Page 13 of Deadline for Love

A soft voice rang out in my head...Eyes devoid of life, fixed upon the sky...

Panic spread through me when I remembered the rhyme sent to me by the anonymous messenger.

Was it just my imagination, or weren’t the rhymes a little too close to the image in front of us?

In a sea of luscious ginger locks, radiant and fair, sunlight dancing, casting an ethereal glare. Eyes devoid of life, fixed upon the sky, gray as the heavens, where clouds drift by. Naked skin so pale, a canvas of clouds above, but my artwork doesn’t shine like your love.

Golden locks in braids of two, one side natural, the other stained with hue. Similar yet not the same, when will you see my love's flame? Must I be clearer, my plight? Soon, you’ll be mine, in the light.

No, I must have imagined it. No, it couldn’t be!

I shook my head, wanting to make these thoughts disappear, but another sentence rushed through my mind…Soon, you’ll see my masterpieces!

A tap on my shoulders snapped me out of my horrible thoughts, and I turned my gaze away from the woman.

Nia placed a handkerchief on my cheek, and only now did I realize warm tears were flowing down my cheeks. Nia was crying, too.

She nodded in bewilderment. “It looks like we’ve found the two missing girls.”

I wanted a story, but not one like this...

Chapter 5

A short time later, the police arrived and secured the scene. Nia took pictures while still in tears before we were asked to go to the police station, where we had to give statements.

When we arrived at the station I thought long and hard about whether I should mention the letters. The fear that the police would say I was nuts was high, but on the other hand, what would happen if I received something like this again and another woman died?

The officer in front of us was Jeffrey Morgan; he was semi-bald, his skin looked sickly pale, and his eyes had deep dark circles. His gaze was fixed stubbornly on the display of his monitor.

The atmosphere here seemed very tense, and it smelled of stale coffee; the phone next to Mr. Morgan rang occasionally, but he ignored it.

The room was cool, and I felt goosebumps across my body as Nia finished her words.

Mr. Morgan typed her answers like a zombie and sighed when he was done.

“Okay, thank you for your statement. We will get back to you if we have further questions.” His voice was shrill as he gave us the standard answer. Then he picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip before taking his eyes off the display and looking at us.

“You may go.”

Nia was the first to get up, but I cleared my throat and stopped her. “I have something to report.”

The officer just stared at me, as if three corpses weren’t enough. Nevertheless, I plucked up my courage and told him about the letters with the rhymes and the strange visit last night and that I had seen the ginger-haired woman yesterday and had handed in the bag.

It took me a while to finish, and the officer didn’t write anything down but just stared at me.

“Did he threaten you?”

I shook my head.

“Were you hurt?”

I shook my head again.

“Was anything damaged?”

“What? No—”

“Then there’s nothing we can do for you, Miss Carter. It’s unusual for someone to ring the doorbell at night, but it’s not a crime. I think the idea that the poems are connected to the bodies is slightly exaggerated.” He leaned back in his chair and propped his hands on the desk. “Although I think it’s a bit over the top as far as the messages are concerned, you can send them to me. If you have the feeling that you have a stalker, then stay with someone you know. We can’t have patrols sitting on your block when we’re busy with the three bodies.”

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