Killing Roses

17__Closer than you think

Saturday, 23/08

09:35

Roman cracked his eyes open, vaguely finding it strange that the room was so sunlit. He froze. Sunlight?

In a flash, Roman shot upright in bed and looked around the brightly lit room.

“s**t,” he muttered, throwing off the covers and getting up. He was late!

He’d gotten home from the meeting around midnight, telling himself to look over the case files before he went to sleep. That was a promise forgotten the moment his head touched the pillow.

He hadn’t even undressed before he fell asleep. Yanking off his shirt, he threw it to the floor and unzipped his pants as he shoved off his socks. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and glanced at it. Fifteen missed calls. Davis would have him for breakfast.

Roman burst out of his room, thinking of nothing but a shower, but his steps were quickly halted, his eyes widening at what he saw.

Valerie stood in the hallway, between him and the bathroom at the other end. She stood as still as a photograph with a bowl of pancake mix in her hands, her eyes wide and staring down his bare chest to his unzipped trousers.

“Uhm…” she murmured, still unable to take her eyes off his body. “Morning…”

Roman stared at her. Nowhere in his head, when he woke up, had there been the thought that he no longer lived alone. Fighting a cringe, he turned away. He couldn’t even play it cool, Valerie’s stare was crippling to his brazenness.

She looked at him like he was the worst when she was going around the house in those.

Lowering his gaze to “those", Roman swallowed at the sight of her legs, stretching out from below the tiny pair of shorts she wore.

The tension in the silent hallway was far too strong for that early in the morning. Roman felt like he’d get indigestion all day from it.

He cleared his throat. “It’s nearly winter. Put something warm on.”

Valerie saw that he was moving to pass, so she darted to the side, embarrassed when Roman moved toward the same side. Feeling stifled with awkwardness, she hurried to the other side just as he stepped in the same direction.

When it happened one more time, Roman muttered a curse. They looked like they were dancing some dilapidated tango in the hallway.

Roman suddenly reached for her and she stiffened, staring at him when he took hold of her shoulders. Valerie was vividly reminded of the night in the staircase at her apartment. How he'd held her just like this and kissed her until she nearly begged him to take her.

When Roman's eyes darkened, his brows drawing together, she could see that he was thinking of the same thing.

In a rapid movement, he moved her to the side and out of his way. Valerie blinked at his gesture, but before she could say anything, Roman was stalking off toward the bathroom.

He paused when he reached the door, frowning at what he heard inside.

“Myyyy fair laaaadyyyyy!! Would you caaaare to daaaaaance?!” sang Officer Kingston in the shower, his sweet baritone sounding delightful to the ear that cared to listen.

Roman couldn’t have cared if his life depended on it. Raising a fist, he pounded on the door. “Kingston! What do think you’re doing? Having a damn concert?!”

The singing stopped. “Hello?” Kingston called warily. “Is there someone out there?”

“Get out!!” Roman barked, his eyes flaming with annoyance.

“Geez. Relax, man.”

Blinking, Roman looked behind him to see Michael leaning a thin shoulder against the wall as he looked disapprovingly at him. Roman scoffed. This little child dared to disapprove of him?

“Mind your own business, runaway,” Roman told him.

“I am minding my business. All the noise you’re making is causing a disturbance to myself and Miss Val. I’ll thank you to keep it down.”

Roman sputtered, his tongue not knowing which of the thousand words in his mind to speak first. “It’s my goddamn house, I’ll make a noise if I want to!”

Michael looked at him with down turned lips. “That’s so petty.”

“Yes!” Roman snapped, his brain cells secretly panicking about the long to-do list he had to complete. “I’m late as hell so I get to be petty!! Now run along.”

Michael snarled at him. “And that’s why I’m gonna eat your share of pancakes.”

Roman watched him strut off back downstairs and scowled. The audacity of that little brat! “Eat my pancakes and its war!!” he bellowed down the stairs.

“Myyyyyy faaair laaaaadyyyyy!! Wooould you caaarreee—”

“Kingston!!!” Roman roared. “Get your buffalo ass outta my goddamn shower so I can go to work!!”

The bathroom door swung open, releasing a cloud of steam. Officer Kingston stood in the doorway, a little white towel wrapped around his head and a larger one around his hips.

“Body shaming isn’t okay!” he said to Roman, crossing his thick arms over his muscle-packed chest.

Roman looked at the amount of muscular flesh Kingston left revealed in alarm. “Where do you think you’re going like this? In an apartment with Ms. Quinn, you’re gonna walk around all naked?!”

Kingston frowned uncertainly. “No-no, I have a towel on. And what about you?! You’re all naked too!”

Roman closed his eyes. “I’m different! Put some clothes on before she sees you!”

Pouting as Roman shoved past him, Kingston held tightly onto his towel and trudged off to Roman’s room, where he had a fresh uniform. Who cares if he had a buffalo ass? Ladies liked that buffalo ass of his.

Valerie shook her head at the noise and continued making breakfast as Michael sat at the counter, looking as bored as he always did.

“What’s going on?” she asked, flipping a pancake.

“He’s PMSing,” he murmured, eyeing the pancakes with longing.

Val gave him a dark look as she placed some pancakes on his plate. “Yeah, we don’t say that. Okay?” she told him firmly. “As long as you know nothing about how exhausting and torturous the whole situation revolving PMSing can be, you will say nothing about it. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Michael, far more interested in his breakfast than creating a counterargument.

Val looked at him silently for a moment as he ate, attempting to casually flip pancakes so he didn’t react too strongly to what she would say next.

“My bosses keep calling Officer Kingston,” she said. “They’re checking up on me.”

Michael nodded. “That’s great. Lucky you’ve got people checking up on you.”

“If… they call again… I could get your case file opened.”

Michael’s fork froze.

“In a very discreet way!” Valerie assured him quickly. “I won’t try to involve my entire department or anything. Just my supervisor and I will know about you.”

Michael silently lowered his fork and then looked right at her, his grey orbs showing a hint of sadness which broke Valerie’s heart. “If you don’t want to adopt me anymore, Miss Val, that’s okay. Just let me leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

Valerie frowned and shook her head. “That is not what I meant! I said I would take you in and I will, but I have to follow the right procedures, Michael. I don’t… I don’t even know if that’s your real name.”

“It is.”

She stared at him, hearing no lie in his voice. Valerie sighed and lowered her head. “Michael. The day I found you hiding in my car—”

“Hang on,” said someone suddenly.

Val’s gaze rose to see Roman, looking at her from the foot of the stairs, his jacket and keys in his hand.

Michael visibly stiffened and Valerie could tell he hoped Roman hadn’t heard their conversation.

His hope was in vain.

Roman took a step toward them, grey eyes narrowed with clear suspicion.

“You found him hiding in your car?”

****************

10:15

The man held the bloody knife in one gloved hand, saddened to say goodbye. With a leather covered thumb, traced the dried streaks of blood along the slim metal.

 His darling blade had never disappointed him, always the perfect tool to pick each rose with.

It baffled him when they screamed at the sight of his knife. It’s not like she was all that scary. Slim, long and elegant, his knife in many ways resembled the women whom he chose.

Sure, it was a silver grey and his chosen women were of all different colors, but, in the end, both his women and his blade were as covered in red as the darkest roses.

With a sigh, he lowered the blade. It couldn’t be helped. He had to let his blade go. But it wouldn’t be pointless, it would be given as a present to someone who’d taken the most interest in him and his blade’s work.

The one man who, more than anyone, had been desperate to understand and discover the works of the Rose Killer. His number one fan.

Once he’d given away this little present, it would hopefully become easier for him to continue his work in silence, even without his irreplaceable blade.

His mouth curved in a smile of longing, his eyes closing beneath the bill of his black cap. He pictured her.

Well, of course he’d continue his work. With or without his blade, he had to pick that one red rose that continued to evade him. No matter how large her thorns grew, she wouldn’t escape his fervent admiration.