“So what brings you out to Boston?” I asked the pretty girl setting next to me at the bus station. She had on a black winter jacket and a white shirt. One her neck was a silver crucifix. Her nails were unpainted and her face unadorned with makeup. She was lovely even without those things.
“I can out to help with a Promise Keepers convention.” She said. I could tell she had a Midwestern accent. Probably Michigan since she had a University of Michigan key chain. I guessed she might be about sixteen.
“That’s that big Christian organization right?” I asked. I don’t really care. She smells like cinnamon. I can tell she is a virgin. I can always tell.
“That’s the one.” She said. The wind was up outside. January in Boston was thick with snow and ice and when the wind blew it shook the entire building. In the corner an old television blared in the background. The screen was mostly green but that didn’t stop the three people in the station from staring at it like slack jawed monkeys.
“Where are you from?” She asked. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth when she talked. I could see on her teeth were braces had been put to pull her teeth straight. She wasn’t a runway. That was a good sign.
“Lots of different places. Boston is my home but I’m heading out on the late bus to go to California for a job.” I said. I was lying.
“Really that sounds exciting. This is my first trip out side of Michigan.” She said. I knew it was, she had that look.
“Hopefully not your last.” I said. It probably would be. “Where are you going to college?”
“U of M.” She said. That’s how she said it, as all letters as though I was supposed to know what it meant. I did but why did people always do that.
“Show me on your hand.” I said. Michigan is shaped like a hand and ever moron from there whips it up to tell you where they live, as though you have an atlas on your skin.
She laughed and pointed to the middle. She had no calluses on her soft hands. No sign of work no real existence. My hands were crusted with calluses, dirt and even blood. She shouldn’t even be talking to me.
The snow outside the door was piling up and threatening to spill inside. Little spiders of ice and dirt formed in the corner of the windows and twinkled under onslaught of the florescent lights and the bad green interior.
The garbage’s in the bus station were overflowing, wadded up gum and cans. No Starbucks coffee containers for the bus riding crew. People who ride the bus are a special bunch. You’ve probably run into them in the past. None of them are the kind of people you’d want sitting next your kid.
“I was thinking of becoming a doctor. Maybe a pediatrician I like kids.” She said. Her voice was breathy as she said it. “Assuming I can afford it. I have to get loans.”
“I’m sure some one will help you out. What about your parents?” I asked. She looked at me with her blue eyes that were the color of the ocean and her blonde corn colored hair.
“They don’t make much money. I’m kind of on my own when it comes to paying for school.” She said. “I got a couple of scholarships but none of them enough to pay the whole ride. I can do a work study and maybe pay the bills but not at any of the more expensive schools.” She said. She pushed her hair over her ear as she talked. She kept doing it even when it wasn’t down almost like it was a nervous tick.
“The world does need more doctors.” I said. She smiled at me and the room seemed brighter with her in it. I was lying I didn’t really give a shit if the world had anyone.
“That is the plan anyway. I have to get though this summer anyway.” She said. Okay maybe she wasn’t sixteen but she was a virgin. I could tell. If I let her live then she would go into the world and be corrupted. I had to save her.
“So you want to get a cup of coffee? Starbucks next door kitten.” I said. She bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t go but I was a young attractive male who seemed smart and she let her guard down. Of course she was going to go.
“Okay, we can come right back.” She said. She slipped her backpack on over her shoulders while I fiddled with my knife.
“Sure thing.” I said.
“I have good news and bad news.” The officer said squinting at the computer screen.”
“Give me the good news first.” The detective said as she drank the bitter swill they called coffee.
“We have over a hundred hits in the database for tis guy’s M.O.” He said.
“Bad news?” She asked.
“None of them have any more forensic data than we do. No camera hits, no fluids no DNA. No witnesses. The only thing they have is the same, the Narwhal scrapings from the weapon.” He said.
“What kind of sick fuck cuts the heart out of a schoolgirl and then rapes her corpse?” The detective asked.
“I don’t know but it’s almost like only virgin school girls can even SEE him.” The officer said.