Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt

The sun broke through my window, bathing me in its gold hues and warmth. I stretched warily and took one more look at the computer screen. After pulling an all-nighter, I finally admitted to taking a one-in-a-million shot. One was a routine job of photographing a story and interviewing officers and witnesses for the paper, which became so much more.

I shook my head as I looked at the image that filled my screen with all its intricate pixels. This was the one that was different from the others. It showed another person at the scene holding a large knife, the alleged murder weapon. After scrolling through every image I took, the murderer appeared in this one.

Even though I bracketed every shot, the camera did something the cops and detectives couldn't do. That was placing a face with the murderer. This wasn't his first victim; unless I got this image to the right people, it wouldn't be his last. Unfortunately, who would believe me?

"Yeah, Shadow, you're caught between a fuck around and a find out."

Running my hands through my shaggy, dark hair, I exhaled sharply. I needed sleep, but after a night of seeing the face of a murderer, dreamland wasn't close. He wore a bright blue beanie with the word 'ghost' written on it. His clothes were black and relatively non-descript and were something anyone could buy at a regular department store.

It was his face and eyes that made my heart race. His angular jaw stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. A bit of a 5 o'clock shadow dotted his face, and a wide protruding nose jutted out with deep-set eyes. He was far from handsome, and his looks were as basic as his clothing. Everything about him was regular.

He had a look that didn't invite a second glance. He wasn't ugly, just plain. Nothing about him stood out to me. His eyes held an intensity as I stared at the image. The more I looked, the more it felt like he looked directly at me. I know he wasn't, but the odd feeling of him watching me sent a shiver down my spine.

The rest of the image was slightly out of focus as if to draw my attention to the killer. As much as I wanted to look away from the gruesome scene, I couldn't help but stare. We locked eyes, or at least the image gave off the idea that we did. It was like we stared into each other's souls.
"Now's not the time to get paranoid," I said.

No one was around to hear me. I lived alone in an overpriced apartment in Arvada, outside of Denver. My job as a reporter paid decently, but it still wasn't enough to allow me to afford a house. At least not in this state. I kicked back and let my chair roll back across the floor. It stopped in front of my office door opposite a mirror I had hung in the hallway a few months ago.

I grimaced. Shadow, you look like shit. My green eyes were bloodshot and slightly sunken in. Dark circles hung under my eyes. At least you got matching luggage, man. I scratched at the scruff on my face. It had been a few days since I shaved, which isn't bad. But after a night of no sleep, it made me look haggard.

With a groan my neighbors probably heard, I stood and walked to the kitchen. After a few minutes and an obnoxious beep, the day-old coffee in the pot was now hot and ready to drink in my favorite mug. I took a sip and let the warm liquid re-energize my soul.

After an evening of staring at the same image, I needed the caffeine. I strolled back to the office and set the cup down. The word 'truth' stared from the mug. The word alone was vital to my job. While many reporters skewed their stories with bias, I preferred only the facts. The truth. Did my boss like that? No. Was I going to change to suit the masses? Also no.

This murder spree was ugly, and my editor gave this story to me as no one else wanted it. The police had no leads, which meant no story, and no story meant terrible ratings and a pissed-off editor. This was something different, and no one ever saw the killer. Witnesses found the body, but not the one who did it.

Was this image the truth? Fuck if I know, but I'd find out!

One benefit of having my job was the contact I made. One of them being a lovely red-headed detective on the force. Her name was Lana Lovecraft, and she excelled at her job. She operated the supernatural division, and after this image, this case had two fallen into that category.

It'd be here if anyone could run his face through the recognition software. I uploaded the image to an email. Under the subject line, I added the words' ghost killer' before adding her address. While Detective Lovecraft was used to strange emails from me, this would be the strangest one yet.
I drank more coffee and waited for inspiration to hit me. Lack of sleep didn't help the thought process, and I needed to explain this image before sending it off. Doing so also risked pissing off others in the department and the officers in charge of the case.

Since I took this image while everyone was there and no one saw him. Still, my camera, they'd either delete the image or arrest me for interfering with an investigation. I had enough problems with the authorities because of my job; I didn't want to anymore.

After typing the email, I sent her an image link so she could see what I saw. I knew the paranormal world was real, but I never knowingly interacted with it. There are things better left alone. This murderer may be up to no good or steeped in something bigger than me. The killer may be a ghost, but I heard no stories of a spirit stabbing people to death.

I hope this doesn't come back to haunt me. I hit the send button and waited.

***

Within a few minutes, a new email popped into my inbox. I barely drank more of my coffee. All I did was dwell on the possibility that my life would be in danger if the killer knew I had a picture of him. Not only that, but if the police didn't believe me, then I'd be an open game with no protection.
I had a gun and would use it if I had to. My aim was great on the gun range, but in the heat of the moment, there was no guarantee I'd pull the trigger in time or if I aimed well. It was a shot I'd prefer not to make, but when shit hits the fan, I won't know what I'm capable of until it happens.

A simple click opened the email. It was from Detective Lovecraft.

Shadow, where the fuck did you get this picture? Does he know you took it? I'm calling you ASAP!
~ Detective Lana Lovecraft DPD

My phone buzzed against my desk, and I started. My heart raced at the scare, and I didn't realize how tense I was until now. I swiped to answer.
"This is Shadow," I said.

Lana's voice boomed from the phone's speaker. Talk to me, Shadow. How did you get this picture?

"I took it at the crime scene and all the others, and this one was the only one that had that guy in it. I bracketed my images, and this frame was it."
I'm running his face through a database, but do you think he saw you? This is important, Shadow. I need to know if I need to send a car over.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. "I don't know. There were a lot of people around, but I'd like to think I'd remember a man with a knife standing over the body, especially with Denver's finest there."

Do you believe in the supernatural, Shadow?

"Not really. I stick to facts, but I'm a theist, not a strong one."

This could be a spectral image. It's like you caught a memory frozen in time. Are you sure you didn't see anyone there that looked different?
"Detective, I can't answer that, and I stayed focused on my work. Plus, this image is in the middle of a crime scene with cops, and I would've noticed this!"

I stood and paced. My pulse sped up, and I ran a hand through my hair. The light and greasy texture reminded me that a much-needed shower was in order. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down.

"Do you think he somehow knows I have this image?"

Nothing is impossible, Shadow. My job is strange shit like this, and I have to take it seriously. If it's a memory, he may have, even if he wasn't there when you took the picture. If he's strongly connected to the memory, he'll know.

"Since it connected him with the murder, those chances are good, aren't they?"

Yes. I'm sending someone to get you.

There was a light knock on the door. My watch said six a.m. Who'd be at my door this early in the morning?

Was that a knock I heard?

"Please tell me your officers are already here?"

No. I haven't sent anyone yet.

"Hold on a sec…."

Shadow? Shadow?

Ignoring Lana, I sauntered over to the door. The entire building was quiet, and I was glad I had carpet and not hardwood floors that creaked once. I had already locked the door. Thanks to the universe for that one. I glanced through the peephole. A stranger stood on the other side. His head was down, so I couldn't see his face. The man's hoodie was dark, with his hood drawn up over the head to hide his face.

He had on dark jeans and boots, along with some gloves. The gloves didn't make sense this summer. My heart raced, and I jumped back as the individual knocked again. I've seen enough horror movies to know this jump scare all too well. I walked back to my office.

"I don't know who it is."

As I opened a drawer, I gave Lana the person's details. I lifted my gun out of the drawer and popped in the clip. Another knock.

That sounded like you slid a clip into a gun. Was that another knock? Dammit, Shadow, I'm on my way. Please stay on the line as I'm bringing backup.

"Okay, but I'm shooting if it busts down the door."

I'm supposed to tell you to avoid interacting with the person entering your place. Don't do anything stupid, Shadow, but do what you need to survive.
I put her on speaker and set the phone down on the couch as I strode toward the door. Another knock. This time I answered. I didn't open the door, though. I'm not that stupid… I have my moments like everyone else.

"Can I help you?"

A deep baritone echoed. "Yeah, my car broke down, and I need to use your phone."

"So, you came up to the third floor?" I asked.

I heard laughter from the other side. "Actually, you have something that belongs to me."

"I don't know you, so I doubt it," I said, my heart racing.

"Oh, I think you do. You know it too. You took my picture without permission, didn't you, Shadow?"

I stepped back. "Who are you?"

Shadow, if he doesn't kill you, I'll come close to doing it myself.

"Did you call the police, Shadow? Sounds like you did. That was a big mistake, buddy."

Something hit my door hard. The stranger on the other side tried to get in, and I took a quick peek through the peephole and saw him slam his body into the door. The frame and the door shuddered at the force but held. I hoped the landlord didn't miss any steps in installing this door.

Another loud thud as the killer hit the door. I hear a slight snap.

Shadow, tell me what's going on!

"He's trying to bust down my door. I think he may succeed."

I'm almost there. Lock yourself in the bathroom if you can. Slow him down.

My bathroom didn't have a lock, and as for slowing him down, I doubted my front door would hold him back much longer. He hit the door again, and it gave a slight buckle. Fuck me. He's actually gonna bust my door down. I switched the safety off my gun and raised it, waiting.

***

The door broke open, and the hooded man charged inside. I fired off a shot, hitting him in the arm. As he staggered back, I aimed to fire again but hit the wall. He stood straight and stared at me. His eyes filled with black, and a grin spread across his face.

"You're a shitty shot, Shadow. Stick to your camera. You shoot better that way." He charged at me, knocking me over. I heard Detective Lovecraft shouting over the speaker before the phone slid off the couch onto the floor, speaker down, muffling her voice.

I lost my grip on the gun as the killer hit me, and it flew back down the hall as we hit the floor. A knife flashed in the rising sun that shone through the window. He brought it down and barely missed me as I rolled to the side. I kicked out, knocking him over. I scrambled to the gun, and my fingertips brushed the weapon as strong hands gripped my leg and dragged me away from it.

"I don't think so, Shadow. Your days of breathing and reporting on crime are over. I don't know how you did it, but you captured me over my latest prize."

He flipped me onto my back and straddled me, his knife raised high, ready to plunge into my body. I glanced to the side and saw my tripod, and I grabbed it and brought it over to my chest in time to deflect the falling blade. "Fuck, dude, I won't be your next victim."

I twisted the tripod, and the killer cried out in pain as his hand got caught in the legs of my photography equipment. The knife fell to the floor. I swung again and heard a welcome thunk as my tripod connected with the side of the killer's face. He toppled over, allowing me enough time to reach for the gun.

I turned in time to see him with the knife charging me again. There was no time to think, and I reacted the only way I knew. I fired my gun, emptying the clip into him. His body danced as the bullet riddled his chest and abdomen.

He stared at me in shock, the blackness leaving his eyes. A light blue color remained, and I watched in morbid fascination as the life drained from his vision until he fell forward with a thump. The click of the gun reminded me I was out of ammo.

"Shadow!"

Detective Lovecraft burst into the room with a few other officers. They hurried to the killer to check his pulse as Lana rushed over to me.

"Are you alright?"

My breath came out ragged from the fight and fear, but I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. I think he's dead, Detective."

She nodded and smiled. "He is. You did good, but you're gonna have to give a full statement."

I sat up against the wall and nodded. "He found out where I lived. How did he do that?"

Lana sat next to me as the other officers called for the medical examiner and backup. "Well, the picture you took opened a connection between you both, and that's my only explanation."

I wiped my nose and stared at the body, expecting it to get back up. "I've had my camera for a few years; it's done nothing like this before."
She patted my shoulder. "Sorry to break it to ya, but that was all you. Don't be surprised if more things like this happen to you. Be careful what you photograph, Shadow. You have a unique talent that could get you in trouble."

"Like I need more trouble," I said.

"I need to help the others go make some coffee. The officers will appreciate that."

I nodded and got up. Stepping lightly, I walked over to the killer and into the kitchen. Glancing around the room, everything lost its color. The entire scene was black and white, but with lots of contrast, like watching an old Hollywood noir movie with low lighting.

A figure stood in the corner for a moment and disappeared. Color returned to the scene, and I sat, cradling my head in my hands. This can't be happening. Dammit, Shadow, what has happened to you?

The End…

***

Thanks for reading my story. I truly appreciate you for doing this. Please give the story a thumbs up and a comment to let me know how much you liked the story. If you want to read more of my books and stories, please go to http://matthewangeloauthor.com and sign up for my newsletter! I do giveaways and other fun promotion stuff.

~ Matthew