Midnight Hours, submission chapters

Midnight Hours: Chapter two

Chapter two

         The woman standing inside the door stared at him before turning to the man who towered over her. “What is this, detective? I thought you wanted my help on a case.” After looking up at the massive man a foot taller than she, she studied the other two men in the room. One, about six feet one or two inches tall with red hair, stood as she entered. The other, with powerfully built shoulders and arms, remained seated in a power chair, making guessing his height harder, but she estimated that he was about the same as his red-headed friend.

         “Uh, yes, and we do. Let me introduce you to my partner, Frank Thomas, and a close friend, Detective Lieutenant Martin Rogers, on leave from homicide.” Kyle moved an armchair close to the table. “Here, have a seat.” As she settled in the chair, Kyle continued, “Guys, this is Lisa Harris, one of the assistants in the district attorney’s office. She’s been with the DA about six weeks.”

         “You look like her.” Martin handed the woman the print. “We have reason to believe this woman, who calls herself ‘Midnight’ on the internet, may have had something to do with an unsolved homicide. This is the picture she sent me of ‘herself’.”

         “I . . . I can’t believe this. This woman has my face.” Surprise caused Lisa’s voice to rise nearly to a squeak.

         “Just your face?” Frank’s eyes traveled from feet clad in low-heeled pumps, up slim legs, over a slender frame to an oval face with shocked blue eyes staring at him.

         “What are you . . .” The young woman inhaled deeply, swallowing what she started to say. “Yes, just my face. I’m not quite that, uh, that curvaceous.”

         “Ummm, sorry.” A flush rose on Frank’s face. “I didn’t mean . . . Uh, sorry.”

         “This is crazy.” After blowing through pursed lips, Martin wondered aloud, “Has this woman managed to impose your face with someone else’s body -- I’ll take your word that it’s not yours -- or is this someone who looks remarkably like you?”

          Lisa studied the picture closely. “Since this has been sent electronically and printed on regular paper, I don’t think testing would reveal if it’s doctored. I don’t think it would, but we can try.” She glanced at the men watching her. “Did you notice how out of place the scarf is around the neck?” She handed the print to Martin.

         “I guess I’m slow. What’s out of place about it?” he asked as he gazed at the picture before handing it to Frank, who then passed it to Kyle.

         “For one thing, a woman wouldn’t wear a scarf like that with that kind of outfit, especially wrapped around her neck that many times.” With a slight shrug, she grimaced. “I don’t know, it just seems wrong.”

          Kyle grunted before suggesting, “Wouldn’t that cover any differences between the neck of the head and the one of the body?”

         “Yes, indeed it would,” Lisa agreed. “Now, I think you’d better tell me what you’re working on.”

          Martin explained briefly about becoming involved with the mysterious Midnight on the poker site. “I know I wasn’t very smart.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I let myself become so enamored . . .”

         “Hey, man, it kept your mind off what you were going through. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Frank interrupted him.

         “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, she sent me this picture when I threatened to stop, uh, don’t know what to call it. Then when I saw this,” Martin tapped the print with his index finger, “I knew I had to keep in contact with her.” He looked directly at Lisa. “A copy of this picture was found in the pocket of a paraplegic who went off the balcony at a local hotel.”

          Lisa leaned forward. “I vaguely remember hearing about the case, but not about any photo.”

         “That happened before you came to the DA’s, Lisa, and finding the photo wasn’t released.” Kyle picked up the picture again.

         “Then how did I . . .” she started. “Of course, I read about it in the newspaper. Everyone was asking how he got over the railing. Now, will someone summarize what all you’ve done or discovered?”

          Frank raised his hand as if in school. “I will. I discovered seven men: two from Dallas, one each from Wichita and Amarillo, two from Tulsa, and now one here. All had the same general description as this victim, died ‘accidentally’ when they went to meet some mysterious woman.” He read from a sheet on the top of his pile of papers. “All seven were disabled, met a woman on the Internet, arranged to meet her, and then were killed in apparent accidents.”

         “What did you find out about this woman?” Martin asked.

         “Not one thing, haven’t had time to contact the victims’ families.” Turning to Kyle, he demanded, “Now, will you share what you found out today?”

         “You already know. I found Lisa.” Kyle leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “You want to give Lisa what you discovered, Martin?”

          With a start, Martin pulled his attention from Lisa to Kyle. “What? Uh, what I found. Midnight, as she calls herself, e-mailed me the picture, so I traced the ISP. And, by-the-way, the ‘real’ name she gave me is Norma Fields, and she said she lived here in the city off Northwest Expressway. Anyway the ISP she used is a small company out of Amarillo, Texas.”

         “Amarillo?” Lisa quickly rose, striding away from the chair and starting to pace. “There is a connection. I was with a law firm in Amarillo until I took this position. I lived there for three years.” She stopped and faced the men. “This woman is probably someone I know, or at least knows me.” She rushed to the table. “Let me see that picture again, please.”

          Handing the print to Lisa, Martin leaned back in his chair to study her face as she in turn studied the picture. He noticed the way she kept pushing her shoulder-length, black hair away from her face. The gentle arch of dark eyebrows accented dark blue eyes. She nibbled on her lower lip as she gazed at the picture.

         “I don’t know.” Lisa slightly laughed. “How I thought I might recognize some one from the neck down, I don’t know. Just silly.” She sighed before returning to her chair. “But, whoever put that together used a photo of me from before I went to Amarillo. If you look at the length of my hair in the photo, it’s about the same length it is now.”

          Martin glanced at the picture again and then at her hair before handing the picture to Frank. “Yes, but how do you know it’s from before you went to Amarillo? You look the same.”

         “I think you just gave me a compliment.” Lisa sent him a bright smile. “In the picture, I look younger than I do now, and, though long in the picture, my hair was short when I went to Amarillo.”

         “Ahhh, and where were you before Amarillo?” Frank asked as he compared the print with the live woman across from him.

         “I spent a year at the prosecutor’s office in Guymon, Oklahoma. Before that I was at the University of Texas Law School.”

          Sitting forward in his chair, Martin asked, “Guymon?”

         “Yes, why?” Lisa questioned in return.

         “Because Guymon is part of the area covered by the ISP Midnight used.” Martin leaned back. “We may have found where to start looking. I don’t suppose the name Norma Fields means anything?”

         “Norma Fields . . .” Lisa repeated the name. “No, I don’t think so. Wait. Maybe. I don’t know. The name Fields sounds familiar, but I’m not sure.”

          Looking at his watch, Martin said, “Well, she’ll be back online in a few hours. I’ll see if I can get her to give me any more information at all.”

         “Hell, you can’t be serious about continuing contact with her!” Kyle jumped to his feet, jostling the coffee table and spilling papers over the carpet. “Come on, Martin, you can’t be serious.”

         “I’m very serious. She preys on men she thinks are defenseless. So I give her me, but I’m not as defenseless as she thinks.

         “Listen, Lt. Rogers,” Lisa interrupted, “at least let us find out more about her. From what I understand, no one has found any real connection between the victims and this woman, correct?”

         “Call him Martin, Lisa, and I’m Frank. No, no real connection.”

         “Then let’s find out as much as we can. We have some more leads now. Let’s work on those. Take a few more days, at least.” With a graceful sweep of her hand, Lisa pointed toward Martin. “Becoming her next victim, if you aren’t prepared, won’t help.”

         “She’s right, Martin, and you know it,” Kyle agreed. “Plus you’ll have more time to get your strength back.”

          “I feel so helpless. I want to be in the middle of this investigation, not waiting for you guys to bring me things.” With an angry curse, Martin whirled his chair around before taking a deep breath and turning back to face the others. “Sorry. I’m frustrated, but I don’t need to take it out on you.”

         “Martin, you don’t have to wait on us. There’s much you can do right here.” Lisa bent toward him, laying her hand on his arm. “Look what you have already achieved.” She leaned back as she nibbled on her lip. “If this involves what we think it does, we’re talking about a serial killer. Let me talk to my boss, and then get back with you.”

         “Yeah, man, I don’t have time to contact the families of these other victims. You can do that from right here.” Frank handed Martin the list he picked up from the floor.

         “Did you load that photo on your computer?” the assistant D.A asked Martin as she gathered up her purse and stood.

         “Yes.”

         “Then would you e-mail it to me at the office?” She opened her purse and withdrew a business card. Taking a pen, she wrote on the back before handing it to Martin. “That’s my cell number as well as my home number on the back. My e-mail and office number are on the front.”

         Taking the card, Martin shrugged. “Sure, I’ll e-mail it to you. I’ll do that tonight while I’m waiting for Midnight to come online, but why?”

         “The lab may be able to tell more about the way the photo was doctored than from a print. I’ll also check with my dad about the name Norma Fields.” She grinned before explaining, “He’s the sheriff of Texas County. That’s why Guymon was home.” Lisa studied Martin a minute, her white teeth nibbling on her lower lip. “How hard is it for you to get in and out of a car?”

         “Easier than a couple of days ago. Why?”

         “Just wondering. We might have to do some traveling. Well, I need to get home. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” She started toward the door before turning back. “Will we meet here tomorrow evening?”

         “Sure,” Martin answered. “Why don’t you join us for dinner? My mom is a great cook.” When Lisa frowned, he rushed to say, “But if your family is expecting you . . .”

         “Oh, no family, but I wondered if I could bring something to add to the meal?”

         “Hey, yeah, why make it harder on your mom, Martin? Why don’t we all bring something?” Kyle offered. “I’ll bring dessert.”

         Laughing and joking, the group made a menu for dinner for the next night as they picked up the rest of the papers scattered over the floor and table.

         Kyle gasped. “Look at the time. I’ve got to get out of here. Abby will be home in about an hour.”

         “Abby?” Lisa questioned.

         “Uh, yes, my wife. She’s a nurse, works the seven to eleven shift. Gotta hurry.” With a quick wave of his hand, he was out the door.

         When the others left, Martin sat staring at the empty living room. I really missed those guys. He smiled. And that Lisa, man, oh, man. He whistled as he wheeled himself to the desk where he laid the list of possible victims and her card. In a few minutes, he emailed an attachment with Midnight’s “picture” to Lisa before opening his documents file.

          I may as well write while waiting for Midnight to arrive. Chuckling at his double play on midnight, Martin pulled up the story he hoped some day to finish. Nearly two hours later, he saved his work and logged onto the poker site scroll. In typical chat shorthand, he visited with those in the lounge.

Copper: how’s everyone?
Frank: where u been?
Copper: writing
Frank: ur in time for me to say niters didn’t get enough sleep last night
Copper: Nite, Frank. Talk to u tomorrow.
Kielee: Hi, Copper haven’t seen much of u as i’d like. Someone keeps running me off.

         As the clock hands moved toward midnight, Martin played cards and passed the time with idle chatter. A minute after twelve, the message he wanted, for a completely new reason, appeared.

Midnight: hello people. hi handsome.

         Martin grimaced. Stupid, stupid. Where did I hide my brain? His fingers typed.

Copper:| hi, beautiful
Midnight: ready for a private visit?
Copper: let’s go.

          After moving to a private game area, the couple went through the same procedure that Martin had come to expect. He asked for more information about her; she feinted and dodged.

Copper: Norma, u said u would give me more information tonight but ur not
Midnight: wasn’t the pic enough for awhile?
Copper: The pic was plenty, but it doesn’t tell me who u really r.
Midnight: What do u mean who I really am?

         Martin cringed. Not smart, Rogers, not smart. His mind grappled with the problem his words caused as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

Copper: love the picture, now i want to know the real woman more.
Midnight: liked it, huh?
Copper: who wouldn’t? But, Norma, isn’t there any way we can get together?
Midnight: maybe, some day.

         Okay, how to get her to want to “see” me? A grin split his face as he typed words he thought would trap her.

Copper: can understand why u wouldn’t want to get any closer to me.
Midnight: what do u mean?
Copper: why would u want anything to do with a cripple?
Midnight: no that’s not true u aren’t a cripple.
Copper: maybe I’ll see u around on the scroll bye, Midnight. ( Copper has logged off)

         After disconnecting from the Internet, Martin shook his head and muttered, “I hope I didn’t mess up. Guess I’ll know tomorrow night.”

         He wheeled away from the desk and toward his bedroom, turning off lights as he went. As he entered his bedroom, the phone rang. Glancing at the clock beside the phone on the table next to the bed, he wondered aloud, “Who can be calling this late?” He moved to the bed and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

         “Copper?” a husky voice asked.

         “Yes?” Martin clutched the receiver tighter. Can this be her? Huh, don’t know why I’d think that.

         “Martin, this is Midnight. Please, don’t hang up,” the seductive voice begged.

         “Midnight? Norma, you actually talking to me?” Internally, Martin shuddered. Brilliant dialogue. But, man, it’s her.

         “Please, Martin, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Won’t you give me another chance?” Midnight paused to clear her voice. “I’m so glad you gave me your phone number and everything. Aren’t you?” Another brief pause then she added, “Won’t you talk to me?”

         “I’m, uh, I’m surprised, Midnight. I’m glad you called, but I’m not sure why you did.” Martin worked to sound despondent.

         “You misunderstood me, Martin.” She paused again. “I’m not keeping myself from you because you’re, as you put it, a cripple. It’s just that I’m afraid.” A sob caught in her words.

         Huh, she’s good, Martin thought before answering her. “What are you afraid of? Me?”

         “Only that you might not be what you seem to be.” She cleared her throat. “You can’t be as wonderful as I think you are. Men just aren’t, in my experience.” A touch of “poor little me” entered her voice with a slight whine.

         She’s more than good. With a mental shrug, Martin forced himself to act like the man she expected. “I’m not wonderful, Midnight. I just fell in love with you. I wanted you to trust me.”

         “Then you don’t hate me?” Another soft sob echoed in his ear. “I couldn’t stand it if you hated me.”

         This is starting to sound like one of those soap operas. Now, how would a writer word my reply? “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. Of course I don’t hate you. I was just hurt because you didn’t trust me. But, well, you did call, didn’t you? That tells me how much you care.”

          “Yes, I do care, so very much.” A sniff and slight cough punctuated her reply. “Do you mean it, about, about wanting to meet the real me?”

         Martin held a deep breath. Is this it? We’re not ready. “Yes, I do want to meet you.”

         “Well, let’s discuss this another time. I want to see you, too, but I . . . I guess I need to work up to that a bit more.” She gave a giggle. “I don’t want to go too fast.”

         “Will you call again, or let me call you?” Martin asked without expecting her to agree.

         “Why don’t I give you the number for my answering service? It’s an 800 number.” Midnight coughed before rattling off the number. “I should have asked if you had a way to write that down, shouldn’t I? I’ll repeat it in a minute.” She paused before explaining, “You’ll dial the 800 number, then punch in the code I’ll give you.” Another pause. “If you leave a message, I’ll return the call. Would that work?”

         “Sure, sure, anything you say.” Martin positioned the pad he kept near the phone with a pen nearby. “Okay, I have something to write on and with.” He wrote as the woman repeated the number followed by the code.

         “Now, I need to run. I love you, handsome.” The phone clicked, and Martin was left with a dial tone.

         A wide smile creased his face as Martin stared at the phone number. “Now, we have another link to you, Midnight, Norma, or whatever your name is.” He still grinned as he called the department and set up a phone tap to be attached to his phone.