I A Quiet Death #5
She ran into the road and stood there, in the middle of the road, in the middle of suburbia.
No one seemed to be around. It was night.
The road was quiet. The houses held people watching television or reading or sleeping or sleeping with each other.
No one was outside doing anything. Beatrice saw a cop car arrive a few minutes later. The cop stopped next to her.
“He wore a wolf mask?” the cop asked. The cop was a woman, maybe in her thirties, with dark hair and a stern face and stout features. She had her hand on her gun but hadn’t drawn it. She looked around.
“He got away,” Beatrice said. “He killed my dad and escaped.”
“We will look for him. We can take it from here, ma’am,” the cop said. “I’m Officer Anne Drawley.”
“Thank you for showing up,” Beatrice said. “He killed my dad. There was blood. My mom confirmed it. And there’s blood in my home.” “Grim,” Officer Drawley said. “Let me in. Let’s go check.”
They walked towards the Tritten household. They walked into the home to see Tina Tritten standing there with a wine glass, mostly empty.
“Did you catch him?” Tina asked.
“No,” Officer Drawley said.
“Wow,” Tina said.
“We can protect you,” Officer Drawley said. “We are taking this seriously. We are doing everything we can to keep all of you safe from this killer or whatever is actually happening.”
“Great,” Tina said.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Officer Drawley said.
“Nope,” Tina said. “I shouldn’t be. People often do things that they shouldn’t do. My husband was just murdered, so I can do whatever I want.”
“You should switch to water,” Officer Drawley said. “Your daughter needs her mother right now, not a drunk person.”
Tina nodded. She walked into the kitchen and dumped out the rest of the cognac. Then she grabbed a bottle of water and started to drink from it.
“Good,” Officer Drawley said. “Now, where did you say your husband’s body was?” “Out back,” Tina said. She walked out into the backyard to see…nothing.
There were trees - a huge willow tree dominated the backyard, an enormous old tree that had been around for a hundred years, that had seen more than its share of life.
Several other trees sat scattered through the backyard, and beyond that was a stream and a little tiny bridge to cross the little stream. No one was there.
“There’s blood,” Officer Drawley said. “We need to follow the blood trail, figure out where the Wolf Killer went with this body. How the hell did he carry a body a significant distance? He must be very strong.”
“Apparently,” Beatrice said.
“Or he had mechanical help from a device or something,” Officer Drawley said.
“I didn’t see a device,” Tina said.
“Or an accomplice,” Beatrice said. “Two people could carry a body out just fine. Even without being super strong.”
Beatrice began to text her friends- and her missing boyfriend- to tell them what happened.
Beatrice: I love you my dad is missing and presumed dead
Ghostkin: I’m sorry my love - you are a wonderful person who will always remember him - focus on that
Beatrice: who cares if I remember him - he’s gone - I won’t ever see him again - he was the nicest, gentlest guy ever
Ghostkin: and we will remember him and he will live on in that and lance and everyone who was murdered too - let’s meet up
Beatrice: the diner?
Ghostkin: cool - see you in thirty
Beatrice: cool
Beatrice turned to Officer Drawley.
“Can I go hang out with my boyfriend?” she asked. “Try to deal with what happened? My mom isn’t going to be much help to me right now. Or anyone.”
“Agreed,” Officer Drawley said. “We’ll continue investigating. We’ll let you know the moment that we find anything that we can tell you.”
“But you can’t tell me everything,” Beatrice said.
“Fuck it, yes, I will tell you everything,” Officer Drawley said.
“Good,” Beatrice said. “Thank you.”
“Now go, see your boyfriend,” Officer Drawley said.
“Good,” Beatrice said.
She walked into her house, grabbed the FOB, and then walked into the driveway and into her car, an SUV hybrid.
She started the car and turned on the satellite radio.
She switched it to one of her favorite stations and then began to drive to the diner, paying attention to not kill any pedestrians as she drove - there was often a pedestrian walking around at night without any bright colors, and she didn’t want to be a murderer.
Did she want to kill him? Did she want to be the final girl and kill this guy?
Did she think that pretty, successful Alexis would be the final girl instead of her?
Beatrice was jealous of a lot of the elements of her life - lead actress, model, influencer - all things that Beatrice would love to have for herself.
She wanted to be that person - and hated herself for thinking that she might not succeed at stopping this person.
Fuck that.
You can be the final girl, she told herself.
You can do this.
Beatrice didn’t want the pressure of having to stop the Wolf Killer. She didn’t know if she could do it- win that cataclysmic fight in the end.
Fuck that.
Do it. Save the day.
She arrived at the diner after listening to some electronic music that she liked on the satellite radio.
She pulled into an old twenty-four-hour diner that she and her friends enjoyed frequenting, the Camelot.
She walked into the diner and noticed that it was clean and nice and had normal-looking tables for normal people.
Ghostkin immediately gave his beloved girlfriend a hug.
“I’m so sorry,” Ghostkin said. “I love you. Whatever you need, anything, tell me, and I will try to make it yours.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice said. “I need that from you. But understand - I don’t like life very much right now.”
“I understand,” Ghostkin said. “I’m so sorry. He was wonderful. He was always nice to me. He gave you everything. He was the ultimate nice guy dad.”
Ghostkin wore a brown trench coat, a black dress shirt, and brown pants. He had dark hair and a dark beard and was a little bit heavy. He wore earrings - studs - in his ears. He had a Christian cross around his neck even though he believed in ghosts and the like. He stood six feet two inches tall.
“The truth? My dad had a wonderful life, and someone stopped it thirty years before he should have died. Someone will fucking pay for that. The killer wanted to kill me. I stopped him. I got away. This isn’t like Jalon. He let Jalon live. I escaped.”
Alexis walked into the diner, looking perfect. She wore her little black dress and carried a matching black purse in her right hand and her phone in her left hand. She sat down next to Beatrice.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Alexis said.
“Thank you,” Beatrice said. “I want my dad to be remembered. And I want to know which fucking asshole murdered him. And Lance.”
“I don’t know,” Alexis said.
“We have to check everyone’s phones,” Beatrice said. “See whose phone was near my house.”
“Smart,” Alexis said. “Ask the police to check that.”
“I will,” Beatrice said.
“You will wait, and the police will solve this,” Alexis said.
“Jalon and I might help,” Beatrice said.
“You cannot think that a teenager can help with something terrible like this,” Alexis said.
“You cannot think you will make it as an actress,” Beatrice said. “Hurts to hear how you don’t matter, doesn’t it?”
“You both need to calm down,” Ghostkin said.
“What he said,” Beatrice said.
“I mean, I want to matter,” Alexis said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. But we need to face the fact that we cannot solve this. Not without the cops. Kids playing hero. Unless...”
“Unless?” Beatrice asked.
“No,” Alexis said.
“Unless?” Beatrice asked.
“Unless one of your friends did it, and you can get lucky and catch him,” Alexis said. “I have a good life. I don’t want to be murdered by this sick freak.”
“You’re pretty,” Ghostkin said. “You have lots of friends. So there’s that.”
“You are nice,” Beatrice said. “We like you. You are fine. You don’t matter.”
“I might kill the Wolf Killer,” Alexis said.
“You will not,” Beatrice said.
“In that case, I am having a drink,” Alexis said. She poured a little liquor from a flask into her coffee.
She and Beatrice had coffee. Ghostkin ate pancakes and drank diet soda.
Jalon, Walter, Macmillan, and Ghostkin sat around Walter’s family’s living room.
They sat around the huge marble coffee table on which the map of the dungeon was displayed.
Their minis were on the map at the locations of their characters – Jalon, Macmillan, and Ghostkin.
All three had player characters on the map – a map drawn in a nonpermanent marker on a grid map.
It was the map of the central square of a small town in the realm of Ravenloft.
Walter was running the game as the dungeon master, managing the game and telling them what had happened to their characters.
“Guys,” Walter said. “Gentlemen. You stand in the central square of the town of Mistquellton. The three of you see a huge building – the town’s inn.
It has six people in it, but none of them look at you.
They look down and don’t say anything to each other, just sitting around, drinking alcohol and not doing anything else. ”
“I walk into the inn,” Jalon said. “My swashbuckler walks in to save this town from whatever evil befell it. I, Mercutio, am the greatest hero of all time, after all.”
“You, Mercutio, are a professional braggart,” Macmillan said. “I sneak around back and try to see what’s on the second floor. I climb up and try to be silent as I do so. I prepare an illusion spell for if someone notices me.”
“I am surrounded by people of low character,” Ghostkin said. “I don’t approve of either of you. I am walking into the inn and immediately asking the inn’s patrons if they need saving from any threat. A cleric in Ravenloft needs to look out for evil and study it.” “Direct, anyway,” Jalon said.
“Be glad that I’m not a paladin in Ravenloft,” Ghostkin said.
“Agreed,” Jalon said.
“Macmillan, you are just sneaking up to the second floor when someone whispers, ‘Sanctum.’”