The Keystroke Killer Read online

  Matthew’s blistering bloodshot green eyes, his crow’s feet and dark circles reflected into the rearview mirror which revealed the anguish behind them and made the thirty-year-old look older. His third-day unshaven face, his tossed brown hair, his wrinkled shirt and faded Levi jeans acknowledged his unkempt style. He made no excuse for his appearance or his depressed demeanor as his eyes fixated ahead at the traffic. Today is the day I dread the most. It will happen again, and again. It can’t be stopped until I die. I could have stopped this in the first place. Livia told me she was in danger.

  His sister’s last words haunted him. “Matthew, I’m scared. Somebody is after me.” He tried to shake the disturbing message, but the echoes wouldn’t stop.

  “Somebody is after me. Do something.”

  Matthew drove west on Interstate 10 toward Kenner, a suburb, twelve miles from the French Quarter. A LED billboard caught his attention. “Shit!” He slammed his fist onto the steering wheel. “A Dimension Conference. Just what I need is a bunch of conspiracy theorists. They need to get off this planet already.” Oh, they did.

  The hustle and bustle of the city where the average murder rate was two a night faded to the quietness through upper-class suburbia. It was in the suburbs where The Co-ed serial killer murdered Livia. Not in the city that care forgot. The Raymond family moved to Kenner, LA when Matthew and Livia were children to escape the violence that spread in the underbelly of N’awlins.

  The sun illuminated the morning dew as the old Ford Taurus continued on Loyola Parkway, a four-lane boulevard. Over the years, not much changed. The fast-food chains remained for the working-class morning vultures, Oschner Hospital expanded building three new wings on the left, a D-Mart chain store on the right still thrived and more apartment complexes and housing subdivisions developed.

  Several female tweens, who by every sign left their training bras at home, but not their makeup, mingled on the corner to the background of chirping birds.

  Dr. Frank Franklin, a distinguished striking man’s man, dressed impeccably, escaped his home. He strode toward his polished red Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport Vitesse which he had shelled out over two million dollars because he liked it. It’s one of those cars that only the rich and famous afforded. In his mind, he pictured a busty blonde spread eagled across the hood ready to receive his throbbing flesh. “Nice piece.” His statement meant for his car and not the blonde.

  The Vitesse mirrored his lifestyle as the top oral surgeon in the country. He admired his personalized license plate that reflected his sexual arrogance - “On Top.” From two feet away, he pressed the key fob as he thought of his actions from the night before. She will wait for me.

  Matthew pressed the brake and gazed at the Vitesse as the G-Q doctor slid inside, shut the door and revved the engine. Matthew recognized him and remembered Livia’s warning about the surgeon.

  “He tried to make a move on me. Something’s odd about him.”

  Matthew’s Ford Taurus passed The Phoenix, a luxury apartment complex on his right. Blaze Angela, a beautiful twenty-four-year-old who had lengthy curly brunette hair, blue-green eyes, and a toned body stretched in fluid motion as she moved from one yoga pose to another. She gives downward dog a whole new meaning.

  Sweat formed across Blaze’s brow. She took several deep breaths and stretched side to side. Her gold charm bracelet caught the sun as a flash of light danced in Matthew’s direction blinding him for a second. Her pink back pack rested at her feet. She spoke into her sports watch. “Deedra, start my jogging playlist.”

  “Playlist has commenced.” Deedra, the familiar computerized voice of Dimension Global resonated in her ears.

  Blaze retrieved her bag, jogged along the bicycle path and jetted across the crosswalk.

  Matthew’s car rolled through the red stop sign oblivious to Blaze in the jogging lane. Matthew clenched the steering wheel, slammed on the brakes as the car swerved to the right stopping short of hitting her before coming to a complete stop.

  Fury rose in Blaze’s eyes. “Seriously! Watch where you’re going stupid dirt-bag.”

  Unaffected by Blaze’s words and action, Matthew didn’t budge, even after she slammed her fist onto the hood and berated him. “I mean it. I’ll call the police the next time.” Her charm bracelet crashed against the hood of the Taurus.

  Matthew pressed the gas pedal as Blaze extended her middle finger in his direction. She was madder than a hornet swatted and sprayed by Raid. “Ass hole. Watch where you’re going.” Another flash of blinding light bounced off her bracelet.

  Matthew deep in his own thought tried to make sense of Livia’s murder. We used to come here to play. It was our safety net away from our abusive father. She told me she was in danger.

  The Ford Taurus passed an upscale neighborhood and approached an intersection. An overhanging light swayed in the morning breeze. When it turned red, Matthew smashed his foot on the brake pedal; the car skidded to a complete stop.

  Blaze jogged past the Ford Taurus and flipped the bird once again. He watched Blaze excel her pace. There is something odd about her. He pressed the accelerator and turned right.

  Judas Greenberg, a middle-aged African American, adorned in a black shirt and jeans opened his front door of his one story house. He retrieved the daily newspaper and headed toward the park. The bright sun obscured the details of his face.

  Matthew’s inner turmoil continued. No one believes me about Livia. Sometimes I wonder if she is just a figment of my imagination.

  Matthew waited for the light to turn green drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The Ford Taurus moved forward and quickly jerked to a stop. He powered the radio as a light blue energy surged across the powerlines making its way to the stop signal. The light turned green.

  A driver behind the Ford Taurus thundered his horn. Matthew pressed the gas pedal. Am I going insane? He debated the concept as he shook his head. She is real, and her killer knows this too.

  The Ford Taurus pulled into the pristine and serene Kenner City Park. He took a deep breath and scanned the area. His heart raced.

  The fountain provided a place of refuge for both man and fowl. Several families enjoyed the amenities of the park. Boys and girls played on the swings and slides of different heights. A Grandmother took a picture of her three grandchildren who stood at the base of a thirty-foot giraffe statue which greeted the play area. Pairs of lovers flirted on blankets beneath the trees in the shade.

  Matthew eyed the Sunset Beauty garden-variety long-stem pink rose on the passenger’s seat and snatched it. His heart sank deep-boned.

  Livia’s voice echoed over and over. “I’m in danger. I need your help.”

  He shuddered, exited the vehicle and slammed the car door shut. Fifty ducks quacked and waddled at his feet. “Shoo. Go away.” He barged through them toward the pond.

  Matthew clutched the pink rose as he approached two siblings, Aidan, a biracial boy, age five, and Emily, his three-year-old bronzed sister with tight shoulder length curls - both grasped a bubble wand in one hand and a long tube of bubbles in the other. Each twisted whipping the wand in the air, then fixated on their results as they watched in amazement the purple, blue and green iridescent bubbles float upward in the breeze toward the powerline shimmering a faint blue electrical current.

  Emily glanced up at Matthew with her big brown eyes filled with happiness. “You look sad. You want to play?”

  Matthew kept his pace to reach Livia’s and his favorite bench next to the pond.

  Aidan grabbed his sister’s hand tugging her away. “He’s not very nice.”

  The little girl pouted her lips. “Maybe he wants to feed the ducks.”

  Matthew stood on the water’s edge. Several ducks, including a huge white goose, floated past. His reflection rippled in the water as each duck peddled its webbed feet. He closed his eyes to reflect. I’ll find you Livia. I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I ever do.

  An electrical hum in the distance buzzed.

>   Livia, a beautiful green eyed woman appeared below the rippled water. Her long brunette hair floated like jellyfish tentacles. “I’m right here.” Her words distorted by the water caused bubbles to float to the top.

  Livia’s image faded as Matthew motioned the Catholic cross over his grief-struck face and opened his eyes and blinked with curiosity. He kissed the perfect pink rose and tossed it into the pond adding to the ripples. Several ducks darted for it as if it were bread.

  Matthew dragged his feet toward the closest bench and sat. There’s no record of her birth or her death. Everything about her vanished except one picture I had with me the day Milo Evans murdered her.

  Blaze advanced toward the pond as she removed a half loaf of bread from her hot pink back pack. Her charm bracelet shimmered in the morning sun.

  Matthew trudged along the bike path. He froze, heart pounding, when he reached the army green public restroom facility. Chills jetted down his spine as the hairs on his body prickled and stood on end. They should have torn that place down. It begs for a crime. He took a deep breath and continued his walk. He passed Blaze; his eyes focused on the path.

  Blaze recognized him. Idiot. Learn to drive. She jogged around him.

  Matthew ambled toward the Ford Taurus. His face distorted with lasting grief. He stopped, turned and strolled back to the park bench. He sat and observed Blaze from afar. My God, they could be twins. The striking resemblance between Blaze and Livia alarmed Matthew sending him bolting to his car. Is my mind playing tricks?

  Matthew hurriedly unlocked his car and retrieved his wallet and the picture of his sister from one of the hidden areas. His eyes widened, his brow creased, and he dropped his jaw. How can this be? He grabbed his camera from the floorboard on the passenger’s side and watched Blaze as if using binoculars. He zoomed the looms for a closer view. What the hell? No way this is a coincidence.

  Unaware of Matthew’s scrutiny, Blaze unwrapped the bread, pinched off several pieces and tossed them toward the ducks. They devoured each piece as aggressive seagulls in flight dove in and snatched the bread morsels in midair.

  Judas sat on a bench far from the activity reading the newspaper. He lit a cigarette. The smoke filtered upwards polluting the sky and glided toward the fading blue humming surge of the powerline.

  Matthew continued to observe Blaze as she jogged. She looked over her shoulder as if she possessed a six sense of being watched glancing toward Judas. A frown jetted across her forehead.

  “Tracy!” A frantic mother quickly darted her eyes for her child. “Where are you? Tracy! Help me. My daughter is missing.” The frenzied mother continued her desperate search.

  Matthew feared someone took the child bolting from his car toward the mother as Blaze turned her attention to the fearful mother.

  “Has anyone seen a little girl alone? Tracy! Tracy, answer me.” Panic filled the mother’s voice.

  Blaze soared toward the hysterical mother as a six-year-old girl dawdled from the bathroom. “Mommy, I’m over here!”

  Thank God. Blaze took a deep breath and leaned down placing both hands on her knees trying to catch her breath.

  Matthew stopped in mid-stride; relieved, he strolled to his car. It’s that damn bathroom.

  The mother raced toward her child, knelt, clutched her careless daughter by both shoulders and squeezed her. “Never do that again. Something bad could have happened to you. Thank you everyone.” The crowd dispersed.

  Blaze exhaled fearful of the day she was almost abducted. That was close. She glanced over her shoulder toward Judas who ambled toward the street and jogged back to the pond. She gazed at her reflection squinting in confusion. What the hell? Livia’s face appeared in the water just beneath Blaze’s image. Blaze glanced again. Both images rippled as several ducks swam across. She took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes and looked again. This time, only her own reflection remained. Must be from the excitement. She wiped her clammy hands on her shirt, gathered her belongings and jogged toward the parking lot. She passed Matthew’s idling car.

  Matthew clenched the steering wheel, his head rested between his hands as he listened to the morning news blaring from the radio.

  “It has been another gruesome night for the city of New Orleans. The Sorority serial killer has struck again.”

  Matthew, infuriated by the radio broadcast, pounded his fists against the steering wheel. “You son of a bitch!” I’ll find you, too. Hours passed before Matthew restarted his trek he called the Day of Reckoning.

  CHAPTER 2

  Convenient Truth

  Dr. Angela, documented as one of the world’s wealthiest individuals, excluding and ranking against those from wealth that could not completely be ascertained, looked at his Dimension watch. The expensive mahogany furniture, an oriental rug, burgundy leather couch, chairs and crystal light fixtures were equal to his wealth.

  Framed magazine covers, awards and proclamations he received by Congress and various reputable organizations plastered the left wall. A long credenza below them displayed trophies shaped as spaceships or bold futuristic objects which looked more like pieces of art.

  On the right, floor to ceiling bookcases exhibited models of his spaceships, rockets, awards and photos of him with several Presidents and astronauts, including the portrait with his space loving son, Drax ‘Spinner’ Angela stationed on the U.S.S. Dimension. His favorite photos included Drax’s official NASA portrait in astronaut gear and the portrait of Blaze wearing the heirloom charm bracelet. He was proud of his two children although he was too stubborn to admit it to himself or anyone else.

  Lux Gold, the thirty-year-old blonde flamboyant administrative assistant to Dr. Angela sashayed across the oriental rug toward the massive mahogany desk. He grasped the latest issue of Forbes Magazine. “Congratulations. You made it to the top of the Forbes list for the thirtieth year. It has to be a record. I’ll have this one framed too for your Wall of Fame.”

  Dr. Angela remained focused on his task, unimpressed and stoic.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Lux capitalized on his chance to use his bossy tone.

  “I’m not interested.”

  “You will be when you read this article.” Lux who bubbled with pride read from the page. “Dr. Angela is an American business magnate, investor, physicist, geneticist and principal founder of Dimension Global who has financed spaceships for space colonization and is the man responsible for humanity’s survival. He invented Deedra too.

  “Cut the crap.”

  “I will not until you recognize you are an important man. Listen to this. One of Dr. Angela’s early successes included inventing Project Dimension, a program designed to contact deceased loved ones. As a geneticist, Dr. Angela created SO-LAR, the first humanlike synthetic artificial intelligent robot.”

  As Lux read, Dr. Angela thought of his son. I’ll never see him again.

  “Dr. Angela! Have you heard anything I have read?”

  “Lux! Get out!”

  Lux stood steadfast. “I’m only trying to congratulate you. Your world famous for single-handedly financing the U.S.S. Dimension. You revolutionized cyberspace.”

  Dr. Angela’s faced hardened. “I’m the asshole who sent his only son forty light years away on a one way mission.”

  “I wouldn’t say you’re an asshole. And, I’ve seen my fair share. Trust me on that one. It’s just that you’re so… so…”

  “So, what? Spit it out boy.”

  “You’re the most brilliant man on the face of this planet since Stephen Hawking. I’m proud to be your assistant.”

  “Don’t you mean proud of yourself? Gay pride and all. Why do I put up with you?”

  “Because I bring you joy since Drax and Blaze left your side.”

  “How convenient for you.”

  “No! Not convenient. The truth.”

  “A convenient truth.”

  “The truth hurts. Now doesn’t it?”

  Lux glanced at his Dimension watch unaffected by the abrasiveness. “
Deedra, what is the first appointment for Dr. Angela this morning?”

  The D-Global computerized voice was quick to respond. “Dr. Angela has an interview in eight minutes and forty-three seconds with Ms. Samantha Breland from KWNC.”

  “Please inform me when she arrives.”

  “Ms. Breland has arrived.”

  “Punctual. I like that.” Lux flounced out of the office. Before he made it to the door, he turned to Dr. Angela. “Play nice. This is fantastic publicity for you.” Lux closed the five-inch wooden thick door behind him.

  The private red phone buzzed. Dr. Angela pressed the blue blinking button and waited in silence.

  “Are you ready for Ms. Breland and her cameraman?” Lux’s tone extremely dignified, almost as if putting on a front for the guest who stood at his desk made an expression for Samantha.

  “Send them in.”

  Dr. Angela opened the top left hand drawer of his massive desk and removed a half full 1952 Macallan Fine & Rare Bourbon bottle and a Waterford crystal Dimension logo engraved shot glass. He unscrewed the lid, filled the glass to the brim and lifted it to his nose. He smelled the aroma of the golden liquid which glowed in the morning sun. Worth every penny of the seventy-five thousand dollars I paid. He took a sip.

  The cameraman entered lugging his equipment and immediately prepared to record the interview. “This won’t take long.” He mounted the camera on the tripod.

  Samantha Breland, KWNC news reporter, entered. Her bright sapphire blue dress caught Dr. Angela’s attention because of the way it fit her thin body creating a striking silhouette. Her Christian Louboutin Arletta crystal-embellished multi-colored velvet pumps accentuated her outfit and her toned legs. Instead of a purse, she carried a black Montblanc Double Gusset 1926 vintage leather briefcase.

  A lusty smirk consumed Dr. Angela’s face as he admired everything about her entrance which told a story of power and confidence rather that of a woman who used her sexuality to break the glass ceiling.