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  "Likewise. I have the information you're after. Have you got the money?"

  "I do." Frank reached into the backseat and retrieved a canvas bag which he laid on his lap. He unzipped the bag and spread it open, briefly revealing stacks of bundled cash before quickly closing it again.

  "Alright then." She handed him the slip of paper.

  "Excellent," he said, examining the address. "Before we conclude, can I ask you a question?"

  "What is it?"

  "Have you heard the good word of the Lord?"

  She laughed. "No thanks. Pleasure doing business." She reached over, grabbing the handle of the bag and moving to open the door.

  "Uh-uh," he said, yanking back on the bag hard enough to pull her backward. He had a gun out now, she noticed. "I'm sure you understand," he said. "I have a lot of money at stake here. I let you leave with it now and I go traipsing off into the woods? Seems to me I could be getting scammed."

  "You're not."

  He smiled. "I hope not. And if that's the case, you'll leave with the money, unharmed. By my word, as a man of God."

  "That wasn't the deal."

  He gestured with his gun hand as if to say, 'Oh well.'

  "Fine. Guess I don't have much choice."

  "That's the spirit," the preacher said. "Seatbelt on."

  When Eva turned her head to fasten her belt, he struck her hard with the butt of his gun.

  ***

  Eva awoke in a dark room, tied to a chair. Her head was screaming, and colorful lights danced across her vision. She tried to shout, but found her mouth was stuffed with a rag. When she strained against her bonds, the chair rocked and cracked against the floor, but the ties held firm.

  It was then that she noticed a young man across from her, and he too was bound and gagged. He looked much more calm than Eva felt, and he shook his head at her as if to suggest her struggles were futile. Nevertheless, she kept pulling at the straps, heaving and pulling until her chair fell over backward with a crash. Lying on her back, she continued making as much noise as she could, but nobody responded.

  It felt like hours that she lay there, now unable to see anything at all other than the dark ceiling. Eventually, she heard the door creak open and the lights blazed to life, sending another searing pain through her skull. Eva heard a laugh.

  "Foolish." Frank's voice. He heaved her chair back upright, her along with it.

  "Look," he said, crouching down in front of her. He had his gun in hand. "I'll take your gag out. Don't scream, nobody will hear you. It will only annoy me, which will not get you anywhere. Got it?"

  She didn't respond, only stared daggers into his eyes. He shrugged, and pulled her gag out. She didn't scream. "Fuck you," she said.

  He walked over to the other captive and removed his gag as well. The young man said nothing at all, just regarded their captor coldly.

  "Ronny, this is Eva. She sold me the information I needed. And it was a fair sale," he said, pointing at her with the barrel of his gun to emphasize his point.

  "She will get every dollar if and when I get what I want. Eva, this is Ronny. He's a reporter. From the New York Times!” He emphasized this as if she should be impressed. There could be no better witness to what I am going to do."

  "What are you going to do?" Eva said.

  He turned to her, arms out and smiling. "I'm going to change the world. Using what you and your partner have sold me. Final proof of everything I have spent my life preaching."

  "What is that? Never heard of you."

  His smile dropped. "I guess you'll see soon enough, then. We're leaving soon." With that he left the room, the loud slam of the door plunging them into darkness once again.

  "He's an evangelical preacher," the reporter said. "Young earth creationist. Nonsense. He tricked my boss into making me come here by saying he'd excavated 'definitive, undeniable proof' of his claims. Something about dinosaur and human fossils in the same strata. But it turns out he hasn't found anything at all, at least not yet."

  "What would that even prove?"

  "He believes dinosaurs and mankind lived together in the Garden of Eden, or something. Like I said, garbage. The funny thing is, he's so caught up in his own shit that I don't think he's even realized that finding dinosaur fossils in the middle of the woods in fucking Virginia doesn't help him at all. Considering the garden of Eden would have been in the Middle East."

  Eva laughed. "Problem is, I was already pretty sure my information was fake before all this. And now I'm certain it is. So I get the feeling we might both be dead if that's the case."

  Ronny nodded. "Sadly, I've been thinking the same thing."

  Jess

  November 2020

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  It was an unseasonably warm day, but a cool breeze rolling in off the river refreshed the stagnant air in her cruiser, which hadn't had a working AC for months.

  Jess pulled to a stop across the street from the crime scene and rolled up her window before stepping out onto the road. She swung the door shut with a thud and made her way across the street, where yellow police tape and fold-up barriers blocked the entrance to a small side road. An officer stood behind the barrier warding off a few curious onlookers. He caught sight of Jess as she approached.

  "Detective," he said as she bent under the tape. "It's down that alley."

  She nodded at him and continued on, rounding the corner into a narrow, dingy alleyway. The scene here was more lively, though not by much. Two more officers milled about a few feet away, and a man she recognized as the medical examiner was kneeling down halfway along the alley. Beyond him, near the alley's other exit, one of his assistant investigators was on her knees looking at something. Jess stopped at the two officers nearby.

  "Detective Jessica Neil," she said, shaking hands with the pair. They were an older man and a younger woman, neither of which she had ever met before. "Were you the first on scene?" she asked, as they made their way further down the alley.

  "I was," the woman said. "Spotted the body when I was walking past the alley. Just lying out in the open, really."

  Jess saw for herself now. A rough looking young man lay dead on the ground. Congealed blood sat in a large puddle beneath him and trailed away in thin rivers, pooling in spots at the walls. The man was face down, wearing a torn t-shirt and jeans. The medical examiner stood up with a grunt, taking notice of her.

  "Detective Neil," he said, still grimacing from the effort of standing.

  "Doc. What have you got?"

  "White male, early thirties. One shot to the back of the head, one to the right calf. Blunt trauma to the side of the head as well, looks like it hit that wall." He pointed to a spot about eight feet back toward the entrance to the alley. "He's also got a left ankle and right hand that look like mush, both totally shattered, and his ribs are all black and blue."

  Jess went back to examine the spot on the wall he had pointed out. Indeed, there was a small spatter of dried blood, even a couple embedded hairs. She searched at her feet, finding a few other spatters of blood on the ground nearby.

  "So, there's an altercation here, victim gets beaten, starts running that way," she said, pointing. "Perp shoots him in the leg, walks up, executes him?" Jess mimicked the motions as she spoke.

  He shook his head. "Good thought, but I don't think so. From the looks of the leg wound, victim was probably already on the ground, shot from above. Taking a rough look at the other ankle, I'd say that was stomped on in a lying position as well."

  The assistant came back from the other end of the alley. "Nothing down there. Clean," he said to his boss. "But you didn't tell her the best part."

  The coroner laughed. "Of course. How could I forget? Can't tell from behind, but his fly is down. Dick hanging out."

  "Why?" Jess asked.

  "Could think of a few possibilities. Doesn't look like it was manipulated postmortem though."

  "Bottom line, then, is this guy was beaten, basically tortured while lying on the
ground, then executed. And he had his penis out."

  "That's about it. Brutal stuff."

  “Any sign of anyone else in the alley?" Jess asked.

  The assistant spoke. "Not really, looked end to end."

  "I'm gonna have a look around," Jess said.

  "Be my guest," the medical examiner said, turning back to the body.

  As the assistant had claimed, the far end of the alley was clean, or as clean as alleys normally could be. That was one sign of a real professional, cleaning a scene enough to leave no evidence, but not making it so spotless as to be suspicious. And that was just the sort of man she was after.

  Sweeping her way back toward the other side, she passed the body again, then the scattered blood markings. No shell casings, she noted, but this was no surprise to her.

  Some filthy boxes and garbage were piled against one wall here. "Gloves?" she said to one of the officers. He handed her a flimsy blue pair, which she pulled on before beginning to rifle around the bottom of the trash pile. Something colorful caught her eye, wedged halfway underneath a soggy cardboard box. She pulled it out, a torn piece of fabric, several inches square. Jess smiled.

  "Got something," she shouted over to the others.

  "What is it?" the coroner asked. "Just some trash?”

  "Not trash," she said. "This is part of a skirt. Not a cheap one either." She handed it over to the doctor, who inspected it.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. I've got the same one."

  ***

  It was a quiet afternoon in the Pittsburgh Homicide Unit. The door swung closed and the blinds clacked against the glass, and the only other noise was the faint sound of a copy machine whirring somewhere across the office. Jess hurried to her desk, dropping some folders from under her arm atop the tall pile which awaited her there.

  Jess settled in, logging into her desktop and rearranging some of the papers on her desk. A detective for only two years, Jess was still considered a rookie in her unit, and still felt the part too.

  "Hey Jess, thanks for taking that body this morning."

  She spun around in her chair. Donald Huffman, one of the senior detectives, leaned against the wall of her cubicle, steaming coffee in hand. "No problem," she said, spinning back around.

  "You still on your wild goose chase?"

  "Yep."

  "Find anything good?"

  "Absolutely," Jess said.

  "Tell me." Genuine interest now, it seemed.

  "Alright." Jess slid open her bottom desk drawer, pulling out a heavy binder. "This case today. Young guy, beaten bad, shot a few times, executed as he lies on the ground. Crime scene is totally clean aside from a piece of a ripped skirt."

  "Rape?"

  "Attempted, at least. Way I see it, killer stops the act, then takes the law into his own hands. Typical MO for my vigilante. Question is, where's the girl?"

  "You get a line out to the press?"

  "Not yet. That was my next thing."

  "I'll do it," Don said. "How's this fit in with the rest?"

  Jess flipped open her binder. Page after page was filled with news clippings, mugshots, and her own reports.

  "Every page here is a different case. Dozens of them, going back years. Muggings, rapes, armed robbery, arson. In every one of them, the perp ends up injured or dead. Some of the time, the intended victims took credit for it, as self defense. In most though, they said a good samaritan saved them. A vigilante. All these cases, never once have we brought in or questioned anybody about it."

  "Devil's advocate, weird shit happens. Why would you be the only one to see the pattern?"

  "I don't know,” Jess said. “I've been asking myself that a lot. My other problem is this: these cases match in every way but one. General area, physical description of the vigilante if there was a witness, same general MO. Only difference is, in half these cases the perp just gets the crap beaten out of him. In the other half, they're outright executed."

  "Any chance these cases aren't all connected? Two different suspects?

  "I've considered that. It's possible."

  "Look," Don said. "I'm not saying I buy it. But you've got a lot of cases here and if they're as connected as you say they are, you should at least get to sit down with the lieutenant."

  "I've been trying that. Nobody wanted to hear it."

  "I'll make it happen." Don winked and cuffed her on the shoulder. Her phone rang.

  "This is Jess," she said.

  "Detective Neil? Hey this is Abrams over in the Sex Assault unit. I've got a woman here, says she was attacked last night, but somebody killed the guy. You got any cases going like that?"

  Jess looked up at Don and smiled. "Yeah. Bring her over."

  ***

  Jess pushed open the heavy door to the interrogation room, Don following behind her. A young woman sat at the table. She was pretty, early twenties. She looked composed, her makeup and blonde hair seemingly painstakingly arranged. She wore a puffy pink jacket with false fur lining and leggings.

  "I'm Detective Neil," Jess said, taking a seat across from the girl. "You can call me Jess. This is Detective Huffman."

  "You can call me Detective," Don said.

  "Sorry they put you in here, you're not in any trouble." Jess said.

  "It's okay, I feel better in this room actually," the girl replied.

  "Well we appreciate you coming in. What's your name?"

  "Meredith."

  "What happened, Meredith?"

  The girl breathed deep, casting her eyes upward for a moment as if steeling herself. "So, I was out with some friends last night. We drank too much. They left me at the end of my street. I was almost to my house when a guy grabbed me. He dragged me into an alley. He..." Meredith hesitated, cleared her throat. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay," Jess said.

  "He pushed me to the ground, ripped my skirt. I fought as hard as I could, but he was so strong. Just as he was about to... about to do it, it was like he disappeared. I didn't know what happened. But then I saw, another man had him. He threw him against the wall, kicked him a bunch of times."

  "What did you do?"

  "I was kind of frozen. At some point I crawled away, over to the other wall."

  "Can you describe this man?"

  "Not really. He had dark clothes on. Leather. He wore a ski mask. I guess he was about 6'2", muscular. Not fat."

  "Then what happened?"

  "The one who attacked me, he was crawling away. The other guy followed him, he said something to him and shot him in the leg. He was still alive. But another man in a ski mask came."

  "There were two of them?" Jess looked over at Don, who raised his eyebrows in a slight look of self-satisfaction.

  "Yes. He came down the other end of the alley."

  "Did they speak to each other?"

  "The new one did. He said 'don't'. The first man didn't say anything, he just shot the man on the ground again."

  "Is that all he said? 'Don't'?"

  "No, he said his name first. Like 'Matt, don't.' That wasn't his name though."

  "Do you remember what name he actually said?" Don asked.

  "I can't remember. I'm sorry." A tear was forming at the corner of her eye.

  "It's okay. Take your time." Jess offered her hand across the table, and the girl squeezed it.

  "I know. I know! He said 'Dorian, don't.'"

  Jess scratched the name on a slip of paper in the front of her binder.

  "What next?" Don asked.

  "They left. The first guy, Dorian I guess, he didn't say anything else. The second guy looked at me for a second then went with him. I just went home. I was so confused, in shock. I didn't even know if it was real. But I woke up this morning and I knew it was. I saw you in the alley."

  "Thank you, Meredith. This is extremely helpful. If it's okay with you, I'd like to get you to the hospital for a rape kit."

  "He never put it inside me, thank God. But whatever you guys want. I just want to help."r />
  "Let's just be safe, okay?" Meredith nodded. "I'll have one of the officers take you to the hospital. Thank you. Please call me if you need anything at all. Anything." Jess reached in her pocket and offered the girl her card.

  A minute later she was gone. "Well how about that shit?" Don said with a chuckle. "Guess I was right. Two vigilantes, but maybe they are working together after all. Sounds like the one doesn't approve of the other's methods."