would be a mercy, really. Put the old fool out of his misery. Maybe he would do it. Not as a main course for the evening, but just as a warm-up exercise. Something to keep his fingers busy.
The old man shuffled away, and the moment passed. Pointless, anyway. It was no fun without a real struggle.
He moved away from the tables and down the tree-lined paths. Even in the middle of the park there was nothing that approached true darkness .
But under the trees and in the shaded places, it was dark enough for his purposes.
chalk
The form on the ground didnât even look like a girl. It barely looked like a person.
Stalking a Stalker
DEATH DIDNâT LEAVE MUCH OF A permanent stain. Not on the park, at least.
Gaia reached out and caught a strip of the yellow tape in her hand. Crime SceneâDo Not Cross.
As if yellow tape created some magical force field that could keep everyone away. Gaia wondered if police tape had ever stopped anybody in the history of the world from jumping into the middle of a crime site. The temptation was just too much. Even when you werenât stalking a stalker.
Considering how everyone had been talking up the murder at school and in the papers, Gaia had expected to find the park swarming with cop types. She had thought there would be uniforms keeping back the crowds. Whole squadrons of trench-coat-wearing detectives combing the ground, examining every blade of grass for a clue like a flock of investigating sheep. There should have been technicians spreading fingerprint powder. Flashing lights. Enough doughnuts to soak up a swimming pool of coffee.
Instead there was only this dark patch of grass. If there had been detectives, they were long gone. There wasnât a single cop left to keep people from ignoring the warning on the flimsy yellow tape. No one had even left behind a doughnut.
Losers.
Still, Gaia had a hard time stepping over the line. It wasnât like she was afraid of getting caught. Gaia didnât do afraid.
Maybe it was some new desire to be a law-abiding citizen. She wasnât sure. But the idea of going across the tape, going to the place where, the body had been, made Gaia feel weird. Like something way down inside her wasnât quite as solid as it should be. Squishy.
She stood there and took a few deep breaths of evening air before the squishiness started to fade. After all, there was nothing out there but grass.
Gaia ducked under the tape. Inside the magic line the ground was all dented and bumpyâlike it had been walked on by a herd of elephants. Maybe there really had been hundreds of detecto-sheep here after all.
The grass in the field was soaked with dew. By the time sheâd taken a dozen steps, Gaiaâs sneakers were soaked through and cold water was making little burping noises between her toes. A lovely way to start a long evening.
Almost dead center in the field she saw the rough outline of a body marked in white. Just like in the movies. Only this line wasnât made from tape. It was powdered, chalky stuff, like they use to mark the baselines at a ball game.
Somewhere in the back of Gaiaâs head, random associations started to fire.
Strike three. Youâre out. Game over.
When she considered where she was standing, this seemed more than a little sick. But Gaia had never claimed to be in complete control of what went on in her head.
She stood with the toes of her wet sneaks almost touching the crumbling chalk line. The form on the ground didnât even look like a girl. It barely looked like a person. It was just a rough outline with something like a hand pointing one way and two blocky leg things shooting off the other end.
Despite all the violence Gaia had seen in her lifeâ despite all the violence she had caused âthere was something about this scene that gave her pause. She wasnât scared; she just felt ill. Ill and numb and . . . responsible. And sad. Where there had been a girl with warmth and memories
The old man shuffled away, and the moment passed. Pointless, anyway. It was no fun without a real struggle.
He moved away from the tables and down the tree-lined paths. Even in the middle of the park there was nothing that approached true darkness .
But under the trees and in the shaded places, it was dark enough for his purposes.
chalk
The form on the ground didnât even look like a girl. It barely looked like a person.
Stalking a Stalker
DEATH DIDNâT LEAVE MUCH OF A permanent stain. Not on the park, at least.
Gaia reached out and caught a strip of the yellow tape in her hand. Crime SceneâDo Not Cross.
As if yellow tape created some magical force field that could keep everyone away. Gaia wondered if police tape had ever stopped anybody in the history of the world from jumping into the middle of a crime site. The temptation was just too much. Even when you werenât stalking a stalker.
Considering how everyone had been talking up the murder at school and in the papers, Gaia had expected to find the park swarming with cop types. She had thought there would be uniforms keeping back the crowds. Whole squadrons of trench-coat-wearing detectives combing the ground, examining every blade of grass for a clue like a flock of investigating sheep. There should have been technicians spreading fingerprint powder. Flashing lights. Enough doughnuts to soak up a swimming pool of coffee.
Instead there was only this dark patch of grass. If there had been detectives, they were long gone. There wasnât a single cop left to keep people from ignoring the warning on the flimsy yellow tape. No one had even left behind a doughnut.
Losers.
Still, Gaia had a hard time stepping over the line. It wasnât like she was afraid of getting caught. Gaia didnât do afraid.
Maybe it was some new desire to be a law-abiding citizen. She wasnât sure. But the idea of going across the tape, going to the place where, the body had been, made Gaia feel weird. Like something way down inside her wasnât quite as solid as it should be. Squishy.
She stood there and took a few deep breaths of evening air before the squishiness started to fade. After all, there was nothing out there but grass.
Gaia ducked under the tape. Inside the magic line the ground was all dented and bumpyâlike it had been walked on by a herd of elephants. Maybe there really had been hundreds of detecto-sheep here after all.
The grass in the field was soaked with dew. By the time sheâd taken a dozen steps, Gaiaâs sneakers were soaked through and cold water was making little burping noises between her toes. A lovely way to start a long evening.
Almost dead center in the field she saw the rough outline of a body marked in white. Just like in the movies. Only this line wasnât made from tape. It was powdered, chalky stuff, like they use to mark the baselines at a ball game.
Somewhere in the back of Gaiaâs head, random associations started to fire.
Strike three. Youâre out. Game over.
When she considered where she was standing, this seemed more than a little sick. But Gaia had never claimed to be in complete control of what went on in her head.
She stood with the toes of her wet sneaks almost touching the crumbling chalk line. The form on the ground didnât even look like a girl. It barely looked like a person. It was just a rough outline with something like a hand pointing one way and two blocky leg things shooting off the other end.
Despite all the violence Gaia had seen in her lifeâ despite all the violence she had caused âthere was something about this scene that gave her pause. She wasnât scared; she just felt ill. Ill and numb and . . . responsible. And sad. Where there had been a girl with warmth and memories
Similar Books
