Deadly Justice

48

TRIXIE’S BODY HUNG LIMPLY over the edge of the bed. Her head nearly touched the carpet; her face was a ghastly blue. Her neck was lacerated with deep, bloody abrasions.

This time, Ben didn’t bother searching for a pulse. Her condition was obvious.

Ben crumpled against the wall. His legs were like jelly, useless appendages. He pressed his hand against his face, still staring at her lifeless body. He felt sick.

He stiffened his legs and forced himself to stand. Then, after a long pause, he stumbled through the connecting door into the bath and lowered himself over the toilet.

After he was done, he wiped his face and tried to speak. “In there,” he shouted hoarsely.

One of the paramedics looked up.

“There’s another one.” He pointed into the bedroom.

The paramedic peered through the door, then grabbed his bag and ran inside. Ben braced himself against the porcelain and waited for the confirmation.

A few moments later, the paramedic feeding oxygen to Mike shouted, “You need any help in there?”

“No,” the man in the bedroom replied. “Stay with him. This one’s already gone.”

Ben slumped onto the bathroom tile and cried.

Ben didn’t remember anything else until he felt Christina’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” she said firmly.

Ben stared up at her but didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“Look, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I’m the one who left her.”

“If it hadn’t been for me,” Ben said hoarsely, “you never would’ve been involved.”

He pushed past her and walked as best he could back into the bedroom. The paramedic was tending to the body; Ben tried not to look. He focused on the walls, the desk, the clothes closet. There had to be a clue, damn it! There had to be something, some trivial detail that would give him the information he needed to stop this fiend before he killed anyone else.

Ben searched through her clothes, but saw no clues to anything other than Trixie’s obvious occupation. He searched the desk; it was practically empty. On the bookshelf, he found a small blue plastic recipe box. He popped it open.

The first thing he saw was a glittering gold half-heart necklace: the other half of Trixie’s birthday present to Angel. He also found a strip of four photos of her and Buddy, probably taken at a carnival or fair.

He withdrew a large green document and unfolded it. He saw the notary seal at the bottom, but it took him a moment to realize what it was. Ben bit down on his lower lip; the tears began to flow once more from his eyes.

It was Trixie’s birth certificate, the one Buddy had obtained so she could get her medical examination.

She was thirteen.