Red Silk Scarf Read Free

Patrick was enjoying scanning
the luscious body before them.   In fact,
Mark guessed Patrick was enjoying the view too much to his liking, the reason
for the anger moving the air like a gust of wind.

 
    Releasing her arm
brought Cassidy’s foot back to the pavement.   Words were not necessary, at the end of Patrick's extended arm a pointed
finger and eyes spitting fire demanded she move toward the car.   While Cassidy reluctantly complied, Mark
fought hysterics as Patrick fixed his glare on the exotic shapely body moving
in front of them.   One thing was certain,
Mark thought, unlike so many others, this evening had been far from dull and
uneventful.

 
    Unable to soothe
the arm hurting from Sullivan's grip, Cassidy seethed to herself, “What an
arrogant son of a bitch,” meanwhile reluctantly wondering if it was the
throbbing pain in her arm, or the heat of his touch irritatingly
remaining.  

 
    Desperately calling
upon the walk practiced for weeks, a short gait that made her hips sway like a
swing in the wind, made Cassidy despise the women who purposely walked in such
a manner.    Was it because men enjoyed
it, she sputtered inwardly.   A stupid
question, unmistakable was the penetrating heat from two sets of eyes zeroing
in on her ass.   Not only was the effort
it took feigning such a walk ridiculous and exhausting, but depleting her
nerves.   Or, was it Sullivan’s picture
still filling her mind that said from the time she first laid eyes on it, he
was going to be a challenging opponent.                     

 
    Reaching his
partners side, Mark could no longer wait to satisfy his curiosity, “What, in
hell, is wrong with you tonight?”   The
fact that he was on the opposite side of the car enabled Mark to hear only part
of Patrick's explanation.  

 
    “If you need to
ask, you don't know me very well.   Good
God man, there's no moon tonight and. . . .” the remaining explanation cut off
by Cassidy and Patrick slamming doors so loudly the noise threatened to pop
Mark’s ear drums.  

 
    Quick reflexes were
all that saved Cassidy's face from colliding with the cage in front of her when
Sullivan’s polished shoe stomped on the accelerator sending the patrol car
screeching backwards into the street.   Instinct along with a twist of her wrist warned Cassidy the night had
only just begun.    

 
 
    CHAPTER 2

 
 
    Like most major
cities in the United States, the drug and prostitution crisis in Los Angeles
had reached an all-time high.     Further
challenging the already overburdened police force, during the past four months
one prostitute a month had been brutally raped and strangled, the only clue, a
red silk scarf.   Thorough research of the
evidence spelled out “Serial killer,” the straw capable of breaking L.A.’s law
enforcements back.

 
    Examining the
victim's pictures in front of her peers, thankfully Cassidy managed to
camouflage the emotions screeching across her heart.   A professionalism that disintegrated the
instant she entered the private confines of the ladies room where she sincerely
believed the toilet basin would remain affixed to her head.

 
    Attempting to
regain a resemblance of normality, splashing cold water on her face helped to
somewhat numb the experience.   Straightening her attire, she fluffed varying lengths of wispy hair,
auburn strands that caught the sun and swung back into place with the slightest
movement, her attempts trivial actions that did nothing to stall the rambling
mind sorting and cataloging known facts about the killer.  

 
    What kind of
maniac would commit such heinous acts?   A
maniac hell, he was brilliant.   Although
the murders took place in various sections of L.A., the killer was brazen
enough to commit the crimes at a time when heavily patrolled.   Adding to the mystery, though well known by
the officers assigned to the districts, the victims suspiciously lacked the
normal lengthy list of