He didn’t hope for very long. A voice coming from above yelled to the whole team, “He’s not here. It’s clear, we checked all the rooms. He left his computer turned on but he’s not here. I repeat, the target is not here.”
Damn it!
“Alright, guys,” John said. “I want you to turn the place upside down. We’re looking for evidence. Anything that can prove he’s a sexual pervert and a murderer. Come on guys, this man is killing our women. We’ve got to stop him!”
John tried to stay calm but deep inside, he was furious. Once again, they were close. Very close. But they were still looking for him. The Dark Stallion lived here but he was outside, on the loose. Maybe he was hunting at this very moment. Maybe somebody was about to die tonight…
The whole team spread out through the house and started looking everywhere. They were in every single room, checking every single corner. But John couldn’t do it. He was boiling inside. Frustrated and helpless. He went outside and took a deep breath. He planted his fists on his hips and looked at the sky.
Shit!
His eyes were closed and he combed his hair with his hand. He grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed hard. He was tense. Pissed. What else could he do? What else was he supposed to do to catch him?
“Hey, man,” Sovann said behind him. He put his hand on his shoulder and handed him a small glass. “Take this. And relax. You did your best, John.”
John opened his eyes and looked at the glass. It was a shot glass. “What is it?” he asked.
“Tequila,” Sovann said.
“Compliments of the house, huh?” John said. He drank the shot of tequila in one go and threw the glass in the garden. It felt hot in his throat and his chest. But it felt good.
“How is it going inside?” John asked.
“Not much,” Sovann said. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything, to be honest. The man is organized and meticulous. He doesn’t leave any clue on the crime scenes. He won’t leave anything at home.”
John nodded. He knew it. He knew that their only chance was to catch the man and confront him.
“We don’t have any solid proof,” John said. “A prosecutor wouldn’t send him to court with what we have.”
“We wait for him to come back?” Sovann said.
“I want to stop him. Now. He’s about to kill someone else and we’re here waiting for him,” John said, clenching his fists. “We can’t let this happen. Jesus, I can’t believe it!”
Lefort and the rest of the team got out of the house after half an hour – empty-handed. The house wasn’t huge and they couldn’t find what didn’t exist. The Dark Stallion had left nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing any normal citizen wouldn’t have.
“We’re done,” John said. “Let’s go.”
They got into an unmarked police car and left. Back to Paris. As soon as they got out of the city, they were stuck in traffic jams.
“What the hell?” Sovann asked. “I thought everybody was out of town.”
“The alert,” Lefort said. He was the one driving. “They’ve announced a storm for tomorrow. People are coming home earlier so they can go to work on Monday.”
“Put the siren on,” Sovann said, impatiently. “These people are back from holiday. We’re back from work.”
Lefort looked at him and pursed his lips. His mustache wiggled. “You aren’t serious, are you?” he said. He seemed like a man with a strong sense of ethics.
“Are we hurting anybody?” Sovann asked. “It’s okay, we just want to go home.”
“But that’s not right, there’s no emergency,” Lefort said.
“Who gives a –” Sovann said before shaking his head and looking at the window. “Alright, whatever, man.”
John said nothing. Siren or no siren, he didn’t care. He was in the back of a police car. A Saturday night. He missed his little daughter. He had failed to catch a murderer. The Dark Stallion would kill another innocent woman. Probably tonight.
John couldn’t prevent it. There was no hope.
18
“So tell me more about your ex-husband,” the Dark Stallion said to the woman sitting in front of him. She was wearing a simple but very elegant black dress, with a pearl necklace. Her skin was white, the kind of white that turns into orange or caramel under the sun. A beautiful skin that felt soft even to the eyes. Her nails were long and red, and the color matched her lipstick. A passionate woman with character and ambition.
“Why would you want to talk about him?” she said, looking down. She blushed slightly, the Dark Stallion noticed. As if she was embarrassed or shy. As if the question was too personal and still triggered some kind of strong emotions.
“Because I’m truly curious,” he said. “You intrigue me and I want to know as much as possible about you. Including your past.”
She swept the air with her hand and smiled. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave the past behind.”
“You didn’t really let go, did you?” he said, looking at her with intensity. “You’re denying that it still matters to you. I can see it.”
She paused, looked at him from under her eyelashes and smiled. “How do you know?” she asked.
“I can read you like an open book,” he said, laughing internally. How cheesy, he thought.
“You’re very sharp,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m equally impressed by your beauty,” he said, raising his glass of wine to his lips.
She smiled.
Another cheesy pickup line, he thought. Unbelievable how often that kind of bullshit can work, if delivered at the right time.
“And I’m determined to understand you and accept your past to get what I want,” he said after a short pause. He was half lying this time. He truly wanted her. Offered to him. And dead.
She cocked her head to the side and squinted at him. “And what is it that you want?” she said, teasing him.
You like to play, don’t you? he thought. You’re going to enjoy your night. Trust me…
The Dark Stallion took another sip of wine and ignored her question. That was his way of keeping things interesting. To keep her guessing. And ultimately, to make her so intrigued by him that she wouldn’t even realize he was slipping into her bed at the end of the night.
“Tell me about your daughter,” he said. “Claire, is that right?”
She lightened up and smiled. The Dark Stallion had pushed the right button.
“She’s an angel. Really. And I don’t say that because I’m her mother,” Julie said.
“Of course,” the Dark Stallion said with a smile. Even if your daughter looked like a pig you’d still think of her as a beauty, he thought sarcastically.
The Dark Stallion had already disconnected. His ears weren’t registering anything. He watched her getting excited, talking about her daughter again and again. Women used to say he was a good listener. Wrong. He was a terrible listener. In fact he almost never listened to the meaningless crap all these women had to say. But he knew how to look like a good listener, and that was the key. He only had to pretend. Women felt understood. Respected. Appreciated. They loved him even more. He was so different, they all said.
You bet I’m different! I’ll be the last orgasm of your life…
The Dark Stallion insisted on paying the bill. Pretended, actually. Of course, he already knew that VBO Sabirap – the bank where Julie worked – would cover the dinner in their business expenses budget.
International banks paying their employees to have dinner with their murderer – that would be an excellent headline, he thought. He chuckled to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Julie asked.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, snapping back to reality. “I’ll tell you later.”
She looked at him, puzzled.
“I promise,” he said with a grin. I’ll tell you before you die, he thought.
They walked out of the restaurant and strolled down the street. At one point, she took his hand, rested her head on his shoulder and smiled.