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The Heathers

Chapter 3

By Mariah CruisePublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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The Heathers
Photo by Rohit Ghadge on Unsplash

My phone started ringing, jarring me from a deep sleep. I sat straight up in bed, confused. I picked my phone up and squinted at the screen. It was the number of the station.

“Hello,” I answered the call, my voice low and hoarse.

“Detective Quinn?” the voice of Joan, the 2nd shift desk sergeant, asked on the other end.

“Yes.”

“A girl called asking for you. She said the creep is back at the bar and that you should hurry.”

I could hear the confusion in Joan’s voice, wondering why a detective had to be roused from her bed at midnight for some creepy dude in a bar. I thanked Joan and jumped out of bed, fully awake now at the prospect of identifying a possible suspect in Evelyn’s murder. I threw on some clothes, brushed my teeth quickly, put my contacts in, and ran out the door. I thought about calling Jack but figured he wouldn’t want to be bothered at this hour for a hunch. I drove the 15 minutes to the bar our victim used to work at. Evelyn, I reminded myself. Use her name. As much as it was in my nature to remain objective, I always tried to make it a point to humanize our victim. She had friends and family, hobbies, interests. Some cops made it a point to remain as far from the victim as possible. They found it too difficult to use his or her name, to see a life snuffed out. They’d rather keep their distance emotionally.

I pulled up to the bar and parked. I decided to leave my gun and badge in the car. I wanted to observe this man without giving myself away as law enforcement.

As I entered, I caught the eye of the young woman I had spoken to earlier behind the bar. I gave her a subtle look that said, “You don’t know me.” She glanced at a man sitting at a high table in the corner who was nursing a short glass of some sort of liquor. I took up position across the room from his, where I could see him and most of the room. There weren’t very many people in the bar, it was after midnight on a weeknight after all. A few young people were hanging out around the bar, talking and laughing.

“Don’t they have work in the morning?” I thought to myself.

After about an hour, the bartender called last call. The group booed then laughed. A few of them pulled out their phones to get an Uber and shuffled out a few minutes later. I lingered, waiting for the man to leave. Soon after I had the thought that I might have to remove this man myself, he downed what was left in his glass, got up, and left. I glanced out the front windows after him to catch a glimpse of his car, but he disappeared down an ally across the street.

I stood up and walked to the bar to speak with the bartender.

“I didn’t catch your name earlier today.”

“Jackie,” she said with a small smile. I could tell she had been rattled by the presence of the man she suspected was responsible for murdering her friend.

“Jackie, was anything weird about that guy tonight? Did he seem different?”

“He doesn’t normally come in on Tuesdays. He’s usually here on the weekends when there are a lot more people. That’s part of the reason I called you.”

“Good thing. For now, there isn’t much I can do because I don’t have a name or any identifying information, but at least I’ve seen his face,” I said. Plus, he left on foot, so he probably lives close. I didn’t tell Jackie this fact. I didn’t want to freak her out more than she already was. I stayed for a few more minutes while Jackie finished closing up. The night manager had left early, leaving her all alone. I didn’t feel right about heading home and leaving a young, vulnerable, and traumatized girl by herself with a possible murderer living a few blocks away. After Jackie locked up, got in her car, and drove away, I got in my car and headed home to get a few hours of sleep before I had to be back at work.

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