THE EYE MANThe body lay beneath me, covered in blood. I look at my own hands, they too covered in blood. My eyes dance across the scene, admiring my handiwork.
“Such a fine job,” I tell myself. I wipe the sweat off my brow, only to paint my face red. I frantically search for something- anything- to get the blood off of me. My eyes land on the woman’s beautiful, long, silky hair just under my feet. I walk over to where she lays dead on the floor. I reach down and delicately grasp her hair in my hands, as if it’s a masterpiece. I wipe my hands with her hair like a towel. I run it across my face. All gone. The blood is gone. Now where are those two “souvenirs”? I scan the room looking for the two round, white objects. Where could they have gone? I just set them down. I look back down at pretty Lisa. Oh, there they are. I forgot to take them. *** “Unit 314, this is dispatch. There’s been a reported dead body at 597 Willow Street,” the scanner squeals. “This is Unit 314. We’re on it,” Officer Robert McClare confirms. “Hmph, probably another old geezer on the toilet,” the training officer comments. “What else? This is Kingsville, Jeff, where the worst thing that ever happens is a kid stealing a piece of candy.” The training officer, Jeff Burnes, half laughs but it comes out as a snort, “Yeah, you’re right,” and then he begins to bellow out a twainy country song. Officer McClare turns on the lights and the sirens anyway and speeds over to Willow Street. It takes less than five minutes to get there. They arrive on the scene where another squad car meets them. “Hey Rob. Jeff.” “Hey,” they both reply. “I can get this if you guys want to get on your way. It’s not going to require three officers,” the other officer, Officer Perry, offers. “Nah, it’s fine. What else would we have to do?” Officer McClare tells him. “Okay, your choice. Let’s go check this body out then.” The three men head into the old, beaten-up house. The property, now abandoned, is the oldest in Kingsville and by far the creepiest. There was a legend of a killer living here years ago and would kill anyone who stepped foot into his house. But those legends faded two years ago when a young couple moved into the house and lived their lives just fine. The rookie shudders as they enter the house, recalling those old childhood legends. “So who lives here now anyways,” he asks. “No one,” Officer McClare answers. The reply alerts the rookie and keeps him on his toes. The terror he felt when he was a kid slowly creeps back into him. As they round the corner of the hallway into the living room, they keep their hands near their guns- strictly for protocol- but Officer Jeff Burnes clutches his gun, stricken with fear from what he can tell is going to happen next. His fingers grasp around the handle of the gun, ready to shoot if needed to. The two officers stop dead in their tracks. Officer Burnes runs into their backs. “What the hell?” he asks as he goes to step around them, but then he sees it. The body. The very, very dead body. “This isn’t someone that died from a heart attack...” he stutters. “Go check the rest of the house,” Officer Perry tells McClare and Burnes. He raises the radio on his shoulder to his mouth, “Dispatch, this is Officer Perry. Officer McClare and the trainee Burnes with me. Confirmed dead body at 597 Willow Street. We’re going to need backup, the coroner, and a crime scene unit. ASAP.” “Sending backup now.” McClare and Burnes slowly turn around the corner that leads to the kitchen with their guns drawn this time. “Clear!” McClare whispers. They repeat this with every room until they have cleared the house. The backup arrives along with the crime scene unit. Officer Perry is already out there greeting them. McClare and Burnes come out of the house to talk to the other officers. “McClare! McClare!” his chief is shouting. “McClare! Over here!” McClare turns his head towards the sound of his name. He recognizes his chief is calling for him and he walks to him. The look in Chief Brown’s eyes is pleading McClare to tell him the information that’s been spread around town is false, that this wasn’t a murder. He shakes his head when he’s close enough to see the chief’s face. “McClare, please tell me this wasn’t-” Chief’s voice fades off as McClare shakes his head again. This is the first murder that’s ever happened in Kingsville with Brown as Chief of Police. “Sorry, Chief, it’s definitely a murder. It’s gruesome in there. Don’t know anybody that could do that.” McClare shakes his head and trots back in the house to meet up with CSU. Burnes stares down at the body. It looks like a female, what would’ve been a very attractive woman. Blood overflowed onto her face. Strewn across the walls, over the body, and even in the hair. Burnes eyes shift from the hair and he shudders. He tries to take his eyes off the grisly sight but he can’t. The two deep empty abysses where her eyes used to be glare back at him. Burnes wanted to make it big as a New York cop after his training. He knew he was going to see murders and gruesome scenes there, but he never expected to see something like this here or even there. He closes his eyes and stumbles out of the house. He can’t deal with this, and he doesn’t have to. McClare passes Burnes as he roams back into the house. He can’t blame him for not wanting to be in there. It’s a ghastly sight. One he never expected to see. He shakes his head trying to get the image out of his head. What he really wants to know is: why did the murderer take the eyes? The CSU wraps up dusting for fingerprints and taking pictures of the crime scene. The coroner is removing the body now. It seems like everybody’s job here is done, but yet McClare can’t seem to leave. Something is drawing him back, making him stay. Maybe he’ll stick around for awhile, see if he can find anything he missed before. A hand falls on his shoulder, and McClare jumps. He turns around to see Officer Perry standing behind him. “Whoa, it’s just me, buddy,” Officer Perry says. “Come on, let’s go get a drink. It’s been a long day.” “I don’t know, Mike. I was thinking about staying here, figuring out how this happened.” “Rob, buddy, come on. You can’t put this all on your shoulders and expect to get it solved in one night. It’s going to take some time, and you’re going to need some people to help you,” Perry tries to persuade him. “I don’t know...” McClare starts to protest. “Okay, listen to me. One, you need to relax and clear your head before you can figure out anything. Two, all the work here is done. Three, you’re off duty. And, four, if you don’t come with me, I’m calling the chief and making you. You’re choice, Buddy.” “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are, Perry?” “Get told everyday,” Perry laughs. He puts his hand on McClare’s back and guides him out the door. He makes sure McClare gets in his squad car and follows him all the way to the bar. Nothing like a good, ol’ drink to drown out all the memories of a bad day. *** I wake up, passed out on the floor. What happened? How did I get here? Where is “here”? I look about me, trying to place my location. I rub my temples, trying to ease the headache I have. I feel something smear on my face. What was that? I look down at my hands. “What in the hell?” I mumble. I turn on the lamp next to me to get a better look. “Holy shit!” I yell. Is that blood all over my hands? I search my body, trying to find the source. I find nothing. Confused, I stand up, but stumble a bit on the way up. I finally brace myself on a wall a few feet away. From this angle I can see it. Where the blood is coming from. I take a few steps closer to make sure it’s really there and not some kind of trick my eyes are playing on me. My eyes scan over the body until I get to her face. Instantly my body takes over and I run outside to vomit. Before I know it, I’m four blocks away from the body. I slow down to catch my breath, but the instant I stop, I heave. I lean up against a tree next to me and close my eyes. I can see her body laying on the ground, all bloody, and her face- the one with no eyes. My eyes shoot back open, unable to look at that picture another second. A thought pops into my head, I can’t just leave the body there and not tell anyone. I have to tell the cops. I look back down at my hands. Well, I sure can’t just go waltzing into the police department and not expect to be the number one suspect. I know! I’ll call them. I reach in my pocket for my cell phone, but then I realize they could trace that back to me. I remember an old payphone in an alley in town that still works. I start walking towards town. With each step my pace gets faster and faster until I’m running at full speed. I skid to a stop in the alleyway. I jog over to the payphone, pull a few quarters out of my pocket and press 9-1-1. Before the operator can say a word, I bellow out, “There’s a body at 597 Lincoln Avenue.” I wonder to myself how I knew the address, but I don’t say anything to her. “Sir, may I ask what your name-” I slam the phone down before she can finish the question. No, she cannot ask what my name is.“Of course she can’t ask my name. Why would she think that? Does she think I’m stupid or something?” I ramble on, all the way down the empty streets of the town. *** McClare wakes up in his bed, not remembering how he got there. He sits up and a pounding headache ensues. The alcohol he drank last night would explain his headache but he doesn’t remember drinking that much. Definitely not enough for him to forget the rest of his evening. He’ll have to call Perry to see what stupid things he did after where his memory stops. He pops two Tylenols in his mouth to nurse his hangover, and gets out of bed. He walks in his kitchen, still in his pajamas. He starts to get out a skillet to make eggs but the clanking of pots and pans to get to it irritates his head even more so he settles on cereal for breakfast this morning. He barely gets down the first bite before the phone rings. He stumbles over to the counter to pick it up. “Hello?” he answers. “McClare, I need you to come in today,” the chief tells him. “I know it’s your day off but we found another body similar to the one you found yesterday. You’re working the case.” “I’ll be there in ten.” McClare gulps the rest of the milk from his cereal and throws the bowl in the sink. He takes a quick shower to wake him up some, gets dressed, brushes his teeth, and rushes out of the house. He gets to the station where he finds everyone crowded around something. He squeezes in to see what it is. It looks like a photo of something. The chief takes an enlarged photo out of the folder and a few gasps and curses are let out. McClare closes his eyes and counts to three, like his mother used to tell him to do when he got upset. He opens his eyes and this time focuses on the picture. It is of a young woman from her shoulders to her face. Like the last victim, she’s missing her eyes. Chief turns his head and sees McClare in the crowd. He motions for McClare to come to the table he’s at. McClare nods and begins to work his way into the middle of the circle gathered around the chief. “McClare, I need you to look at both of these cases and see what connections the victims had, what’s similar in both these killings, and start on a suspect list.” The chief turns his body and barks at the crowd, “Get back to work, everybody! You’ve seen the pictures now get on with your jobs.” The crowd dissipates and McClare gets to work on the cases. He opens both folders and begins to study the victims’ lives and how they were killed. The hours pass by and McClare can’t find barely anything that connects the two women. What he has so far is that they were both women in their late twenties to early thirties in the Kingsville area. The crime scene is almost identical from one killing to another, and as for suspects, McClare has none. Ten o’clock rolls around and the chief pats him on the back. “Come on, McClare. Go home and get some rest. You can work on this tomorrow,” the chief tells him. McClare gives in and takes Chief’s advice. He packs up his stuff and heads home. The days pass and with each one another killing, all the same as the first. Woman, about thirty, laying on the ground, covered in blood, and her eyes removed. McClare still works the case, not going home until ten each night and each morning waking up with a ruthless headache. He’s still nowhere close to catching the killer and each night he doesn’t an innocent woman is killed. He’s getting frustrated and tired, but the killer must be too. Before long, the killer is going to make a mistake that leads McClare right to him. At the end of the day McClare is no closer to finding the killer, now dubbed The Eye Man. He rubs his eyes and sighs. It’s about 9:45. Almost time to go home. McClare looks back down at the papers and photos that lay before him. There are now six dead bodies over a one week span. A killing each night except for Sunday, which led McClare to believe the killer was religious. But that is as far as McClare can get on the profile. He has next to nothing to work off of. He sighs once again and lays his head on his desk. Maybe closing his eyes will help him think of something. Seconds before McClare is about to doze off, he hears someone walk up behind him. He turns his head to see who’s passing by. Officer Perry walks by and waves, but in a few steps beyond McClare’s desk, he swiftly swings around. “Hey, McClare, me and a couple others are going to go get a drink. Wanna join us?” “Nah better not. Last time I drank with you I woke up with a killer headache and couldn’t remember what happened the night before.” ”Which night was this?” Perry laughs. McClare frowns. “Last week.” “I never thought you one for drinking, but I thought you could hold your own,” Perry comments. “Huh, guess you learn something new about somebody everyday.” McClare’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?” he asks. “Drank two or three beers and left. You were only there for a coupla hours,” Perry tells him. The wrinkles in McClare’s forehead burrow. Then suddenly the tension’s gone and he calmly states with a smile, “I guess I just have a weak stomach.” Perry slaps him on the back and laughs. “So you coming or not?” “Sorry, not tonight. I’d figured I would catch up on my sleep,” McClare says coolly. “Sure thing, Buddy. See you tomorrow then,” Perry says and walks out of the building. McClare abruptly stands up and heads for the back door, neglecting to put away the open case files or grab his belongings that he left on his desk. He pushes the door open and feels the cool air rush on his skin. A smile creeps across his face. “Better get my work done before Sunday,” he says. “Mama always said it wasn’t right to work on Sunday.” *** Perry is walking home when he notices McClare talking to some woman down the street. That slick dog, Perry thinks, No wonder he didn’t want to go to the bar. Perry shakes his head and smiles. Good for him. He needs a woman in his life. He continues walking down the street towards his house, but sees McClare enter an abandon house with the girl. Perry raises his eyebrows and mutters to himself, “Yep, you learn something new about somebody everyday.” He shakes his head again, but continues on his way. He’s just past the house McClare went into when he hears the shrill shriek of a woman’s scream. He instinctively scans the area and determines where the sound is coming from. The abandoned house. Perry stands in the middle of the street for a second, analyzing the scream to decide if it was one of terror. His gut and training tell him that the woman screamed in fear of her life. In less than a millisecond, Perry takes off towards the house. *** I line all six of the pairs of eyes I have collected next to the woman’s head. I tilt my head and admire the beauty of all of them. I smile to myself. “You have eyes just like Mama,” I tell the girl. *** Perry hears the woman scream again as he bursts down the front door at the same time as drawing his gun. The sight stops him in his track. He sees a line of eyes next to the woman laying on the floor with a man with his back to him leaning over her, rambling on about his “Mama”. “Fr-fr-ee-eeze!” Perry stutters, still trying to comprehend the scene before him. He has just walked in on The Eye Man. The man in front of him keeps on mumbling, his back still to Perry. “Turn around!” Perry yells at him, but the guy doesn’t seem to hear him. Perry tries again, but the man still doesn’t budge. “Where’s McClare?” Perry asks. “The man who was just in here?” The man doesn’t respond. Perry tries another technique, “This woman has a family, probably children of her own. You wouldn’t want to hurt her, would you?” The guy ignores Perry and stretches his arms towards the woman’s face. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Perry screams. The man’s arms freeze in mid-reach and his head slowly twists to face Perry. Perry’s mouth gapes open as the man cocks his head. His lips part and barely move as he seems to recite, “Mama always told me to get all my work done before Sunday. It isn’t right to work on Sunday.” |