5A/N: This is part one of a series I developed when I was like 13. It's been rewritten about five times since then. Anyway, please R+R.
Saturday Night
Heather Smith waited impatiently at a corner table at the Dusk to Dawn, scanning the crowd every few seconds for her boyfriend. Robby, where are you? Heather wondered, checking her watch again. He was already thirty minutes late. In a town notorious for it's lack of traffic jams, lateness usually euphemized cheating.
Heather swung her leg in time to the music. The band was really good, the club was packed, and it was her only night off from work that week. And Robby, the jerk, had to not show.
"Stood up?" a male voice said from behind Heather.
She spun in her chair to face a good-looking young man. She nodded idly. "Yup, it sure does look like that, huh?"
"Well, then, you're here alone," he held out his hand. "And it's my lucky day. May I have this dance?"
Heather laughed and took his hand, standing up from her chair. It was nearly closing time before she returned to that chair, dizzy and exhilarated. The young man caught her mouth in a passionate kiss, then pulled away and offered to take her home. Heather agreed, gathered up her things and started to leave with the handsome charmer.
As they were approaching the back door, the floor manager caught Heather's hand. "Can I talk to you, precious?" she said, pulling the decidedly tipsy Heather a few steps away. "Heather? What are you doing?"
"That nice young man is taking me home. He's much nicer than Robby. Robby ditched me," Heather snorted. "Oh, well, I gotta go! See ya!" she started to leave when the manager blocked her way, and put a protective arm around Heather's slim shoulders.
"Why don't you come into the back with me, and we'll get you some coffee, and-"
Heather shrugged her arm off. "I am leaving now! Jeez, do you treat all of the patrons like this?" she turned and walked back to where the young man was waiting. The manager glared at the man, a fierce anger in her aqua colored eyes. But Heather didn't notice that as the young man led her out of the club.
She likewise didn't notice the shadowy figure slumped behind the Dusk to Dawn's large Dumpster, his head at an odd angle, his neck covered in his own blood. Had she noticed; had she looked, she would have known Robby hadn't ditched her after all.
Tuesday NightLiz Drake walked through the mall, wearily heading up the escalator. Why Jared had to meet her there, of all places in the overpopulated metropolis, was beyond her. The mall was swarming due to Christmas, and Liz eyed the people with suspicion, almost dislike. She'd never cared for crowds.
He was waiting at a corner table in the food court, an untouched cup of coffee in front of him. Jared Mason was tall, and muscular, with thick golden blond hair and eyes reminiscent of a cloudy sky. Somehow the handsome man looked out of place in his gray slacks and white dress shirt, like instead he belonged in a classical mosaic. He sat up straight when he saw Liz approach, and nodded a greeting.
She slid into the chair across from him with a brief, "What's up?"
"You tell me, Liz," he answered, sliding a file folder across the table to her. She took it warily, and opened it to look at photos that would have made a normal teenager throw up. "Shadow Bay, Washington. That's Robby Benson. His parents say he was on his way to meet his girlfriend. Made it to the entrance of the club. Didn't make it in."
"So?" she asked flippantly, rolling hazel eyes.
"His girlfriend is missing. So are two other girls."
Liz swallowed. "Three girls."
Jared nodded. "Heather Smith, Rachel Whitney, Natalie Jordan. Not friends, not family, no connection except the obvious. The cops up there aren't even sure if the disappearances and the murder are connected."
"They are," she replied clearly.
Jared stared at her for a minute, then jumped when his pager went off. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket, and swore under his breath. "I have to go. Keep the file," he said as she offered it back to him. He waved slightly, and walked away.
Behind him, Liz sighed, and stood. It had happened before. She wouldn't let it happen again.
With a sigh, she turned to leave the Plaza. She walked across the full parking lot, and found her car easily. She turned off the alarm and unlocked the car, then pulled the door open.
Before she could pull the door closed, a warm hand grabbed her wrist. Liz turned her head slowly, looking at the bony hand for a moment, then turning her eyes up to the man's pale face. "Yes?" she asked idly.
The young man swallowed hard, and when he spoke, his voice was shaking. "Gimme your keys. And your purse."
She looked up at him quizzically. "Now why would I do that?"
"Look, lady, I don't wanna hurt you. So just give me what I want, and I'll go away," he said, the tremor moving from his voice to his hand.
Her eyes met his, and he swore that the hazel had turned to a bright, blazing green. "I don't have anything that you want. Get lost."
His jaw dropped as he did just that.