left; the ones who lived nearby weren’t home yet. Fred had a bag ready to throw over their victim’s head, and George had a sap in case she struggled. Covered by the early darkness of November, they’d pick a good one, snatch her and take her to their van. Then they’d drive back to their house. An attached garage insured that no one would see them take her from the van into their home. Once safe inside, they would do what they liked until they tired of her, then kill her. From her ID, they’d find out where she lived, and dump her body close to her home. This would keep attention from being drawn to their hunting ground.
After a longer wait than they had planned, Fred finally pointed down the street.
“That one,” he said, pointing to a long legged brunette coming toward them. There was no one else on the street. “Good choice, little brother, let’s take her.”
The two men stepped back into the alley. No sense in having her cross the street to avoid them. They let the woman go by. As she passed, George grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. Fred threw the bag over her head and together they dragged her toward the van.
A shapeless form stepped out of the shadows of the alley and blocked their way. They did not see it until it was too late.
“Release her,” the form commanded. The brothers could now see that it was a man dresses in a dark grey robe, a monk’s habit. A deep cowl hid his head and face and long sleeves covered his hands.
No priest was going to ruin their fun. George was ready to use his sap when the figure brought one arm up. The sleeve dropped back -- a .45 appeared. George stopped quickly.
“Release her,” the command came again. Fred loosed his hold on the woman’s arms. She pulled off the bag and ran from the alley. It was she who would give the police their first description of the city’s new defender.
“Okay, she’s gone,” said George. “And now what, we wait for the cops? Simple assault, no time.” George looked back in the direction his victim had fled. “That’s if she shows for court.”
“You’re right,” said the man in the monk’s garb. He pulled the trigger of the .45.
The blast tore a hole in George’s chest, knocking him to the ground. Fred turned to run, but a second shot took him in the leg. He fell face forward. Before he could move, the warm metal of the gun barrel pressed against the back of his neck.
“Tell them,” a cold voice whispered, “The Grey Monk is here. Then confess. If you go free, I will find you. You will suffer, then die.”
Fred felt the gun withdraw as sirens sounded in the distance. When he turned, he was alone in the alley with the dead. When the police arrived, it was only seconds after they finished with his rights that he told them everything.
The man who had called himself the Grey Monk watched from distant shadows. He had been haunting these alleys ever since discovering the common link in the brutal deaths of several women, deaths that the police had not even connected. Now the victims were avenged, and their killers brought to justice. It was a good start.
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