by Sam Harding
The feeling of elation is short-lived, though, as the first man in the file jumps up onto Lex’s front porch. My head is back in the game as I follow Blake and the rest of the team onto the porch and listen for commands from the members of the SWAT team.
The team splits into two sections, and three operators go on either side of the door. Remembering my training, I take up a position on the left side of the door, just out of direct sight from the window, opposite the side of the door Blake goes in order to even out the stacks. In my mind’s eye, I can see the snipers in the woods on the opposite side of the house with another assault team ready to act incase Lex makes a run out back.
Like a well-oiled machine, the SWAT team acts as one. Starting from the rear, the man in back taps the shoulder of the man in the middle, and the middle man taps the shoulder of the man in front, indicating they are ready to roll.
The second man in the stack on Blake’s side breaks rank just as the first man in the stack on my side pulls the pin of a flashbang grenade. I feel my heart pounding in my chest now, waiting for the inevitable and hoping like hell Lex doesn’t do anything stupid. The first man from Blake’s side knocks on the front door loudly and yells from the top of his lungs: “POLICE, SEARCH WARRANT!” Just then, the second man who’d previously broken rank, steps up to the door and kicks it as hard as he can in the area where the lock is. The door splinters at the frame as it’s bashed violently inward, and the first man in my stack backhands the flashbang through the opening.
Seconds later, there is a deafening bang and a brilliant flash of white light as the nonlethal grenade detonates. The concussion from the blast is so overpowering, that it’s enough to shatter parts of the windows on the outside of the house. Even from where I am on the outside, my ears instantaneously begin to ring from the noise of the blast.
I don’t have time to worry about my ears, though, as the train of operators flood into the house. “Police! Police! Police!” They yell, as they fan out inside the small home.
As planned, I follow Blake across the threshold and into the living room, my heart now beating even faster than it had before. Through the ringing in my ears I can suddenly hear loud voices coming from somewhere deeper inside the house. I push forward along with everyone else, and then stop cold when I hear the words I’d hoped to God I would not hear.
“Gun! Gun! Drop the gun! Drop the gun!”
And then, the little farmhouse erupts with the sound of gunfire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The World is Safe
POP! POP! POP! Pop!
The sound of an M4 firing on semi-automatic is a sound forever seared into my brain. I’d grown up on the weapon in the Army, and I’d been issued the same weapon platform as a cop. There’s no doubt in my mind that the four shots from deep in the house are coming from an M4.
I’m just barely out of the living room, and although I can’t see what had just gone down, I know what happened. The next thing I hear is the rest of the team calling “Clear!” as they finish their search of the house.
Blake and I push deeper into the house and pass the kitchen area where I notice two twenty-four packs of Mountain Dew: Code Red on a small dinner table. I feel my heart sink. Alexander Irving did not deserve any of this.
A couple of the SWAT guys squeeze past me, both of them carrying a stern look on their faces, one I know all too well. I pass another set of operators in what appears to be a guest bedroom, and then after passing a small bathroom, I find myself standing in the doorway of the master bedroom.
It’s not until Blake enters and steps aside that I finally see the aftermath of the four shots. Alexander Irving is laying on his back at the foot of his perfectly-made bed. His eyes are staring wide at the ceiling, his mouth is open in a display of both shock and utter horror. He’s wearing plaid pajamas with a gray slipper barely still hanging onto one of his feet. I can see four small punctures in a fist-sized grouping in the center of his chest and a mess of blood surrounding the bullet holes. I look up from Lex’s lifeless body at one of the two SWAT members in the room, the team leader is holding Lex’s double barreled-shotgun in his hands. The weapon is broken open, and I see the team leader show his partner the two empty chambers.
I feel sick to my stomach and feel as if I can throw up. The SWAT team had just shot a man armed with an empty weapon. As angry as I am, I know I cannot at all blame the SWAT team. They did their jobs as they had been trained to do, just as they should have done when confronted by a man who had been prone to violence in the past and was armed with a shotgun. Had I have been in the shoes of the operator who pulled the trigger, I can’t say I would have done anything differently.
“Damn you, Lex,” I mutter to myself. Why did you go for the gun? Why couldn’t you have dropped it like they told you to? Now, the man I know was innocent, will never get a chance to defend himself.
“Good work, Reagan,” Blake says to the SWAT team leader. “You guys couldn’t have known it was empty.”
I want to slug Blake in the mouth but I know he’s right. Instead I ask, “You and your boys good?”
The team leader nods. “Thanks. You’re Donovan, right? What are you doing here?”
“Long story,” I say, ignoring Blake’s glare and return my attention to Lex’s body. I can’t help but think of all the progress Lex had made, about how well he was finally doing for himself. Such a fucking shame.
“Holy fucking shit!” A voice calls out from the guest room down the hall.
Blake and I look at each other quizzically for a moment and I turn from the master bedroom and head for the guest room with Blake at my heels. When I enter the guest room, I find the same two SWAT operators inside that I’d seen before, only now, one of them is standing over a desk with what looks like an open book with a leather backing on top.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
The SWAT operator looks up at me, goes to say something, but stops and then looks at Blake who’s now standing next to me. He says to Blake, “Detective, this is his diary. It was just sitting here on the desk. It’s him!”
“What’s him?” Blake asks, stepping forward to get a look at the book.
“Look at it!”
I can see by the look on both SWAT operator’s faces that whatever is in the diary must be something equivalent to discovering the Holy Grail. Not giving a shit what Blake thinks about my involvement in what’s going on, I crowd in on the book with him and get a look at what’s inside.
“Holy fucking Christ,” Blake says after taking a second to read the open page.
During the assault on Lex’s house, my heart had been beating in my chest like a bass drum, but now, I think it has stopped completely. What I’m looking at makes absolutely no sense to me, and every part of me is screaming that it can’t be real. There’s no fucking way it can be real. Blake puts a glove on his right hand and starts flipping through the pages of the diary, going all the way back to the first page. No way. No fucking way. How can this be?
“This is his fucking kill book,” Blake says, still flipping through pages.
My mind reels as I look at the dates in the book as Blake continues to turn through it. There’s so many dates marking the death of so many victims, but the ones that stand out to me might as well be written in large, block letters instead of the cursive they’re in.
December 24, 2016
December 24, 2017
December 24, 2018
December 24, 2019
December 24, 2020
And more recently:
December 19, 2021
December 21, 2021
Blake looks at me with a satisfied grin on his face. “You fucking see what I’m seeing, Micah?”
“There’s no way, Bill,” I say. “He was cleared years ago and I just talked to him the other day. Lex is a medicated schizophrenic, he’s way too doped up to do something like this. Something’s off, man.”
“’Something’s off?’” Blake scowls at me. “Like fucking hell
it is. Looks to me like the world is safe, because this evidence is pretty fucking clear. Are you really so fucking arrogant to suggest this isn’t what it is? What, is it because I’m the one leading this investigation and not you? Pretty sure we just had this conversation the other day, asshole.”
“Blake, listen to me,” I plead, ignoring the looks from the SWAT guys in the room and fighting every urge I have to not punch the Detective’s lights out. “Doesn’t this seem a little too convenient? That something like this would just be sitting out in the open? Think about it.”
“Fuck you, Micah, this is legit and you know it. Fucking-A, do I have to read the 2018 section to convince you? Because I’m sure it covers everything that happened that day.”
“Don’t do this,” I say. I know something’s wrong, I can feel it in my bones and soul that something is terribly wrong here and we’re all being played.
“Get the fuck away from my crime scene,” Blake says.
“Excuse –”
He steps forward, his face inches from mine. I can feel his breath against me as he speaks and my blood boils even hotter. “Get the fuck away from my crime scene. If I have to say it again, you’ll be dragged out by the SWAT team.”
I’m beaten. There’s nothing I can do. An innocent man was killed today and now he’s going to go down as the Christmas Eve Butcher. The beating I gave Blake earlier pales in comparison to how I feel now.
Not knowing what else I can do to convince him, I turn away from the Detective and the two SWAT operators and head for the door.
“Escort Mr. Donovan to the staging area,” I hear Blake tell one of the SWAT members.
I turn around a final time and look Blake in the eye. “You’re wrong about this, Bill, and you’re going to see for yourself when a little boy ends up dead tomorrow.”
“Fuck you, Micah.” And then, a smile crosses his face just as one of the SWAT operators takes my arm in his hand. “Motherfucker, I did what you never could. I fucking caught the Christmas Eve Butcher. Get the fuck out of here.”
I feel the pressure on my arm tighten, fight every urge I have to start throwing punches, and turn away.
If I’m right and Lex is truly innocent, then I have lost and the Christmas Eve Butcher has won once again.
Part Two
Butcher's Eve
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Whore
“SO, CAN I come in?”
Unbeknownst to her, those words had been Mary’s first mistake of the evening. She stood just outside the front of David’s trailer and had asked the question just before he could bid her goodnight and close the front door.
At first, he stared at her with a perplexed look on his face, shocked to hear her ask him the question. Although they hadn’t been dating for very long, oddly enough, Mary had never set foot in David’s house. As always, she’d walk to his place, or he’d walk to hers, and then they would walk into town from there. Due to their low-income lifestyles and their close proximity to town, neither of them could afford the gas and insurance to drive anywhere, and so they spent their time walking or riding bikes together – but never had they spent time in each other’s homes.
“Do – do you need to use the restroom or something?” David stammered, feeling a sweat form at the back of his neck despite the cold chill coming in from outside.
Mary shook her head. “No, silly, I just wanted to hang out some more. Maybe watch some TV?”
“I – uh – I don’t have cable,” David said honestly. He just used his TV for the occasional movie. “But, yeah – yeah, sure come inside.” What could that hurt?
“Are you alright?” Mary asked, stepping passed David and into the trailer. She looked up at him with a look of concern evident in her pretty eyes.
“I’m fine,” David smiled. It doesn’t hurt at all. Why would she not be welcome in here? God says nothing against this. “Was just surprised you wanted to come in, is all. I don’t believe you’ve ever been in here.”
Mary smiled again and kissed David on the lips. When she pulled away, she backed up from him and unzipped her heavy coat, revealing a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt that didn’t quite make it to the waistline of her jeans. Without saying a word, she hooked the coat on the rack nailed to the door and turned back to face David.
Never before had David seen Mary in clothing like this. It had either been very conservative clothing in the warmer months or a thick jacket in the colder ones. Seeing her stomach and her shirt pressed against her large breasts seemed both right and wrong at the same time and, again, he felt the sharp pinch of the clothespin at the base of his penis.
“Kind of weird, right?” Mary asked, making her way deeper into the living room without being invited.
“What is?”
“That we’ve never been inside each other’s house before.”
“Oh,” David said, nodding. “Yeah – yeah I guess. We’re both very – uh – private people, so I guess it’s normal.”
“You don’t have a lot in here! Some furniture, a TV with no cable connection, but no decorations or pictures?”
“I don’t spend a lot of time here,” David explained defensively. He wasn’t really sure what else to say. He was suddenly getting a feeling that he had previously hoped he would never get with Mary. A feeling that made him both angry and sad at the same time. Is she judging me?
Mary looked at him again. “We’re going to have to do something about this.”
“What?”
“Decorations. You need decorations. And I,” she playfully walked back up to him and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. “am going to be the one that takes you shopping.” She kissed him on the mouth.
“Is that right?” David asked after they pulled away, his dreaded feeling now gone.
But a new feeling returned the moment Mary made her second mistake of the evening, one David had not at all seen coming. Mary’s right hand dropped down from around David’s neck and started rubbing against his upper thigh. Inch by inch, she moved it closer and closer to his genitals until finally, David reached down and grabbed her hard by the wrist.
“What are you doing?” David asked, suddenly feeling himself well up with anger. “Why are you doing that?”
“What’s the problem?” Mary asked, obviously shocked at her boyfriend’s reaction. “I was just –”
“Just what? Trying to seduce me?”
“Seduce you? Who talks like that?” She tried pulling her hand away, but David’s vice-like grip held it in place. The pressure from his hand tightened and she winced in pain. “David, you’re hurting me.”
“Answer my question.” His eyes glinted like fire and he could see the fear in Mary’s eyes. He didn’t know why, but something about that look brought a sharp pain at the base of his penis behind the clothespin.
“I just thought it was time,” Mary tried explaining, tears forming into her eyes. “I had no idea you’d be so upset – I just –”
“Time?” David nearly screamed the word. “Who are you? Who the hell are you? This is not supposed to be you!”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“All your talk before about being a virgin and wanting to save yourself for marriage, all this talk about doing what’s right in the eyes of God –”
“David, I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if –”
“Liar!” His rage had taken control now and he backhanded Mary hard across the face. Her head snapped to the right and her body spun, sending her onto the floor with a hard thud. Immediately she began sobbing, and after a second to clear her head, she began to crawl away from David. But he wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot.
It was all clear to him now. This had been an attack from Satan and a test from God. He was just lucky to find out so close to his special day tomorrow and not when it was already too late to do something about it. Mary, the woman whom he’d fallen in love with, the woman whom he’d been so sure was an angel sent by God, was in fact no a
ngel at all. She was like all the rest, a demon, a demon who’d somehow gotten close to him without his knowing with the sole purpose of turning him against his righteous principles.
“No,” David said out loud as he walked towards the creature now crawling away from him. “I will not abandon my principles, you fucking whore!” He straddled her and dropped to his knees, pinning Mary to the floor with his thighs. He reached around her throat from behind and began to squeeze hard, the muscles in his forearms straining with exertion.
Mary thrashed at first, her hands flailing in all directions, trying to contort her arms behind her and reach and claw for David’s face, but she was no match for his physical abilities. Little by little, David felt her life slipping away and it brought him nothing but satisfaction. He felt her body go limp as she faded into unconsciousness, but David continued to hold pressure.
Then he stopped.
No, he said to himself. No, not yet. This whore doesn’t deserve to go so quickly. He checked her pulse. It was weak, but it was there, and that was all David needed to know. Mary would die, but not like this. No, she deserved something much more special.
The deceitful whore deserved to suffer.
She would be his final kill before his true battle with Satan tomorrow on Christmas Eve.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sacrifice
When Mary woke up, her eyes fluttered for a brief moment before she finally stopped blinking and began to squint. In the low light of the room, she couldn’t see much, just blurs and shadows. Her head was throbbing with pain, and she attempted to reach up and touch her temples but she couldn’t. Confused, she tried again, but no matter what she did, her hands wouldn’t obey her commands. It took a little while longer for head to clear a little more, and that’s when she realized the horror of her situation: she was tied up and she was naked.
