Beneath the Phoenix Sun

Blinding sun floods in through the window, complimented by the chirps of baby birds sitting on the oak branch hanging right outside. My eyes flutter open with a smile at the beautiful morning ahead. The ethereal lighting in the morning never ceases to amaze me.

Wait. It's light.

Shooting up, I turn to my husband, who is seemingly dead to the world. Repeatedly smacking his shoulder, I plead frantically, "James! James! Wake up!" Shaking him, I continue, "What time is it? We overslept!"

His eyes burst open with a final snore. Looking around, he realizes the mistake that we've made.

"What?" He pants hoarsely.

Throwing the comforter to the side, I jump out of bed. Walking around the bed, I pull the cover off him and repeat, "We overslept!" I check the clock on his bedside table and my stomach drops. "8:30!" I exclaim.

"No, no, no." James mumbles as he bounds out of bed.

We both scramble to the bathroom. Bumping into each other as we rush through our normal routine. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Macara. Deodorant. Perfume. No showers this morning.

Within minutes, we're downstairs in the kitchen cursing ourselves as we search for keys, wallets, and phones.

"Have you seen my holster and badge?" I yell out to James as I rustle through the mess consuming the kitchen island.

"It's by the front door!" He yells back from the next room.

"Thank you." I pant, jogging to the foyer. "I'm out of here!"

Before I can fully open the door, James is running around the corner.

"Wait! You know the rules." He smirks at me. "Don't leave me without a kiss."

Stopping in front of me, he gently grabs my face and gives me a firm but quick kiss. Heat rushes into my cheeks at the single moment of peace this morning. The rush of panic and adrenaline suddenly dulls under his touch.

Letting go, he gives me one last smile. "Have a good day, babe."

"You too." I croon as he walks back around the corner.

Turning, I make my way out the door and speed walk to my car. Sliding into the driver's seat, I make a mental note to finally clean out the scattered fast-food bags and empty coffee cups. Though, it's the third mental note of the month and has yet to happen.

Pulling out of the driveway, I pick up my phone to call the precinct. Panic and frustration flood back into my body as I realize it didn't charge last night. Agitated, I grab the phone cord from the console and plug the dead phone in. Impatience buzzes through me as I speed down the highway waiting for it to turn on.

It doesn't power on until I pull into the parking lot. Throwing the car into park, my phone goes out of control.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding!

Twenty-three text messages and twelve missed calls turn my body cold. Groaning, I exit the car and sprint to the building.

Taking two steps at a time to the second floor, I finally make it. Immediately, I'm met with angry eyes under a furrowed brow. A deep voice booms through me, "What the hell, Marcum? You were supposed to be here two hours ago!"

"I'm sorry, Captain." I pant. "My alarm didn't go off because my phone died."

"Oh, your phone died?" Captain Riggs mocks. "Well, so did another officer."

My chest tightens. That's the third one in the past month. Hence the mess in my car.

"Do you think it was-"

"Of course it was that lunatic." He growls. "And he's getting closer, detective."

"What do you mean?" I question.

Putting his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes, he signals for me to follow him. Walking into the briefing room, my eyes are automatically drawn to the whiteboard laying out all the murders that have happened. All females. All mid to late twenties. All within Phoenix city limits and getting closer.

"Evelyn Greene was found this morning near East Riverview Drive. All of the murders have been south of the river, but she was found just north." Riggs explains. Rubbing the top of his bald head, he lets out a heavy sigh. "If his pattern persists, the next one could be just block away from the precinct."

"And all the victims live or work less than a mile away from where they were found." I add.

"Exactly." He confirms.

"We've got to get ahold of the mayor. Set a curfew. Get alerts out on every news station."

Shaking his head, he explains, "Mayor says there's no proof that this is the work of a serial killer and there's no need to cause mass hysteria."

Pacing the room, anger rushes into my face. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." I say through gritted teeth. "These are three almost identical victims and crime scenes. All women. All cops. The only thing we're missing is a motive."

"And that's enough for her to say no." He groans, sitting down at the briefing table. "Hopefully Parks and Ramos find something at the scene to make her think otherwise."

"I'll go assist. The more eyes the better." I nod, starting to walk out of the briefing room.

"That won't be necessary." Riggs says, stopping me in my tracks.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm putting you on desk duty for the day." He says flatly, standing up to meet me at the door.

"Sir, with all due respect, what the hell?" I whine. "I've been working this case day and night; I should be on the scene."

"Yes. You should be. Except you allowed yourself to be unavailable." He crosses his arms, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow and tense jaw. "You can work the case from your desk today, where that phone can't die."

Pushing past me, he disappears into his office. His door slams shut, and I notice his blinds are closed. Looking at the clock, I see it's nearly 9:30, and it's Wednesday, meaning he'll be on his weekly video call with his daughter who lives in New York. Their calls usually last an hour, giving me ample time to sneak out to the crime scene before he realizes where I'm gone.

Wasting no time, I rush out to the parking lot. Since I was in such a rush when I got to work, I didn't realize how far away I parked. The sun beats down on me as I make my way across the lot. By the time I make it to my car, a line of sweat has dampened the back of my shirt.

"Excuse me." A velvety voice says, stopping me from getting in the car.

Turning, I see a man standing behind the car next to mine. Neat golden curls shimmer around his face, bringing attention to his bright yet subtle smile. Despite the heat, he wears a long sleeve button up layered with a knitted vest.

"Yes?" I answer.

"I'm sorry." He chuckles, stepping slightly closer. "I'm looking for the Central City Precinct? I have a meeting with a-" Pulling out a piece of paper, he reads, "Captain Riggs."

Nodding, I step toward him, out from between the cars. "You're in the right place." Pointing towards the south entrance, I explain, "Just go through that door, up the stairs to the second floor, and-"

I'm interrupted by a cloth being forced over my face. His arms wrap around me from behind, pushing me back in between the vehicles. The heat of one of them stings the front of my body as he presses his against mine. I try to reach for my gun but find the holster empty. Any effort to lift my arms or legs is thwarted by his.

Black invades my vision. Numbness floods my body. My legs quiver and buckle underneath me. His arms tighten around me as I fall.

So does the darkness.

***

The sound of intense chewing forces my eyes open. A dark cement room surrounds me. In the shadow of the corner across from me, the man from the parking lot sits eating an apple with a pocketknife.

Attempting to make a break for it, I shoot up trying to stand but am ripped back onto the paper-thin mattress by a metal cuff around my wrist. Gasping, I pull at the chain connected to the iron base of the bed.

"About time, detective." His smooth, deep voice rings out through the darkness. "You must have really been exhausted from looking for me, huh?"

Every drop of blood in my body runs cold. My hands cease what they're doing. They tremble, unable to move. My eyes focus in on him through the dim lighting. He sits relaxed and entertained as he carves through the half-eaten fruit. My shoulders heave up and down and my heart thumps in my ears as I process what he just asked me.

"Yes." He sighs with a chuckle, answering my unasked questions. "I killed all those women." He croons taking another bite. Swallowing, he teases, "You found me."

A million questions swim around my head, but none of them push themselves to the front. For weeks I've thought about what I would say to the psychopath that committed these crimes. The questions I would ask. How many bullets I would put into his chest.

But now, as the chance presents itself, all I can muster up is, "Why?"

"Why?" He asks, taken back. "That's all you got, detective?" Standing, he slowly saunters over to me, tossing the bare apple core to the floor as he does. I notice the vest he wore before is now gone. "Why does anyone kill?" He sighs, crouching down in front of me. "For revenge. Attention. Pleasure. Boredom."

"Why did you? Why them?" I ask shakily.

"Because they were like me." He smirks. "Young. Full of hope. At the top of their game." He says in staccato.

"And that's a reason to murder them?" I challenge.

"Of course it is." He says proudly. "That's when bad things happen to good people, and nothing is done about it."

"What are you talking about?" I whisper, recoiling into the wall behind me.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he explains, "Let me tell you a little story, detective. A few years back, I was young beat cop on his way to becoming a detective just like you. But one day on my route, I'm called into a B&E. I corner the perp out behind some restaurant, and it seemed easy enough. As I go to throw cuffs on him, he pulls a gun out of his waist band and shoots me three times." Unbuttoning his shirt, he reveals two scars on his upper right chest and one right below his neck. A pang of sympathy aches in my chest as he continues, "The guy gets away and is seemingly never seen again. And despite me almost dying, the Chief didn't think an investigation was worth pursuing."

"So, you're doing this for revenge." I confirm.

"I'm doing this to teach a lesson." He smirks, standing up and pacing in front of me. "What have you noticed with all the women, detective?"

"They- They're all law enforcement." I stammer.

"Very good." He praises. "Monica Teare was top of her class at the academy about to graduate. Grace Steinem was a decorated officer. And Evelyn Greene just passed the detective's exam and was in line for training at Quantico."

"And me?" I ask, leaning forward. "What's so special about me?"

"Oh, come on, detective." He sings. "You're the missing puzzle piece." Squatting back down in front of me, he rests his elbows on the bed. "Jane Marcum, the youngest sergeant in Phoenix Police history working a serial case that the mayor refuses to classify as a serial case."

"I'm not a sergeant yet." I retort.

"You passed the exam, detective. You're a sergeant. And your demise is what is finally going to get the mayor's attention."

My lips quiver at the thought of my demise. The chain connected to the cuff on my wrist clinks against the bed frame as I shake uncontrollably.

Putting his hand on my knee, he shushes me, "Hey, hey, it's okay."

My skin crawls at his touch, but there's nowhere for me to go.

"It's only a matter of time, Jane." He whispers, tilting his head at me. "It's only a matter of time until the mayor realizes we're not just statistics anymore. That we all deserve justice no matter what time we're at in our career."

"You don't have to do this." I beg, shaking my head. Tears begin streaming down my cheeks. He slowly reaches up and wipes a falling tear from my cheek. Slapping his hand away I move as far back into the corner of the bed as I can.

Sucking his teeth, he stands and turns. "I'll let you cool off for a bit. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"Hours?" I gasp, suddenly afraid of being alone. "What time is it, now?"

Chuckling, he slowly makes his way to a rusty door. Grabbing the knob, his head slightly turns towards me. With a twisted smile and sinister voice, he says, "That doesn't really matter now, does it?"