Trapped With A Killer

Chapter One

Content Warning: mature language, depictions of non-consensual sexual activities, severe abuse, murder, and mutilation. Please use discretion.

"Reyna, we've been sitting in this car for hours. What exactly are you waiting for?" my childhood friend Quinn asked. I finished surveying the older gentleman putting away some groceries before he drove away, leaving us one of the few cars left on this level. It might seem strange that two college seniors were spending their evenings parked in a parking garage, but I swear I had my reasons.

"Anything suspicious. Someone following someone else. Stuff like that," I answered.

"Oh, so we are looking for creepy people who would spend hours in a mall parking garage watching others," Quinn mocked.

"Ha ha, laugh it up. But I'm serious. There's a good chance that the Tintail killer will find his next victim in this very parking garage, and we could be the ones to stop him!" The Tintail Killer was a serial killer who had been active for at least three years and was credited with twenty kidnappings and ten murders. He gained his name because the victims that led the police to dub him a serial killer were dumped on Tintail Street. His methods were gruesome to say the least.

He usually kidnapped two people, a man and a woman. Then he would torture them for several days before killing the man and dumping his mutilated body somewhere in the city. The woman would be released the same day, usually horribly disfigured but alive.

"You're delusional. If it was that easy, the police would've found him by now. This isn't like one of those crime shows you're obsessed with," Quinn said, and I sighed.

"I know that. I know this is dumb. It's just a stupid little game, okay? But I've thought about this a lot." I reached into my bag to pull out my maps. It showed the city with marks of every disappearance and dumping site, but Quinn reached out a hand and stopped me.

"You've shown me all this before. I know. I've seen it all. But look, we have to go home eventually. We've been here for over two hours, and not a single person did anything suspicious. That is, if you don't count ourselves." I had known Quinn almost all our lives and because of that she put up with my various idiosyncrasies, but even her patience had limits.

"Fine, just give me a few minutes to look around one more time," I begged. Quinn hesitated for a moment before nodding. I got out and started to wander around the parking garage, and I walked down the ramp towards the elevators. The lights flickered and hummed, but other than that the place was deathly quiet

Then I saw it, a van. It was tucked into the corner; nondescript, gray, but it had windows on the back doors.

"Almost a perfect murder van," I mused as I cupped my hand over the window and took a peek inside.

Realization hit me with a bolt of lightning as I surveyed the contents of the van: nylon rope, chains, sheets of plastic, duck tape, even a fucking crowbar! Shit, shit shit! I fumbled for my phone and snapped a shot of the license plate as best I could with shaking hands.

I didn't know for sure if this was the killer, but whoever's van this was, they were up to no good. I needed to get back to Quinn and get the fuck out of here. Then I heard the elevator door ding open. On reflex, I quickly ducked behind a pillar near the van and hid myself from the elevator's line of sight, trying to calm my breathing. As I crouched panting, I tried to reason with myself. The likelihood of the owner of the van returning at this moment was slim, but even so I had a bad feeling in my gut.

When I heard a set of heels click along on the pavement past the van I let out a sigh of relief. Then I felt rather foolish at having panicked over a woman just walking to her car. But after a moment I heard the elevator doors open again and a new set of footsteps approached. I tried to pay attention to them, to gain any shred of information, but they echoed through my head and mixed with the blood pumping through my ears. I couldn't concentrate!