I walked out to the middle of the parking lot. My mind was being assaulted with a vast array of emotions and sensations. I had stepped into a thick fog of left over vibrations from when Lana had been kidnapped. What lay in front of me in the mall parking lot was a scrambled mess of trauma, fear, and evil. I knew what I needed to do. I had to begin to seperate each individual feeling and try to piece together what had happened. I had to discover what had happened to Lana. I didn't want to just do this for her spirit, but also for my very own sanity. Yet, my sanity was exactly what was being questioned by Detective DiAngelo.
"Well?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently. I held up a hand to prevent her from interuptting my focus.I had just managed to latch onto the exact image I needed. I closed my eyes and began to sharpen my mind. Finally, a scene began to play in front of me as though I was watching somekind of demented movie. I relay everything I see to DiAngelo who's beginning to scribble on a notepad.
Lana. Lana is there. She's walking to her car. Alone. She's wearing a skirt with a rain jacket. It's the jacket I've seen her in. She's holding a black umbrella and is shaking the rain out of her hair. She walks up to a blue, two door car. She opens the door and tosses her purse into the back seat. She stick her keys into the ignition, starting the car, making it fog up the windows. She takes off the jacket. Her sneakers squeak on the concrete floor justas she's about to sit in the driver's seat. And then he's there. A shadow. A man. I can't make out his face. I can only see a gray sweatshirt, black jeans, and massive hiking boots. His legs are caked with mud. His hood is drawn closely around his face, His face. I need to see his face. I can't make it out. I need to see his eyes. If I can see his eyes I can figure out who he truly is. I can't. But I can hear his thoughts. Sick. Sick, sick, sick. His mind is twisted and warped. So many sick thoughts. So much evil. He's disgusting. He grabs her. He has a knife. It's a large knife. A serrated blade. He holds it to her throat, pressing it down into her skin. He likes her skin. He enjoys her scent. He loves her panic. He's flithy. He drags her backwards, holding a gloved hand over her mouth. She's trying to scream. Her blue eyes are wide with fear. She thrashes at him, blindly clawing at his face. The man jerks her around, her legs flailing.I can hear Lana's thought's as well. She wants to fight. She won't give up. Her resolve is as stong as steel. She prys off his hand. Using all of her strength, she elbows him in the gut. He gasps and lets go of her. She runs. His interest in her has been rekindled. He loves the fact that she fights. It's fun. He's not hurt by her feeble attack. He finds it rather comical. He yanks her back by the hair. He's knotting his fingers in her hair. He loves her strawberry- blonde curls. Just like he loves it when she screams. She screams. She screams blood curddling, glass shattering screams. He's dragging the knife along her thigh, drawing blood. It drips in long lines down her leg. She leaves a trail of tears and crimson stains along the floor of the parking lot. Her leg is on fire. The jagged gash in her thigh hurt. It hurts so badly. But she still wants to fight. She's kicking at him, trying to land her feet into his groin. She fails and fails and fails, but continues to try. He laughs. A twisted, breathy chuckled echoes around the barren parking lot, mixing with the sounds of her terror. Her mascara's running down her face. She sobbing. Muffled sobbing. She's crying partly out of fear but mostly out of hatred and anger. She doesn't want her power stolen from her. The man's hand is over he mouth. He continnues to drag Lana to his car. It's a silver sedan. with a busted up headlight. Flinging open the door, he chucks her into the back seat. She smacks her head against he adjacent window. Suddenly free of her assailant she tries to push past him. She;s trying to escape again. She's trying so hard. She's still keeping up the fight. He pulls back his arm. He punches her. Twice. A sharp crack can be heard trhoughout the lot. Her head snaps back. She's out cold. He slams the door in her face. He sprints to the driver side. He gets behind the wheel and peels out of the parking lot. His tires spin out from under the car. A smell of burning rubber and exhaust fills the lot and he starts to drive away. His face. His face! He drives right past me and I can't see his face! Then he's gone. Lana is with him. Gone. They're both gone.
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, shaking me out of my vision. I was on my hands and knees, crawling around on the muddy, concrete floor. My left thigh burned with a seaing pain. I could feel the remants of tears drying on my face. I'd been crying. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the concerned face of Detective DiAngelo. Her brow was knit in a look of confusion and awe. She helped me to my feet. I staggered a bit but soon regained my footing and my breathing. DiAngelo continued to eye me cautiously.
I wiped my nose along my jacket sleeve. I wondered what I must have looked like to DiAngelo or a random passerby. I must have looked like a mess. I must have looked like a pathetic child. There I stood, in the middle of a random mall parking lot in the middle of Seattle stuck in the middle of a kidnapping scene. I was a nineteen-year-old idiot who saw things that weren't there and talked to dead girls in his dreams. I'm sure I was quite the sight. Apparently DiAngelo agreed.
"Wow," she began tenatively, guarding her words carefully, "That was... Something. I"ve never seen anything quite like-"
"Please don't speak to me like that," I sighed.
"What do you mean?" she replied.
"Don't talk to me like I'm some sort of basket case," I said with a sharp edge to my voice. "Don't treat me like I'm some sort of lunatic. You were the one that brought me here, against my will I might add. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to baby me like you're doing right now."
I glanced at her. She nodded, understanding what I asked of her then proceeded to flip though the pages of her notebook.
"You were right about eveything you know," Detective DiAngelo said. "You were spot on with every detail. Even the ones that weren't released to the public."
She crossed over to where I had seen Lana's car parked and tapped the floor with her shoe.
"This was exactly where her car was found, driver door open, keys in the igniton, engine on," DiAngelo continued to reaffirm what I'd seen as she walked over to where I'd seen that monster's car parked. "And here is where eye witnesses said they saw a silver sedan with a man and a girl leave the parking lot in a hurry."
"But this is all pointless information. I told you things that you already know. It's not useful in any way! You know that!" I said, throwing my hands up in frustration. DiAngelo walked toward me, following an invisible trail of what had once been Lana's blood. I pulled my jacket tighter around my body, physically trying to pull what was left of myself together. I was losing it. I hadn't given Detective DiAngelo anything usable for her investigation. I just gave her what must have been a bizzare rerun of what she already knew about. I needed to give her something good, like a name or a face. But I had nothing. I had only managed to torture myself further and I had nothing to show for it. I wasn't any closer to bringing a killer to justice. I wasn't any closer to helping Lana. I began to think I truly was pathetic child.
"Look, I know you said not to baby you, and I'm not, but if you can keep these abilities up like you have in the past twenty minutes I know that you can help me figure out who did this to your friend," DiAnglo said in an almost comforting tone. I remained silent. I just stared at my soaking wet Converse, wanting noting more than to dissapear from sight. Detective DiAngelo tugged me by my sleeve saying, "Come on."
"Come on? Where are we going?" I asked, feeling my stomach twist into knots. My intuition was flickering. I already knew where we were heading. And I knew it was going to be a lot worse than the mall parking lot. DiAngelo started to haul me over to her car, still clutching me by my jacket.
"Just get in. When we get there you can tell me where we are."
The truth is though, I already knew. I knew exactly where we're going. I was finaly going to get to see where Lana was killed.