Autopsy I - Flesh of the Dead

By Steve Gerlach

We're all hiding something...

A killer stalks the dark streets of Matheson, hell-bent on exacting bloody, violent revenge.

After carefully choosing the victims, the killer carves a symbol deep into their chests, mutilating the bodies before dumping them.

There is no trace, no lead, no clue as to the killer’s identity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Probable Cause Productions
• Release date: Dec 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9780648490906

Steve Gerlach

Steve Gerlach is one of Australia's few thriller writers. Born and bred in Australia, Gerlach's fast-paced, cut-to-the-bone style is a refreshing voice in the dry, barren Australian literary scene. Steve's background includes many varied roles. He has worked as an editor for a book publisher; as the editor-in-chief of an Australian motorcycle magazine; editor and publisher of an international crime magazine, Probable Cause; a researcher and columnist for a major Australian daily newspaper; a Technical Publications Officer in the security industry; marketing executive for an international telecommunications software company; a writer for Australian Defence training and software producers; and currently works in the Integrated Facilities Management sector. He was also the Historical Advisor on the Australian film, Let's Get Skase. Steve Gerlach lives in Melbourne, where he is currently working on a new novel or two.

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Probable Cause Publishing

Published in Australia by Probable Cause Publishing

[e-mail]

stevegerlach.com

Copyright © Steve Gerlach 2017

The moral right of this author has been asserted

Art copyright © Matthew Revert

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher and author, except where permitted by law.

Typeset in Dustismo Roman Copyright © 2002 Dustin Norlander http://www.cheapskatefonts.com

All characters in the publication are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9578641-6-0

ISBN: 978-0-6484909-0-6 (e-book)

To:

Matt, Rob, Brooke and Brett.

Let's take no prisoners...

Contents

September 5

September 6

October 11

About the Author

September 5

Yes, I’ve hooked her.

She smiled back at him and nodded.

He offered her the glass and their hands touched for a moment. Her long, slender fingers were capped by precise, sculptured red and purple fingernails.

Gotta remember all of this, every single moment.

He was rock hard, his cock throbbing inside his jeans, but he tried to look relaxed and under control.

She threw her head back and gulped down the alcohol, then leaned forward, past him, placing the glass back on the bar. Her sleepy brown eyes met his as her intoxicating smell engulfed him.

She smiled once more.

The beat of the music was deafening, so he knew conversation wasn’t possible. It wasn’t needed anyway. She knew what he wanted, and he was sure she wanted it too.

Her tongue licked her deep ruby lips, searching for any last drop of vodka she may have missed, and she ran a hand through her long red hair that fell around her beautiful face. He couldn’t take his eyes from hers; the deep brown piercing stare, accentuated by the surrounding dark eyeliner.

She’s mine.

When he’d first seen her, she was standing alone at the edge of the bar. It was the long red hair that had first caught his attention. It fell over her shoulders and down across her breasts, which were only slightly covered in a loose ripped t-shirt. She was staring at the drink in her hand; head slightly forward, not taking any notice of the ever-moving crowd or the thumping music around her.

Some guy had pushed past her, bumped her roughly to one side, trying to get a drink.

But she didn’t look up, didn’t complain or push back, just moved slightly to one side and continued staring at her drink.

He’d watched her intently from the other side of the bar for quite some time, wanting to study her beauty and commit her to his memory, at least until her friends or boyfriend returned.

She looked young, too young to be allowed into a place like this. But these days he really couldn’t tell.

They either look illegal, or they are.

He watched her for what seemed like an eternity, waiting to see who she was with. Looking for the return of the blonde-haired, masculine gym-junkie boyfriend to come back from the bathroom or dance floor and drag her away, treat her badly, ignore her and make her life miserable. She would go, without complaint, without muttering even a single word.

And I’d lose her forever.

He watched from afar…and waited.

And then, she’d looked up, her eyes locking on his.

It was as if she knew someone was paying her the attention she deserved. She knew she was being watched.

Those brown eyes locked onto his and didn’t waver. The people and noise and the thud thud thud of the music surrounding them no longer mattered.

The room felt hotter than before, almost oppressive, but he had held his gaze, not wanting to look away. It could be his only chance.

And then she smiled.

From that moment on, nothing else mattered.

He smiled back and raised his glass, but her smile broke and slipped from her lips as she tilted her head slightly. Her long red locks fell from her left shoulder and to one side, revealing more of her shirt and her breasts hidden underneath.

She’s gorgeous.

He couldn’t believe his luck. He wanted to turn around and glance behind, just in case she was looking at someone else, her boyfriend maybe, or some other friends who had just located her through the noisy throng.

But he couldn’t break the contact, wouldn’t glance away from her in case it shattered the link suddenly forged between them.

Don’t rush it. Make it last.

Don’t seem too eager.

He’d held his ground, even though he wanted to head straight to her. He couldn’t risk letting her slip through his fingers.

Not when she’s so young...

Sometimes they got scared when he made his move, other times they were just too drunk to care. Worse still were the times they were just leading him on for their own fun.

"Are you serious? You’re old enough to be my father!" They’d laugh after he’d bought them drinks and talked to them for a while.

Free booze was all they were after. Nothing else.

Fucking bitches.

Or their boyfriends would suddenly be standing beside him, too pissed to know what was going on or, worse still, not pissed enough.

He knew his chances were low, and that while he couldn’t tell their age, they could usually tell his. No matter what he tried, it was as if they could sense it.

But then, once in a while, one of them would be just drunk enough, or just be out for a fuck, and he could strike gold.

But never as pretty as this one.

Or so ripe.

The beat in the music changed, faster, mirroring his heartbeat. His cock ached for release, hard and tight inside his jeans, as he tried to take in every inch of her beauty.

She looked delicious. Her hair sliding from her bare shoulders, her breasts full and round, her young eyes staring deeply into his in a dreamy, half-asleep way, and those deep ruby red lips shining in the flashing coloured lights.

Those eyes…intoxicating.

Wanting.

Then he was slugged from behind, pushed forward onto the bar, his drink spilling out of the glass and down his shirt. He slid sideways under the force, the glass jar ring from his grip as he reached for the bar to stop himself falling further.

There was laughter and shouting in his ear as eye contact was broken with the girl.

Lost her now, he’d thought, as he regained his balance and turned around to face his fate.

Boyfriend. Has to be.

A hand grasped his shoulder as he’d steadied and looked into the eyes of the guy. He was large, brutish and loud.

Time to pay the price.

Sorry, dude, the guy yelled over the music. You okay? Just want a drink! No hard feelings, okay?

The guy smiled and, without waiting for a response, turned towards the barman to order his drink.

Arsehole.

He was furious and wanted to punch the guy’s head in, but he knew he didn’t have the time. It wasn’t important. He couldn’t let this distract him any longer, not now.

He’d turned back, looking in her direction, ready to roll his eyes and save the moment, turning it from embarrassment into something funny they could talk about later.

An icebreaker, yeah, maybe that’s what it is.

But she was gone.

His eyes grew wide as he stared down the bar, trying to locate the flourish of red hair. But she had disappeared.

Shit.

In the few seconds it had taken to divert his attention, she’d left him.

He couldn’t believe it. He continued to search, his eyes swept up and down the bar, as he prayed he’d missed her, or that she was looking the other way or he’d confused where she had been standing. But no one came close, no one could replace her, he couldn’t confuse her with any of the others. There was no doubt, she was gone.

Fuck it to shit.

There was no use panicking, no use getting angry. She’d slipped through his fingers. He’d lost her and all he had were fleeting memories of her beauty and her intoxicating smile.

This was why he always tried to commit every detail to memory, every moment