Gone After the Wind

Chapter 34: One Strike

"THEY didn't come to see me together and on the same day, but I could still very well remember their faces and what they were here for," the old man added, stepping away from the desk. He hunched over to reach out for something beneath there. "However, I can't promise anything to you. None of them went over to buy my items. Where it that goddamn—ah, there you are!"

He dropped a wretched brown book on the desk, its dust and dirt billowed out into the air, finally escaping the tight and seldom-used pages. Cara backed away to avoid catching any of it. The old man coughed a little but proceeded to open the item anyway, not even making an attempt to clarify what he'd inhaled. There were too many empty spaces on every page. Each entry didn't go as far as three sentences. Mr. Filan sifted through until he reached the back, two pages between the cover.

"Let's see..." He dragged a finger on the rough paper. "They all visited my shop somewhere between February and March, two to three months ago. Here look at the dates. I couldn't get their names, though, as it wasn't me who entirely processed their agreement. Most of all, they requested their involvement to be in anonymity. Being a strict follower of my customer's whims, I granted them that chance. If I knew these would have been of use, I'd have refused. May I know first why you need this information?"

Cara hesitated, her eyes dropping on the old man's hand, gripping the records tighter than before, right close to his ribs. She calculated, and observed his eyes, searching for any possible hint of hostility or doubt that could ruin their chance. But the concern he emanated didn't seem to come from selfishness, but the care he had for his customers.

Playing along, and risking whatever they could lose, she heaved a deep sigh. "They've been murdered. All by the same possible man. And what you have might help us find whoever was responsible for what happened to them."

His face fell, and the air of pleasantness around him turned grim and stale. His eyes grew round. He covered his lips with his palms. "My goodness me, that's... horrible. All of them...? But how could that happen? Why..."

"I'm afraid that's all we can spare, Sir," Eric said. "It's an ongoing investigation. To disclose any information would put us a risk. But we assure you, anything you have will be extremely useful to help us catch the killer. Are you willing to give us that?"

"Of course, of course. I'd be glad to help you. But like I said earlier, only the dates of their visits had been encoded here. I can't give you the full details you want. Not because I'm refusing to do so, my records aren't just manufactured that way as the service they asked didn't require them purchasing my items."

"What exactly did they come here for?" Cara asked.

"Oh, they booked a ticket for the puppet show I helped to build." The old man opened up his drawer, and started rummaging through its contents. "You're lucky I still have their flyer. Know that I wasn't the sole contractor and organizer of that event, so I can't give you the exact details of what happened there. I supplied the materials, props, and dolls they used as gifts to the children. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Was it an agency? A non-profit organization?"

"A foster agency. Here, this is what I gave them. The information is at the back."

Cara picked up the small card and as her finger grazed its glossy surface, her spine tingled.

"When these women visited here, did they ask a certain type of marionette that struck them as attractive? Or were they alone in your store when they visited? And who knew about this information except you?"

The old man scratched below his chin, his eyebrows knitting closer as he looked down. "Hmm... as far as my rusty brain could remember, they only asked about the price, what I sell and how I create them. I don't recall having seen them accompanied with someone else. I know my store was empty when they were here. Apart from me, no one else knew about that."

Cara nodded, her eyebrows furrowing as she took each information in. Neither of the women viewed wooden puppets as adorable and precious. Each one of them has their own experience and version of opinion about these innocent and inanimated things. And yet, they flew all the way here to seek for a marionette based store and inquire about a puppet show. Why? Why waste an effort for something that obviously disgusts their interest?

That only means they didn't do this for their own sake.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Filan," Cara said, straightening her poise. "You've been a great help. If it's possible, we'd like to hear from you again. Here's my number. Call us when you think of something."

The old man nodded and muttered a short appreciation before they left him alone. As they walked towards the door, the urgency around them was too palpable, it could be detected by how their footsteps immediately closed the distance between the store and car. Their faces were brimming with anticipation. And when their eyes met, Eric's wide smile greeted her.

"Told you this will turn up to something," he said with glee as he unlocked the car. "If, by chance, we backed up, we wouldn't be able to come across with this information."

Cara nodded, smiling a bit sheepishly. She opened the door, and was about to slid in when she felt another vibration in her pocket. Annoyed and fed up that it had done that for atleast five times while they were at the store, she gave in and pulled it out, expecting to see a bombard of text messages and calls from media, but what she saw was completely the opposite.

Am I accessing the number of Ms. Cara Black? If so, please return this message with a call. I have an important thing to discuss with you regarding to your son—Alex. My name is Lenard Roy, the advisor of the team that will join the national spelling bee. I suppose, he mentioned my name to you so please, once you received this message, return the call as soon as you can. We have matters to deal with, and I'm afraid, it cannot wait for too long, Ms. Black.

Cara's eyebrows furrowed, bewildered and uneasy about the sudden mention of her son. She knew Alex has been doing good lately, as he told and showed the last few days. There's no way in hell the 'important thing' that the advisor wanted to discuss would be about his behavior.

Maybe, just a parental matter involved at the contest. I don't have to think ill because of that. You've suspected him enough. Stop it.

"Hey, come on, it's getting dark. We might want to hurry up before they closed in on us," Eric informed from inside.

"Yeah, I know. Let's go," she said, setting the phone in silent. She went in and slammed the door, letting the air of doubts swirling at the back of her mind to swish with the cold wind outside. With one last look at the shop, they propelled into the road, ignoring the dark clouds looming at them from above, and expected for the best, even though the sky looked as though it'd fall upon them at any second.

--

HE HAD BEEN planning this one for so long. Among of the previous subjects of his work, this particular one was the only subject he had invested maximum effort and full-scale time. Even at the time he was polishing his work at the first woman he had chosen, he already had established his strategies as to how he would claim her at the perfect time.

He didn't know exactly why he was so engulfed and drawn at the anticipation of getting a hold of that woman and provide her what she deserved for living her life so freely, and full of immorality. Was it due to the fact that she has the attributes to k****e the sexually sensations inside his body that he loathed and buried a long time ago. Or was it only because she's the most overly confident to show the thing that kept him going in his work? Either way, he will still perform his rituals on her with great effort and immaculate quality.

She has all the takes to receive it, after all. And he won't let anything to hinder him in this course of action. Not the risky place where he plan to take her or the time that didn't suit his overall mood. Usually, he executes his claiming on a time where all of them would be in a hopeless state or in the middle of a natural trouble, for he mainly thought that he wouldn't draw any attention in that manner. They would be isolated and caged with fear—things that made him yearn and confident that he can control them.

That kind of strategy has been proven to be true because of the past victims—or should he call them, subjects. By applying that, it was so easy for him to acquire the upper hand with no sweats during the time of his hunting and all had become sucessful. As a result, his preys become an art, displaying his mission and vision in this journey. They were appreciated and all of them saw how great he is without having the authority to sniff his tracks.

Including her.

He smiled upon remembering the simple gesture he had done for that precious detective, Cara Black. Just mouthing her name sent a tingling sensation on his body. He's certain that as he stand beside this window, she's fretting now because of his message. If only he knew that she would be back that early, he might've done better at his works so she could see how great he had become during the last two months they had not made any contact.

Although she would be bewildered as to how he knew her and her struggles, he wouldn't dare to be offended, for her name as Cara Black wasn't the only information about her that he stored in his mind. He knew she has a son and their relationship worsen ever since the death of her husband. He knew she was chasing the man who killed him and that's definitely why she accepted to be in the field again. What more deep reason would she think of other than that?

He was glad that she had come to her senses. Otherwise, he wouldn't enjoy every bit of this mission. He only hoped that she won't mistaken him for the other man she must be chasing. Nonetheless, he's loving every turn of pleasure in the chase she's currently leading. He would be extremely glad to turn himself in for the sake of her own satisfaction. But his mission has not yet run its course. He would turn all the targeted women first into his preferred transformation before he could give her what she wants.

For that to happen, he must succeed on executing this plan first. That includes the utmost patience he must apply to himself as he lurk at the darkest part of the house owned by none other than his next prey: Candy Filimon. He had been standing at the side of the window situated at her bedroom for almost two hours now, waiting for her arrival from the gym she usually hangs out.

No one occupies her house at this time of the day. Candy Filimon is a single attractive woman. Her son wasn't living with her, for her previous husband had won over the custody of the child. She barely welcome any people to take care of the house, except for men she always brings home from her work. Men that did nothing but to feast on her body and make her moan at night.

Despite living alone, she maintained the righteous arrangement and neatness of the house. Her clothes and collection of bags were perfectly organized at her walk-in closet. And her bedsheets that smells exactly like her had no traces of her evening errands at her room. He already explored all of the things she owned, smelling, memorizing every kinds of her smell during the last three days he broke-in here. He wanted to do more but the work must be done today.

He breathed slowly, his lungs releasing the cool air. He glanced at his wristwatch. His heart leaped when the hands struck at exactly six in the evening. He felt a sharp twinge inside his stomach, his heart pounded with extreme anticipation. Just as he looked back at the window, the headlights of her black car came into view as it entered the driveway of her house. He smiled, putting a hand to the window glass as if touching her. This is it. The opportunity he's been waiting for. The fruit of all the oppressing he had done for days and the patience he stored within.

Smiling widely, he retreated back, leaving the window and making his way to the bathroom where he plan to surprise her. She would be delighted to see him there, he was sure of that.

**

Candy Filimon knew to herself that she was attractive and smoking hot. The thirsty looks from the men and envious treat of women to her are just the mere evidences. The definition could be entirely seen at her body. Even at the age of thirty-five-years-old, the voluptous figure of her body did not fade a bit. She has a height that surpasses the average built of a woman and a white complexion, giving her whole body a different form of radiance and brightness.

She was a magnet. Always attracting the attention of people surrounding her. And she loved that. She always feel pleasured whenever she receives perverted looks from men; be it aggresive young ones or older men tired to keep up with their senescent wives. To keep her body stay in shape, she always slipping an appointment with her gym instructor. She wouldn't want to become the epitome of the steoretypical single mother staying in her house and cooking dull pies.

Getting rid of her ten-year-old son was the best choice she had done. She was even grateful that her late husband won over the custody. Not that she fought for it. She let her husband accused her of vile acts and wasted tons of money just so she could avoid babysiting him. Her husband could foster that child all he wants but she would continue living her extravagant life.

She shut off the headlights of her car when she got inside the garage, picking up her keys and gym bag as she got out. A smile crept upon her lips as she walked towards the front door, she thought of the dinner date she must attend later this evening with her boss. He may have told her that it would only be about the office work but she knew better. She wasn't stupid enough not to know that it was only an excuse, a camouflage for his true intention. It was just the simplier form of saying that he wanted to get laid tonight and have an access to her panties.

She would let him, though. She wouldn't play the hard-to-get facade she had always done with men. It had become tiring enough that she wouldn't hesitate to play aggressive and wild tonight. Because that's what she's aiming for, right? To live her life to the fullest and brightest form.

She opened the door of her house, switching the lights on as she ascended to the stairs leading to her bedroom. She noticed a slight pungent smell when she got on to the second floor but she ignored it, walking straight to her bedroom and throwing her gym bag on the bed.

As part of her scheme to seduce her boss more, she chose to pick the most revealing dress she has where her perky breasts and long legs would be revealed. She opened the door of her bathroom and started to undress. Flicking on the lights, she took a step forward, her feet damping to the cold tiled floor of the bathroom.

As she sashayed towards the shower room, her eyes averted downwards. Her heart almost stopped when she saw a set of muddy boot prints staining the lavender colored floor. Her eyes followed its direction and a flick of panic rushed through her veins when it stopped at the glass door of the shower room.

Swallowing hard, Candy retreated back, her arms flailing around her body to cover up what shoud not be seen by anyone else. But before she could turn around and see herself running towards the door, it slammed shut and a murky figure came attacking her, sending a jab to her left jaw.

She lost her balance and fell to the floor. An electric surge of pain drilled her back. She tried getting up but the figure was already on top of her, holding her head and slamming it to the hard floor. She heard a deafening crack. Still, that wasn't enough to fully knock her out. Amidst the cloudness of her mind and the pain surging through every part of her body, she was able to raise her hand, and scratch him, whatever her nails landed on. It was successful. Even for only seconds. He groaned, and his tight loosened, and Candy took advantage of that single opportunity to crawl away. But she wasn't even out at the bathroom when the man caught up. He dragged her legs, earning a disturbing shriek from Candy.

She did her best to fight, flailing her arms around to defend whatever blow he'd do. She screamed, her voice echoing every corner of the room. But the man didn't seem to mind her cries for help. His moves were languid as he gather up her wrist, and looped around a rope. She caught a glimpse of his face, and she wasn't imagining when she saw a smirk on his face. That fueled her anger, and at the same time smothered her last bit of hope. Her mind screamed to fight, but her body were giving all the signs to do otherwise. Just as she was about to give in, a loud thud echoed somewhere, followed by a distinct voice, directed at them.

"Hey! What are you doing to her?! Leave her alone! I've already called the police!" said the voice. Candy couldn't make of the nature of its owner, though, it was narrowly familiar.

"Goddamn it," the man hissed, debating whether to stop and just flee away. But the fear of getting caught obviously wrapped around his head. He untied the rope, freeing her wrists and dropping her without hesitation. He scurried away and completely disappeared. Candy lay there, helpless and breathless. She was seconds away from succumbing to darkness before the door thundered, and she was crowded by unfamiliar faces.