I’m Steve Dwight, 53, originally from New Zealand and now living in Bulgaria. I have written a few short stories for competitions but primarily write scripts for YouTube crime channels.
I enjoy writing in the thriller or psychological horror genres and find it easiest to write about situations that make me feel uncomfortable as there can be a cathartic effect from the output.
Check out the channel where I write scripts and do the voice-over narration right HERE.
DATE NIGHT
by
Steve Dwight
The sound of his cell phone ringing made him jump, enough for him to spill beer from the bottle he was nursing. Staring bleary-eyed at the screen he could see it was Jimmy, his colleague in homicide.
“Yeah”, croaked Dan as he brought the phone to his ear.
“Did I wake you?”, said Jimmy chuckling.
“Nah, I’m up, whad’ya want?”, shot back Dan sharply.
“Look, I know you’re not due back on shift yet, but we’ve got another one”, his voice tailed off before adding, “You know what day it is yeah?”
Dan took a pull on his beer before replying, “15th”.
“Yep”, said Jimmy before continuing quickly, “Awww shit, you haven’t got company have you?”
“Nah, did earlier, she’s gone now”.
“We need you down here, this one looks the same as the other two”, said Jimmy.
Jimmy didn’t need to elaborate, Dan knew the significance of the date. February 14th was barely over and another body had been discovered, a body, abused and disfigured in a similar way to girls from the previous two years Valentine’s Days.
“Ok”, said Dan, “I’ll be there soon”.
He sat up straight as the call ended, focused now, the fog of the alcohol lifted as he thought of what he would soon encounter. Looking around the room he felt a pang of shame. It was an embarrassment, curtains drawn, random clutter on every horizontal surface, most of which had what his Mother would have called, “An unacceptable amount of dust” on them.
Roughly kicked into the corner was a pile of clothes, towels, unwashed bed sheets and shoes.
Possibly even worse than the general chaos of the room was the smell. It wasn’t horrific, just musty, but it’d get worse, he knew from experience. He mentally chided himself, he would sort the room out when he got back, or maybe tomorrow, but soon, for sure.
Dan made the drive to the crime scene through the cold February night on autopilot, rousing from his thousand-yard stare as he rounded the final corner to the flashing lights of the massed Police vehicles.
He pulled up and walked the final 100 yards towards the largest group of officers, gathered near the dumpsters, behind the old Diner that used to operate on the site. It was boarded up now, silently sitting toward the front of the carpark, as if standing guard, willing him away from what he knew he’d soon see.
Jimmy, in conversation with a group of detectives, saw him walking up and waved him over, “Dan, Dan, back here”, pointing to the darkest part of the carpark.
“She’s almost identical to the others” said Jimmy, “Can’t be more than 16 or 17…”
Dan cut him off, “Do we have an I.D.?”
“Nope, not yet. She hasn’t been here long.” He motioned with his chin towards the forensic team, “They reckon she only died a few hours ago, on the 14th, but only just. Her folks probably won’t even know she’s missing until the morning, if she was out for Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah, good point” said Dan, “Right, let’s take a look”.
As they approached the body he could smell her, even from feet away. In the cold early morning air, the metallic smell of blood, and the faintly sweet unpleasant smell of the abdomen, made his nostrils flare.
They stood over the body of a blonde teen, roughly dumped in the dark behind a dumpster, no effort made to conceal her. The red tinged scuffing on the tarmac, and grazing on her back indicated she’d been dragged about ten yards to her resting place.
“Look at the blood out of her wounds, she must have been really fresh when she was dumped” said Jimmy. “It’s gotta be the same guy, she’s cut the same way, right up the middle of her stomach, up to the sternum.”
“The eyes, the same yeah?”, asked Dan, but he didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “Multiple stab wounds to the face, but focused on the eyes. Repeated stab wounds to the vagina and anus, and deep bite wounds to the buttocks and thighs.”
“Yep, you got it” said Jimmy, “And semen as well. Same as last year, he’s fucked her after the stabbing”.
“Forensics got swabs?” asked Dan.
“Yeah, and pics of the bites. But this guy’s a ghost, nothing on record for him, the only thing we know for sure is that he fuckin’ hates Valentine’s Day” joked Jimmy.
“Or loves it” said Dan.
“What about the heart?” Dan’s breath caught in his throat as he asked.
“Same as the other two, not there. Looks like after he cuts them open he goes up under the ribs and cuts the heart out, nothing precise about it either”, said Jimmy, grimacing as he looked down at the body.
“Well, if it is the same guy, that heart will be turning up somewhere nearby in the next day of two.”
As Dan said this he was conscious of how light headed he was feeling and turned sharply, walking quickly back to his car, calling back over his shoulder to Jimmy, “I’ll be in the office in a couple of hours, meet me there with everything you’ve got.”
Walking quickly back to his car, his breathing was shallow as he slumped into the drivers seat.
Opening the glovebox he stared at the lump of flesh inside a plastic bag, feeling a tightness in his crotch. “You were the best yet”, he whispered, “I wish we could have had more time together, but alas, date night comes but once a year.”