All right, I have really been struggling with this story. I mean, it is something totally out of my normal range but I like to try new things...so what the heck?!

I would like all you readers to cosider these questions as you read:

1) Does my MC sound like a thirty-seven-year-old woman?

2) Does this story interest you?

3) Does it sound like a day in the life of a Homicide Detective?

4) Is this chapter too long? Should I shorten it?

Well, I guess I will let you read now!

Happy Reading!

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CHAPTER ONE

Friday, April 10, 2007

Lyrics to a Justin Timberlake song screamed from the speakers as Billie guided her silver Grand Pre down the busy highway towards her Sebastian, Florida home. In her rearview mirror, she could see the populated city of Miami, it’s buildings glinting in the evening light. Palm trees lined the road and cold air rushed from the vents, preventing the unbearable heat from seeping inside the car. Her niece, a twelve-year-old miniature version of her sister Sara, sang along with Justin, swinging her ponytail from side to side; Billie smiled. She loved whenever she was able to spend time with her niece, Emily. This weekend, Sara and her hubby were having a weekend to themselves, and had asked Billie to baby-sit. Of course she had accepted and now she laughed with joy as Emily’s voice rose to a high-pitched screech as she tried to match Justin’s.

Billie and Emily arrived a few moments later at Billie’s home. It was a modern style, three-bedroom house with an elaborate archway over her door and a porch that extended along the full front side of the building. A concrete walkway led up to her door with a flowerbed lining the porch. Pink, red, and yellow flower petals greeted them as they ascended onto the walkway. In the distance, only a few miles away, they could see the surf of the Atlantic Ocean and the Boardwalk, where Billie jogged very morning.

Emily skipped ahead of Billie, twirling around in circles, the wind catching the loose chestnut brown strands that had been pulled free of her pony. Emily fidgeted as her aunt unlocked the door, swinging her small backpack back and forth in her hands. Emily had never been one to pack heavy when going to her Aunt Billie’s. Mostly, she could be found wearing Billie’s tee shirts that ran to her knees and her slippers.

Once inside, Emily disappeared to the guest bedroom upstairs, leaving Billie to relax and prepare dinner. She lightly threw her keys onto the middle island in her kitchen along with her briefcase and proceeded to flip through the small pile of mail she had discovered in her mailbox. Bill, bill, credit card, bill. But then something caught her eye. A small envelope with a handwritten address was covered in more stamps then necessary. It was as if the person didn’t know how to mail a letter. But Billie grimaced when she read the name in the upper left-hand corner. Josh Barkley. She sighed softly at his name. It had been such a long time since they had talked…two years almost. And she didn’t know if she was ready to face him just yet. His letter came as a surprise and she fiddled with it in her hands, debating if she should read it or not.

Emily ended up making the decision for her as she tumbled down the stairs, demanding what was for dinner. Billie forced a smile and quickly shoved the letter out of sight into the depths of her jean pockets. “Umm, what would you like?” Billie asked her niece, watching her as she scoured the cupboards for something edible. The one thing she ever complained about her aunt’s house was the lack of snacks. Aunt Billie was hardly ever home so stacking up on food she would never get around to eating seemed pointless…at least to Billie.

“How about spaghetti?” Emily offered, discovering an unopened box of noodles.

“Sounds good to me,” Billie nodded and set to work creating the meal while Emily wandered off into the living room to watch some television.

As the water boiled over the stove, Billie switched on the small television in her kitchen. She turned the volume down and watched the news. They had nothing new, nothing she didn’t already know. The case seemed to have hit a dead end and it angered her. They had been so close, so very close to cracking it that she could almost taste the victory on her tongue.

But then it had all but crumbled at her feet when the leads basically vanished.

She was working on a case involving a serial killer loose in Palm Springs. Only white females, ages nineteen to twenty-five were involved. Most were discovered in trash bins wrapped in plastic bags. Cause of death was different with each victim, but the man seemed to favor suffocation by holding a plastic bag over the victim’s head until they stopped breathing. All the girls were fairly attractive with promising futures; College students with degrees ranging from a medical diploma to wanting to be a lawyer. She could picture each face clearly. There had been five deaths so far and just a week before, they had a big break. A tip had come in via email that a suspicious white male was headed southbound and that the witness had seen him shove a white female into his truck. We had jumped at this piece of information. I had quickly gathered a group together and me and my partner, Charlie, left immediately.

But it had ended badly. The man had apparently been goofing off with this girlfriend. Billie remembered facing the man with the barrel of her gun pointed at his head…well, let’s just say they had been seriously frightened. It had all been a huge misunderstanding. And an embarrassment for her precinct. The lieutenant had ordered for her to take the weekend off, get some sleep, rest her mind. She knew it was his way of saying that she had screwed up and was making her pay.

Billie sighed. She had thought they were finally getting somewhere. But now, it was back to square one. “Aunt Billie!” Emily exclaimed; Billie jolted. She hadn’t realized that her niece had entered the kitchen. Emily was pointing to the stove, and Billy gasped. Water gushed from the boiling pot, hot foam that exploded when it hit the flames, sizzling and filling the kitchen with steam. “Oh my!” Billie shouted, quickly removing the pot from the stove. The flames on the burner continued to sizzle until all the water evaporated. Billie panted over the pot, and she heard Emily release a tiny giggle. Billie flashed her an apologetic smile, and Emily laughed harder. “What were you thinking about?” Emily wondered with a grin.

“My case,” Billie answered, suddenly sober again.

“Oh,” Emily uttered, sighing. “Do you think you will ever catch Invisible Man?” Emily referred to the serial killer as the press did. Invisible Man was the code name for the serial killer by all the reporters, because supposedly, Billie’s precinct had yet to see him or name him.

“I don’t know, Emily, but I really hope so.”

- - - -

After making sure that Emily was sleeping soundly in her bed, Billie made her way into her small, master bedroom and flicked on the lights, closing the door behind her. Her mind could now freely concentrate on the Invisible Man case. After dinner, Emily had wanted her to play Boggle with her, and then it was movie night, a bowl of popcorn between them. But now that she was asleep, Billie was able to dwell upon her career.

God, she wanted to catch this guy! Every victim, every crime scene, had left her feeling drained and slightly odd. This guy was good, that much was certain. No fingerprints, no DNA, nothing whatsoever. He was experienced, a professional madman. And it scared the crap out her. It seemed like he had no motive, except to kill, to enjoy the power over his victims. None had been violated in any way, none of them physically harmed in any sense, except for their death, which made things slightly easier for Billie. She hated physical abusive crimes. It just left her feeling sick to her stomach. But somehow, Invisible Man was having the same effect on her. She kept telling herself that he was just another madman, another complete psychopath that did what he considered fun. But something about his movements, his lack of mistakes, that made her think that this was just his small plan, that there was another, bigger picture that they were missing.

Billie groaned as she collapsed into bed. It made her head hurt to think of all the possibilities that this case could hold. She touched her fingers to her temples and bent her knees to her chest. She heard the sound of paper crinkling and froze. Then she remembered Josh Barkley’s letter. She paused. Was she ready to hear from him? Was she ready to remember his voice, his features, his laugh?

Finally, her memories washed over her and she had no choice but to pull the letter reluctantly from her pocket. Slowly, she slit the envelope seal, tracing his curly handwriting with her eyes, every loop and twist of his hand. She marveled at how he wrote her name. It actually made her name look beautiful, instead of just boyish. Sliding the letter from its envelope, she slowly unfolded it. It was written on plain white paper, nothing original with Josh. She hesitated, still doubting herself, still doubting that she was ready. But her curiosity got the best of her and she plunged forward.

Billie,

I know how long it has been since we have last have spoken. It seems like a lifetime. And I know you are probably still not ready to talk to me but I couldn’t resist writing this letter. I miss talking to you. You were so understanding, Billie, so trusting. I could tell you anything and never once did you laugh at me. You were different from anybody I have ever met, and still are, and I want you to know that I still care about you. I care a lot about you, Billie, a whole lot.

She had to stop then, tears already welling in her eyes. Why did he have to be so damn charming? Even in a letter, Josh could sound like the sweetest, most lovable man you will ever meet. And it broke Billie’s heart to hear him speak about her in such a way.

She threw the letter onto the bedside table, not able to continue reading. Yanking the covers over her body, she flicked off the lights, tears streaming down her cheeks. Memories of her and Josh washed over her, each wave more painful than the last. Mental pictures of when they first met; she could remember every last word spoken to each other, each expression memorized. He had bumped into her on her morning run down the boardwalk and onto the beach. He had been walking his dog, Trooper—a large German Shepherd/Golden Lab mix—and the dog went wild when he saw her, as he did with every stranger they passed. The dog was huge, and so with a mighty tug, it had sprung loose and started bounding over towards her.

Now, Billie had a fear of dogs and she immediately froze in fright, praying that the dog would be friendly. It turned out to be just a huge teddy bear and just sat there and sniffed her tennis shoes, barking every few seconds. When Josh arrived, he was slightly out of breath and scolding Trooper heavily. When she had found her voice, she had assured him that it was nothing. She remembered when he first looked her in the eye. He had been bending over Trooper, retying the knot on his collar. But at her voice, his head had snapped up and their eyes had met. It was blue meets green, an ocean of color in one stare. Billie’s blue eyes had quickly looked away, but Josh’s green ones had sparkled and he had smiled. His mouth was full of amazingly white teeth and one dimple indented his left cheek. His nose was slightly pointed at the end and led back up to those expressive brows, shelves of curly blonde hair. On his head was the same unruly blonde hair, so luscious that even at the moment, Billie had wanted to run her fingers through it. His skin was a golden tan, the result of too much sun, and smile lines crinkled near his eyes. He was thirty-nine then, but looked twenty-five. Billie was thirty-five at the time.

She sighed, snapping her eyes shut to block out the feelings that came with the memories she was revisiting. Josh was a distraction that she couldn’t afford to have right now. She thought that he was gone, somewhere in distant California, pursuing his dream of becoming a successful Real Estate Broker. Their lives were too complicated for each other, with his career being so normal and hers as a Homicide Detective…it just didn’t work. It had been two years since they have seen or spoken to each other, and Billie didn’t think she could handle talking to him, to hear his charming voice, silky smooth on the ears.

She flicked off the light, dousing herself in darkness. With the lack of light, her eyes immediately drooped, like she knew they would, and she eventually drifted off into a dream-filled sleep.

- - - -

Billie was woken by a foreign mass landing rather hard on her upper body. She groaned and flipped over onto her back, hearing the harmony of wind chimes that was Emily’s laugh. “Who’s there?” Billie called out groggily, knowing full well that it was Emily. She heard her irresistible laugh again, and Billie sat up, eyes still closed. She reached out with her arms, swinging them around wildly. She heard Emily’s giggle come out muffled and she knew that she was covering her mouth. Billie smiled and with one lunge, she had Emily locked in her arms. “Got’cha!” she shouted, eyes open, and Emily squealed with glee.

“Aunt Billie!” she called out, squirming in her arms. Billie released her, and Emily rolled onto her side beside Billie. She cuddled up next to her with her head on her shoulder. “Sleep good, Aunt Billie?” Emily wondered. It warmed Billie to see her niece like this. She was the most lovable girl you will ever meet, with a heart of gold.

“Actually, I did,” Billie replied.

“Good,” Emily said firmly. “You work too hard, Auntie. Mama says that all the time.”

“Does she? Mama Sara says that about me?” Billie wondered, slightly surprised. She knew that Sara hated how obsessed she became when she got a new case and she usually expressed this to her own face, but she never thought of Sara talking about her to Emily and her husband, Joe.

“Yes. Even Dada says that as well.”

“Joe even?” Billie was starting to feel worse and worse.

“Yes, but don’t worry. They love you too much. That’s why they say these things,” Emily reassured her, and Billie couldn’t help but feel better.

Heart of gold, that girl.

“Well, what would you like for breakfast, hmm? Pancakes or eggs?” Billie wondered, and Emily giggled.

“What do you think?” Emily raised her eyebrows.

“That’s a tough one. Sugar or carbs?” Billie laughed. “Of course you want sugar.”

“Obviously.” Emily rolled her eyes and leaped from the bed. “Can I help you with them, Auntie?”

“Sure can,” Billie replied, slipping her lace robe over her tee-shirt-and-sweatpants-combo that she called her pajamas.

In the kitchen, the two girls prepared breakfast. Emily got pancake batter all over her nose, result of Billie handling the spatula. Emily chattered none-stop as they worked. She told Billie all about what was happening at school, about her friends and social life. Teachers, and boys. Boys boys, and more boys! Billie had forgotten that Emily was nearing that age where the opposite sex would become more and more fascinating. Supposedly, Emily had a secret admirer that left letters in her locker every day before fifth period. “And do you know who this secret admirer is?” Billie asked with the lift of her sculpted eyebrow.

“No,” Emily blushed. “Crissy says it might be Ben Cross, but I don’t think so.”

“Who’s Ben Cross?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even talked to him yet. He’s really shy.”

“Oh, I see. So who does else Crissy think it is?” Crissy was Emily’s best friend. Billie was fortunate enough to meet her once after dropping Emily off at her house. Crissy was very tall for her age, nearing five-foot-one, with a head of vibrant red curls and olive-colored eyes. She was very mature for her age, and looked maybe fourteen, not twelve.

“Umm, well, she also says it might be Walter Hanson.” Emily blushed crimson, and Billie could just guess who her crush was.

“Do you like Walter?”

“As a friend…” Emily trailed off, not saying more than that. Billie smiled and let the subject drop…for now anyway.

After breakfast, Emily asked if she could go outside and play at the local park. Billie nodded, slightly surprised. Emily hadn’t wanted to visit the park since she was eight years old. Billie decided to tag along, just encase Emily had something up her sleeve. Emily beamed at this news and raced upstairs. Billie smiled and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

After her hot shower, Billie brushed through her hair and blow-dried it straight. Smearing some Chap Stick on her lips, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a blue, v-neck tee shirt. She was just slipping on my socks when Emily entered, dressed in pink-and-blue-plaid Bermuda shorts and a pink tee shirt with the words Palm Springs printed on it in blue. Billie’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch at this; Polaroid’s of the victim’s faces flashed through her mind. Giving herself a mental shake, she scolded herself for being like this when she was supposed to be having fun with her niece this weekend.

They reached the park a few minutes later, Emily walking beside Billie, her face in the wind. She had left her hair down, the natural wave curling down her back, reaching her shoulder blades. The park was a few blocks away from the house Billie lived in and the neighborhood she resided in was a family-populated place. She always saw kids with rollerblades strapped to their feet skating down the street, or blowing bubbles on overly large wands.

Billie noticed that it was a sunny April morning, no clouds littering the cerulean-blue sky. The park was positioned in a small area with a sandbox and swings. Runners still crowded the walkways, even at ten-o-clock in the morning. Children were already playing at the park, and Billie knew immediately why Emily had wanted to go to the park.

It wasn’t hard to miss Crissy’s head of curls as she pranced over in her denim skirt and purple tank-top, barefoot. “Hey, Emily!” she greeted, flashing a mouthful of braces.

“Hey, Crissy,” Emily said, glancing warily over at her aunt. Billie knew she should be slightly hurt, but she wasn’t. Emily wanted to hang out with her friends. She was nearing that age where boys no longer had cooties and adults were just that, adults.

“Hello, Billie,” Crissy smiled at her, the sun glinting off of the metal on her teeth. Billie smiled back. Crissy was a sweet girl, if anything maybe a little too energetic for her.

“Hello, Crissy. How are you?”

“Just great.” She started tugging on Emily’s arm, wanting to go. Billie saw in the distant a group of boys and girls all Emily’s age hanging out near the picnic tables. Emily looked up at her aunt. “May I, Aunt Billie?” she asked, her eyes wide with pleading. Billie nodded. How could I refuse that face?

Billie retreated back a few yards to an empty bench. She knew that she had to give Emily her space, her time to be with her friends without her aunt watching over her like a hawk. She lowered herself onto the wooden planks of the bench and eased back, resting her back against it. The sun warmed her skin, brought a heavenly flush to her cheeks. Made her blue eyes shine, almost the same color as the sky.

A man dressed in cut-off shorts and a forest green polo observed all of this from across the park, hidden in the thick trees. He removed his designer sunglasses to better see Billie. She was a very attractive female, one of the most handsome woman he had ever met. She had a soft, slender build, but toned from all that Police exercises she did. Her skin was a like white porcelain and her face was sculpted—high cheekbones, thin, black eyebrows, a lower lip that was lightly fuller than the other. Her hair was a inky black, reaching to the middle of her waist and parted to the side. Choppy bangs hung across the left side of her face, making her look even more seductive than she already did. He licked his lips in anticipation for what was to come.

Billie was attractive, but also trouble. She was trying to drive him into the ground, destroy his career and his life. And he wouldn’t let that happen. He loved what he did, relished the profession he excelled at. It made him happy inside, very happy.

His eyes left Billie’s and landed on her niece, Emily. God, she was a pretty girl too. Pity that she wasn’t going to live to see her thirteenth birthday.