Night Prowler

Chapter 4
Detective Christian Raphael

As she went into her house I pulled out of her driveway. Today was one crazy day, yet through it all she toughed it out. She’s so beautiful, but I couldn’t tell her that (I’m just a rookie, and that’s all she saw me as). I made a right onto my street and pulled into my driveway. I got out of my car and went inside my house. When I got inside I took off my coat and headed for the computer and searched “night prowler” on Google. There was a website dedicated to finding him and A FAN SITE! Who would make a fan site for this creep? I clicked on the website and in bold letters it said “COME AND WORSPHIP OUR BELOVED MESSHIAH.” I clicked on the enter site link, and saw people just talked about him (good stuff about him too). It made me sick, they about him like he was JESUS or something! I clicked out of the website and decided to take a shower.
After my shower I looked at the time and saw it was already past midnight, I decided to go to bed. I changed my clothes and headed for my bed room, I looked around my room (pretty plain nothing special). I turned off the light and laid in my bed. I just stared at my ceiling until I finally fell asleep, but I was woken a few hours later by a noise outside in the living room.
I grabbed my gun and headed out into the living room. I walked out into the living room and saw a woman trying to climb through my window. “Who are you,” I asked still pointing the gun at her. “I’m a reporter for the New York Times. I knocked on your door but you didn’t answer so I thought…” she didn’t finish her sentence.
“You thought what? You could break in my house?”
“I know it’s early in the morning and I shouldn’t have broken into your house. But I wanted to talk to you about the case, the one with the Night Prowler. Four murders in one day, he’s pretty psycho, I just want the truth.”
“Why didn’t you go to Det. Hileman? She’s the lead detective in the case.”
“I tried her house but she didn’t answer the door.”
“You didn’t break into her house?”
She giggled.
“I tried, but none of her windows were opened or unlocked.”
I hated reporters because they always twisted the truth and they were so annoying. Also they pretty much gave most killers what they wanted, fame and recognition. They want to be known and feared by people, it gives them the power. But for some reason I trusted her, I don’t know why but I do (she seemed trust worthy). I asked her, “What’s your name?” “Susan Johnson,” she said.
“Now what do you want to know?”
“Well what’s the status on the case? Do you know what the Night Prowler looks like? And tell me your thoughts on how the case has been cold for ten years.”
“Well so far we don’t know what he looks like. We know his name but it’s like this James Wood doesn’t exist. And my thoughts are that he’s just too good, too smart and just too good; nothing much to say.”
“Interesting, now is it true that Detective Hileman is the only one that survived the St. Mary’s Orphanage Massacre?”
I just stood there in silence for a moment (I didn’t know if she wanted me to tell anyone, especially the newspaper). I had to say something; I didn’t want to look like I was formulating a lie to say. “You need to ask her,” I said. “What, you don’t know,” she asked.
“Yes, I don’t know.”
“What? She must have told you. You’re her partner, right?”
“Yes, but she never told me. She’s really reserved, she doesn’t say what she feels, and she’s quiet.”
“Ok then, I guess I got what I need. I guess I’ll look for your partner and ask her myself.”
She turned around and headed for the door, as she opened the door I said, “Be careful.” “What? She doesn’t bite or anything, right,” she asked sarcastically. She left and pulled out of my driveway, great now she’s going after Melaine (this isn’t going to end well). She didn’t seem like the type that like reporters, I hope Susan will be ok.