Page 35 of Sullied Saints

"You got all that from…"

"I've seen it before. People who like to watch the victims as much as make the victims. Otherwise, he'd kill them. Violent enough to, but he doesn't." Putting the folder down on his desk, Tristan concludes, "Look for an older man, alone, not much luck with women, someone they all might know, who sees them in passing at least once a week, has an excuse to."

"I…" I jump at a loud bang. At first, I think it’s something Needler has done in the brief moment that I looked away, but no, he’s standing in the middle of the room, frowning softly. And besides, the noise came from behind me, back towards the front of the station. "That almost sounded like a…" And then I jump again, but this time the noise is just the phone on the wall behind me, ringing.

I glance at Tristan, but he's still frowning in the direction of the bang. Turning away, I pick up the receiver. "Yes?"

Dirk's voice comes through, accompanied by the kind of fade-in fade-out static that tells me he's calling from the car radio. My own pager, attached to my hip, buzzes. "El, thank god, you're inside the station."

"Yeah…" Another bang, softer this time. I tilt my head, craning to look through the glass of the door, but Dirk is speaking again.

"Don't go outside. There's a mob, a big one. It might get ugly."

"What? Why? From where?" I think of coming in this morning, the almost eerie emptiness of everything.

"There was another kill last night."

My mouth falls open. "Why aren't we there?"

Static, I'm not sure he heard my question. "A fake Cocooner, we think. But we've found out near to last. The asshole who found the body called the media instead of us. Probably got a nice paycheck out of it, too. There will be shit all evidence left that our friends haven't trampled all over. Point is, two kills in two days. They're pissed, and our favourite Conrad will be whipping everyone into righteous rage. So… what was that?"

The hair on the back of my neck is rising. If even he heard that sound, almost a crash, but closer, it’s got to be loud. "I don't know."

"Eleanor," Tristan is near the glass, not looking at me, but in the direction of my door, where it leads back into the rest of the station and the direction of the clamour.

"I'm on my way with the crowd control," Dirk is saying.

"I think they're inside the station," I say the words at the same time as I realise the truth of them, my heart leaping as another bang, this time louder, makes me flinch. That was a gunshot. And it was inside. I nearly drop the phone.

"Inside?" I hear the edge of panic in his voice, the disbelief.

"Eleanor!" this time Tristan shouts my name.

At that moment, the power goes out, and the line cuts a second later. For a moment there is only darkness and silence except for the phone’s dead buzz in my ear. I’m still holding it. Then the emergency lights blink on, sharply red.

Tristan's hands are braced against the glass, and his expression finally instils the fear I should be feeling. He's worried, and if he's worried, what should I be? Terrified, probably. What about the janitor, the guards? I step towards the door, towards the sounds. They haven’t gotten louder, just more constant, hectic. I hesitate.

Tristan's fist thumps on the glass. "Eleanor, you need to get in here."

My head swivels to him, my heart in my throat. I don't know what to do. He’s cast in the red light, turning his eyes black and his hair white. More than he did when he wore that silver mask, he looks like a demon. "What?" For a moment, the possibility spikes in my chest. This is his doing, somehow. He’s not complacent at all. Needler blames me, just like they all do. I take a step back like he’s about to break through the glass.

"This is the most secure room in this place. I can protect you in here. Not out there." His every word grows more urgent as I stay frozen on the spot.

How are they inside? What’s happened? Are we truly so hated? AmI?I stare at Needler. They blame me.

They’re about to find me.

"I can't… It’s you they want to free." Wasn't I just thinking that he's more insane than I thought, didn't he just confess to yet another murder? The safest place can't possibly be locked in a room with him.

"Exactly." His palms are white against the glass. A door slams open, and heavy footsteps follow that. I don’t have my gun. Why would I? I’m inside the precinct. We’re safe here.

Needler yells, loud enough to make me jump, to wake me up from whatever shock I've fallen into. "For fuck’s sake, get in herenow!"

My jaw clenches. It’s too late to hide somewhere else.

The short hall that connects the two halves of the cell intersects with the main corridor, and that’s where I first see them. No guns stand out, but one is holding a crowbar, the other a bat.

They see me.

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