Free Haunting Whispers by V. K. Powell

get the joke. She was just glad to have the subject of Rae Butler at least temporarily tabled. As they drank their tea and prepared for bed, Yasi made small talk about their friends and work. They moved to the only bed in the apartment with no questions or awkwardness. She and Yasi had slept together many times without discomfort, and tonight would be no different.
     
    She shivered as cold wind brushed across her face. Just a temperature response, but she looked around anyway—nothing except her excitement.
    Turning toward the bar, she thought how strange that the sky had suddenly gone dark. Remnants of a shattered streetlight littered the path. That sweet smell. A stabbing pain pierced her. Liquid fire oozed down her spinal column and branched out into her body. Her muscles seized and she dropped to the ground like a stone.
    “No more,” she begged. “No more.”

Chapter Five
     
    Rae woke at dawn and shuffled into her dart room/office by way of the coffee pot. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and her marathon Whisperer case review. She examined the timeline and victim photos thumbtacked to the massive display board again as she twirled one of her favorite darts between her fingers.
    She’d taken up the sport as a teenager to avoid her family’s constant nagging about her first girlfriend. Janet hated darts so Rae kept the set packed away to avoid an argument. She enjoyed having some personal space back, though she was occasionally lonely. As she perused the crime board, the sleek, perfectly balanced dart teetered on the tip of her finger, reminding her of the precariousness of life.
    Four attractive women assaulted in similar fashion. She absently rolled the streamlined Viper dart shaft and sipped her coffee. Her extensive background checks indicated the four women had nothing in common. Though they were striking in appearance, she couldn’t find enough similarities between them to establish a victim type for the offender.
    What was she missing? Rae positioned her right foot and angled about seventy-five degrees to the dartboard. She visually lined up the target, stroked the dart flight between her fingers for luck, and accelerated through the throw in one fluid motion. Only her arm moved, shoulder and body still and grounded for the perfect shot. The follow-through ended with her hand aiming at the center of the target.
    The dart spiraled beautifully toward the bristle board, struck a spider that separated the segments, and bounced to the floor. She often bargained with herself before release that if she made the shot she’d uncover one clue in her current case. Her delivery proved much more reliable than the crime-solving gods. Frustrated with her game and the lack of significant leads, Rae headed for the shower.
    She was dressed and on her way out the door when her cell phone rang. “Butler.”
    “How soon can you get here?”
    “Sarge?”
    “Of course it’s me. I need to see you ASAP. And yes, I know it’s Sunday.”
    As Rae drove to the station, she wondered what kettle of fish had boiled over and ruined Sergeant Sharp’s suit. Not So didn’t ruffle unless he sensed danger to his perfectly coiffed career. A few minutes later she found out the reason.
    Sharp paced behind his desk in a pair of khaki slacks and golf shirt. Was his sour expression because his game had been interrupted or because of the news he was about to deliver? Either way she wouldn’t be a winner. “It’s that Everhart woman.”
    “Excuse me? You took me off that case two days ago.”
    Not So waved a computer printout in the air then shoved it toward her on the desk. “See that?” He pointed to the pages, crumpled around the edges from his vigorous fanning. The data was the same information Audrey had gotten from crime analysis, with one entry circled.
    She waited for the point. It wasn’t her case any more and the sergeant seemed more agitated than a simple assault would warrant. “Am I missing something?”
    “The suspect