Etched in Glass
Contents
Etched In Glass
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Etched In Glass
By. Nyxie Marrs
© Copyright 2019 Nyxie Marrs. All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
I watch as a group of women take their party to an accommodating booth in the corner of the bar. Their loud laughter, and constant clinking of glasses is an indication of a party. From the sounds of it, someone just turned twenty one. They order a slew of drinks, and kept them coming all night. Except one woman. One woman sitting towards the edge of the group, sipping on an Old Fashioned.
Her long black hair spilling over her exposed caramel shoulders, rolling her amber eyes as her friends continue their night without a care. Her thin maroon lips curve around the clear glass as she takes another sip. Leaning her head back just for a second as she tries to ignore the other women. Ah, stressed. Maybe jealous? Her drink choice is significantly different than her group. Singling her out. She looks troubled; my favorite.
She must be the designated driver. Pissed at something in her life and having to be the sober one. Oh, that attitude on her face just brightens my day. Her slender build and gorgeous large eyes make her look sweet and vulnerable. She just doesn't know how vulnerable she can be.
She swings her long, bare legs out of the booth and heads towards the ladies room. Her tall, strappy, black heels clicking on the floor. Those sounds getting lost through the music and the noise, but I can hear it, and I know where she will be.
Clutching the strap of her miniature purse to her shoulder as she moves across the crowded room. A subconscious act to feel more secure in an unknown environment. Nothing is going to keep her safe tonight.
I follow closely as she heads down the long, dark, hallway towards the ladies room. Lucky for me, there's an exit down here too.
She places her hand on the door, pushing against the cold metal until it cracks open. Allowing a dim light to spill out into this abysmal hall. Before she has time to look up, my hand is around her mouth with a damp cloth covering her nose. The increase of her heart rate and breathing makes her take in the drug faster. Only a few seconds more and she's limp in my arms. At least being in a bar, no one expects anything. All they see is a woman passed out, whose friends are partying hard.
With her extremities bound, I drive off with her in my trunk. Another beauty to add to the collection.
Chapter 2
Miles
I don't know why I keep the ring tone, it's too damn annoying. The constant pinging creates a ringing in my ears. Pulsating with the throbbing in my veins. It definitely wakes me up. I reach my hand over to my nightstand, fumbling around and knocking the phone to the floor.
“Well damn.” I have no choice but to actually sit up. Answering my phone on the very last ring. Crap its work.
“Miles.” I say as I stand.
“Got another one detective.” The deep voice on the other end says.
I scratch my head and walk into my kitchen to start the coffee, I’ll need it for this case. “What do we have?”
Walking back into the room, I throw on my jeans and a simple t-shirt.
“Young woman. Last seen with her rowdy group of friends. Her belongings strewn on the floor of a bar. She's gone. Friends are worried.”
I sigh. “How rowdy?” There's been a few cases of missing women recently, and not one common thread connecting these cases. Quite a few cases end when the missing woman is found to have left the bar with a man, only to show up the next day after we begin our search.
He matches my sigh. “She was their DD. So she was the sober one. According to her buddies anyways. I need you to come look at the evidence. It's not good Miles.”
“Damnit. Where at? I'll be there.”
***
It’s two thirty in the morning by the time I’m driving to the Mixing Vines. Even a twenty minute drive is wasting time, hopefully my partner got there and started interviewing the friends.
I step out of my vehicle to see the lone police car, and my partner's car alongside the curb. The quiet darkness of the night is broken up with soft sobs coming from inside the closer I get to the entrance. I take a deep breath and meet the officer at the door.
“Detective Miles.” The tall, husky officer blurts out, giving me a short nod as he opens the door to the bar.
“Hey Pete. How's it looking?” I ask casually.
Usually the first responding officer will have a better idea of what I'm about to walk into. His face is stone, his mouth slightly opens like he’s going to say something. When he glanced inside, his eyes roam the room until he lands on the table of young women, drunk and crying. Giving me a tight lip nod seeming to say 'good luck', I head inside.
“Red. What do we have?” My partner is already taking notes as he speaks with one of the women.
“S-s-she was right next to us. Then she wasn't.” This short dark-haired woman pushed through her lips between sobs. Her blue eyes clouded by tears as she looks between us.
Redmond looks to me as he tried to get this woman to calm down.
“I've gotten through two of the four. Not a whole lot of information. Go take a look at the evidence Miles.”
I nod and walk over to Officer Dave who’s bagging her purse and contents.
“So when we got here, it was a mess. She dropped her bag, who knows how long her purse was on the floor because the contents were everywhere.”
“Yeah.” I say as I pick up pieces to look over for information.
“So when the gals decided to leave they couldn't find... Uh. Talia, their DD. One of the men at the bar said he last saw her go towards the women's room. But there's so many people it's hard to keep track of everyone.”
I place her ID down. “Where was the purse found? Did anyone see someone with her?”
Dave points down the hall. “Found in the hall. A broken strap from the purse by the back door.”
“She had no interest in see
ing anyone.” A soft voice emits from the group. I turn towards them to see a redhead with blue eyes staring me down.
“Doesn't mean she didn't find anyone of interest while here, miss.”
She shakes her head. “No. Massive breakup. She was our DD, no way she would leave. Her disappearance is odd.”
She’s certain, in an 'as a matter of fact way'. I take a step towards their table where three women are stifling sobs and nodding in agreement.
“But she said her drink was weird.” A large blonde next to the redhead says.
“Like drugged?” Now hoping I'm getting some valuable information.
She shakes her head. “No. Not drugged. She said there was a weird number on the bottom of her drink she only had the one. But no one thought it was weird, so we ignored it.” They push the glass to the edge of the table. I grab a bag. Sure enough there’s a number thirty-nine crudely scratched into the bottom. So much for being the sober DD, they initially left out the one drink she had.
I turn to the manager of the bar. “Do you guys do this? Anyone from your business do this?” I hold the glass up for the manager to see.
His light brown eyes search the glass resting on the numbers at the bottom. He shakes his head. “No sir. We don't and no one here does. I've got no idea how that happened.” I look to the women as more sounds of muffled sobs form. I push the glass in the bag and look around.
“Cameras?” I ask him. He nods and walks me to the back where the security system is hooked up to a screen.
“Let me know if you need anything.” He says as he leaves me to look over the video from today.
Chapter 3
Talia
What just happened? I spend a few minutes taking in my surroundings, its dark. There's no way my sight can penetrate the blackness beyond this hell. My hands skim the thick, cold steel welded together in front of me. Behind me is a small and dirty toddler mattress laying on the exposed concrete floor. Where am I?
I want to scream, I want to plead my way out of here, but if I'm already in this situation I know that won't help. I'm going to die here.
“You're new.” A small mousey voice mutters.
“Hello? Who? Where are we?” I try to remain quiet but adrenaline is overpowering my body.
“Sh. Don't make him come in here. It won't be good. I don't know where we are.” Her voice cracks as sobs form in her throat.
“What is this place? How long have you been here?”
She sighs. “I don't know how long it's been. From what I can tell, this is his 'stock' room.” There’s a hint of hate in her voice, with depression seeping through.
“Stock? Like what? Shit, does he eat people?'
“I don't know. There's about ten girls in here at once, each in our own cage.”
Dread finally sets in. My body starts to shake.
Chapter 4
Miles
Red and I finally get back to the precinct with the evidence placed on the table.
“You know Miles, there are a lot of women disappearing from bars recently. Do you think this one will show up after her one night stand like a few others?”
I push my hand through my hair. “I don't know Red. I feel like we finally got something different though.” I pick up the bag with the glass in it and look it over.
“I don't think this glass came from the bar. And that number is crudely placed on the bottom.”
Red stands next to me and looks at it. “What do you suppose thirty-nine means?”
Looking at this longer, I get a bad feeling. “Red. Do you suppose this is his track record? Of how many women he's taken?”
He shakes and lowers his head. I swear a curse flows out with his breath. “We've seen stranger things, it's possible. How could we connect them all? There's a lot of cold files to work through.”
I sit the glass down and take another look at the contents from her purse. Driver's license, phone, personal items. Nothing giving us a hint to what may have happened.
“I think we should start with the ex. What do you think Red?”
“First suspect, usually the one that did it too. What did you find on the video from the bar?” He holds up the disc.
“Well, there was a man who walked into the hall before her, and one that walk in after her. Both were hard to get a good glimpse of. The one after her had on a thick coat. Never saw either man leave the hall.”
“Think he has help?”
“That or a huge coincidence, what do you think?”
“Never a coincidence when it comes to a missing woman. Were there videos outside?”
I shake my head. “No. Well, there were but the wires were cut. No one was seen doing it.”
“Where was the bartender? No one notices one woman going into the bathroom when there's a decent sized crowd.” He has a good point. Unless he had a specific interest in her, why would he have noticed her?
“We'll have to check him out too. Maybe the manager, just to cover our bases.”
Chapter 5
Vega
Three days a week I sit my ass at a bar. Different one each night I go out. I'm hoping I can find what I'm looking for, and it isn’t a good time. I order nothing but old fashioned drinks. He seems to favor those choices. I'm damn determined to get what I want. I look over every guy in here, more than once. So far none have set off a creepy vibe. Well. None that say killer anyways.
I dress up similar to each victim, I order the same drinks, and I stay alone. I’ve had no luck in finding this guy. Bastard is going to die for taking my sister. I’ll make sure of that.
Crap. This sandy-blonde haired, skinny man has been eyeing me since I came in. Now it looks like he's getting the nerve to come over here. This will be fun. Time for my fake smile. If that doesn't work, then my bitchy attitude.
“Hey sweet thing. Brought you another.” He slurs as he sits the glass on the edge. An old fashioned. Could this be him?
“No thanks. Please leave.” So much for trying to be nice.
“Oh, I think I'll stay and talk to you some more.” He says as he pushes his alcohol reeking body next to me into the booth. Hell no. This man is just drunk and obviously doesn't know what 'no' means.
“Last chance. Leave.” I clench my fists. Not like I have much to lose if I start a bar fight. My life went to hell the second my sister was taken a month ago.
He doesn't move, he scoots in closer, pinning his skinny ass into me. His brown eyes are glazed over from the alcohol invading his system. That sloppy smile disgusts me as the alcohol smell becomes stronger with each breath he releases. I force him out of the booth and push him onto floor.
“Bitch.” He slurs some more as he tries to get up, but I push him back down. This time slamming his head against the dirty floor.
“I said leave, you dipshit. What part of ‘no’ don't you understand?” I throw the drink on him and look to the bottom of the glass. It's not him. I harshly toss the glass on to the table. Why the hell does this constantly happen? I pull my fist back, preparing to punch his face the second he stands. I’ll teach him a damn lesson he’ll never forget.
A large hand engulfs my wrist and spins me around. Great, he has friends. When I meet the eyes of the next guy looking for an ass beating, my anger shuts off. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close with one hand gripping my fist. His green eyes are fixed on mine with fire flickering in them, then move to asshole number one as he gets up.
“I'll take care of this. Wait here.” He whispers close to my lips, leaving me with no response.
My body reacts with a stillness that’s never occurred before. With an action like that, generally he’d be on the floor by now. What just happened? I should have kicked his ass for having his hands on me, but I stayed here like a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. Well, he's in for a surprise.
“Hey, buddy.” He says in a menacing tone as he steps closer to asshole number one. I've yet to determine if this other guy is asshole number two. Looking like it though. He pul
ls something from his pocket and quickly places it back. “The lady said to leave. Do I have to make you or can you manage on your own?”
Asshole number one stammers as his eyes dart to me with hate. This second guy steps in front of him, blocking his gaze from me. The look on second guys’ face must be intimidating because he just nods. With nothing but a frustrated huff escaping his mouth, he leaves.
I let out a breath my body decided to hold without my knowledge, and this second guy steps back to me.
“Thanks. But I really had that under control.” I say aggressively hoping he can pick up on my hostility.
The side of his mouth draws up instead. Great, he thinks this is amusing.
“No problem miss. I didn't think an attractive woman like yourself should start bar fights she can't handle.” He takes another step towards me, invading my personal space and not caring about what consequences lie in wait.
“Who do you think you are? I'm capable of doing what I damn well please. Next time you decide a woman can't handle her own fight, maybe stay out of it.”
I look around the bar. Attention is drawn to us, but only momentarily. As soon as I make eye contact with the people around us, they redirects that attention elsewhere. Hell, the manager stops approaching and turns away. Why can’t this guy pick up on my aggression like everyone else?
He laughs. This pompous asshole number two, yup decided he is, laughs.
“I like your attitude. I'm Miles.” Well that explains it. He’s not deterred easily. That’s about to change.
“Pft. Like you deserve to know my name after demonstrating some kind of alpha-he-man attitude thinking a woman needs saved. Shove it Miles.” I say as I grab my purse and walk by him towards the door.
The hurried steps behind me mean he’s following me. “You're right. I apologize. Maybe I should have let you handle him. Would that have made you feel better?” Amusement, and arrogance. Something tells me he’s not going to stop.