Jars of Hearts by J.H. Morris
Chapter One It is 3AM, and Lori Bennett has just clocked out of work at the Club Tango in the Soma District of San Francisco. Walking back to the apartment is the hardest part of the night. It always struck her as odd—no matter how long she stayed working as a bartender, dealing with drunken customers the entire night, the scariest part was always the two-block walk home. Lori always had one hand in her purse, holding a taser she had bought for herself because of these walks home. In this area, crime was high, and she did what she could to avoid becoming a victim of some loser’s agenda. The fog had settled in this night, making seeing anything far away impossible. Not to mention the echoes caused by the density of the stuff. She wanted to walk faster, but the visibility made it impossible. She was on high alert, listening more intently than usual. Her head wanted to spin to look at everything, but doing so would only slow her down and show her nervousness, which would increase her chances of becoming another number in the crime statistics of the city. Every night she followed the same strategy: act like you belong—this is not their turf; this is yours. The sound of a trashcan hitting the pavement behind her made her stop to look. She heard footsteps running behind her, but they were headed in the opposite direction. A startle came over her face as she nearly tripped on a cat. It hissed at her before running away. She smirked, thinking she was overly paranoid. But after the behavior of a group of drunken men at the club that night, she had reason to be worried.
She felt relieved when she made it to her apartment’s front door. At least now, she felt some comfort knowing security cameras were watching her as she made her way to her loft. She was also aware that she would not completely relax until she reached her apartment. There had been only one attack inside the building since she moved in, but that did not mean there would not be more. A sigh of relief came as she opened her door—safe at last. Before going to bed, Lori performed her nightly ritual. It includes a hot shower to get rid of the slime and grime from the obnoxious customers. Not to mention the smell of mixed alcohol spirits which had made their way onto her uniform during the night. Occasionally, a glass of red wine would follow, but not this night. After walking in the fog and dealing with the stress of the night, she just wanted to be in bed. She picked up her nursing school textbook to read before drifting off. Her passion was to become a nurse so she wouldn't have to pour drinks for degenerates and instead take care of them in the hospital. She never knew why, but it seemed like a better career move. She pulled back her sheets, only to have a dark figure grab her from behind. His left hand covered her mouth while his right hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm behind her back. He forces her on the bed, faced down, where he sits on her back, preventing her from escaping. He takes a piece of duct tape and places it over her mouth while using the same roll of tape to tie her hands behind her back. He then grabs her feet and binds them the same way. Within seconds, she is now being held captive in her own apartment. The captor forces Lori to turn over and lie down on her bed. She sees him for the first time. He's all dressed in black, with a matching mask on his face. He is wearing blue rubber
gloves, like the kind found in hospitals. He glares at her as he takes a blindfold and wraps it around her eyes. In a way, she is thankful that she does not have to watch what he does. But also terrified, not knowing what is going to happen. When she can't see, her senses become more acute. She listens intently to the sound of a zipper—it is heavy and sounds like they made it for a leather bag. Then silence. She can tell her captor is moving, but she doesn't know what he is doing. She heard what sounded like another bag being laid on her bed. And then the sound of it being unrolled. He picked something up, and there was a clinking sound. She thought it sounded like small knives gently striking each other. Lori trembled gently, not knowing what he was going to do next. She could feel his hand gently slide along the top of her robe, making its way up from her belly. Then scissors cutting her loose from the robe, he pulled it away. She heard it land on the floor. She felt exposed as tears rolled down her face. She shook in fear, not knowing what was next. She listened for his next move but heard nothing—no breathing, no walking, just silence. She finally heard him in the other room, rummaging through draws in the kitchen looking for something. After the footsteps returned to her bedroom, she could absolutely feel his presence, although she didn't hear him say a word. It was silent once again. Her trembling stopped as the tears continued to fall from her face. It had been several minutes since she heard or felt anything. The fear of not knowing had overtaken the fear of what she was expecting. The sound of the scissors opening once again frightened her. She knew her last piece of clothing was her underwear. His slow movements frightened her even more. Feeling the icy blade of the scissors, he cut the elastic band on each side and discarded her underwear to the side. It scared her even more when she felt the icy air gently clothe her naked body. Again, silence filled the room. Her body trembled once again.
She felt his hand on her inner leg as he crept it towards her genitalia. He then did what she had expected him to, but was hoping he wouldn't. Her eyes swelled up with tears as he touched her in all the wrong places every few minutes, pausing every so often to praise his artistry or perhaps ponder his next move. Then he would start again. He took his time as if he were admiring her. Taking a moment to pause and read her body like a best-selling novel. His slowness made her more terrified of what was to come. Finally, after a longer pause than before, she thought it was over. Again, silence filled the chilled air in the room. The uncertainty of what was next was horrifying. Then she heard the sudden sound of the metal pieces hitting each other. Lori hoped he was packing up to leave her alone. That hope was short-lived when she felt a blade move slowly over her neck from one side to the other. She faded away, thinking of her boyfriend, her family, her job, and more. It took mere minutes for her to go completely dark. No more memories. No more thoughts. No sound of metal. No sound of scissors. No feeling of cold air. Nothing. She was now lifeless, in a much better place than she had been right before her death. *
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Steve Triggs was sitting at the breakfast table sipping on his coffee and trying to tie his necktie when his phone begins to ring. “Triggs here. Okay. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Steve looks at Katie, who turns her head in disappointment. “Again?” “Sorry, Hun. It’s part of the job.” Steve stood up from the table and walked over to his wife to kiss her goodbye. She didn't turn her head when he tried a mouth-to-mouth kiss, so he settled for a cheek kiss instead. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner. Promise.”
Katie assumed Steve would be behind a desk most of the day and have a more 9 to 5 schedule when she encouraged him to apply for the open detective position at the department. Yet, the reality is that he had been home only a few hours each day. When he arrived home from work, she was already in bed, and she woke up only to see him gone. She did not know the life of a detective-widow. What made matters worse, she actually encouraged him to accept the job. She felt responsible. She fixed her plate of eggs and potatoes and ate her breakfast alone… again. Something she was getting way too used to doing. *
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“Steve, why are you out here when you should be inside investigating the murder?” said Detective Mike Greenhill as he walked toward the crime scene. "I had to get some air, Mike. It’s nasty in there.” Detective Steve Triggs is seen bent over with his hands on his knees, struggling to breathe in. “Come on, Steve. That weak stomach of yours will not last long in the homicide unit. I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to get used to it.” Mike and Steve turn to walk into the apartment building where the murder had taken place. As they walked, Steve filled Mike in on what he had so far. “The victim is Lori Bennett. A twenty-five-year-old female. Her boyfriend is the one that found her around noon. He said she normally gets off work around 3 AM. He last saw her yesterday afternoon just before work. I have the crime scene unit looking for clues right now.” The two of them enter Lori’s apartment. The stench of a dead body was still lingering, causing Steve to pause as he tried to gain his composure.
“Steve, I know you’ve only been in homicide for two weeks, but if you don’t get used to this, you may not last much longer,” Mike criticized. “I’m going to give you a break, only because I remember my first homicide twenty years ago. I puked my brains out right on the body. I thought I was going to be fired right there on the spot.” “Really, why weren’t you?” Steve questioned. “Back then, we would just wipe it up and move on. It wasn’t like nowadays with all the evidence, DNA, and forensics. It was a simpler time back then.” The two walk into Lori’s bedroom and see her dead naked body on the bed. Mike turns to Steve. “Now I see why you puked.” Mike looks at the body, and it throws his memory back to a decade earlier. The MO seems familiar to him—too familiar. He sees Jules, the Medical Examiner looking over the body. “Hey, Doc. Looks like a messy one, huh?” “Hi, Mike. This is a doozy, that’s for sure.” Jules only glanced up long enough to acknowledge the detective’s arrival. “A very sharp instrument caused the laceration on the neck. Almost like a surgeon’s scalpel. Same with the incisions on the diaphragm. They were exact and clean. As if the unsub knew what he was doing.” “What do you mean?” Steve asked. “Like a doctor?” “Precisely,” Jules responded. She turns and looks at Mike. “Does this look familiar to you, too?” Mike nods. “It sure does. I really hope it’s a bad coincidence.” “What’s a bad coincidence?” Steve asks as he tries to gain his composure.
“I’ll fill you in at the station,” Mike says. He turns to Jules. “Doc, we’ll see you back at the office.”