This is the second Henry Morgan story hope you all like Chapter 1 Death under a Heartless moon I lay there, my face pressed up against the concrete floor, gravel sticking to my cheek. From the corner of my eye I see the blood, like a pool of dark velvet crimson, the moonlight reflected on its surface. The pool growing steadly bigger and bigger as it drained out of me. The warmth leaving me, as I breathed slower and slower, the hole in my side moving with a strange wet feeling of its own, as my life drained away. The smell of the cordite still stinging my nose, I looked in to my hand as it held the thin pink ribbon. It was a funny feeling dying, quiet and wet. At least this death was. An old man died and a young girl lived, it was a fair trade.
Chapter 2 Every ending has a beginning. It started months ago, on a wet cold miserable night. I had spent the evening at Joes knocking back some drinks and eating a steak, and generally trying my best to move the cloud of melcholey that had formed over me in recent months. I made the short trip down to my boat, made my way down to my cabin. I was hoping for a decent nights sleep for once. I was getting tired of being woken up by the same dream/nightmare. Two months of the same thing can wear you down. Every night the same dream, every night waking up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. I noticed the light on. As I entered there sat a elderly man, tall and lean, a thick crop of white hair on top of a tanned lined face. "Mr. Morgan," he said extending a working mans hand, his skin cracked and hard. "Just Henry will do fine," I said as I shook his hand. "Mr. Morgan, sorry to drop in unannounced, but it's been a long drive from Kansas, and I needed to talk to you." He spoke clearly and slowly, like he had the weight of the world bearing down on his soulders. "It's fine, what can I help you with?" I might have wanted sleep but a job was a job and I needed the money right now. "It's my daughter Sally-Ann, she left home three months ago. We received this postcard two weeks ago." As he said this he handed over a postcard, the picture was of a small sail boat alone on the ocean. I flipped it over, saw the Bay City postmark, and read the card. It was written in small neat handwriting. A quick summation, went mom, dad I'm fine had to leave sorry needed to live. "We know she was last here in bay city, please Mr. Morgan find our daughter for us." A missing person case. These were the worst, it meant hours of wondering the city asking the same question, have you seen this girl? The same blank answers, the same response of tragedy, the same false leads And then when you found them, there was the reason why they left. Nine times out of ten the reason was the father, he touched me, he hit me, he won't let me breath. I hated these cases I'd rather anything else but this, but I needed the cash. "I'll find her if shes still here," I said, I hated making that promise. There was a million and one ways to hide in a town this size, if she was still here. But what else do you say to a worried parent. "But Mr. Wakeman if I find her, there's no guarantee she's coming back." "I understand Mr. Morgan we just want to know she's safe and well," as he said this he passed me a neatly folded letter. "When you find her please give her this, and let us know she's safe." "I will Mr. Wakeman," normally in these cases they demanded that they returned, he never said that and there was something in his warm brown eyes that said to me he wasnt the normal monster that scared off a daughter. "If you dont mind we'll talk tomorrow I need to sleep." Wakeman slowly rose from his seat and made his way out, one weary old man watching another.
Chapter 3 Night Walking Sleep didn't come. Not for another 3 hours, my watch said it was near four when I looked. Two packs of Chesterfields and half a bottle of whisky seemed to do the job. At least till I was woken by the same dream. Then it took the other half the bottle and another pack. I woke up and looked at my watch, it was eight. The normal aches and pains were there, the same buzzing in my head, like someone had let a wasp into my skull and forgot to show it the exit. My mouth tasted like a ashtray as I lit another smoke, then used the butt to light another. I left shaving, gurgled as much mouth wash as I could stomach and made my way to Joes to meat Wakeman again. After some eggs and coffee I grilled Wakeman. He gave me a picture of her. She seemed healthy, tall faired haired, blue eyes, tanned, she looked worry free and happy. Sally was a normal country girl, good school marks, no record of misbehaving or trauncy. She seemed like a smart kid on her way to college. I tried to probe the dad, had he ever disciplined her had he used force, he said he hadn't. It was impossible to tell for sure, but I believed him. The only clue was the postcard, these things were a dime a dozen along the souvenir shops on the beach front. I made my way down there armed with Sally's picture and a pair of comfortable shoes. I button holed every store with a postcard stand. All I got was jeez that's a sad story and no haven't seen her. I went down to the beach and stood there watching the sea rolling away slowly, as the tide went out. The surf lapping the shore, washing away the dirty and grim of the day, taking it back out to to the sea. I watched in envy. Nature seemed to move so easily, no emotions to deal with, no pain or torment. Just a simple cycle of life and death. Ours wasnt that way, everything was messy and hard. It wasn't supposed to be this way, as a kid i had dreamed about being a bird, flying free soaring into the sun. Now i dreamed of my failings, my mistakes and my regrets. I took a step into the beech, the water lapped my shoes, a couple more steps and it would be at my ankles, a couple more and it would be at my neck. I stood there looking up to the sky the sun shining down, the gulls following my old dream, flying free. I turned my back and walked back. I made my way back up the beach and up the concrete steps to the street. I knew there'd be long days like this ahead as I checked the usual runaway spots. Asking the same question, getting the same blank response. I hit old town next walking down the cobbled streets. The sun had long gone replaced with twinkling stars, the night air still. I started to hit the bars, pubs, saloons. Again everywhere I went a blank look. I started to work the street now as I wondered through town. I approached every down and out and hopeless looking soul I could find. One by one a blank look. It was past one by now, my feet throbbed as I walked around town. One last look, I said to myself, then home to a another sleepless night. Under a street lamp stood a small frail girl her auburn hair catching the light as i walked up to her. I caught her eye, I usually did, I like to think because of my rugged good looks, but honestly it was more to do with the fact I still smelt police. "Have you seen this girl, Miss?" I asked matter of factly. There was a faint flicker of recognition in her eyes as she glaced at the photo, the first time today. "Sorry no." her voice was soft and warm, and as she answered she looked me in the eyes. Her voice was that of the mid west. She could have only been twenty if a day. "How about I buy you a meal and maybe you can look at the photo better in the light with a full stomach?" as I said this I motioned to the dinar behind me "Sure," she said following me in, "There's no action tonight." We took a seat, I ordered coffee, she took a cheeseburger and fries and a soda. I watched her wolf the food down, waiting till she had finished the food before sliding the photo of Sally over. "Recognise her better now?" I said this as I offered a smoke, that was excepted as I lit it for her. "Nope, can I go now officer?" "No." She looked up at me her eyes hard and unmoving. "I don't know her. And you're not a cop. So I'm gone." She stood to leave, she stood up as I put my hand over hers. "Her father justs wants me to pass on a letter nothing more, doesn't want me dragging her home." She looked down at me then with a sad shurg she gave me an address, scribbled on a napkin. "What's your name?" "Eustice," she said with a small smile, "Thanks for the meal." And with that she turned her back and left. I sat there drinking my coffee wondering how she found herself alone out here, walking the streets.
Chapter 4 Sally Ann's last breath Another sleepless night. My chest tight, my head pounding, my hands shaking, my heart heavy, my soul broken. I dressed I didn't bother shaving. I put on the same cloths as yesterday, the tie had a stain running down it, I didn't care. I made my way to Joes, I had a long slow breakfast eggs, bacon and coffee. I kept the food down just, the coffee cleared out my mind, as I fingered the piece of paper with the address on that Eustice had given me. I was in no rush, I had most of the day to get there. I sat ideally waiting watching the people go past, a young couple hand in hand, there smiles beaming there inner happiness, making my chest squeeze. Slowly I made my way along the streets, my feet old and slow. I felt worn out and tired like life was catching up with me and I couldn't run fast enough anymore to stay ahead. As I slowly made my way along the streets, the sun followed me along shining down on me with it's slow slight autumn heat. Eventually, by three I had made my way to the address. It was a small run down block of flats on the lower east side. There was no names on the buzzer as I rang the bell. I opened the main door and walked in, the mail boxes were to the left. The black white tiled floor was faded and chipped. The tiles turned to gray. I looked at the slots, flat 39 top floor I opened the box and stuffed the letter in. I had done my part tracked her down delivered the letter time to get back home and hit the bottle. I put my hand to the door one foot over the threshold when something made me stop. What if she wasn't there anymore, what if she had left. I should give the damned letter to her in her hands. It was the top floor there was no lift I was tired, I had a bottle and sleepless night to look forward to. Against my better judgment I made my way up the stairs to the very top, after grabbing the letter. I was out of breath and gasping as I came on to the landing. I lit a smoke and took a deep pull, as I made my way to her door. Then it hit me, hit me hard, right in the gut. That cold empty feeling. I knocked there was no answer, I knew there wouldn't be, before I had even knocked. I took two steps back and hit the door hard with my shoulder. The cheap frame gave away easy. I stepped in and then I saw it. She lay there motionless, a pool of blood around her. Her throat had been slashed, the cut was deep, to her neck bone, her head almost severed, her long thin neck wide open. Her arteries had been cut wide open. From the looks of it she had died quick, the loss of blood was massive, the thick carpet had soaked most of it up, turning a deep black colour. I put my hand in my hankie and touched her forehead. She was still warm to the touch. She hadnt been long dead. I looked around the room. There was no sign of a struggle, no marks on her thin frail body. Who ever did this, she knew them, had let them in, there was even two mugs of coffee on the table. One not touched the other empty. Who ever did this was cool, he had slit her throat open and sat back down and drunk their coffee. The cut was clean, the knife was shape he must have been strong to go that deep. I sat down on the sofa let it play through my mind how it happened. From behind his hand around her waist, the cold knife at her neck, a quick long hard cut. He was obviously a professional, this wasn't a angry boyfriend or a random stranger. To kill someone like that, close, personal, with a knife took a different kind of man. And it was a man, it was always a man, the women they care they mend they love, the men, the men, they killed, they raped. It was always man that besmirched the grace of god that took away what it was only his to give. I should know I had killed in my time, out of protection, out of love, out of vengeance and rage and because I could. Then it sank in, hitting me like a avalanche. Two hours maximum she had been dead. No more and barely that. She was murdered while I ate breakfast. She was murdered while I strolled up here. She was murdered because of me. She was murdered cause I was no longer the man I was or what I should be. She was murdered because I had failed again.