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Runnin Round Red Mountain

Chapter 1

The Demands of a Murderer 

Darkness ... All I can see is darkness. It sets in like the sun and pulls away all the sound in the world with it. Even the rain that falls all around me does so in a way that escapes my range of hearing. The ground beneath my feet then starts giving way to even more of what is the darkness consuming the world around me. In the ever fading distance, I see the silhouette of what appears to be a young woman. She’s here … Why is she always here? Complete and total silence … Why can’t I ever hear the rain? I can see the young woman raising her head, raising her eyes to meet with mine. Before I have the opportunity to make eye contact with her, I feel my body begin to lose weight, as I start falling. Down into the empty void that is the darkness below me. For what seems like forever, until…

Beep! Beep! Beep! My eyes shoot open. Darkness turns into a neon green glow that reads 5:00 AM. Muscles ache in defiance, while I force myself to sit up in bed. “This is getting kind of old,” I say to myself while rubbing my eyes. I know there is no time to waste obsessing over the details, of what was yet another sleepless night. “We have work to do!” With that, I grab the towel hanging from my closet door and head for the shower.

Getting ready in the morning has always proved distracting enough to help forget about the void. Although, the tangibility that comes with the dream never helps. The rain falling on my head only moments ago felt as real as the water falling from the shower head right now … A more superstitious person would attempt to process it further, but I’ve never been very superstitious. In fact, I have seen things in real life more disturbing than anything most have ever dreamed of. My mind then can’t help but turn its attention on the very reason my alarm was set in the first place. “You have been waiting for this for years,” I say calmly to my own reflection, whilst placing the final touches on my lucky silk blue tie. I continue my morning routine by preparing a fresh pot of coffee and tuning into ANN's morning broadcast. 

“They are calling him the worst killer of this generation…” the voice of an unnecessarily attractive female news anchor breaks the silence of my hotel room. “Jorge Ben Lawrence, the notorious serial killer with a body count that some believe to be in the hundreds, was arrested two days ago; ending a manhunt that lasted several months.” An intense feeling washed over me upon seeing the psychopaths face. I didn’t even notice the grip around my mug tighten until some of the coffee landed on my hand. 

“Shit!” the hot liquid burns my hand and although it’s painful, the surprise it has on me is what causes my outburst. I reach for the roll of paper towels while turning my focus back towards the broadcast. 

“When interrogation efforts were first initiated, the killer announced that he would only speak to one man, demanding the attention of a detective by the name of Carson Rose.” My eyebrows cringe at the sound of my own name. How the hell did they find that out already? I knew the information would get out eventually but I didn’t think that it would be so soon. “Arrangements have already been made for the detective to have a face to face discussion with Lawrence, otherwise known as the Red Mountain Murderer. Although, why he requested to speak with a detective who lives on the other side of the nation is a mystery to everyone.” Whoever the journalist was behind this story was spot on … All I have been able to think about since receiving that phone call yesterday is what the hell this guy wants with me.

The FBI wasted no time in forcing me on the next flight over. As the ringtone breaking my attention from the TV proved further. A number I didn’t recognize lit up the screen of my cell phone, yet I already knew it had to be them. Cutting the broadcast off, I answered the call and raised the phone up to my ear. “Detective Rose?” A professional toned voice spoke up. 


“Your car is ready for you downstairs” the unnamed voice announces, hanging up before I have the chance to thank him. Wasting no time, I grab my gun and badge then head for the door. The sun hasn’t even started rising, yet a classy black Lincoln sedan with bright LED lights, waits out front. As I make my way outside, a sharply dressed man steps out of it to greet me. 

“Detective Rose right?” the man asks, though it was obvious he knew the answer. “The one and only,” I sighed sarcastically. 

“It’s good to finally meet you, my name’s Detective Morrison and it looks like I’m going to be your wingman on this one.” 

“The entire bureau has been buzzing with questions since the sick bastard demanded your presence in his interrogation!” As he led me into the vehicle, I couldn’t resist respecting the excited tone the young agent had in his voice. 

“And he hasn’t demanded anything else?” I asked out loud. 

“No sir, nothing more than his need to speak with you,” Morrison answered back with a suspicious look in his eyes. 

“You’re saying you have no idea why it is he will only speak with you and no one else?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I answer, turning my head to face the window. I could tell my response did little to convince him but all I cared about was gaining the same answers he wanted, so I let it go.

The car ride lasted for about an hour; in fact, by the time we arrived at our location, the sun had made its way into the morning sky. The name J. Edgar Hoover was carved on a stone sign mounted above the buildings front entrance. The driveway leading up to it felt like something out of an old horror movie, with a foggy fall morning’s scenery adding to the eerie tension to today’s events. I analyzed the building while anxiety swept over me. It’s time we finally found out why I was dragged all the way out here. As the car rolled to an abrupt halt, Detective Morrison looked up at me, flashed a grin, covered his sky blue eyes with a pair of sunglasses, and said, “Show time!”