Window Watcher Read online

  I see the handless/headless arm creature start to writhe back and forth again and it begins to creep up the side of the toilet like a giant slug. It slithers into the toilet and then squeezes itself down the drain and disappears. It makes a suction-like sound as it goes down the pipe. The toilet flushes but the water is streaked with dark red blood. More and more blood swirls into the water until it is all blood. I watch the blood swirl down the toilet. When it is finally finished flushing it makes a loud sound, but not like a toilet usually does. The sound is animalistic, like the belch or loud gulping of a creature. The toilet itself then begins to spin, and then the whole bathroom.

  I jerk awake in my bed. I take a deep breath. Of course that couldn’t be real, it was just a dream. Another nightmare, and so bizarre. There is a reason I’m having these dark dreams. They are telling me something. I realize Icarus and I can’t just stand by and do nothing. We know too much. We have to do something, but what?

  Window Watching

  It’s a strange feeling to think a neighbor that close to you might be a murderer. I can’t pass by my window without taking a glance up at his. Often I get a cold chill with the thought of him being the killer. If that were true, then I saw these murders in the very beginning stages, just before he killed them. The reality of that possibility creeps me out. He knew what he was planning. It wasn’t modesty that made him pull down the shade once things started to heat up, it was what was going to happen next. It wasn’t going to be pretty and he didn’t want anyone to see it. But I certainly have imagined it, right down to the detail of him hacking and sawing off body parts so he could fit them into trash bags and then cans. There would be so much blood. I try not to think about it, but it’s impossible. I feel more and more obsessed with watching his window. But I also feel like I have good reason to. Icarus feels to same way and is on his way over.

  I gaze up at the window, but the shade has been pulled down all day. There’s been nothing happening, but I still can’t help looking every chance I get, just in case there is something to see. I get an anxious feeling each and every time I glance up at it, anticipating what I might see next. I see flashes of images of an axe and blood, then a saw and more blood, and piles of bloody body parts. I see bloody legs and arms, a ripped open torso with bloody veins dangling and a bloody head all piled into a trash can. My stomach is in knots. Could I see the beginning stages of his next murder? If that happens, what do I do? As much as I think these things, I still can’t help doubting everything since seeing him with a woman. Even though we thought of a possible reason around it, we can’t deny it sure doesn’t seem to fit the mold of the ‘gay killer’. That part of it is gnawing at me, telling me that maybe I am just imagining all of this.

  Icarus comes through my front door like a whirlwind; I can see the excitement in his eyes and demeanor.

  “Oh my God, did you hear? Did you hear? Can you believe it?”

  “What? Hear what? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe you didn’t hear. Have you been locked up in that writing cave again? The gay killer is bi! He killed a woman! And we saw him with a woman! It’s him! It’s him, Heston, he is the killer!”

  The info is coming so fast I’m a little dumbfounded.

  “Don’t you ever watch the news?” he asks.

  “I didn’t last night or this morning.”

  “A woman was killed, chopped up and found in a garbage can so they are pretty sure it’s the same killer. Now they’re calling him the Bisexual Butcher. And the guy in the window— Thargold —was with a woman! It can’t be a coincidence. What we thought disqualified him from being the killer now points to him even more. He really is the killer!”

  He’s so excited he is practically yelling. I realize I have the screen in the window; the neighbors— and one in particular —might hear him.

  I look up at the window and the shade is down, but I suddenly realize he’s there. I can barely see him, but it looks like he’s standing right next to the window, almost totally out of sight like he doesn’t want to be seen.

  I reach over and put my hand over Icarus’s mouth and whisper to him as I nod toward the window, “Keep your voice down, he might hear you. I think he might have already. It looks like he’s lurking at the window, look you can just barely see him on the right.”

  I pull him further back from the window.

  “Where? I don’t see him,” Icarus whispers.

  “Look at the crack between the curtain and the window, you can just barely see there is someone standing there. He might have heard you, and he might have seen us. Look at the way he’s standing there, that’s not the look of an ordinary man just standing beside a window looking out. That’s the look of a man who is afraid somebody might be watching him— and doesn’t want to be seen.”

  You can see a sliver of his shadow on the right side of the window between the curtain and the shade, and a slight indentation of the curtain where his hand is just ever so slightly pulling it back. He is so still his dark shadow reminds me of a big black crouching panther, frozen and hidden from the view of its prey, just waiting for its time to pounce— and kill. I shiver at the sight of him.

  “It’s creepy,” Icarus says in a whisper, gazing up at him. “You’re right— just look at the way he’s standing there, hiding himself from view. It’s like you said, that is someone who doesn’t want to be seen. That’s just not normal. That’s a man who has something to hide.”

  We tip toe slowly out of the bedroom and into the living room, far out of view of the window and further out of earshot.

  “Do you think he heard me? Do you think he saw us?”

  “I don’t know, but the way he was lurking there just off to the side of the window makes me think maybe he did. He also might have just heard something and wasn’t quite sure exactly what was said so he was skulking there hoping to hear more.”

  “Heston, this suddenly doesn’t seem so fun anymore. It was exciting at first, like solving a mystery or something. But now it’s starting to scare me. It almost seemed like a game at first, but now it’s getting too real. If he heard me or saw us, we might be next.”

  “I know, and he knows exactly where I live,” I say. “At least you don’t live here. I don’t know how I can sleep at night now. I feel like we should be doing something, but I’m not sure what. Thinking someone is a killer that is that close— it’s chilling.”

  “And it’s not just him being a killer, but the way he does it— chopping people up like that. It’s really twisted. This is very different than someone just getting mad, pulling out a gun and shooting someone. He plans this out and kills them all the same way. People like that scare me because you know you can’t reason with them— they’re insane.”

  “I know, that’s why the thought of falling asleep here by myself is starting to freak me out.”

  “You can’t, not now. Not alone. You can sleep at my place, it’s tiny, but better than sleeping in fear. Maybe we should call the police.”

  “I was thinking that too, but we don’t really have any solid evidence. It’s not like we’ve actually seen him kill anyone,” I tell him. “All we really know is that he’s been with two guys and a woman in the last few days and he owns a saw and an axe. And I saw him taking out some trash bags. That’s all we’ve really seen.”

  “That’s true, but there must be something we can do. There must be some way for us to get some evidence. Didn’t you say you think he works the late afternoon shift during the week?”

  “Yeah, I’m guessing that by the hours I see him come and go. Why does that matter?” I ask.

  “If you know what time he’s gone, that would be the time to get in there and find some evidence.”

  “Get in there?” I ask. “What are you talking about? Breaking into his apartment to find evidence? Have you lost your mind?”

  “The screen is always in the bottom part of the window, I could pop that right out. I bet I could climb up that ledge and get to the
window, just like that cat did. I was a gymnast when I was a little kid before my growth spurt.”

  “Are you crazy? You want to go into a murderer’s apartment? Do you want to wind up like that cat?”

  “No,” he says, putting his hand to his throat.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “But I wouldn’t get caught like the cat did,” he says with a smile. “I think I’m a little smarter than a cat. And his blinds are usually up during the early evening when he’s gone. Even if he did come back, you could see him come into the main room first if I was in his bedroom and warn me. Through the window on the right you can see down the hall all the way to the front door. Maybe I could find the rope he strangled the cat with. Or maybe the saw and axe and whatever else he uses to cut up the bodies.”

  “Oh my God, you’re serious. You’re out of your mind. There’s no way you’re going to scale the side of the building and crawl into his window to try to find evidence. Do you know how dangerous that could be? That’s what the police are for.”

  “You said we don’t have any evidence to go to the police, so what good would they do unless we have some real evidence? So the only solution is to get some evidence.”

  Icarus looks up to the window.

  “I could get in there with no problem,” he says.

  Just then, almost as if by cue, the bedroom blind goes up. A minute later, the other blind goes up. We can see him walking away, toward his kitchen. He comes back in sipping some coffee. We see him pass by the window here and there during the next hour or so, at one point carrying a plate as if he’s finished his breakfast.

  “I remember when I worked the midnight shift and ate breakfast at weird times,” Icarus recalls.

  A few minutes later we see him walking toward his front room and pulling on a jacket.

  “He’s leaving for work right now!” Icarus says, rubbing his hands together. “I think it’s time to gather some evidence.”

  “You really have lost your mind,” I tell him. We look up and see he appears to have left his apartment.

  Icarus then darts into the living room and looks out the front window. He looks back and forth. “Look! There he goes! He’s headed out. See, you could even stand guard by just looking out this window, you could see if he was coming back.”

  “You’re really serious, aren’t you? What if someone sees you? You can’t just break into someone’s apartment. You could end up going to jail yourself!”

  “I’m not going to go to jail. No one will see me and he has no reason to come back until after work. Even if he does, you can just call me on my cell and warn me and I’ll get out of there. I bet I can find something; there’s got to be some evidence to tie him to the murders.”

  We walk back into the bedroom. I look up at the window and then at him; he’s wearing a big anxious grin on his face like a little kid asking his parents for permission to do something he wants to do but probably shouldn’t. Maybe the element of risk and peril is what makes it more exciting.

  “You can see if he’s coming back. It’s foolproof.”

  “Key word ‘fool’,” I tell him.

  “C’mon, we could be saving a life— or several lives. He’s going to kill again if we don’t do something. We’re the only ones that know, let’s get the evidence we need.”

  “Shouldn’t we just be calling the police if we really think he’s the killer?”

  “We could, but what good what it do? We didn’t see him kill anyone. They’d think we were just being amateur sleuths. We’re the only ones who can stop him. I can just go in there for a few minutes and look around. If I don’t find anything I’ll leave. It’ll be done in five minutes.”

  “I don’t know, Icarus,” I say, shaking my head. “It just seems too dangerous.”

  He makes a face, again like a little kid. But he’s not a little kid. He’s all grown up, quite adorable— and hard to resist.

  “At least wait until it gets dark so maybe none of the neighbors will see you,” I say.

  His face lights up. “Yes! Ok, it’s almost dark anyway. I don’t have long to wait, and there are only a couple of neighbors that can even see that window and most people keep their shades down all the time anyway.”

  “I must be crazy for letting you do this,” I tell him. “I’m already starting to get a bad feeling about this. Am I going to regret this?”

  “Oh it’ll be fun!”

  “Fun?”

  “Yeah, you called me Agent 99, now I’m really feeling like it.”

  “Oh great, I’ve created a monster!”

  I can’t believe I’m going along with this, but somehow I am. A few hours later, Icarus puts his plan into action. I keep questioning why I’m letting him do this, but I guess there is a little thrill to it, just a dash of danger can be exciting. I figure as long as I stay glued to the front window he should be ok— there’s no other way for the guy to get to his apartment. I just hope a neighbor doesn’t happen to see what’s happening and call the police on him.

  “It’s dark!” Icarus says, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. “It’s time to gather some evidence.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so adventurous— such a daredevil,” I tell him with a smile, although it’s a nervous one.

  “You’re always underestimating me, just because I’m young and into things like fashion doesn’t mean I’m all fluff,” he says, running his fingers through his wavy blond hair. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, you of all people should know that.”

  He’s so funny. He’s also very lovable right now.

  “What are you going to say if a neighbor catches you?”

  “I’ll say I got locked out. I’ll tell them I’m his new boyfriend and just moved in and can’t find my keys. I’m not a dumb blond, but I know how to play one.”

  I smile.

  “I guess so. You sure came up with that idea of being his new boyfriend pretty quick,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes to feign suspicion.

  “What can I say?” he says with a smirk. “This blond hair comes with a brain!”

  I laugh. It’s almost like he’s doing this to prove something to me.

  “Just remember, he might be a killer.”

  He walks over to my window and slides it open. I take a deep breath. I think I’m more nervous than he is. The window is only about two feet above the floor of the stairwell outside. He steps over it and gives me a smile and eyebrow raise as he slips out of the window.

  “Agent 99 is on the assignment, chief.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” I ask.

  “I should be back in five minutes. I have my cell, that’s all I need,” he quips and is on his way.

  Is this really happening? I guess it is, as I see him walking away. I glance up into the dark sky then walk out into the living room and look out the front window. There is no one in sight on the sidewalk out front at first glance, but as always there are cars coming and going on both sides of the street. It’s a little past rush hour, but still pretty busy. Some pigeons have gathered on the street sign and light near the park to the right. A woman pushing a stroller goes down the sidewalk. No one is coming or going from my apartment complex.

  If I look back through the living room into the bedroom (it is open like a studio apartment) I can still see out of that window, but not a full view. It’s a full moon so you can see even though it’s dark. I can glance back and forth because the walk from the sidewalk to in front of my window is about twenty yards, so it would take five or ten seconds for a person to walk that distance, so I can be sure not to miss him if he does come back for some reason.

  I can see Icarus, or at least his legs, going across the ledge just under Thargold’s window. The angle from here prevents me from seeing any higher. I see his feet walk toward the window. He’s really doing it. My adrenaline starts to course through my body; I feel a nervous, anxious excitement, but also a little bit of dread and fear. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him do this. />
  I glance back to the front window to make sure the window man’s not coming back. When I look back to the bedroom window, I see just Icarus’s shoes on the ledge and they then disappear. I squint to make sure because despite the full moon it’s still pretty dark and hard to see from here. There’s no movement anywhere. Oh my God, he must be inside the window. My heart races. I take a deep breath and look back out the front window: still no one. I can’t see any sign of Icarus anymore, so I just keep a watch of the front window. I start to wonder what he might find, and what he might bring back. My mind runs through the possibilities. Maybe something with blood on it? I shudder at the thought of it.

  Several minutes go by and I start to get anxious. I tell myself to chill, it may take a few minutes for him to find something. A few more minutes go by, and I glance out the front window then back toward my open bedroom window, hoping to see Icarus. Still nothing. I sigh. Just be patient I say to myself. A few more minutes go by of me glancing back and forth. This waiting is nerve wracking! I laugh at myself after thinking that— after all, he’s the one that’s scaled the building and climbed into a potential killer’s apartment. I have to hand it to him, he definitely has guts.

  It seems like he should be back by now. I rub the index finger and middle finger of my left hand in a circular motion on the end of my thumb nervously. I glance back toward the open window and just then hear something. Is it Icarus? Is he coming back? I glance back out the front window and the flock of pigeons suddenly scatters into the sky from above where they were sitting. Then I see why: a large black crow swoops down and lands on top of the sign where the pigeons were. They saw him coming. Just then, something catches my eye— movement —and I realize I wasn’t paying attention and someone just walked by under the window. Oh crap! I caught just a glimpse of someone at the tail end of passing by my window. It probably wasn’t him I tell myself— he shouldn’t be coming back —but I don’t know for sure and I definitely can’t risk it. I grab my cell to call Icarus, but it drops to the hard wood floor with a clang.