Blind Spot
by Erik Buchanan
Detective Fairburn looked up from the video on the camera phone. “Describe the assailant, please.”
“I can’t.”
Fairburn frowned at the haggard young woman. “Someone assaulted you.”
“Yes.”
“In broad daylight.”
“Yes.”
“Which your friend here,” he waved at the scruffy young guy beside her, “recorded.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“I was filming pedestrian patterns for an art project.”
“Whatever,” said Fairburn. “Describe the attacker.”
“We can’t!” the woman said, nearly hysterical. “I thought I was having a heart attack. I didn’t even know I someone else was there until he showed me the video. You saw it. You describe him!”
Two hours later, the other five detectives in Fairburn’s squad were gathered around his desk. Fairburn hit play for the tenth time. “Look closer. Look for something. Anything!”
“There’s the assaulter,” said Lee, Fairburn’s partner.
Torino nodded. “He’s got…”
MacDonald leaned in. “She. It’s a she…”
“Taller than the victim?” ventured Pace.
“Shorter,” said Pace. “I think.”
“I got nothing,” said Stenowitz.
Fairburn rubbed his face. “We all see him—her—whatever assault the victim right? Why can’t we describe him?”
“Because it doesn’t want to be seen,” said Lee. “No ID, no capture.”
“It?” said Pace.
“Do you know any people that can do this?”
Fairburn sat back, crossed his arms and glowered at the screen. “So how the hell is it doing that?”
“No clue.”
“Well, it’s not getting away with it. MacDonald, look up for reports of similar attacks.”
“If no one can see the attacker, how can they know it’s an attack?” asked Lee.
“We should talk to 911,” said Stenowitz. “Get a list of heart attacks that weren’t heart attacks.”
“Good idea,” said Fairburn. “Stenowitz, 911. Lee, Pace, talk to the victim and the guy with the phone. See if you can get anything else. I’ll call the building, see if they have cameras.”
Three hours later they all came back .
“No reports of similar attacks,” said MacDonald.
“But twenty-five 911 calls match,” Stenowitz. “In the last six months.”
Fairburn whistled. “I’ll call the locations about security cameras. The rest of you, look for patterns.”
Two hours after shift should have ended, all six gathered in the coffee room.
“No videos,” said Fairburn. “Which means the attacker knows it can been caught on camera. Patterns?”
“All happened around noon,” said Stenowitz. “Public place. 5 block radius of the Nationworks Bank tower. All women.”
“A vampire banker?” suggested Pace.
“Three other things,” said Stenowitz, ignoring Pace. “First, the attacks happen at one of eight different locations, every seven days, in order.”
“It’s stupid.” Fairburn smiled. “Excellent.”
“Second, eight of the women didn’t survive.”
Fairburn’s smile went away.
“Anyone else suddenly very angry?” asked Pace.
Five heads nodded.
“Third,” said Stenowitz, “I get to be bait when it attacks on Thursday.”
“We both do,” said Lee. “Two women, double the chances.”
“Six days to plan,” said Fairburn. “Now, how do we catch it?”
Six days later it was Lee who got hit. Searing pain burned through her chest as she crossed the Martin & Sons Financial courtyard talking on her cellphone.
Which was actually a Taser that she used to put 50,000 volts into the thing.
Stenowitz was by her side in a second, holding her up as she gasped in pain. MacDonald, Fairburn, Pace and Torino used their phone cameras to find it and zip-tie its many arms, legs, and proboscis. They dragged it to a police van and tossed it in.
“Right,” said Fairburn “What do we do with it?”
“It’s a killer,” said Stenowitz. “Shoot it.”
“We don’t even know if bullets will hurt it.”
“The new 23rd precinct building still has the old cells beneath it,” said Torino. “They’re due to be bricked off Tuesday.”
“What if someone sees?” asked Pace.
Fairburn looked at the empty space where he knew the killer lay. “Sees what?”
End
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