Print

He loved the darkness. Being able to sneak around without a soul aware was a power he enjoyed. It gave him a sense of being and almost Godliness. Not being there one minute and then there the next, like he had invisibility or powers of teleportation. He was more than those he was hunting. Just like the man he now stalked.

The dim offices of Reynolds & Hoffman were a maze of cubicles and walkways. Nestled in one of the executive skyscrapers within Exchange Place, the law office on the 11th floor was almost empty. Save for a Douglas Martin, working late for one of the partners on an upcoming trial. He saw the lone light burning from the street below, knowing that it was Douglas’s. Who else would be in the building at 3am on a Sunday morning? Trying desperately to impress the partners and make himself known to those above him. All a waste, though, he thought. Poor Doug would only be a page eight article.

He stood proudly in the dark hall, to the side, watching Doug rummage through the filing cabinet in the small filing room on the East wing. Doug searched for the one file that would help him make a difference in the case. He watched on. There was such light and determination in Doug. It almost made him sad to do what he was there to do. But then again, watching Doug for the entire week made him sad for the poor guy.

He had followed Doug, learning his routine, watching his habits, and getting into Doug’s head. Doug lived in a brownstone in Hoboken, NJ where he managed to hang out with the few friends he gained, working at the law office. Not too bad looking, Doug still was not a ladies man. He had not brought home any women in the time that he was watching. Wondering if his tastes ran the other way, he broke into the house and found a box of heterosexual porn. This answered his question.

Doug closed the one drawer and opened the one below that, continuing his search for the one folder. He crept into the doorway and remained still. He was waiting for the right moment to strike. Seconds later, Doug found his folder and yanked it out of the drawer.

“Yes! Got it. Douglas, you are the man!” Douglas laughed to himself, slamming the drawer close. As he did, something fluttered in the corner of his eye. Doug spun around, expecting to see one of the night cleaners watching him. But when he did, there was no one in the doorway. Doug breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he had found the folder his work for the night was done.

Douglas returned to his desk, the uneasy feeling returning to him. Was someone here? He looked around and listened. There was no sound other than the whirl of the computer’s internal fan. He waved it off, thinking it was the exhaustion kicking in. He had put in quite a few hours for his boss, hoping to nail the robber that they were prosecuting. It was your typical ‘guy robs a liquor store and beats employee for fun’ case. The one catch was what he had been searching for. The criminal had a habit that was clear on the tape but only if you were looking for it. And that was the slamming of the door. Case closed, Doug thought. Once this was all finished, he could return to the case that he was working on previously.

He gathered the papers and the folder and placed it into his briefcase. It was time to go home. A quick twelve minute drive back to his place, a nice cold shower to ward off the August heat and then straight to bed for a few hours. That was his weekend. But Doug didn’t mind. He was doing his part in keeping the streets safe.

The air outside the building was muggy, giving him the slimy workout feeling that most humid August days in the Tri-State area gave. Doug walked to his car and got in. The night silence was a bit unnerving, considering the area around Exchange Place was a bit slum-like. But he guessed, even criminals had to sleep sometime.

Doug checked his backseat and then started the car. He drove away, satisfied by the quality of work he had completed. Once he arrived home, he was happy to find the parking spot he left hours ago was still there. Parking in Hoboken, New Jersey was about as easy as finding a needle in a mile high haystack. But the life of the bustling city was something he loved. And the line of bars on Washington Street was an added bonus.

He walked into his studio apartment and placed the briefcase on the kitchen table. He walked over and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. Closing the fridge, he nearly dropped the bottle and screamed. A man stood in front of him, dressed in black nylon, wearing plastic surgical gloves.

“Whoa! Hold on! You can have anything you want in the place, just leave me alone.” He told the intruder.

“The only thing I want from you, Doug, is your blood.” The man replied, before throwing Doug across the room. Doug crashed into the kitchen table and knocked it over. He jumped to his feet, ready to run for the door. But the intruder grabbed him by the shoulder and brought the steak knife he had taken from the kitchen drawer and stabbed Doug in the chest. The air left Doug’s lungs as the pain shot through his body. The intruder did not stop. He stabbed Doug over and over.

Doug tried to cry out but the pain clenched his vocal cords, preventing anything than a muttered breath out of his mouth. The world around him darkened and he crumbled to the floor, the blood creeping out of his wounds and gathering beneath him.

The intruder smiled, his plan coming to completion. He dropped the knife on the floor next to Doug Martin and removed the glove from his right hand. He then gently dipped his thumb into the blood puddle and walked over to the couch, where the briefcase had landed. Placing his thumb on the briefcase, he held it there for a few seconds. He stood up and returned the glove to his hand. Returning to his silent mode, he opened the front door and left the apartment. Evil begets chaos, he thought. And, oh what chaos was to come for an innocent man.