Two months had passed since the police found my body, there was no update on the investigation. What they knew was that it was the work of a serial killer who'd been active since last year. As far as they knew he'd killed two people before me and dumped the body in East River. The police used to have suspects, but they were all cleared. The killer had never left any traces. He was thorough in his preparation. The police didn't want to name him since he was just a murderer who needed to be arrested. However, the media nicknamed him "The Carver" because he always carved a message on the bodies of victims using a pocketknife.
Mine said, Catch me.
He challenged the authorities; he was bold and clever. Nobody had any idea who he was. Nobody accepted me.
Three weeks ago, I tried to contact Detective Carhart when August and I had to collect a soul of a boy who got hit by a car while riding his bicycle, turned out it was in the detective's neighborhood.
Carhart and his girlfriend lived in a one-story house; she was presumably younger than him, around my age. She was the one who saw the accident and dialed 911 to request an ambulance. August was with him when the boy died on his way to the hospital.
I remained at the scene and assured August I wasn't going to do anything. Detective Carhart spoke with the driver, who did not flee and stopped the car to check the boy. He was terrified, but he grasped the situation and worked with the detective. He was taken to the station by the police officer. Carhart did not attend because it was off-shift time.
I followed him to his house. He was having a dinner with the girlfriend. I didn't bother staying in the dining room and instead had a look around the house. I could hear their discussion. The girlfriend was concerned about his work. He desired to change the topic. I couldn't stop myself from overhearing.
"I'm not going to discuss about the case with you, Caroline. We're not going to talk about work in this house."
"But you carry work with you, Ian, all the time. You spend days and nights, or whenever you're here, in your study. You even lock the door."
"You shouldn't see what's inside."
"I know you're trying to protect me from those hideous cases," she extended her hand, caressing his backhanded on the table. "But you need to rest, you need to spend your time elsewhere. I'm not telling you to stop working. You want justice for those girls, and you're not going to stop until you find that person. I understand and that's why I love you. But I don't want to lose you."
Their fingers intertwined and they were holding hands. That was my cue to leave them alone. I went to the study room Caroline mentioned. It was the only room with a closed door. I didn't have to unlock the door; I could just walk right into the room.
I realized what his girlfriend was worried about and why Carhart had to lock the door. The room was crammed with boxes and folders. One thing that struck my eye was a large board on the wall. There were images from the crime scene and handwritten notes tied together with crimson thread.
My mugshot was there; it was the one I took for my CV, and it was the only photo on the board that looked like me. Others included the autopsy, such as the white sheet and ropes. There was a paper with a question mark in the center of everything.
The other two girls were on the board before me. They had long brunette hair, were around the same height, and were about the same age as me. Despite the fact that I'd only been in New York City for two days, I wasn't a random selection. I fit his profile. Carhart was aware of this as well; he'd written the three major points I'd mentioned on the notes attached to the board. He assumed this individual resided in the city or worked along the East River.
The photo of my stomach was pinned to the board, catch me, was carved by the knife. I was curious what additional messages he'd left on the bodies of the victims, Jessy and Kate.
Carhart believed Jessy was his first. She was discovered last winter. The message on her body said 'mine', the letters weren't as neat as the ones he left on me or Kate. She was sexual assaulted and strangled. Carhart's handwriting indicated that her earrings were missing.
Kate was found on 30th July this year. The MO was the same, but they were unable to locate the murder scene. The inscription on her stomach, I'm back, led them to suspect it was the same perpetrator. Her necklace was missing.
I was certain that he would kill again sooner or later. He challenged the detective because he wanted to be recognized. I was part of his collection, his piece of art.
I looked around the room and found post-it and pen on the table. I could remember his license plate number like it was my birthday. I should have left a note for the detective, leading him to the murderer. It was not like I directly assisted the police or harmed the killer.
It should be fine, but August disagreed. He appeared just as I was about to pick up the pen.
"You're doing great so far. Don't make it worse."
"I just…"
August shut my mouth with his sharp eyes.
He noticed the board behind me, and his eyes had hardened. Part of me wanted to push him, to tell him why I desired to locate the killer, but I knew it wouldn't work. He didn't want to be told what to do. August had to realize that the killer had to be apprehended. I knew it became personal to him the moment his eyes kept staring at my photo on the board.
He opened his mouth slightly and tried to say something but changed his mind.
"Let's go."
We travelled back to Jericho, that was the last time I saw Detective Carhart.
My days were spent on the carousel, rowing a pedal boat on the lake, shooting targets with August, or conversing with Mandy. She and I went on a roller coaster once, and that was enough for both of us.
"Is there anything else we can do here?"
"Bored already? You've been here less than three months and you're bored already. Girl, are you gonna survive here?"
She sounded like an old woman despite that she was way younger than me.
"Do we have a television? Or DVD? Or something?"
"Well, we've something."
"What is it?"
"Books. We've library here." She lowered her voice as if someone could hear our conversation. "We aren't supposed to carry things from the living side back to Jericho, but our courage comrades, bless their souls and their generosities, smuggled one or two books from time to time when they were out there collecting soul and brought them back to the library. They were from the deceases."
"Where's the library?"
"Inside a place no one wants to enter."
"The haunted house?"
She grinned at me.
"Not every grim reaper knows about the library. You're lucky to be my friend and I like you, so I'm gonna take you in."
"But there's a man outside that place, he keeps asking everyone; would you like to meet my friends? It's creepy."
"Oh, that's Alex. He is our gatekeeper. He's a good man. He's…"
The words hung in the air for seconds, but Mandy didn't give me further explanation.
Alex smiled when he saw Mandy and I walked to the haunted house.
"Mandy! Would you like to meet my friends?"
"No, Alex. I'm here to show my friend the you-know-what-we-are-talking-about."
"Ah! Excellent! You're going to love it." Alex turned his face towards me, smiling.
Once I saw his face up-close, I noticed his scar on the left temple, a deep cut by a knife. There was no way he could do that to himself.
"Come on in, Lilith."
I nodded at Alex and followed Mandy inside the mouth of Dracula.
The interior was magnificent, completely opposite from the exterior. I felt like walking into a castle where everything looked gold and shiny. The elegant entryway chandelier was made of crystal and the shades were stunning. The stairs split off in the middle and two smaller flights went to opposite directions. The handrails were gold and the steps covered with red carpet.
We didn't go upstairs though; Mandy took me to the door behind the stairs led us to the library. It wasn't like any library, more like an enormous greenhouse garden where you could see plants and flowers, but also can read books. Only three grim reapers were here, one of them was August. I wouldn't have thought he was a bookworm.
"What kind of books do we have?"
I explored the white shelves nearby; the spines showed me various kind of them. They weren't in alphabetical order.
"We've fiction, non-fiction, some comic books, textbooks, we also have children's book with colorful pictures. You might find something interesting here," Mandy picked one of the books from the shelf. It was a children's book with a lion and a rat on the cover. "Kids' book is entertaining and lovely. You're gonna need this kind of story when you're here. I think we've giraffes somewhere, it's hard to keep them on track when reapers didn't return books to the same shelf. Feel free to pick one or two, but you can't take them with you. They have to stay inside; otherwise, this place won't be a secret."
"Okay."
"Great. Have fun, Lilith. I've got work to do."
Mandy waved at one of the grim reapers sat by the door on her way out.
I strolled around bookshelves; library would be the best place to pass time in Jericho while waiting for names from Death. If I'd known we had this secret place, I would have picked a few books from my shelf when I went to my own funeral. There were so many books I hadn't finished reading.
Since the shelves had no tag or label indicated genres in each section, I randomly selected a book or two by the spine. If the cover or title was interesting enough, I would take it with me, if not I would put it back. When the time I realized I had been walking for too long, I had two children's book and one comic book with me. I should grab a seat and started reading them.
Long wood table and benches was set in the middle, no one sat there. August sat on a cream-colored garden chair by the window. He was drawn to a book he was reading; didn't notice I was there. It was quite pleasant to see him calm and relax, more importantly showed his interest in something. I wondered what kind of book he liked; what story could penetrate his cold heart.