The Second Victim

The first corpse appeared three days before anyone noticed it was dead. Cairos only knew because the old woman in Apartment 404 stopped watering her plants. Every morning at exactly six thirty, she watered the dying flowers outside her window while muttering insults at pigeons. The entire apartment block hated her and children feared her because someone once claimed she stabbed a thief with a fork. But on Monday morning then the plants stayed dry, Tuesday followed in the same silent manner, by Wednesday then the smell began crawling through the hallway. Cairos stood outside her apartment after work while staring at the cracked wooden door as rain hammered against the building windows behind him.

APARTMENT 404

No sound came from inside, the hallway lights flickered weakly above him while he stood in the shadows. "Damn it," Cairos muttered to himself.

He already knew that nobody else would check on her, people in Blackwater Heights preferred pretending that problems belonged to someone else. Cairos knocked twice on the heavy wood but nothing happened in response, he pressed his ear against the door, it was silent for a moment. Then a phone started ringing inside the apartment making Cairos freeze instantly, the ringtone sounded old and metallic and repetitive. It rang once and twice and three times before it finally stopped. The silence afterward felt worse than the ringing, Cairos rubbed his face tiredly before pulling out the spare key that the landlord hid above the fire extinguisher. This was technically illegal and it was technically not his problem either but the smell growing beneath the door already told him enough. The key slid into the lock and the apartment creaked open.

Darkness greeted him first because the curtains were shut tight, rotting food covered the kitchen counters while a television flickered quietly in the corner without sound. Cairos stepped inside carefully. "Miss Alina?" he called out.

No answer came to him, the smell hit harder now, it was sweet and wet and wrong. Cairos moved deeper into the apartment until he reached the bedroom doorway. He immediately stopped moving completely. The old woman sat upright in her chair beside the bed, dead. Her cloudy eyes stared directly toward the door while flies buzzed around her unmoving body. Cairos swallowed hard. "Jesus…" he whispered in the dark.

But something felt wrong immediately, it was the room itself and not the corpse at all, everything looked untouched, too untouched. There was no struggle and no broken furniture and no sign she collapsed naturally. Then Cairos noticed the tape recorder sitting on the bedside table, it was still running.

CLICK

Static crackled softly through the speaker, then a voice played, it was a man's voice and it was calm and controlled. "You were right," the voice said from the device. Cairos frowned because the dead woman obviously could not answer him, but after several seconds then another voice spoke, it was her voice, Cairos's blood ran cold because the corpse never moved an inch. "You came earlier than expected," the old woman's recorded voice replied.

Cairos stared at the tape recorder while the conversation continued. "You should leave the city," the man said. "No," the woman answered. "If I leave now then he will notice," she added. "Then he'll kill you," the man stated.

A pause followed before the old woman laughed weakly through the recorder. "He already did," she said.

Cairos felt coldness spread through his stomach, the tape crackled again before the man spoke one final sentence. "If anything happens to you then tell Cairos not to trust the man with his face," the voice warned.

Silence filled the apartment, Cairos stopped breathing while the recorder clicked off. For several seconds then the only sound in the room was the rain outside. Then someone knocked on the apartment door behind him, three slow knocks echoed. Cairos turned sharply toward the dark hallway, a familiar voice called from outside the apartment. "Hey Cairos," the voice said casually. It was his own voice.