Chapter 1
Micah woke from a drug-induced sleep to discover that he was surrounded by darkness. Soft music played in the distance, but he only heard the rushing of his blood as it sang in his ears. The realization that he was blindfolded and shackled to a bed, enabled his heart to gallop even further, and the blood to chorus.
Yanking on the chains and yelling for help was to no avail, but he did it anyway.
"What the fuck?" he muttered and kept on yanking until his arms were beyond sore. This wasn't the first time Micah had awoken in this predicament. Six months prior, his lover Daisy, paid a cutthroat named Bellows to kidnap him and he was left bound just like he was now on the beach at high tide, just because he didn't show her enough attention.
But this situation felt different. Different how? He just didnt know. He could feel it in his bones.
"Daisy, is this another one of your messed up pranks? Because if it is, it's not fucking funny."
But no one responded.
"Daisy! Come on, you'll make me late for work again, god dammit!"
The cold air was the only response Micah received, and he shouted at the top of his lungs.
She was his on-again, off-again fuck buddy for over four years. With a body like Jessica Rabbit, and a voice just as smoky, he would be a fool if he ever broke up with her.
Even on her craziest and messed up days, Daisy made him feel wanted and loved. She was his peace. The opposite of what his nagging wife was. The only thing keeping their marriage together was Morgan, their five-year-old daughter. That little girl was the light of his life.
But right now, he needed to get out of this place! Using Morgan as his guide, Micah fought to break free from the chains, but after ten minutes, his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw.
"Dammit Daisy, this isn't funny! Set me free!"
However, the only element that greeted him was the coldness. Why had the room gotten colder? He thought and looked from left to right, trying to see under or even through the blindfold.
It felt below 13⁰. What was happening? Micah held back the urge to scream again as he knocked and clanked the chains on the bed, hoping to grab someone's attention. But the chattering of his teeth overrode any chance of him hearing anyone.
This wasn't Daisy's doing. He knew that now. She would never do this to him? At the back of his mind, his conscious muttered, "Yes she would. She had done it before."
And what was that smell? Bleach? Micah's mouth suddenly grew dry, and he froze. Was someone whistling?
Yes, it was! Someone was coming. Thank God! He clanked the chains as hard as he could and shouted.
"Hello? I'm in here. My name is Micah Ripton and I need help. I need to get home to my daughter. It's her birthday today. Can you hear me?"
A door opened with a slight creak, and then it closed before someone replied.
"The whole of Australia can hear you, Mr. Ripton," the person replied. Footsteps nearing the bed accompanied this, and then he felt a cold sensation graze his stomach.
Micah flinched, then gasped as fear seized him. "What the hell? Don't touch me! Who are you? Let me go!"
"Why? Don't you wish to stay a little longer, Mr. Ripton? The fun is just about to begin."
The prick of a needle followed this admission and his captor laughed as Micah screamed.
Micah expected to get woozy. Instead, the area grew warm, and then the warmth spread throughout his body.
"What did you give me? My body feels.... strange."
"Lidocaine."
He felt a wave of fear, like no other because he knew what it was used for. Both of his siblings were doctors.
"Please let me go. I'll pay you if you do. I’m the manager at The Reserve Bank—I can arrange money and jewelry for you. Please! I beg you. I don’t want to die. I have a daughter! Please!"
"Hush now, Mr Ripton. You don't want to raise your blood pressure," the person said and removed the blindfold.
Micah took in the entire room before his eyes focused on his nude body and the IV lines on his arms, then on the person beside him, and his jaw dropped.
"You!"
"Me."
"I know you! Why are you doing this? Release me!" Micah exclaimed. Unable to move or stop what was about to happen, he screamed as the scalpel glided down his numb flesh and he passed out.
TWO YEARS LATER
Mosquito bites. That was the first thing Evangeline Laguerre felt when she opened her eyes in the dark. Then, the coldness and the awful stench of dirty water invaded her nostrils. Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered was talking to Remy, and then... nothing.
The sun had already set over the horizon, and the crickets were enjoying a melodic celebration all around her. The aroma in the air revealed that she was in a mangrove. But which mangrove? There were many! She had heard enough stories to know that she shouldn't be here after dark.
"Hello? Is anybody out there?" she shouted as fear crept into her veins. Slowly, she stood and took a step and then another.
The dark had never bothered her before, yet maneuvering through the mangrove activated a different kind of terror, and she walked faster. Evangeline avoided touching the trees, fearing it might be a snake as the muck glided between her toes.
"Oh great. What else could go wrong?" she mumbled. Two steps later, she stepped on a thorn. "Ow!"
Her brain didn't register the pain until she took another step and inhaled deeply, then released a piercing cry that silenced the creatures.
"FUCK! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" but no one answered. The fear of snakes overshadowed her pain, as she pulled out the thorn and limped on.
Above the trees, Evangeline noticed the moon hiding behind a cloud, as if it, too, was afraid of the darkness.
As Mama Etienne would say, it was bad Joujou.
As a peace offering, a gentle yet warm breeze blew a few fireflies her way, and she looked at the sky in relief. The clouds had released their prisoner, and the moon gave her enough light to see a small cottage a few feet ahead of her.
"Oh my God, thank you," she whispered and limped towards the structure.
However, her joy was shattered when three men emerged from the house. Evangeline had just enough time to hide behind a large fallen tree and hug her knees. Holding back a scream, she turned around to see as the men sat on the drums and waited.
Then they began a steady beat, followed by a chant. Like the winds through the trees, Evangeline felt her body sway to the traditional Yanvalou dance.
Lost in the soulful experience, Evangeline had her eyes closed and she didn't notice another man as he crept up behind her.
The moment the beat of the drums halted, she opened her eyes and gasped. The last thing she saw before the man swung his hand down, was the glistening blade of a large knife.
Evangeline awoke to the sound of her voice screaming and she was covered in sweat and goosebumps.
"Jesus," she whispered with her hand on her racing heart.
That was the third time she'd had that dream this week, and she took it as a bad omen.
She needed to talk to someone and fast. She needs Mama Etienne.
"You're late, Laguerre," Lieutenant Stevens grumbled and gave her his usual glare of disapproval.
"Good morning to you too, Lieutenant," was her nonchalant response.
If it wasn't for his multi-colored eyes and beefed‐up body, he would be the station's ogre, and he knows it!
"Do you know how many times I've called you? What's the point in having a fucking phone when you don't use it?" He continued and glared.
What you need to do is stop dressing like you're in 1942 and mind your damn business, she thought but instead chose to say, "I'm here aren't I? What do we have?" she asked and flashed him a cheesy smile as he lifted the yellow tape for her to enter.
Zade Stevens had been her partner for five years but he'd recently been promoted to lieutenant.
Depending on the day he was having, the curly-haired, forty-nine-year-old had tried every possible way to get in her panties. But failed. He wasn't her type.
Don’t get it twisted, Stevens was sexy as fuck, and judging by the print in front of his pants, he was the right size. But he was too full of himself. Plus she preferred them lean and heavily bearded.
"Claudette Mireille, Caucasian woman. Twenty-eight years old and a mother of one," he replied and walked away from her to take the statement from the tour guide who had found the body.
Lieutenant Stevens wasn't just pissed off at her, he was livid. But who cares, right? He'd get over it. He always does.
Whoever had dumped and staged the body knew exactly what they were doing. This spot was a highway for snakes and crocodiles and it was a possibility they chose this area in hopes an animal would have a happy meal, since the huge sign stated, "DO NOT ENTER, CROCODILE ON THE LOOSE."
Claudette's body wasn't the only one to be discovered in the same position but at a different location. Over the past two years, twelve others had been found throughout the mangroves of Australia. Four men and eight women. But this was the second time in six months a body was found at this location.
There has never been a repeat of a body dump before.
As the cameras took pictures of the body, the crowd of onlookers grew, and so did their boisterous chatter.
"It's five-thirty AM people. Come on, don't you all have jobs?" She asked, and they grunted.
"Get those people back, Vince. Secure the damn perimeter. This isn't your first rodeo!" she ordered. But he never took his eyes off the body. "Detective Vince! Snap out of it. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I knew her, Detective," he finally admitted and clenched his fists.
"You'll know more than just her when these people fucks up our crime scene and Lieutenant Stevens suspends you," she scolded and ushered the onlookers back.
People were like scavengers when it came to a crime scene; they would follow the scent anywhere, and trample over the evidence if someone wasn't present to stop them.
When Evangeline returned, she stood beside Marco, one of their CSIs, and watched as he carefully lifted a fingerprint, most likely the victim's, from the body. For a guy who looks like a bull in the china shop, he sure can make his way around any equipment without breaking it.
At first glance, Marco didn’t seem like an officer, more like a wrestler. The half-Chinese half-Australian had full-on tattoos on both arms and a Niobium circular barbell piercing on his left ear. He was the honey to the bees at the station. The one thing that gave away his occupation was the badge.
Evangeline took her eyes off Marco and squatted beside Claudette. Whoever did this had always been careful, because the CSIs had never found any hair or fibers that belonged to the perpetrator.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she spun around.
"What is it?" Marco asked her. "Are your spidey sense tingling again?"
She scanned the crowd for a familiar face, someone she may have noticed at an earlier crime scene, but no one stood out in the semi-darkness.
Why weren't these people at their jobs? And judging by their animated expressions, some of them would be late for where ever they needed to be today because they were all in. Curiosity was a hell of a thing.
"It's nothing."
Evangeline closed her eyes, then quickly reopened them and gulped as she stared at the body. Claudette was discovered naked and lying on her stomach. Her left arm was under her body and her throat had been slit from ear to ear. Where the eyes should have been, there were two empty holes, just like the others. And just like the others, all Claudette's organs had been removed, except for the heart.
"Whoever did this must have a medical background, Vannie. These cuts are precise. But why leave the heart?" Marco commented.
"That's the million-dollar question, Marco. Who did this to you, gorgeous?" Evangeline muttered to the body as she took notes and tried to ignore Marco as he shook his head at her. "If you have something to say, Marco, just say it!"
"Zade is mad as fuck that you're late, Vannie," he finally said.
"I do have a life, you know," she replied and glared in Zade's direction.
"Don't we all. Come, look at this," he said and Evangeline's attention snapped back to him as a photo was given to her. "Why dump a body but leave an identification? Where did you find it"
"Under her head. The perp wanted the bodies identified, and the case solved promptly I guess."
"How gracious. Mummy must be so proud. Doesn't he look familiar to you?"
Evangeline focused on the photo and shook her head. "Well, I'll be damned, Micah Ripton. The murdered guy from The Reserve Bank and victim number four. They were friends?!"
"A picture speaks many languages, Vannie."
"Did you find anything else?"
"Yes, the killer's signature," and he gave her something else; a photo of a headless goat surrounded by red candles.
A similar picture had been found at another crime scene twenty years ago when she was just a child. That murder had also never been solved, much to her captain's dismay. Why the gap though? Twenty years was a long time.
"Thanks, Marco."
