Detective Eckart took a long drag of a cigar and let it hang between his index and middle finger. He rubbed the side of his neck with his free hand. Still sore, perhaps not completely healed quite yet. The worst of it had already passed.
“Eckart, what you’re telling me is nuts. The papers would get a kick out of it, sure, but no one would actually believe you.” Lieutenant Kegan sat on the other side of a large Mahagony desk. The room was dimly lit by a floor lamp just across the room, cornered between a tall metal filing cabinet and loose papers scattered across a small accompanying coffee table.
Eckart passed Lieutenant Kegan back the fat cigar, “I wouldn’t lie to you Kegan. You know that.”
“I know, I know,” The Lieutenant adjusts uncomfortably in his leather seat, “but vampires? You’re sure the guy wasn’t just some weird... blood cultist?”
“I know what I saw.” Eckart replied sternly. Maybe too much so, for addressing his boss.
“Regardless of what he was, the man’s dead now. You made sure of that.” Lieutenant Kegan almost crushed the cigar between his fingers. “He’ll get a headstone in the cemetery, and that’ll be the end of it. I don’t want a word of whatever you saw out to the public. We don’t need any unnecessary mass hysteria.”
“All due respect, Lieutenant—”
“End of discussion, Eckart. I believe you because you’re my friend. But it’s done now. Move on, detective.” Lieutenant Kegan snuffed the cigar out on a clear glass ashtray between the two men.
The pair sat in silence for a minute or two, Detective Eckart staring blankly into the space between the ashes and the Lieutenant’s hand. Wordlessly, the Detective rose to his feet and pulled his badge from his breast pocket. He removed his trusty silver revolver from its holster, which had certainly seen better days, and put the two items on the desk. The Lieutenants eye’s widened and shot upwards to meet Eckart. The detective began to speak.
“I went through hell and back for that case, Kegan. I saw hell, as far as I’m concerned. It was pure chance that whatever that thing was got caught.” Eckart stood, unwavering. “So, with all due respect Lieutenant, if there is even a slim chance that those things are still out there, then there has to be someone to stop them.”
Lieutenant Kegan sat, mildly shocked, and then smiled. “I never took you for the righteous type, Eckart.”
“Consider me a changed man.” Eckart turned to walk out of the office.
“Wait,” Lieutenant Kegan called out after him before he could make it out the door. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Eckart?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you might need this then.” Lieutenant Kegan stood up and handed Eckart the silver revolver. “You know the office number. Just remember you’ll always have a friend in the force.”
Eckart nodded and returned his revolver to the holster. “Thank you, Kegan. I’ll keep in touch.”
____________________________________________
Eckart awoke to the obnoxious ringing of his telephone. He massaged the side of his head and groaned. He barely remembered falling asleep, the pile of random files on cheating partners and missing pets scattered over the opposite side of his bed. It was much too early for work already, or much too late—he wasn’t quite sure where he even was, let alone the time of day. The phone rang again.
“Jesus... I get it!” Eckart called out to a thing that had most definitely not heard him. The phone rang again.
Eckart practically stumbled across the hardwood floor to pick the phone off the wall. He took a deep breath and prepared his best professional attitude.
“Niall Eckart speaking. What can I help you with?” He forced a smile through the phone.
A voice crackled over the line. “Oh, thank goodness I got the number correct! mister Eckart, I saw your advertisement on a flier, I fear you’re the only one that could help me!” The woman on the other end of the line sounded hysterical, her words barely keeping up with her labored breathing.
“Ma’am, please calm down. I’m here to help.” Eckart tried to stifle a yawn as he spoke. He picked up a pen and a small notepad he had left on the desk next to him. He flipped to a fresh page, one free of miscellaneous pen scratches. “Can I get your name please?”
“It’s Wendy, Wendy Fritz.” Wendy took a quick breath before continuing. “Please mister Eckart, the police have been no help in finding my son! His name is Stephen Klint. He never came home last night, and it’s already seven in the morning... I fear the worst must have happened!”
Eckart stopped his furious scribbling at once and tried his best to hide his annoyance. “Miss Fritz, are you sure your son wasn’t just out late last night? Perhaps he spent the night elsewhere?”
“No, of course not! He enjoys his drinks, sure, but I make sure he’s always back home safe!” The woman’s voice shook slightly. “It’s only natural that his favorite bar is out in the most dangerous part of town... it’s not good for an old woman’s nerves, mister Eckart.”
“Right.” Eckart sighed. “What’s the name of this bar? I’ll take a look around, but I can’t guarantee anything yet.”
“Oh, thank you so much dear! The bar’s name is Sunny’s.”
Eckart scratched the name down. “And your number, ma’am?”
“LA-52953. Thank you again, mister Eckart.”
“Of course. I’ll call you if I find anything.” Though he didn’t have much hope in his words as he hung the phone back up against the wall.
Eckart still firmly believed that this was a waste of time, but today had been set to be slow for business anyway. People don’t go out seeking private investigators unless they’re out of options, they’ve got something to hide, or just plain crazy. Eckart couldn’t tell which of the three this Wendy Fritz was. Regardless, Eckart got dressed in a white button up and tan trousers. He lifted the silver revolver from his bedside table and slid it into the holster hanging under his right arm. He made his way to the kitchen, where he quickly brewed a cup of coffee and unfurled yesterday’s paper. He flicked open a lighter he had nestled in his pocket and pulled a fresh cigarette from a box in that same pocket.
The headline was hard to miss even through the puffs of smoke Eckart blew against the pages. WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN BACK ALLEY! His eyes scanned the details of the text further down the page.
...Mary O’Riley, 26, was found this morning after being declared missing over the past week. Her remains were left in a back alley of downtown Sonora, behind a popular bar by the name “Sunny’s.” Please respect the family’s privacy as they grieve the loss of their daughter at this time...
Eckart’s eyes widened at the bar’s name. “Maybe miss Fritz was onto something, after all...” He muttered under his breath as he folded the newspaper closed. Sure, it could be a coincidence, but that’s one hell of a chance—not even Eckart could deny it. He downed the last of his coffee and slid into a pair of brown leather shoes before pulling his arms through his tweed coat. He put out his cigarette as he set out the door.
The engine of Eckart’s car sputtered to a stop in front of a run-down building. A sign, half falling apart and only half-lit, clung for dear life against the dull brick wall. It read “Sunny’s,” and for being the name location of a recent crime scene, it was considerably empty. Eckart stepped outside of the car and threw the door shut. The air was stagnant and smelt of dust—a fitting reflection of the rest of the town. Eckart drew in a deep breath and set towards the entrance of the bar, the door swinging open against a pleasant chime.
“Welcome in. Feel free to seat yourself.” Eckart heard a voice call in to him as the door swung shut behind him. He sounded a bit on the older side, but there was a certain charm to his voice that Eckart couldn’t quite place.
“A fine establishment you have here.” Eckart attempted to hide his sarcasm as he took a seat at the bar in front of the tender. Dozens of glass bottles lined the wall behind him, the room poorly lit by a warm orange glow from a few overhead lights.
The bar tender chuckled, “No need to lie, sir, but I appreciate you trying to be nice about it.” He pushed a pair of round glasses up the ridge of his nose. A soft smile creeped out from underneath the gentleman’s thick brown mustache. “Is there anything I could get you to drink?”
“No thanks, it’s a bit early—even for me.”
“I see... I’m afraid there’s not much else I can offer you, then. We have a small food selection,” The bartender gestured to a chalkboard behind him. “You sure there’s nothing I can get you, sir?”
“I do need something, actually,” Eckart pulled his small notepad from his breast pocket. “I wanted to ask you a couple questions about the crime that occurred nearby, pretty recently? I assume you know about it.”
The bar tender’s pleasant expression shifted to something more somber. “Yes, of course. It’s not a shocker, given the area, but it’s still bad for business.”
“Naturally. Do you know any more of the details, or just what’s in the paper?” Eckart scratched something into his notepad.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much, no. One thing, though,” the bartender leans over the counter to talk in a lower voice—not that he needed to, since the bar was still completely empty. “I heard that the poor woman’s body was absolutely torn to shreds. Like a wild animal attacked her. Some even said that they couldn’t find all her pieces...”
Eckart’s eyebrows furrowed as he jotted the note down. “Pretty gruesome... did they think it was an animal attack, then?”
The bartender sat back up and shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be possible. Nothing in the area that could do something like that—plus, the police think the cause of death was a gunshot. The ripping happened after she was already dead.”
“You’re sure talkative about such a dreadful story.”
The bartender shrugged. “It’s a good story. Besides, you’re my first customer today—and probably for a while, so I could use someone to talk to.” The bartender smiled and began to absentmindedly polish a glass. “I don’t believe I caught your name. I’m Oliver.”
“Eckart.” He took Oliver’s hand and shook it. “I did have one last question, unrelated to the recent tragedy.”
“Shoot, mister Eckart.” Oliver smiled.
“I got a call from one Wendy Fritz, complaining about her missing son, Stephen. She said he frequented this bar, so you wouldn’t have happened to see him around recently?”
“Ah... she’s probably talking about her stepson, actually. Stephen Klint. He was my last customer yesterday, left chasing after some woman. I’m afraid his wife died a few months ago, and he never really recovered fully from that. Not all there, if you know what I mean.” Oliver twirled his pointer finger in a circular motion on the side of his head.
Eckart sighed. “I see. Any idea where he went?”
“None. I was about to kick him out myself. He was causing quite a ruckus, even for a regular. You could look around town, I know there’s a hotel nearby he could be staying at.” Oliver paused for a moment in thought. “Otherwise, you could pay his buddy Frank a visit. He was here the night he stormed off.” He scribbled an address on a bar napkin and handed it to Eckart.
“Thanks for your help, Oliver. I’m sure I’ll be back.” Eckart got up from his chair and slid his notepad back into his pocket.
“I’ll look forward to it. See you around, mister Eckart.” Oliver nodded and resumed his polishing of various glasses. The door swung closed behind Eckart with the same pleasant chime as when he first entered.
Before Eckart got the chance to look over the address, a low groan extended out from the side alley between the bar and another building. Eckart froze in place, cautiously cocking his head towards the source of the noise. Slowly, he moved towards the alley, old yellow police tape hanging limply from the wall. He took another step through the tall fence gate and turned the corner of a large blue dumpster, where a man was laying half-conscious atop a pile of garbage. His dark hair looked wet, or maybe just greasy. His button-up shirt was smeared with dirt and other random pieces of garbage. Eckart sighed, the tension easing from his neck and shoulders. He crouched down and prodded at the man.
“Rough night, eh? What’s your name sir?” Eckart snapped in front of the man’s face, “You need a doctor? A cigarette?”
“God, it’s bright out... is that you, Cindy? When did it get so bright out...” The man moaned as he rubbed his eyes, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath and clothes. “You’re so loud... just let me sleep, for Christ's sake...”
“Name, sir.” Eckart persisted, louder this time. “Otherwise, I can go get the bartender out here to chase you off instead.”
This seemed to scare the man, who immediately shot up, eyes wide, “Jeez, would you just buzz off! Just give me a minute, I’ve had a crazy couple of days... I need to just get myself together... for Cindy... I gotta find Cindy...” The man stumbled to his feet and shambled past Eckart, mumbling more indiscernible things to himself. He moved as though he might have still been drunk.
“You never told me your name, dammit!” Eckart called after him, but the man either didn’t hear him or elected to ignore him. Eckart sighed and straightened back up. People look at you different when you’re not slinging a badge around, I suppose. Eckart turned and walked in the opposite direction of the stench of liquor.
The address Oliver had given wasn’t too far, about a block down the street. Eckart took the time to get a feel for his surroundings. The buildings here weren’t in much better shape than the bar, but the town itself held a certain old charm. People had begun to loiter about the town’s streets, walking to work or some store. A few cars buzzed here and there, but it seemed most of the residents preferred travelling by foot. The sidewalks were made up of similar cracked old bricks, with some spaces left for the occasional barren tree. It was a moderately warm day, but the wind that whipped around him brought in a cool autumn chill. A few of the dried leaves crunched under his foot, had they not been swept away by the wind already. Before he knew it, Eckart was at the front steps of a shabby apartment building. He double checked the number on the napkin before ringing the corresponding doorbell.
“Yes? What is it?” A tall, half-asleep man answered the door. He yawned as he looked at Eckart.
“Sorry to bother you, are you Frank? I got your address from Oliver down at Sunny’s.” Eckart adjusted his coat to fend against the wind.
The man visibly straightened at the mention of the bar. “Uh, yeah, that's me sir. Did you need me for somethin’?”
“Yes, I wanted to ask you a few questions about your friend Stephen, if that’s alright?”
“Now wait just a second,” Frank crossed his arms. “Who are you, anyways?”
“Right, sorry,” Eckart cleared his throat. I miss my badge. Might be time to look into some business cards instead... “The name’s Niall Eckart. But just Eckart is fine. Stephen’s stepmother called and asked if I could look around for him. Apparently, he’s been missing since last night.”
Frank grimaced. “That stupid son of a bitch... right, okay, you can come in. Sorry.” He propped open the door for Eckart before stepping back into the apartment himself.
“It’s no problem.” Eckart removed his coat and set it on a plush recliner in the front room. The apartment seemed well furnished, especially considering the location. The small room held a leather couch, a coffee table, and the recliner to match. Eckart could see a bit of the linoleum kitchen that was located further to the back of the apartment. There, he could make out remnants of a quick breakfast that had been hastily put down, likely to answer the door. Eckart took out his notepad and gestured to the seating in the front room. “Mind if we chat here?”
“Not at all.” Frank rubbed the side of his face, clearly not quite awake yet. The two sat down opposite each other and Eckart bent over his notepad on the glass coffee table.
“How do you know Stephen?” Eckart looked up to Frank expectantly.
“That bastard... I’m friends with him. Or I guess used to be would be a better way to put it now.”
“Did something happen?”
“Yeah. Last night. The moron got drunk—way more than usual,” Frank hissed. “I was always there for him after Cindy’s death, but he just kept pushing me away. Kept on drinkin’.”
Cindy. I’ve heard that name before. Eckart’s attention shifted back towards Frank, “And he just left without you?”
“Yeah, chasing after some blonde. Real frail thing, too. Probably scared her half to death.” He crossed his arms. “Hell, the bartender chased after him once he realized what was goin’ on. Told me to keep an eye on the place ‘till he got back.”
“Hold on,” Eckart looked back up from the coffee table and locked eyes with Frank. “You mean to tell me that the bartender—Oliver—just left you there? To watch the bar by yourself?”
“I suppose I do,” Frank straightened his posture a bit, uncomfortable by the sudden pressing. “But I wasn’t there for too long! I left a good ten or fifteen minutes after everyone had gone. I didn’t have the patience to try and wait for Stephen to get back, he had already been testing my nerves.”
“So, what, you just went home? Didn’t bother looking for your friend?”
“No, mister Eckart, I didn’t look for my friend. I didn’t feel like he was much of a friend anymore anyway.” Frank hunched over his clasped hands. “He’s a good guy, I know it... just lately, he’s really been lost. I told him he should get help, like real help, but he just refuses. He hates his stepmother, so any help she offers he shoots down instantly. And he’s basically run me out of my own money, so I just... don’t know what to do with him anymore.”
“I see. It must have been hard, putting up with that.” Eckart mulled over the notes he had jotted down as he spoke.
“Yeah. I feel worse for his stepmother, I don’t know how she does it. But personally, I’ve had just about enough. He needs to mourn his wife instead of drinking himself half to death and then nearly getting himself killed chasing after the next woman he sees.”
“Uh huh,” Eckart huffed and closed his notepad. “Well, you’ve been a great help. Before I go, do you have anything I could use to identify him? A picture or something like that?”
“Hah! You’re in luck,” Frank sat up and walked back to the kitchen, where he rummaged through a drawer before coming back. “He gave me this picture of him and his wife before he chased out that blonde. His hair is a bit longer now, but otherwise he looks just like this.”
Eckart took the picture from Frank’s hand. It depicted a tall man hugging a pale woman with lighter hair. The two were smiling in front of a beach.
Frank peered over his shoulder as he inspected the photo. “Yeah, now that I’m lookin’ at her, that woman at the bar looked a lot like his Cindy, too,” Frank sighed.
Cindy. Again. “Thanks,” Eckart slid the photo into his notepad and tucked it away back into his pocket. “This mystery woman, do you know anything about her? Other than that she looks like Stephen’s wife?”
Frank scratched his chin. "Oliver might’ve mentioned her name—Veronica, I think. Besides that, no sir. Not a thing.”
“Right. Thanks anyway.”
“Of course, let me know if you find anything mister. I guess I can’t help but worry about him still.” Frank pushed the door open for Eckart, and Eckart made his way back to Sunny’s.
The walk to and from Frank’s apartment, as well as his interview, took roughly two hours out of Eckart’s day. The sun was still hanging high in the sky when Eckart found himself standing in front of the old bar once again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there might have been something wrong with this place from the beginning.
“Never doubt a mother’s intuition, I guess.” Eckart muttered. “Or even a stepmother, in this case...”
Eckart rubbed his brow as he stood on the sidewalk. One thing kept bothering him—this Cindy woman, the dead wife. The realization struck Eckart suddenly—It was that damn drunk! His hand tightened into a fist at his side. If he had only given me his damn name, I could’ve avoided this whole mess. And now my missing person is off wandering the streets. Eckart did his best to keep his composure despite this infuriating setback. He looked over the building once more, this time eyeing the alley where he found Stephen the first time. Might as well take another look.
Eckart adjusted his coat and stepped into a side alley that bordered Sunny’s and some small convenience store. There were still remnants of police activity that he noticed before, namely the discarded yellow tape. They did a terrible job cleaning this place up. Must’ve been that crime scene from the papers. The fence gate was left wide open, with the large dumpster still sealed tightly shut. Eckart couldn’t help but poke around. A rotten smell lingered in the air that must have been previously masked by one hungover Stephen Klint. Eckart pushed further back until he was met with a tall metal fence and some wooden pallets haphazardly strewn about. He kicked around a few of the crates, but they turned up nothing but dust. Sunny’s backyard was clean.
Eckart made his way back through the narrow alley, where he was once again hit with the unmistakable stench of rot. His nose curled as he got closer to the dumpster. Instead of passing it this time, he leaned forward for a closer look. The blue paint on the dumpster was being eaten away by layers of rust. To the right of the dumpster were two smaller garbage cans surrounded by crushed black trash bags. Eckart recognized it as the spot where Stephen had been sleeping, but to his surprise, the rotten smell was strongest there. Eckart took a step closer. One of the cans’ lids was slightly ajar, the other sealed tight. He peeked into the first: only some rotten food and old newspapers. Nothing important. Eckart moved to the next can and took a handkerchief from his coat pocket to lift the lid. The metal lid was warm to the touch, even through the cloth. It came off with little resistance.
Eckart’s eyes widened, and the metal lid clattered to the ground. Then the smell hit him. The putrid rot filled his nostrils—every breath felt hot and tasted disgustingly sweet. It made his eyes water. He could feel bile rising in the back of his throat. His hand automatically shot up to cover his mouth and nose.
Inside the can was a body—No, that wasn’t quite right. Body parts. A hand, a couple fingers, and he swear he could see parts of a leg poking out from some of the other decomposing garbage. The flesh had been torn, fragments of bone splintering through what little of the body remained. He took a slow step forward and lowered his face closer into the garbage can. Deep brown hair poked out underneath a torn sheet of paper and a handful of crushed cans. Against his better judgement, Eckart took a deep breath and reached into the can to remove the paper.
It was a man’s head, frozen in an expression of shock. His gaping mouth was now home to hundreds of tiny squirming maggots, and the half of his face that was left was slick with blood. The other side suffered a worse fate—as if there were a fate worse than this. The skin was torn to muscle, which was torn to cracked bone. His left eye hung out of its socket.
Eckart staggered backwards, desperately sucking air through his mouth. He keeled over and wheezed, doing whatever he could to get the stench out of his body. After a good minute of labored breathing, Eckart straightened back up and wiped the tears from his eyes. He took a shaky breath and peeked again into the can at the man’s face. To Eckart's dismay, it was familiar. The dark, greasy hair was burned into Eckart’s mind. Just to be sure, he fished around his shirt pocket and retrieved the photo he had only just received from Frank.
There was no mistaking it, the decapitated head belonged to Stephen Klint.
Eckart swung the door of the bar open with such ferocity that the gentle chime became more of a shrill clang. He scanned the interior. Oliver was still stationed at the bar, a thin pale woman seated directly across from him. He pulled a stool out from the bar next to the pair and sat forward.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to be seeing you again so soon, Eckart.” Oliver looked surprised by the sudden rush Eckart seemed to be in. “Is something the matter?”
“You could say that. Could I get a bourbon? Neat?” Eckart unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.
“Of course...” Oliver moved silently to pour his drink.
Eckart turned to the pale woman. Blonde, just like the woman in the photo. Just like Cindy. “And you are?”
The woman’s eyes were large and round, like a deer caught in headlights. Her lips trembled a bit as she spoke. “Um... Veronica, mister.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
“Naturally.” Eckart’s day kept getting more interesting. For better or for worse. “You can call me Eckart.”
Oliver slid the short glass of whiskey in front of Eckart. He gave him a curt nod as thanks before downing the glass in one go.
“What’s this about, Eckart?” Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m afraid not, Oliver.” Eckart slid the glass back to Oliver and took out his notepad. “I checked out Frank’s place like you suggested, but he hadn’t seen Stephen either. Said Stephen left before he did, drunk off his ass.” Eckart eyed Veronica. “Said he was chasing after some blonde who had a striking resemblance to his late wife.”
Veronica let out a shaky gasp and covered her mouth. Her gray eyes were glassy, reflecting the faint yellow light of the bar.
“Now, you wanna know somethin’ interesting, Oliver?” Eckart tapped his notepad with his pen. “Frank said he saw you go after the two of them. Said you left him in charge of the place. And that after you didn’t return after fifteen or so minutes, he walked home himself.”
Oliver remained frozen like a statue; his brow still furrowed deep in thought. Veronica kept taking quick glances from him and Eckart but remained silent.
“So that would mean you lied to me,” Eckart set his pen down. “But more importantly, that means you and blondie over here were the last two people to see Stephen alive.” He let that last word hang heavy in the stagnant air. Alive.
“Mister Eckart, you got the wrong idea, I--” Oliver stumbled over his words, “I only meant to go after poor Veronica ‘cus the creep wouldn’t let off her. By the time I caught up to the two, he was threatening some awful stuff! Even to kill her!” Oliver gestured helplessly to the woman, who had shrunk further into her seat. She was a porcelain, almost a sickly pale. Her hair was only a shade darker.
“Veronica?” Eckart waved a hand in front of her. “Is this true?”
She looked like she might collapse right there on the spot. “Y-yes. A man followed me out of the bar after trying to profess his love to me...said he was so happy I had returned to him. Called me Cindy.” Her hands shook as she gripped her long black skirt. “I tried to just leave, but he followed me, and then started threatening me when I tried ignoring him... and...” Tears started to flow down her face.
“Veronica, you really don’t have to talk about this...” Oliver offered his hand out to comfort her.
“No! No... Mister Eckart, you must understand... Something terrible would have certainly happened to me, that man just wouldn’t leave me alone...” Her face dropped into her hands.
Eckart sat silently for a moment, watching the thin woman weep, and watching Oliver attempt to comfort her—though he looked a little uncomfortable in doing so.
“All I did was shove him off her. Then I took her home, made sure she wasn’t followed.” Oliver sounded annoyed, his monotone words cutting through the quiet sobs.
Eckart simply nodded. “The you should be pleased to know I found Stephen.”
Veronica’s head snapped up from her hands and her eyes practically bulged out of her small head. She whipped around to face Oliver, the look of shock still frozen on her face. Oliver didn’t even spare a passing glance at her, his eyes still trained on Eckart.
“That’s good to hear. That should put his stepmother at ease.” Oliver took a small step away from Veronica.
“Yes, I ran into him just outside your bar here. He was asleep in the alley, and he reeked of alcohol.” Eckart continued. “Though, I didn’t quite realize it was him at the time. Never got his name unfortunately—but kept muttering to himself about this Cindy.”
Veronica finally spoke up, “W-well then, what’s the issue? I already told you, he followed me around last night but... I made sure he didn’t follow me home.” Her hands clasped together in her lap, almost as if she were praying. “What happened after that is none of my business! I told him... I told him I didn’t know of no Cindy!”
“That’s enough, Veronica. Eckart here is just updating us about his case. Seems his stepmother was just a little worried. Thankfully, she can rest easy now.” Oliver’s expression was cold, despite his repeated attempts to comfort Veronica.
“That would’ve been the case if he were alive, Oliver.” Eckart cut in, this time much harsher—much more accusatory.
Oliver’s face twisted into anger. “What are you saying? That I killed him?! I hadn’t seen him all day—hell, you were the last person with him! All I did was push him off her last night, I already told you!” He began gesturing wildly to the frail woman, who was still frozen in shock.
“I never said you killed him.” Eckart remained level-headed. “Though, that might explain why I found him ripped to shreds in your dumpster. Just the pieces. No wonder you got the details of that last news story so well, eh Oliver?”
Oliver was about to say something before Veronica erupted into violent sobs. “Please! Please just stop! Oliver didn’t kill him, mister!” Veronica fell to her knees at Eckart’s feet. The sudden movement surprised Eckart.
“Veronica, don’t!” Oliver suddenly pleaded to the woman on the ground.
“Just what the hell is going on here?!” Eckart, fed up, shot from his chair and backed away from Veronica, still cowering on the floor.
Finally, Veronica drew in a shaky breath and spoke, “It was me, mister... I killed him...” She looked up at Eckart, who towered over her fragile frame. She seemed helpless, not at all equipped to kill a man. “I thought I escaped him, I thought he would leave me alone... but then... I...!” Her gaze shifted vacantly in front of her.
“But then what?” Eckart kept an eye trained on Oliver, who was still fuming.
Oliver cut in before Veronica could continue. “That drunk fool came bumbling back—I watched him walk right on by. I watched him chase her back here, too.” He grunted.
“Yes, there he was, that same drunk man who threatened me last night—he had a wild look in his eye, mister. Like he had unfinished business... and sure enough, he started acting crazy again, calling me Cindy! I ran as fast as I could, and I ended up back here...” The realization washed over her again as she broke into tears. “He pulled a knife on me! Said if I didn’t follow him this time, that I wouldn’t leave! I screamed and screamed for help, until something flew out from behind me—some kind of animal—jumped out and pinned the man down...” Veronica’s trembling hands reached into the pocket of her cardigan, where she pulled out a small switchblade. “I had no idea what I was doing! I thought I would die, mister! So, I took the man’s knife, and I... I...” Her arms went limp as the murder weapon clattered to the ground.
There was still something clearly missing from this story, and that bothered Eckart. Oliver remained motionless—furious, but quiet. He looked like he wanted to say something, to scream at the poor woman. But Eckart found himself racking his brain about this beast. It sounded miles different to what he had met during the Fulton Manor case, so what exactly was this thing? Veronica surely couldn’t have ripped up Stephen’s body like that, so it must have been this beast she was talking about.
Finally, Eckart spoke, “Sweetheart, as much as I would love to believe you, that would mean you were attacked in broad daylight. Someone would’ve heard you—or hell, seen you—screaming before some random animal did.” His gaze shifted to Oliver. “Especially if Oliver here saw you being chased—makes me inclined to believe that he would help you again, being the good Samaritan he is. Am I wrong?” Oliver looked taller now than Eckart remembered.
“Surely I don’t know what you mean by that.” Oliver bared his teeth.
It was all the confirmation Eckart needed. “I see.” Eckart took a step backwards and hovered his right hand over his holster. “Give me one good reason not to get the police up here.”
Veronica looked up, terrified, and then looked pleadingly to Oliver. He said nothing, and instead let out a painful groan and hunched over the bar. Eckart could hear the man’s bones snap a shift in his body. He whipped his revolver from its holster and trained it on Oliver.
“Stop! Don’t make me shoot, Oliver!” But what he called out to wasn’t Oliver. Muscle stretched thin over bones, and his pale, rubbery skin was stretched thinner over that. Oliver’s gangly claws pulled at his face, letting out another low groan. The front of his face began to protrude from his head, forming a canine-like snout, and rows of sharp teeth that erupted from his mouth—jagged and perfect for ripping. Oliver’s eyes bulged wildly, so much so it looked like it might be impossible for him to blink. He let out one final moan before rising to his new towering height. Oliver lunged over the tall bar and charged for the exit; His shoes ripped off his feet to expose large black hooves.
“Oliver, please—!” Veronica cried from the floor, but her words fell on deaf, monstrous ears.
Eckart stood firm between the quickly approaching beast and the door. This new Oliver looked pained and hungry—and it was starting to seem like Eckart might be his next meal.
“God damn it—I warned you, Oliver!” Eckart squeezed the trigger, the shot embedding deep in Oliver’s shoulder.
The creature let out a pained screech before redirecting his escape through the large window of the bar. Eckart pulled back the hammer of his revolver and readied for another shot as the beast crashed through the bar window. By the time Eckart made it outside, Oliver was already halfway up the side of the building. Eckart aimed carefully and let out one last shot, only for it to graze Oliver’s left leg. The creature yelped, and then disappeared with an unnatural speed towards the back of the building. Eckart cursed under his breath and returned inside, shards of glass crunching beneath his shoe. There Veronica was, still trembling on the floor in horror. He sighed, returned the gun to its holster, and helped the poor woman to her feet.
“You’re alright now, miss. Whatever that thing was is long gone now.”
Veronica’s hand trembled in his. “Did you... kill him?”
“I’m afraid not. I got him pretty good, though.” Despite Eckart’s disappointment, Veronica seemed rather relieved by this fact.
“Well... what are you gonna do now, mister? Are you gonna turn me in?”
Eckart paused a moment and looked at the woman. She was weary and visibly weak. He couldn’t help but pity her. He sighed. “You’re lucky I’m not an officer anymore, miss. In another life I might’ve taken you in on the spot.” He turned back towards the exit of the bar. “But no, I’m not turning you over.”
She seemed perplexed by his answer. “So... what then?”
“I need to make a couple phone calls.”
