This isn’t some petty little crime here Steven. This is a pretty disturbing murder. I have seen all kinds of pieces of shits like you. There is nothing that I haven’t seen yet in my job over the years. So why don’t you tell me what you did so we can wrap this up?”
Steven let out a giant sigh. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, as he rotated his head around his neck in a circular motion. He then looked back at Jonathan with a chestier cat smile and said,
“Wow I must say Detective that was quite the little speech. I am literally shaking in my boots. In fact I think I might have a little bit of piss running down my leg. Well really no I don’t, but nice try. I am appalled you would even try to scare and befriend at the same time Jon. See I’m a rare breed Jon, oh yes I am. A quite fine rare breed indeed. In fact there are only so many of my type out there. I am even willing to share it with you. I think you of all people will understand.”
Jon leaned forward in his chair pushing the tape recorder a little further towards Steven. Then folding his hands calmly on the table he asked,
“Understand? Understand what Steven?”
Steven looked at the tape recorder with a sudden interest. Smiling he said,
“Oh Jonny boy you are going to need more tapes then that.”
Jon adjusted himself in his chair replying,
“No I won’t. This won’t take long. Now what can you tell me about last night?”
Steven Willis looked Jon into his eyes and stated,
“What I have become, what I have evolved into. See evolution is a beautiful thing Jon. As Darwin put it so delicately only the strong shall survive. Are you part of evolution Jon? Or are you the lemming that follows the crowd over the cliff?”
“I don’t have time for this, either we talk about the hours between 2 am and 3 am earlier this morning or we’re done here.”
“No actually we are just getting started Jon. Like I said……… I have been waiting for you all of my life.”
Jon shook his head and said,
“What are you talking about? You have been waiting for me all of my life? You don’t even know me. I don’t know how you knew I was in the other room, I don’t know why you want to talk to me, and frankly I don’t give a shit. You don’t want to talk about Veronica Stanfield, fine by me. I’ll just let the judge decide. Get a good lawyer Steven, because it’s not going to matter. You’re caught red handed literally, blood on your hands! See if I give a shit.”
Jon aggressively grabbed his coat off the chair and started walking towards the door. His blood was boiling and he was angry. He felt this rage inside of him that he knew all too well. The type of anger that creates black outs, but he learned how to control that temper when he was a child. It burned but it can be controlled. Over the years he learned how to deal with it. Steven with a calm, clear voice piped up and slid with ease the following words as Jon went to grab the door handle he said,
“Emily Clark, North Bay, Ontario went missing back in 2000. Let’s see blonde hair, brown eyes, about 5 foot 8, weighing approximately 134 pounds, maybe 135 if I do recall. Well that’s what it felt like when I was dragging her body.”
Jonathon slowed down and released the door handle. His body was now in overload of inner turmoil. His heart started pumping as he turned back to Steven and said,
“You’re lying. You just want to buy some time don’t you? I know what games you psychopath’s play. I think you’re bluffing Steven.”
Steven let out another sigh and said,
“You detectives are all the same. I literally am giving you a full confession. A career changing opportunity and here you are trying to ignore the obvious. Now, I know your little monkey boys in blue behind that mirror are running that name and description through their computers. Until they come in to confirm that information, why don’t we have a little chat? Please Jon, take a seat.”
Jon walked back over to the chair and wrenched it across the room, slamming it into the side of the concrete wall. He then leaned forward across the table in Stevens face and said,
“You’re a real piece of work you know that? What the hell has any of this got to do with me? Huh? What makes you so different than any other psycho that I have had to deal with? You’re nothing special. You’re just as low as the rest of the putrid devils I have had to deal with. What makes you so unique?”
Steven’s stare turned hard and very cold as he said,
“You know what makes me different than any of the people or “demons” you have had to deal with? I am not the devil, nor am I god. I am above and beyond any of those entities that are considered heaven and hell. If you believe in that sort of thing, then I have judged and let the damned be damned, the righteous be righteous and sent them to above or below. I have killed dozens of people Jon, oh yes I have. It starts out with a first, like a first love. Then it grows and grows until you have to do it again and again. Then that expands into so much more. The steps of evolution I have experienced are part of the very few who ever dare to enter that realm of taboo. Everyone thinks about it, but we dare not speak of those dark corners of our minds. I am unique because I understand what I am, but I dare to embrace what I am at the same time. Your society is so messed up you can’t even see it. People go hunting, killing animals for a sport and end up having a couple of beers about it after. Mounting the heads as a trophy on their walls, but that’s okay in our society because they aren’t human. If a president decides to go to war and invades another country, it’s okay to kill hundreds of thousands of people because you are told to defend a piece of land, or whatever lame excuse for power or greed is on their agenda for that year. It’s okay to wipe out civilizations because of a religion or belief that we bestow upon others. We build pyramids, coliseums, statues; empires of business’s, skyscrapers and for what? To be remembered? Yet we immortalize these types in text books, history books. Hell even Hitler had his day. So let me ask you something Jon. If those concepts exist in this world as they do, then why am I the monster? Is it because of an ethic code that we live by? Or is it not so black and white? Maybe I should take these trophies of mine and mount them on my wall. No? Too much? Maybe if I slaughtered a number of people; and made it into a massacre that would suffice? No wait that’s too little, let’s make it a genocide? I know, I will run for president and push a damn button for the right of mankind. No my friend…….there is a grey area in every subject; even death has its grey area. I am about to show you where the fine line is between sanity, and greatness. I am about to make another little part of history. Do you think they will write books about me? Do you think I will be remembered for the horrible acts that I have done? Do you even think I give a shit if they do? Do you mind I call you Jonny boy instead of Jonathon? Like I have said Jonny Boy, I have been waiting for you all of my life.”
Jonathon was so startled by Steven he didn’t know what to think. Clearly this guy is off his rocker. Jon sat for a moment staring at Steven. He then calmly replied,
“You can call me Jon, not Jonny boy.”
Officer Brandon opened the door and motioned Jonathon towards him. Jon nodded and pushed himself away from the table. As he started walking back to the dark room, Steven Willis held up his handcuffs. The metals clanked against the steel table as he said,
“Ah, right on time, just like I told you detective. Don’t worry, take your time. I have nowhere to be. I’ll be waiting to talk to you in a moment.”
The door closed the behind them as Jonathon let out a sigh and said,
“Yeah this guy is clearly nuts. What do you got?”
Officer Brandon paused looking over Jon’s shoulder at Steven in the two way mirror then back at Jon and said,
“Yeah he’s nuts but his story checks out. There is a girl that went missing back in 2000. Emily Clark. Her family filed a missing person’s report within twenty-four hours and she was never found. I don’t know what else to say to you but you’re going to have to get everything out of this guy you can. For some reason he chose to ta
lk to you. So you’re going to have to run with it.”
Jon quickly stared at the ceiling, placing his hands on his hips letting out a another sigh exclaiming,
“Just great, this really isn’t my day.”
Steven raised his voice, looking towards the two way mirror window saying,
“You can’t sleep at night very well can you my Jonny boy? Constantly thinking about that poor family that was murdered fifteen years ago. It eats you up does it not? You could never sleep much after that could you? Oh I have been following you very closely Detective Cratick. How you made such an impression on your first break in the newspapers about nailing that perp with just the instinct of a crime scene. Quite the gift you know, being a profiler. Some people can’t even fathom the process it takes to be able to do that sort of thing. But out of all the cases that you took, that’s the one that keeps you up at night is it not? That’s the homicide that makes your skin crawl. How those pictures of their lifeless eyes stare back at you, as if screaming, why can’t you give us peace? Why can’t you sleep Jonny boy? Is it the nightmares? Am I the one that got away? By the look of the bags under your eyes and the red glare I have a pretty good assumption it is. What exactly does go through that pretty little brain of yours?”
Jon ripped open the door and leaped across the room grabbing Steven by the collar of his shirt, screaming into his face. The pure agony and pressure soured through his vocal chords.
“What did you just say?! Who the hell are you?”
Detective Cassandra Parsons grabbed Jon from behind. Clambering his arms from behind his back. As she was trying to restrain him and trying to pull him off Jon kept yelling at Steven. The other officers came flooding into the interrogation room tearing him away from the psychopath. They started dragging Jonathon out of the room. Detective Cratick wrenched back and forth, kicking and screaming. Steven started laughing as he was being forced to sit back down in his chair. He winked at Jon and said,
“Like I said Jonny boy, you’re going to need more tapes.”
Chapter 3
Jon wrenched forward again with his rage but was pulled back by five officers and towed into the back of the office throwing him into the side of the wall. Jonathon shot an upward glance trying to catch his breath, his hands holding himself up against the concrete. Chief Ponce looked at Jon with an intensified look and yelled,
“Good god, get a hold of yourself Jonathon! Whose the real lunatic in there, you or Steven!?”
Jon shot back,
“He knows everything! I don’t know how but he does. How does he know everything about me?”
“I don’t know? But what I do know is that you need to keep your composure. That is what you are trained for.”
Jon paced back and forth trying to calm himself down. He pulled back on his hair as he said,
“That family, the missing girl, this can’t be all connected, there has to be something else?”
“What do you mean there has to be something else?”
“I mean what the hell Ponce? This guy claims to have committed dozens of murders, is this the one guy that I have been looking for, for fifteen years? I just stumble upon him in a homicide case caught red handed? No, that doesn’t make any sense. He wanted to get caught. He knew I would be here for the phone call. He is up to something, trust me; it has nothing to do with what happened last night. That is just a small part of whatever sick plan he’s got going on in his twisted mind.”
Detective Parsons looked at Jon as she walked up to him and said,
“Ok, ok let’s just stay calm for a second. What are you saying? That this Steven Willis wanted to get caught. Why?”
Jon grabbed the bottom of his jaw. Cassandra Parsons could hear it in his voice as Jon started to calm down replying,
“Well how should I know?”
Chief Ponce pointed at Jon as he said,
“Well you’re the profiler. It obviously has something to do with you. Figure it out. And in the meantime the lunatic is right; get some more tapes because it seems he has a lot to say to you Jonathon. We are pulling up his address as we speak. We have enough means for a search warrant of his apartment, just keep him talking. Jonathon, keep that damn temper out of that room. We don’t want to mess this up and have this Steven clam shut.”
Jon nodded as he tried to regain his composure. The anger was slowly subsiding in him but he could still feel the fire, the rage. He needed to focus. This Steven Willis guy was obviously not just a psycho; but someone who he could not crack a profile on fifteen years ago. If this was the same guy that killed that family then he needs to figure him out. Jonathon was trying to put together the face, the personality. It didn’t make sense. The way the crime scene was laid, the up close brutality of the murders. It all felt personal. This Steven Willis guy, the way he got caught was sloppy. The way the body was moved and dismembered. It almost looked like an amateur had come in and cut the victim up. It just doesn’t fit the profile of the serial killer he was trying to catch for all of these years. None of it added up to this Steven Willis.
Chief Ponce was right though. He needed to calm down. This was getting too much under his skin. He needed a new strategy if he wanted to get back into Steven Willis's game. He needed to go back into the mind of which he hated the most. The sadistic game that Jon knew all too well was like torture. He had to make Steven trust him. To think that they have similar mindsets. To not feel judged for the murders he had committed. Sometimes it was more than Jon could handle. It’s the price he had to pay for having empathy. He had to put himself in the mind frame of Steven Willis. The very thought of even walking back into that room, sickened him, but he knew it had to be done. If he was to find out about the murders and make a correct profile, than he would have to get more on the tape.
Jon walked towards the water cooler and filled up a bottle of water. His throat was dry from the panic that was starting to rise inside of him. This was the part he detested. Feeling that evil stir inside of him knowing that it was the only way to get Steven to keep talking. Jon took in large gulps of the cool liquid. The lump of anger that was in his throat began to clear and he felt like he could take this on once again. He needed to stay calm. This was a dangerous game and one he knew how to play well. He knew what he was dealing with now and he knew somehow he was connected in all of it.
Jon walked back towards the interrogation room. Chief Ponce went to grab a hold of his arm but he jerked his hand away and held them up saying,
"I'm fine, really, I got this. Just start taking the records of the names that come up. I want to see how much of this psychopaths story checks out."
He took in a deep breath as he eased open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. The atmosphere seemed to change as soon as he closed the door behind him. The air seemed to cool down, maybe it was the chill that was running up his spine. Or maybe it was the fact that this was the killer he had been looking for fifteen years. Either way he had him right where he wanted him.......or did Steven have him where he wanted him? Jon had a lot of questions that needed answers. Steven eyed Jon up and down, patiently waiting in his chair. His blue eyes fixated on the detective as he said,
"Well hello Jonny Boy. Glad to see that you have calmed down. Did I upset you? I'm sorry if I did, didn't mean any harm by it. Haven't you ever heard the saying, Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me? I seem to have that effect on people from time to time. Then again I do like sticks and stones more than name calling. It’s just so much more fun."
Jon sat back down in his chair across the table from Steven. He placed the extra tapes on the case file beside the tape recorder that was still running. Detective Cratick then said,
"Alright Steven, I brought the extra tapes like you have suggested. I want to know everything. Surely you wanted to get caught. I have been going over night after night that Campbell’s family homicide case for fifteen years. In ten minutes you have seemed to rip that apart. So I’m all ears, I want to know everything
."
Steven’s blue eyes disappeared as his pupils became largely dilated. The black over taking the iris like a demon as he said,
"Oh you want to know everything do you? Well I don't know if you can handle that Jon. See you and I aren't so different. Remember when I was talking about that fine line? Your walking on it Jonny boy. See that's how you can think like we think, do what you do. It's not so black and white is it? It's almost as to say this room is the grey area. Maybe I am the black and you are the white. Maybe together we complete the yin and the yang? Do you really want to know what we are capable of Jonny Boy?"
Jon stared into Stevens blackened eyes. His whole body felt physically sick by just looking at him. It was as if he was repulsed and slightly intrigued, all of the mixed confusing emotions churning around together inside of him, in the pit of his stomach. Yes he wanted to know, hell he had to know. He grimly asked,
"Alright, where do we start?"
Steven Willis’s eyes faded back into the ice cold blue. He folded his hands together, placing them back on top the steel table as his chains clinked together. He said,
"Ah yes well like I believe everyone is born pure, we are all virgins to the soul at one point in our lives. I was never any different. I was brought up in this small little town just outside of North Bay Ontario. It was like any other town. Nothing abnormal; quiet, dull, boring actually. The only thing that was different, was me. I seem to recall this anger when I was just seven years old. I knew even back then that I was different than the other children. I was quite smart for my age, bright young kid you know, but something inside me stirred deep. Something dark, something that cannot be explained nor tamed. It was this rage that ripped into the fire. It was constantly hot, so red hot that it seemed to boil over every time I was disturbed or upset. I tried to control it but at times it was just too much to handle. I would get bullied constantly because I was considered weird. Sometimes I felt like the other children could see my lack of concern towards others. I was an outcast so to speak. Always being pushed around the school yard, made out to be some sort of freak because of my lack of social skills. I didn't have many friends but I had myself. That was all that mattered to me really. My mother worked a lot of hours so I rarely ever saw her, but she eventually left us due to my father Shane Willis. He was a drunk, an alcoholic who had a lot of built up hate. When he drank too much of that damn liquid fire, his own demons seemed to take over. It was his eyes that I can remember the most. They were so kind, so affectionate. But when he had that fire water, they went dark, dim; black like a shark. I will always remember those eyes and the smell of his breath every time he came for me. It is something that I tend to try not to think about. He took that anger out on me like it was charged through his body straight into mine. I would lie in bed at night, writhing in pain, wondering whatever would make a man be filled so full of hatred to transfer it to my broken bod. I often thought that perhaps he recognized what the other children saw? That lack of compassion in me is what he had in himself. Maybe he hated me so because it what was looking right back at him?
Profile of the Gemini Serial Killer Page 2
