Evidence

Quick Note. I'm not sure if this fits the prompt, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Marcus pulls up to the apartment building. Checking the paper to make sure this is the right place. Refreshing the details in his mind. A deep sigh leaves his lips. “Suck it up! This is all for her.”

Opening the door, putting on his gloves, he makes his way inside. Choosing the elevator over the stairs. Floor 2, room 21. His eyes scour the doors and ceiling for any visible cameras. Clenching the knife in his pocket with his right hand. The left hand is banging on the door. “Ms. Foster? It’s maintenance. I need to check your sink.”

Seconds later, a voice came through the other side of the door. “I don’t recognize you. There’s nothing wrong with my sink.”

“Sorry if I startled you. Name's John, I’m new. The people above you reported overflow in they’re kitchen. This building is really old. The pipes all kinda connect. I’m just going around to make sure nobody else is having issues. I know it’s late, I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

His face was close to the peephole. She can’t tell that he is not wearing the building uniform. He waits for her reply. The emptiness of the hallway was somehow becoming loud. The gale of the air conditioning blared into his ears. Making every second feel like minutes dancing on his nervous anticipation.

“All right, just give me a second.” The sound of a chain being moved comes from her end. Followed by a bolt clicking back. Now, finally, the main lock turns over. Sweat creeps down Marcus’s face. Stinging his eyes. The door creaks open.

“Can you hurry? I’m expecting someone.” She pulls the door in to let him in. He doesn't look at her face; he can’t. He only takes in the blonde hair that frames her head as his hand grabs her face, pushing her into her home. He pulls the knife out of his pocket. His hand thrusting forward, plunging the blade into her throat.

Her arms flail. Scratching and hitting anything they can. The thick sticky liquid was spilling out down her shirt. Marcus pins her to the wall, pulling the knife out and cutting into her a second time. He doesn’t know what part of her he stabbed. His eyes were still closed, not wanting to see her life disappear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want. Why did you do it?” Tears threaten to paint his face through his tightly clenched eyes. Waiting for her to become still.

When there’s no more struggle, he drops her. Can’t look at her face, got to follow the plan. He closes the door, sprinting throughout the apartment. “Where is it? Where the hell did you put it?” Every cabinet was flung open, the contents thrown onto the ground. He goes through her couch, cutting the leather and flinging the fluff around. He even flips her mattress over, her pillows landing by his feet.

He curses so loud his throat starts to hurt. Tears well up as panic rises within. He told him this was it. That this was the place. All he had to do was off her, find the package, and everything would be okay. Frustration takes over panic. He slams his fist against her dresser, kicking the soft pillows by his feet. They were so light and fluffy, all except for one. It had weight and was stiff near the center.

Was it hope or curiosity when he picks up the pillow? He squishes it around to feel the mass. He removes the cover and sees a small hole on the pillow. Crude stitching holds it together. Marcus rips it open, and a thick manila envelope pops out.

He told him not to open it; he never really checked out the others he found, but something was compelling him. His arms move without a thought. Unsealing it and pulling out one of the papers. Documents, stacks of cash, and pictures. The images immediately make his stomach churn. Kind eyes, bruised faces, and lots of blood.

The car door slams shut. Throwing the folder on the passenger seat. He dials the number. “Hi. I got the stuff. You were right, that woman was beyond fucked.”

“You looked in the envelope? You weren’t supposed to do that?”

“Sorry, I got curious after it took so long to find it. I can’t believe it. All those ki-”

“Marcus! Focus, I know you're worried. I’ve told you before that these people are dangerous. It’s why you can only speak to me; telling the cops would be too risky. We don’t know how far this goes.”

“I know, man, but you said this is supposed to be the last one. But I haven’t found out where they’re taking these people or how they’re making money. You made me kill four people just to gather breadcrumbs of evidence. Now that I have pictures of what they’re doing to people, I should go to the police.”

“What about Ashley? They still have her. They took her like they took my mother. It’s been a week now, you saw the pictures, she’s running out of time.”

Marcus shivers in his seat. Just the mention of her name made his heart race faster than the murder. “Leave her name out of your fucking mouth. Out of all the fucked up shit I’ve found, nothing has led me to her.”

“Calm down. Have you driven away yet? Getting mad at me won’t save her. Get the car moving, at least pull into another parking lot. Go to that strip mall across the street. Perhaps a bar to calm you.”

“I don’t need alcohol.” Marcus begins to drive. It’s so dark that the lights of the bar might as well be a glowing target. He pulls in. “Look, I can’t keep doing this. I need to find her. I can’t sleep. I can’t wash the red off my hands.”

“Let me pull some more information together with what you found. It’s very sweet how much you care about her. I hope she loves you, too. She must have had to tattoo your name on her body.”

“I loved her since high school. She’s my world. I was thinking about saving up for a ring. She got that last year and…” His heart feels still. A chill was taking over his body.

“What? Never told me about the tattoo. Yeah, I really shouldn’t know. It’s on her thigh; she barely shows off her legs, so it must have been only for you, right? It’s so sweet it’s making me sick.”

Marcus picks up the phone. His finger was hanging over the red button. A loud beep catches his attention. Red and blue lights illuminate behind him. “Oh no.”

“You're such a great guy, Marky. You find your girlfriend missing from your trashed apartment and believe the first person who contacts you. ‘Let me help you, I know these people. They took my mother.’ What a trusting guy, no wonder she loves you so. Are the cops there yet?”

“You son of a bitch! I got the evidence! I got all thi-”

“You got nothing. What you got are some awful pictures, dirty money, and shady documents. But what the police have is everything I sent them about the three innocent people you killed. Yes, the first guy was one of my employees. I had to get rid of him. He was running his mouth. The others were just average Joes that I planted evidence on. I got pictures and video of you acting like a rabid beast. I wonder what the paper will go with: a man goes insane after the disappearance of his beloved girlfriend, or a psychotic sadist goes around town covering his tracks. I’ll tell Ashley you love her.”

Marcus was assaulted by the wind and sirens as the door was pulled open. But he did not feel it. He did not feel when he was slammed into the ground or when the handcuffs were put on him. He could not hear them reading him his rights. He could not hear much. Except for the blood-curdling scream of Ashley coming out of his phone.