Vigilare by Brooklyn James Page A

orders.
    “Yes sir.” Marks makes quick work of his task.
    Tony rolls his eyes at the two officers huffing and puffing, tending to Gina’s eye.
    “It’s alright, Chief. Just a little bump.” Gina gently persuades his hands away. “What’s going on here?”
    Officer Marks returns with the ice inside the latex glove. “See...you were much safer working with me.” He smiles at his conclusion, before turning to Tony. “Not even a little scratch.” He winks, walking away.
    “Yeah, must be some kind of danger...handing out parking tickets. You’re one step away from security guard, Marks. Come talk to me when your name tag says detective.” Tony flips him the bird.
    “As soon as these two divas are done flexing their egos, I’d be happy to tell you,” Chief answers Gina, shaking his head, watching the interplay between Gronkowski and Marks. He puts the iced glove in Gina’s hand, gently suggesting she hold it to her eye.
    She winces with the contact of the cold compress.
    “Might be related to your case. Found a body in the alleyway this morning. Pulled the rap sheet on him, and he’s got three priors...one sexual assault...two rapes.”
    Chief’s voice is overshadowed by a rising commotion around the alleyway.
    “Thomas Knightly,” he continues talking louder, as they all three make their way toward the crowd. “Liked to hold his victims at knifepoint. What do you know, he ends up in an alleyway, his neck slit ear to ear, with his own knife.”
    “She makes a statement with every murder, huh,” Tony concludes. “Always some irony in it.”
    “She?” Chief Burns asks.
    “Hey lady, get out of here. This is a crime scene. What do you think you’re doing?” A cop challenges a young woman who has pushed through the crowd, breaking through the caution tape.
    She stands over the corpse, physically shaken. “You weren’t supposed to die. Bastard!” She kicks the lifeless body.
    “Lady, come on.” The cop approaches her, grabbing hold of her arm.
    A hand encases the cop’s, swiftly removing it from the woman’s arm. “Keep your hands off my daughter. Give her some closure,” her father, standing six-foot-four-inches, with shoulders and a chest out to there, eyes the cop, backing him up. “Back off!”
    The cop reaches for his billy club. Other officers come to his defense, swarming around the man.
    “You use that thing, it’ll be your badge, Rookie,” Chief Burns warns, approaching the scene. “Back up. All of you.”
    “Death is too easy for you,” the young woman laments, looking down at the deceased. “You should be in some dirty jail cell, rotting away one day at a time.” Tears surface in her eyes. She looks to her father, helpless. His eyes reflect her pain. “I want you to suffer like I do, every day.”
    She begins pacing around the corpse, slowly. Gina and Tony look to each other, then to Chief Burns, who holds them at bay with his expression.
    Sirens wail, people move to and fro, but the young woman hears only her heart throbbing in her chest, as time stands still. “My father brings me here every morning. To this spot. Where you held a knife to my throat and...raped me,” she says, whispering the last part as if it still hurts to say so. “He’s trying to help me.” She glances at her father, a faint smile for his efforts. “He thinks if I come here every day, the pain will eventually fade, and I will find peace.”
    She squats beside his body, wishing his eyes open. They remain closed, as he lays perfectly still, restful, peaceful. “Peace? You took that from me three years ago.” She closes her eyes. “I close my eyes and I still feel your hands on me.” Her body shakes. “Disgusting waste of human life. Piece of shit, fucker!” her scream rings through the alleyway. Her legs give out and she falls to her knees. “I hope you rot in hell,” she seethes through clenched teeth, tears streaming down her face. She grabs two hands full of her own hair, pulling sharply