Englishman in New Yor

Fury ruled his veins. He couldn't think for the pain stabbing through his skull and the anger that boiled his blood. He had her. She was eating out of his hands and soon, she would have been bleeding on the edge of his knife.

Fucking cunt!

He dabbed at his forehead as he walked back around to the front of the bar, unable to help himself from returning to the scene. And there she was, that cunt detective from the TV, sitting across from the woman. He could still have her. Now, to find a way to do it ...

Sutton's cell phone rang and she thumbed it into operation, leaving the booth. "Sutton."

"Hey, it's Fusco."

"Where have you been? I've tried to call you five times!"

"I've been down here at the lab. You told me to wait for the results, remember?"

"Yeah, but you can't answer your phone?"

"I have been getting a technical explanation on DNA for the past two hours, Suttie. My brain is on overload."

Sutton laughed. "So what news do you have for me?"

"It's a match."

"Are you kidding?"

"No. The priest's semen is a match. I'm on my way to the chief's house to get the arrest warrant okayed."

Sutton digested the information while turning to stare at Darla Webb. Something wasn't right but she didn't know what it was. "You want to meet me at Judge Anderson's?"

"No, that's not necessary. I can take care of things at this end. I'll give you a call when I get things into place and we'll meet up to take him in."

"All right. Good work, Fusco."

"Thanks, Suttie. See you later."

She closed her phone and looked back over at the woman. What was it? What was it that was bothering her? Sutton shrugged it off and headed over to where Mainwaring was standing. "We've got the guy."

"What, the guy from tonight?"

"No. The killer. I'll tell you about it later. Right now, we need to get Mrs. Webb home and get out of here."

"Okay."

Webb looked up when she came over. "Did you catch him?"

"No, but we caught the killer, so you're free to go."

"You don't think he's the killer?"

"No. We have irrefutable evidence that proves he's not so you're safe."

Darla's eyes filled with tears. "Thank God."

"Detective Mainwaring will make sure that you get home safely."

"That's not necessary. I'm not going home. I'm just going to go to a hotel down the road."

"Still, the detective can give you a ride to the hotel."

Webb stood, finishing her drink and collecting her purse. "Thanks just the same, but I'm going to walk. I need some fresh air, if you know what I mean."

"Mrs. Webb, I don't have to tell you that it's dangerous walking this time of night."

"I'll be careful." She stumbled over to the door, straightening up as she grasped the door handle. "Thanks for your help."

The detectives watched her leave, both shaking their heads at her stupidity. Mainwaring clapped Sutton on the back. "Not your fault, Suttie. She's a grown woman."

"Couldn't we arrest her for drunk and disorderly?"

"Not really. It would either be thrown out on a technicality or we'd be sued." He grinned. "Or knowing our luck, both."

She laughed, nodding. "You're right. Well, let's get going and I'll tell you about the priest on the way."

* * * * *

Darla was humming as she walked down the street. She loved New York City at this time of night. The steam wafting up from the sewers, the reflections of the neon signs in the dark silver puddles, the sounds of impatient drivers and the smell of exhaust all combined to make the city a magical place to be when the sun retreated from the sky. Being inebriated didn't take away from the experience, either. It heightened everything and she was certainly feeling 'heightened'.

Fuck Jackson!

She laughed and skipped gleefully, remembering the attention she'd received tonight.

See, Jackson? You're not the only one that can get someone else!

As she approached the corner, she saw him standing there, a smile on his face and she ran over, throwing herself in his arms. "Where did you disappear to?"

"I left through the back door. I'm not much of a fighter."

She touched the bulge at his right temple and he winced. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Do you still want that coffee?"

She noticed the sparkle in his eyes and smiled. "You mean, at your apartment?"

"Yes."

"No. But I will have a drink."

"All right. Let's go."

She let him lead the way, stumbling and giggling as he maneuvered them down streets and alleys. Finally, he stopped in a dark alley, pushing her against the wall and kissing her neck. "I hope you don't mind a quickie. You're so beautiful that I just can't help myself."

"No." She said breathlessly. "I don't mind." His rough lips were driving her crazy, nipping her sensitive neck flesh and making her tremble. When his hands moved down to her waist, pulling the hem of her dress up, she didn't protest. Her body was hungry, hungry for the attention of a man that obviously enjoyed her company.

Fuck you, Jackson.

His fingers ripped the panties from her body and she opened her legs in anticipation. "Oh, yes." She whispered, her pussy tingling. "Fuck me."

The words ended with a strangled yelp, her body impaled on the extra-large dressmaker scissors that he'd shoved into her vagina. Blood, thick and warm, covered his hand and he paused to give it a sniff before shoving his aching cock into its pulsing torrents. She tried to claw at him but he easily held her wrists on one hand while the other kept her hips close. Soon, her struggles became weak, her eyes fluttering and he thrust into her more violently, her velvety warm blood lubricating her canal.

As Darla Webb breathed her last breath, he exploded into her, his cock thickening with each pulse of cum that spattered her insides and mingled with the rich blood. That was the best yet, he thought, letting his cock slide out of her and using her dress to wipe some of the blood away. Now, to leave a message for that female detective: a message that would let her know that he was not to be trifled with.

A message to let her know that she was next.