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Copyright © Innocent Mwatsikesimbe

PROLOGUE

20 years back

The night is cold and eight-year-old Dave clings to his comforter. His new bedroom makes him uncomfortable. It's too big for his liking, but he has no choice but to accept it.

Mom promised him that she would come to his rescue if he called out; and she did come five times already, during his five false alarms. He keeps the light on though, to scare away any creatures of darkness.

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep; and he has a dream.

A glass is heard breaking from a distance. A window? Water glass? He's not sure.

He hears unfamiliar voices coming upstairs. Then he hears two familiar voices talking to the two mysterious ones. At first they were asking questions, but they soon started pleading; for their lives as it was.

Curiosity kills Dave, until he decides to step out of bed. He peeps through the half-open door to see what is happening. He hears two loud noises and sees both his parents drop to the marble floor.

Little Dave Garner violently wakes up, his pajamas noticeably wet with sweat. His heart is beating faster than normal and his breathing a bit heavy; the dream still lingering in his immediate memory.

As he tries to get a hold of himself, he hears a sound that scares him. Breaking glass. A broken window or water glass, he is not sure. This is followed by unfamiliar voices, growing louder as the owners climb the stairs. He feels a tinge of déjà vu, but it is quickly replaced by a fearful expectation.

Dave goes under the covers, to hide away from what's coming. Events repeat those in his dream and a silence follows the two loud noises.

Unnerved by the silence, he spends five minutes garnering courage to go see the aftermath.

Finally, Dave leaves his bed and goes outside his bedroom. There, in plain sight, he sees his parents' bodies on the floor. There's a white king chess piece lying on the floor beside them, smeared with blood.

The sight of blood makes him nauseous, and he looks away.

"911, what's the emergency?"

"Someone killed my parents."

CHAPTER ONE: TAXI!

A rather big figure sits in the driver's seat of a yellow cab. One of the many taxis in the city, all the same colour; with just different characters behind the wheel.

Joe taps his fingers on the steering wheel as he enjoys one of his favourite songs playing on the radio, a pastime as he waits for the next customer.

It's almost midnight, but the streets are still quite busy. True to the high activity of a Saturday night, a woman calls out to him as he passes by an apartment block.

He stops for her and she gets in.

"Evening lady. Where can I take you?"

"I need you to take me to this address," she says while handing the driver her smartphone.

He quickly reads it, confirms knowledge of the location with a nod of his head and proceeds to drive the young woman to the place.

It is a five minute drive, and they go through it without saying anything else to each other. He is focused on his driving, but he notices that the woman seems a bit tense and nervous. They arrive at the place before he gets the chance to ask her if anything is wrong.

She hastily gets out of the car, and asks the driver to wait for her, claiming that she won't be long. Before he gets a chance to respond, he sees her back as she enters the building's door. Joe doesn't even remember her face; all he remembers are her red shoes. High-heeled and expensive looking; probably designer label.

Joe leaves the car running for a few seconds, debating on whether or not to wait for the young lady.

Deciding to wait for her, he puts his hands on the keys in the ignition. His phone rings before he kills the engine though.

He answers it. "Hey Dave. How are you?"

"I'm good pal, how are you?"

"You know. Same old same old. Wanna buy me some drinks?"

"Listen, can you pick me up at my house and take me to the Rivers Hotel ASAP?"

"That's where I'm parked right now," Joe says.

"What?"

"Yeah. I came with a client, this young lady who asked me to get her here."

"Joe, I want you to listen to me closely."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I received a call just now from my friends at the police. One of the employees in that hotel reported hearing gunshots a few moments ago. I think you need to..."

Joe doesn't hear the rest of what Dave wanted to say as the phone is snatched away from him through the half-open window of his car. He turns to see who took it and sees the young lady slamming it on the ground, before stomping on it.

She opens the rear door and enters the cab.

"Head for the freeway, now," she commands.

"Okay," Joe obliges, feeling the cold metal now pressed hard against the side of his head.

Sitting at the desk, in his home office, Dave Garner is struggling to believe what happened. One second he is talking to his best friend, Joe; then the next second he hears a loud sound over the phone, before the line gets cut.

He calls the police station.

"Nick, are your guys there yet?"

"Yes, they just arrived at the hotel. They found a cellphone on the pavement. Looks like someone tried to destroy it. They're in the hotel room right now, with the forensics team. The victim, it appears, is a well-known drug dealer and brothel owner. He goes by the name of Antonio Moralles."

"Okay, thanks. I'll be there in half an hour. I have to question the witnesses." Dave ends the call.

He takes a ride to the hotel and questions the witnesses present.

Driving along the freeway, Joe's mind frantically searches for a way to escape the situation, in one piece. As they drive into the city's outskirts, the lady commands the driver to slow down. She looks out all windows as if she is looking for someone.

She then taps Joe's head, lightly, with the pistol, and orders him to pull over. Joe is obedient.

They both get out of the cab and walk away from the road, and into the darkness of a bushy area; Joe in front and the lady behind, pointing the pistol at his back.

When they are out of sight of the road, she tells him to stop and turn around. Joe turns around and faces his kidnapper. This is the first time he's having a chance to observe her likeness, since he gave her a ride.

She has a beautiful face that radiates the moonlight coming from behind him. It's past midnight and the moon is full, and lying low, giving the night a weirdly supernatural feel. She is quite tall too, he notices; and it is not because of those high-heeled shoes she is wearing. With the tight jeans and dark-coloured overcoat, she looks like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider.

"Please don't do this," Joe pleads, trying to avoid the inevitable. "I've got a wife and two children, they need me."

"I've got a six year old daughter, and she needs me too. I can't let you walk away," she says.

"Why are you doing this?"

"It is not of my own volition," she says in a flat tone.

She cocks the gun and aims it at his head.

"At least, tell me your name," Joe says, looking at her.

She pulls the trigger.

Dave Garner's phone rings as he takes a late night shower. He steps out of the shower and dries his hands and head before answering it.

"Detective Dave Garner here."

"It's Special Agent Patricia Wallace. I've been assigned to head the hotel room case and I was told to work closely with you."

"I remember you. If I recall correctly, you didn't like the way I asked witnesses questions. Let me guess. You've reconsidered your position and you are now calling to ask me out, right?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Mr. Garner," Patricia says.

"Please, call me..."

"Dave! I know," she cuts in.

Dave laughs.

"I'm just calling to let you know that they found your best friend's taxi abandoned along the freeway; and his body a few feet from it. My men and I are at the crime scene right now. I'm sorry."

Dave pauses for seconds as he takes in the information.

He clears his throat.

"Um, thank you. I'll be right there."

CHAPTER TWO: RED SHOES

The cab that Dave is riding in eases near an area bounded by yellow tape. He sees officers patrolling and forensic detectives doing their work. They are all serious-looking, as if that is a requirement for their job. It probably helps them deal with all the disturbing things they see on a daily basis, he thinks. Today, the disturbing sight is Joe's dead body.

The cab pulls up behind one of the ambulances at the scene. Dave steps out.

He sees Special Agent Patricia Wallace ducking under the yellow tape, as she makes her way toward him.

They meet, and shake hands briefly.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Garner. I know you and Joe were close friends," she starts.

"He was like a brother to me," Dave replies. He shakes his head and wipes a tear from under his eye.

Patricia nods and rubs his shoulder, and proceeds to escort him past the yellow tape and closer to where the body lay. She introduces him to some of her colleagues, who were then taking photos of the body and searching for incriminating evidence.

"How did he die?" Dave asks one of the forensic detectives.

"He was shot with a single bullet in the head, close range. Went right through."
Dave just nods his head.

"My guys have everything covered here. You are free to refresh yourself for a while. I'll send you reports on your email and we can set up another day to meet and work on the case," Patricia says.

"Sure. I'll just go home and sleep for the remainder of the night." Dave's response is burdened with sarcasm, and Patricia let's it go.

He nods at the other detectives and walks away, head bowed and hands in his jacket's pockets.

The cab is still waiting for him where he had left it, Dave notices, though the driver appears to be sleeping, his head tilted backwards at an uncomfortable angle. Who wouldn't be sleeping at such an hour, he thinks.

He opens the rear door and enters the car.

"Take me back home, please," he says, closing the door.

The driver doesn't reply.

Dave gives him a light tap on the shoulder. Still no response. He reaches forward, holds him by the shoulder and shakes him. Nothing still.

At this point, he notices blood running down the front of the guy's shirt. It's starting from a bloody patch located on the left side of his chest; undoubtedly from a bullet wound.

He checks for vitals; nothing.

He jumps back and rests in the seat. A loud sigh comes out of his mouth.

"Damn!"

He looks out the window, not trying to find the shooter, but to calm his mind down a bit. The shooter is obviously miles away by now; why would he or she stay around with all these law enforcement agents running around the place.

He opens the cab's door and steps out. Patricia is looking at him, curiously.

"The driver is dead," he tells her.

"What?"

"Get some of your guys here too." Dave's tone is deadpan.

She quickly signals her team to the cab. She also orders a perimeter check.

"The killer is already gone. He or she must have stayed behind to see what you guys would find out, and this driver over here must have seen something. That's why he got killed."

Patricia nods and orders her men to do a double perimeter check, just in case; regardless of Dave's explanation.

"She," Patricia notes.

Dave pauses, as if in deep thought.

"We found shoe prints. I recognize those heels from anywhere, Versace, probably a Medusa high boot."

Dave looks at her with a penetrating eye. She feels as if he is shocked with the pinpoint nature of her guess; or maybe he is wondering how she got to know the shoe type.

He breaks the glare.

"Joe told me that he drove a woman to the hotel, when I spoke with him on the phone. The line got cut soon after."

"So she's the one we are looking for."

"Yeah," Dave says, and then yawns.

"You need to get some sleep, Garner. Let one of my men take you home."

Dave rides in the back of a black SUV, staring out a window. He sees the lights of open nightclubs as they pass by. One of them has an electronic display of a life size woman in her underwear, gesturing her audience to come in.

He smiles at the multifaceted gesture, and then wonders what Joe would say about it. His smile fades away. He wishes that it was all a dream, but he knows it is not.

An instinctive urge hits him as he spots a couple of cabs parked by one club's entrance.

"I need a couple of drinks. You can drop me off here and I'll take a cab home."

"You sure you'll be alright, sir," the agent whose name he forgot asks.

"Sure. Thanks for the ride."

The car parks by the night club and Dave hops out, closing the door behind him. He gives the driver a quick nod and watches the car drive away.

He then walks into the club. The club's environment is surprisingly calm, he notices. The music is being played low and there are female dancers dancing to the music.

He makes his way to the bar and sits down. The bartender is a sexy, African-American woman, probably in her late twenties. He orders a beer and she gladly serves him.

Dave takes a big swig and swallows, trying his best to relax and blend in with the rest of the customers. He looks around, observing his surroundings.

His mind doesn't focus on the surroundings for long; as the thought of that woman makes him a bit upset. He can't wait to catch her and gain clarity from hearing what she has to say, that might even give a hint on why she killed Joe. He remembers Patricia's assertion and decides to look it up.

Taking out his smartphone, he searches for pictures of Versace Medusa high boots online. Plenty of pictures show up and he starts viewing them. He orders another drink and continues viewing the pictures.

As he sits by the bar, one of the dancers catches his eye as she passes by him, on her way back to her position. She winks at him as she struts along. He just smiles back.

For the next hour and a half, Dave entertains himself by watching the dancers and drinking beer, conversing with no one. After that, he takes a cab home.

At home, he throws himself on the bed with only four hours remaining before his alarm clock wakes him up. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep.

He sees himself finishing off his tenth beer and orders one more. As the bartender hands it to him, a hand takes it away from him. He looks to his side to see who it is, and to his surprise, it is the dancer who winked at him earlier.

"The winker," he says to her.

She winks again and drinks a mouthful of his beer.

"You're welcome," he says.

They make small talk for a while and end it when she whispers something in Dave's ear. His only response to that message is a nod and a grin.

The two stand up and the lady leads the way. They go upstairs, Dave being led by the hand. His eyes scan the woman's figure from her head down to her legs. She is very attractive, and her red boots speak volumes.

It is a minute before eight o'clock when Dave wakes up violently. What a dream.

He scrambles for his smartphone and finds it hidden under a pillow. A few taps on the screen later, he is staring at it, with eyes and mouth wide open.

The alarm clock rings and interrupts his temporary trance. He just switches it off with a grunt. It's eight o'clock.

He looks at his phone again, this time sliding his index finger up and down on the screen, zooming in and out on an image. It is a picture of those Versace high boots.

CHAPTER THREE: THE NEIGHBOR

It is 4 AM. The elevator doors open and she walks out, headed for her apartment's door. She runs into Susan, her neighbor.

"Hi Susan. You off to work?"

"Hi! Yeah, I am. I might not make it back here today though. How was your night at work?"

"It was alright. See you around."

"See you."

She makes it to the door, unlocks it and enters her space.

Closing the door behind her and locking it, she makes haste toward the bathroom.

Arriving, she throws up in the sink and washes it away with water. Her body is bent over the sink for a full minute before she stands up straight.

Her reflection stares back at her in the mirror. With half her face blocked from view by hair, she smiles at the woman in the mirror. A drop of water falls from her chin.

"How did you end up like this, you beautiful thing?"

Tears and sobs precede the question.

She grabs her handbag and takes a knife out.

"I never wanted this to happen."

She opens the tap and puts the knife under the running water. The sink fills with red.

Suddenly, her phone rings. She puts the knife back into the bag and answers it.

"Hello."

"Nice job, Rachel. My men confirmed it. Now, for your final one. Get rid of Richard for me. I'm sure you remember him. He's been messing around with my wife, and I want him taken out. He'll be at the club tonight."

"I want to speak with Lisa!"

"She's fine. She's watching cartoons."

"I want to speak with her!"

"Just do the damn job and you'll be with her soon, okay?"

The phone hangs up.

She throws it on the floor, in anger. It is just before dawn. She's sleepy and she has to do yet another job.

She walks to her bed and throws herself on it, quickly falling asleep.

It's a little after midday when she wakes up. She slowly walks to the bathroom, stretching and yawning.

The first splash of water on her face brings some life back to her. She proceeds to dry her face and change clothes. With clean clothes on, she applies some makeup. Nothing over the top, just the basic.

Taking her handbag with her, she goes out of her apartment, to a nearby park, buying some take-away food along the way.

The park's environment is wonderfully peaceful. She feels a calm settle on her while she eats her food.

Minutes later, she gets tired of sitting down and decides to walk around, observing the natural scenery.

A gentle breeze pushes against her long hair and brings a cooling sensation to her scalp. She can't help but get lost in thought.

It's a precarious situation she is stuck in; doing things she never thought she would do in her lifetime. Her conscience is smeared and her heart heavy.

The minutes turn into hours, of contemplation, reflection and introspection. Sunset approaches and she heads back home, more unsure of her actions than before.

In her apartment, she takes a quick shower and dresses up, this time in her usual provocative and sexually appealing clothing, with the makeup to match. She looks at herself in the mirror, staring as if she does not know herself. Maybe she found out that she really doesn't.

"You can do this. Just stay calm and focused."

The words sound good, but she still feels the same. Threatened, vulnerable, unsure and nervous, but determined to do it nonetheless.

She packs her weapons: two knives stealthily concealed at different parts of her body, and a gun too, stored in her handbag. She leaves for the club.

The bouncers let her in without question and she assumes her position among the other girls.

Her target arrives at the club, later than usual. She thinks of a way to get his attention, but her job is made easier when their eyes meet. He signals for her and she joins him in the VIP section.

He enjoys a couple of drinks with his friends as she dances in front of them. They are all impressed; another wanted outcome of hers.

Richard takes her home that night.

Once at his home, she studies the environment, plotting her escape, while they walk to the bedroom.

"That was quite a show you put on tonight," he says.

"Only the best for you."

She says it with a smile that almost looks like a grin. Richard smiles back.
He opens the door and they enter the special bedroom.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back," Richard says.

"Okay."

"And oh, there's another girl coming over. I'm thinking about a threesome. You've got no problems with that, right?"

Her heart skips a beat, and she forces the words out.

"No problem."

Her job just got harder. It was all going great until he mentioned the other woman. She re-calculates her strategies.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opens and the two come in, Richard in front. Her eyes lock on the other woman's for what seems to be a long time.

Richard sensing some tension, asked, "Any problems?"

"No. None whatsoever," the other woman says. She makes herself comfortable on the bed.

Rachel cannot believe her eyes. It's Susan, her neighbor.

They both pretend to not know each other, wanting to get it over with so that they can talk later on, by themselves.

Rachel decides to take control of the situation and set the pace, seeing that she is the one with a mission. She leads Richard to the bed and takes his shirt off. A massage was in order. Susan plays along, and caresses his body. Richard clearly enjoys it.

In an instant, Richard produces a scream, meant to be loud but is muffled because Rachel's hand is covering his mouth.

Susan jumps back and off the bed. Blood is all over her hands, and she puts them out in front of her in disgust and shock. Rachel quickly jumps off the bed and puts the knife in her handbag, which was by the side of the bed.

"Be quiet."

Susan doesn't make a sound. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. She is in shock.

"Come. Wash your hands."

Rachel leads her to the bathroom. They both wash their hands, quickly.

"Let's get out of here. I'll explain later."

The special bedroom was on the ground floor of the mansion, so they simply jumped out the window and walked to the main road. It was a brisk ten minute walk, in silence. Fortunately, they find a taxi and take a ride back home.

The ride is long and quiet, both women thinking hard about their next moves. As soon as they arrived at their apartments, they entered a long and revelatory talk about each other.

Dave Garner is in his office, working late, when he hears report of Richard's murder. The call came from one of his maids who found him dead on his bed. He also learns that there were two women in the room with him, one probably from one of his favourite nightclubs.

He drives to the estate immediately, together with Patricia.

"I didn't know you worked late hours."

"Dave, you're not the only one with a desire to solve crimes, you know."

"Fairly put," Dave says.

"You think this is the same woman we are looking for?"

"That's what I believe."

They approach the street where Richard's house is.

"I had a weird dream last night."

"What about?"

"I dreamt I was at a nightclub and I met this woman."

Patricia mockingly clears her throat.

"Just let me finish, okay," Dave says.

"Okay."

"In the dream, she had those high-heel boots you mentioned at the crime scene. I did meet a woman who looked like her at a club once. Anyway, I felt like she was the killer."

"Are you serious?" Patricia laughs.

"So you think you're psychic now," she adds.

"I don't know. It felt strange."

Patricia shakes her head.

Dave spots a taxi following behind them. Instinctively, he signals it to stop and then pulls over.

"What are you doing?"

"Follow me. I need to ask a few questions," Dave says.

They step out of their car and walk toward the parked taxi. The driver saw that they were the police, but still hesitated to exit his vehicle, choosing to roll the window down instead.

"Good evening sir," Dave starts.

"Good evening. What seems to be the problem?"

"We didn't mean to alarm you. There was a murder at a house just down the road and I was wondering if you didn't see anything within the last few hours. Speeding car, running women, men, whatever?"

"No, I didn't see any speeding cars, but I did give a ride to two women."

"Two women?"

"Yeah. They just came to my car and asked for a ride. They were breathing heavily, as though they had been running."

Dave looks at Patricia, and she shrugs.

"Take us to where you left them," Dave says.

He and Patricia dash back to their car.

They follow the taxi to an apartment block in the city. As they moved, Patricia was informing her squad to join them, so they arrived about five minutes after they did. She also gave orders for the crime scene investigation team to go to Richard's house.

Police surround the building and some enter it. Agents burst through the doors in the building one by one, until they find the apartment that Rachel and Susan are in.

The two are caught as they hug each other by Rachel's bed. Rachel is crying and Susan is comforting her.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE ARREST

She's escorted into the police station by three officers, hands cuffed behind her back. The other officers in the place look at her as she walks.

She can feel their shock and the judgemental opinions they are holding in.

"It could have easily been you in this position," she thinks to shout at them.

Susan is taken in and questioned, but is let go after it is established that she was not an accessory; she was just messing with the wrong man, at the wrong time, at the wrong place. Rachel is taken straight into the interrogation room, where Dave is waiting for her.

The door opens and she steps in. Initially, Dave looks at her with a hint of surprise on his face. She suddenly seems very familiar.

"It's you," he says.

He looks in the direction of the one-way mirror with a triumphant and cocky gaze, and waves, at Patricia who he knows is watching and listening.

"Please, sit down," he says.

"Do I know you," she asks.

"I don't know, maybe. I saw you at a nightclub once."

She nods her head.

"I spoke to your neighbour. She says you killed the man. Is that true?"

She takes deep breath, holds it in and then slowly lets it out.

"Yes, I did."

"Why? Was it a robbery gone bad? Personal grudge?"

"No," she says.

She is quiet for a few seconds.

"I just want to get my daughter back."

She starts crying. He hands her some tissues.

"He had your daughter?"

"No. Rico does."

"Who is Rico?"

"Our pimp."

"I see."

"Please get my daughter from him. I don't want her to end up like me."

"If you give us an address we will help."

He pushes a notebook and a pen in front of her, and she writes something down.

"You could have come to us first, you know. It would have saved you a lot of trouble."

"I'm not stupid, I know that. I couldn't. They were watching me and they promised to kill Lisa if I came to you guys."

The guy really knows how to intimidate the women he deals with, Dave thinks.

"You realize that even after we get your daughter back, you won't be living with her, right?"

"I don't care what happens to me. Just save her."

"What could you have possibly done to the man, for him to kidnap your daughter."

"This job doesn't exactly rank as high earning, you know?"

"What? The dancing or the adult entertainment?"

"I'm not joking!"

"Who said you were? I'm just asking."

"Us girls get extra income from opportunistic circumstances."

"Opportunistic circumstances?"

"Yeah. We see some cash lying around when the guy is drunk and asleep, we help ourselves to some of it."

"You stole this guy's money?"

"Yeah. And so he took Lisa in return. I gave the money back, but he insisted that I do a couple of jobs for him, otherwise he would kill her."

"And my friend, Joe? The taxi driver?"

"He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all. I'm sorry."

No words seem appropriate for him to speak. He just stands up and walks to the door.

"I'm sorry about your daughter, lady. I'll try my best to find her."

With that, he walks out. Officers enter the room and escort Rachel to the cells.

Dave joins Patricia in the room behind the one-way mirror.

"I guess it is your cue to gloat now," she says.

"No. I actually feel sorry for the woman, and her daughter."

"Another day, another case," she says.

"Yeah. Now, the search is on for Lisa."

CHAPTER FIVE: LISA

"Lisa. I told you to stay away from the windows."

She keeps looking out the window.

"Lisa!"

Lisa doesn't respond and the woman walks up to her. She grabs her hand and forces her to turn around and face her. Tears are flowing down her cheeks.

"Lisa."

The woman lets out a sigh of frustration and then wipes the tears from her face.

"Don't cry. Big girls don't cry."

Lisa looks her in the eyes.

"When is Mommy coming to get me?"

"Soon dear. Real soon," she replies and strokes her back.

CHAPTER SIX: AT RICO'S ESTATE

Dave and Patricia pull up at the gate to Rico's estate. Patricia kills the engine.

"You'd expect to see suspicious-looking guards walking toward us by now," Dave comments.

"Two guards coming this way, one o'clock," Patricia states.

"I see."

Dave steps out of the car. Patricia follows suit.

The guards slow down as they approach the two. Patricia gently elbows Dave's rib cage, and the two look each other in the eyes.

"Suspicious-looking," they both whisper to each other, nodding in agreement.

Patricia pulls out her badge and shows it to the guards.

"I'm Special Agent Patricia Wallace, this is Detective Dave Garner. We would like to see Rico."

One of the guards leans in on Patricia and inspects the badge. He nods and the other one opens the gate.

Dave and Patricia reenter their car and drive into Rico's estate. The two appreciate their surroundings, as the gate shuts behind them.

"Looks like a holiday resort," Dave says.

"I feel like I'm on an island," Patricia adds. "Just look at the size of that pool."

"He's living it up."

They park the car and get out. They see Rico walking toward them, and walk to him.

The three meet in the driveway.

"Detective Dave Garner," Dave says, shaking hands with Rico.

Rico is slightly overweight, with a body that says he works out, but has been letting himself go lately. His strong handshake confirms Dave's assumptions.

"I'm Special Agent Patricia Wallace. We would like to ask you a few questions on one of your dancers."

"I assume it is Rachel? She hasn't come to work in days now."

"Yes. We understand that she works for you?" Dave looks him in the eye.

"Yes. She does," Rico says, unshaken by Dave's stare.

"She is under police custody you know," Dave says, "and she's going up for murder."

"What? Rachel? I don't believe this."

"You said that she worked for you," Patricia says. "As a dancer?"

Rico, sensing a feminist rebuke on the horizon, calmly responds. "I hire them to dance in my club, and whatever services they choose to offer after that is none of my business."

Patricia notes his evasiveness.

"We understand that sir. We just want to get a clear picture," she says.

"Well, is the picture clear now?"

"Not quite," Patricia answers.

"We've got her on record saying that you were making her kill people as payback for an offense," Dave says. "She stole some of your money?"

"What? That's insane. She's delusional. I never asked her to kill anyone."

"Are you willing to tell us that on a lie detector," Patricia asks.

Rico is silent for a while. His eyes go from Patricia's face to Dave's, and back again.

"She did steal some money from me, but she came clean and worked overtime for it, so I forgave her."

"We'll see if that's the case," Dave says. "Shall we?"

Dave motions him to the car. Rico takes his phone out, taps the screen a couple of times, before he reluctantly enters the vehicle.

Patricia and Dave head for their workplace, with Rico seated in the back. The radio is on and news of the taxi murders fills the car. Dave gets lost in thought, but his trip is cut short when his phone rings.

"Yes," he answers it. He is silent for a while.

"Okay, I'm on it," he says, ending the call.

"What is it," Patricia asks him.

"Another taxi driver has been found shot dead, just out of town."

"What? How can it be?"

No one answers the question.

"Looks like you got the wrong girl," Rico half-shouts from the back.

The two don't respond to his comment.

"It could be a copycat, you know," Dave says.

"You mean the killer could be someone trying to imitate Rachel, to carry on the legacy, so to speak."

"It could be."

The two leave Rico in custody and quickly go to the crime scene.

Yellow tape and police officers surround the crime scene. Patricia parks in front of the bounded area, and they get out of the car.

"How many victims are there," Patricia asks, as she ducks under the yellow tape.

"Just one," one of the officers replies. "The driver; and the killer used the same type of weapon used in the last taxi murder."

Dave studies the scene, looking for similarities between it and the last one. He notices that the murders all took place out of town.

CHAPTER SEVEN: DINNER

Dave and Patricia are waiting for their dinner to be served at one of Dave's favorite restaurants. After spending hours at the crime scene, gathering evidence and trying to figure out who is behind the killings, the two decided to discuss the case over dinner.

His fingers are rapidly running across his tablet computer, as he types an email to the department.

"This is really weird, Dave."

"Yeah."

"I mean, the same murder weapon, a single shot to the head and the same shoe prints. We got the wrong woman."

"I'm not sure myself, but I know that the killer is still out there."

A waiter brings the food, and Dave wastes no time and starts eating.

After a brief silence, Dave looks at Patricia.

"Any clues on where to go from here?"

She hesitates before answering.

"We obviously have to interrogate Rico and Rachel."

"I was thinking we could go to my place and..."

"Dave!"

"What? I'm being open-minded."

"You're..."

Patricia is lost for words. She cups her head in both her hands and sighs.

"Another day, Dave."

The two have dinner while discussing the murders. After they're done, Patricia drives Dave home and then goes home herself.

Inside his house, Dave takes a couple shots of whiskey before going to bed. With the murders still on his mind, it takes a while for him to fall asleep.

Dave sees himself at the same bar he met Rachel in. The dream replays just as before, but as he goes upstairs with her he notices a butterfly tattoo on her right arm, just above her elbow.

He wakes up, startled at the discovery. Debating on whether or not Rachel has the tattoo, he has trouble falling asleep again, and makes the whiskey bottle his ballast for the remainder of the night.

CHAPTER EIGHT: QUESTIONING

Dave takes a cab to work at his usual time. The ride that used to be enjoyable, and somewhat motivational, is now a painful reminder of what used to be. He always took Joe's cab to work.

Patricia is already waiting for him when he arrives. The suspects are in different rooms, all awaiting Dave's arrival.

Dave senses an unknown piece to the puzzle, and is bent on finding it.

He decides to question Rico first.

When Dave enters the room, Rico is calmly staring at the glass panel in front of him, his reflection staring back at him.

"Morning," Dave starts.

"Morning. Can we get on with this? I've got a club to run."

"Sure." Dave is not offended at all, but pushes straight to the point. "That comment you passed in the car yesterday didn't sound like it was coming from an uninvolved person."

Rico smiles. "You want to use that to link me to the murders?"

"Rachel's phone records show very long phone calls between you and her this month."

"Me and Rachel talk. We've grown quite close recently."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Close enough for her to kill for you?"

"Look. I'm not going to say this again. I did not ask Rachel to kill anyone. Now, I'm not going to answer any more questions without my lawyer."

"That's alright Rico. Thank you for your time." The statement is oozing with sarcasm.

Dave escorts Rico out and goes on to have a quick word with Patricia.

"What do you think, Patricia?"

"It seems like there's something going on with him and Rachel."

"Right. Now for the final piece to the puzzle."

Rachel is seated at a table, her hands rubbing its surface in circles.

She's nervous. Why?

"Hi Rachel."

"Did you find her?"

"Lisa? No. Not yet."

"Oh."

She sighs, calming down noticeably.

Dave scans Rachel's facial expression, not sure if it's expressing disappointment or relief. His eyes then go to her shoulders, and then her bare arms, exposed by her sleeveless top. He stares at her right arm for a while, but breaks the stare when Rachel clears her throat.

"Sorry about that," he says. "Rachel?"

"Yes," she says.

"Do you have a sister?"

Rachel's face looks distant for a while, and then she answers. "Yes, I do. Twin sister."

"You do?"

"Yes. Her name is Rita."

"And where is she?"

"We haven't spoken in a while. We don't get along well."

"I see." Dave looks at Rachel's arm once more. "And would she happen to have a butterfly tattoo on her right arm?"

Rachel looks surprised. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Just a hunch."

"Did you get Rico?"

"Yeah. He says he never told you to kill for him."

"He's lying. It's him, I swear."

"Are you sure it's him, Rachel?"

"Who else could it be?"

"Did you recognize his voice when he called you?"

"Not exactly. It was changed electronically, but I could tell that the person knew a lot about me. He's the only one I've opened up to about my past in this city, so I assumed it's him."

"So there's a chance that you could be wrong."

"I guess."

Dave stands up.

"Thank you for your time, Rachel. I'll be in touch."

"Sure." They shake hands.

Dave walks out of the room and joins a very impressed Patricia outside.

"Twin sister. I didn't see that one coming," Patricia says.

"It wasn't Rachel that I saw at the club that night. It was Rita."

"Well, that means she was covering for Rachel."

"Yet, Rachel says they don't get along," he says.

"So it's either Rachel's lying about that or Rita is working with the killer, behind her back."

"She would have had to enter Rachel's apartment to get her outfits though. Let's go there and see if we can find anything."

CHAPTER NINE: THE HIDEOUT

The door opens, letting in some fresh air and a little extra light. Lisa is sitting on the wooden floor, a sheet of paper in front of her, and a pencil in her left hand. She stops drawing and looks to see who it is this time.

"Here's your food," a male voice says to her. It's hard to see his face, but she recognizes the voice though. It's that rude and cruel man.

"Where is Susan?"

The man was already walking out of the room, one hand on the doorknob. He turns his head around to answer Lisa.

"What do you want her for?"

"I heard her scream. Is she alright?"

A sick smile appears on his face.

"Oh, she's fine. Very fine."

The door shuts with a loud slam.

CHAPTER TEN: AT THE APARTMENT

Dave and Patricia arrive at the apartment, but notice that both Susan's and Rachel's doors were open. The doors face each other, and they enter Susan's apartment first.

"Looks like someone was here before us," Dave says.

"Don't you mean someone was here after us?"

"What?"

"The last time we came here was when we arrested Rachel."

Dave smiles.

"I guess both ways work," he says.

They walk into the lounge. The place is a mess.

"There was a struggle here," Patricia notes.

"And this is Susan's shoe, I suppose," Dave says, kneeling down to take a closer look.

"Is that blood on the kitchen counter?"

They walk into the kitchen.

"It is." She takes her phone out and calls the department. "I need some guys here at the apartment."

Patricia ends the call, and looks at Dave, who seems to be frozen, staring at the floor.

"What is it, Dave?"

He doesn't say a word. Patricia walks to his side and looks at what he is looking at.

It's a white king piece from a chess board. It also has some blood on it.

She looks at Dave, and just then his phone rings.

"Hello." Dave puts it on speaker.

"Hello Dave." The voice is muffled and sounds barely human.

"Who is this?"

"Did you see the little gift I left for you on the floor? The king piece?"

Dave doesn't respond.

"Good, I know you did. I'm coming for you Dave."

The call ends.

THE END

... story continues in Taxi Murders 2 --- Part 1 >>>

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Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it.