“Uh-huh,” Rocket said, nodding his head. “It’s the Murder Building. Young folks get too curious, and you know what they say. Curiosity killed the cat and all that.”
Murder Building? Well, that’s pretty on the nose, but…
I raised both brows. “You ever been to the Murder Building?”
He snorted. “Do I look stupid to you? No way.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth again as the line moved further forward. “Couldn’t pay me to so much as open the door.”
“Huh.” I rocked back and forth on the heels of my feet. “Why’s the building still around if people get murdered in it?”
Rocket gave me a sideways look, his dark green eyes narrowing. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”
Oops. I shrugged my shoulder. “No. I moved with my friend. She has family around and needed a roommate. I needed a room and a new start.”
“Kids,” he grunted. I ignored the roll of his eyes. “Murder Building isn’t run by a murderer. It’s run by a spirit, miss. A real blood-thirsty one. No one’s condemned the building ’cause its owners are prolly some greedy bastards, and anyway, how they gonna catch a spirit?”
A murderous ghost? Okay. Consider me intrigued.
“So why does anyone go in, if there’s a ghost killing inside?”
Rocket rolled his eyes at me. “It ain’t aghost, miss, it’s aspirit. They go in because they’re damn foolish, that’s why. Say they don’t believe in spirits, or they’re trying to prove how brave they are. A few of ‘em just wanted a place to sleep, I reckon. None of ‘em ever came out, though. It’s the spirit, I’m telling you. He uses their spirits to keep his strength up. He gets enough, and he gets to come back — that’s what they say.”
My brows bounced up. “They?”
He shrugged. “You know. Them. Everybody.”
Before I could question him further, the other nurse cleared their throat and invited him into the van. He didn’t so much as say goodbye, barely grunting a greeting to the nurse as he stepped inside.
That was all right, though. I’d gotten more information than I could have asked for between talking to Jack and the folks waiting in line, and now I had aMurder Buildingto investigate.
Progress. We’re making progress.
Findingthe so-called Murder Building took little effort once I knew to look for it. There were several different theories on the ‘Murder Building,’ as well as a few different names. It was also known as the ‘Office of Awful’ and the ‘Corporate Casket.’ Personally, I thought the last one was catchier, but maybe it just didn’t catch on as well.
There were also a few different rumors as to where people went. Some claimed to have sneaked into the abandoned building and gotten out just fine. Others claimed to have visited and had a close encounter — either with some deranged murderer or a vicious spirit. There were various descriptions of what or who this spirit was: the ‘Lonely Heart Killer’ who collected souls to fill the void in his heart, a spirit who was taken before their time and trying to come back to life to reconnect with their long-lost love, and one theory even posited it was a group of spirits, each taking on new forms.
I might be a werewolf, but I didn’t believe in spirits — especially not the vengeful sort. I never ruled out the possibility of other supernatural beings. I was a skeptic but not a fool — after all, shifters existed, and most humans had no idea. Who was to say some other kind of creature didn’t exist and was hiding from the rest of us? But given how werewolves and wolves alike had once been hunted by humans, I didn’t put too much stock into any theory ascribing violence to the unknown.
The Murder Building was within walking distance of the parking lot of the blood donation van. As I suspected, having read some of the more recent stories posted on a local forum, someone had, at least, put a chain-link fence around the abandoned building. I hadn’t figured out why it hadn’t just been torn down at this point, as it was clearly not in use, but I hadn’t spent more than ten minutes looking it. I gave the gate a rattle, but the padlock on it was secure.
I shaded my eyes; there was a bit of a walkway, but there was no grass left. If there ever was, it was hard to say — everything looked like dust and rocks. The building itself somehow looked faded. The windows were boarded, and it looked as if the front door was chained shut. I wasn’t sure if anything had ever been inside the building, but if a business had been run there once, it was clearly at least a decade ago.
I’ll see you later,I thought to the building. I didn’t bring any of my… equipment with me, and I wasn’t about to climb the fence only to get stopped at the door. Besides, I worked best under the cover of night.
When I returnedto my motel room, I decided to do a more in-depth dive on the building and the supposed spirits lurking within. I was surprised to see the Lonely Heart Killer wasn’t just a spirit, but a serial killer who abducted both men and women in the area over twenty years ago. Curiosity piqued, I clicked on a news article, scanning the information.
Apparently, Jared Harper was a thirty-eight-year-old man who had been arrested in connection with the abduction and murders of fourteen men and women. It was unusual that he had targeted people of both sexes, but the article stated he was so desperate for a date — not to be alone — that he started breaking his patterns. Internet dating wasn’t much of an option twenty years ago, though it did exist. He seemed to meet most of his dates by attending speed-dating events or singles nights at bars.
That he went for both men and women had thrown cops off for a while, and by the time someone realized it was the same person, he had begun using disguises. It was a lucky break that one of the women he tried to pick up at a dating event worked as a security guard when she wasn’t bartending; she was able to fight him off when he stopped to fuel at a gas station. The clerk called the police and was able to write down his license plate.
Once he was cornered, Jared Harper surrendered to the police. The trial was long and drawn out, but he was found guilty on all counts and sentenced to death.
Huh.
So, there was actually a ‘Lonely Hearts Killer,’ and he was dead. It had more stock in it than I’d have guessed.
I scribbled the notes down on the next page of my notebook and ripped it out, taping the page to my wall. I wasn’t sure how this related to the others, if it did at all, but it was worth keeping in mind until I could rule it out.
Maybe with this paycheck, I can afford a portable printer. One of those little pocket phone printers.It felt like my writing was getting worse, but… Well, that was a luxury. And I had to solve this case before even thinking about spending the money.