The Ripper of Blossom Valley

by S D Christopher

  "Uh-huh...And, uh, Frank. Tell me, how common are serial killer duos or teams?"

  "Not very, but it's not unheard of."

  "I appreciate good hunches as much as anyone, Frank, and yours especially. But we need something solid, some hard evidence that fits into this, not just a theory, or Doyle'll never buy in."

  "Come on, Troy. Don't throw fuckin' Doyle at me. That jackass couldn't profile a serial killer if Ted Bundy walked in and confessed."

  I raise my eyebrows and shoot him a smirk. I'm not surprised that he feels that way about our captain. I've seen his sneers and heard how he speaks to him. But I'm impressed that he trusts me enough to share the extent of his disdain.

  "Okay, so let's say you're right. We've got a team doing this. How certain can we be that Denise was done by the same perps? I still think she's different enough to be a copycat."

  He sighs. I may be playing devil's advocate, but he doesn't have an answer. "We can't be certain, you're right. But I've got something tugging at me that says it's all the same dirtbags. And the more I think about it, the more I wonder if these are their only four victims. We should go further back, look at some other unsolveds in the last year or two that didn’t involve dismemberment, see if there are any links. Maybe they only started pulling off arms and legs recently, getting more brazen after getting away with a few before that."

  Great, now we're not just trying figure out three or four murders, but maybe a dozen? More? I know lots of murders go unsolved, but I don't know what's worse, a handful of random, senseless killings, or a string of carefully thought-out executions. Now that I think of it, it's pretty clear. I hope we don't find any connections to older cases. That would mean, among other things, that we suck at this, and can't protect the people we swore to. On the other hand, once we catch him -- them? -- that's a whole lot more lives that don't end this way.

  Combing over the rest of the scene, we find what we expect: not much, same as the others. No footprints in the puddles of blood, no stray hairs, no semen, and once the Crime Scene Unit is done with their collecting, I bet we'll confirm no fingerprints, fibers, or other trace particles. It's like he, or they, go over the house with a microscope. I've never seen anything like it, and more unsettling, neither has Frank.

  Frank's cell phone rings. "I'll meet you outside."

  I direct the other CSU and Homicide officers on the scene to take pictures of everything, even if it seems innocuous, and gather the little evidence we do have: the body, the arm, the clothes. Then I head outside, as Frank hangs up, wearing a worried look. But there's something else, too.

  "Well, Troy, I've got good news, and bad news."

  "Gimme the bad first. I always prefer ending on a high note."

  "That was Doyle. The FBI is taking an interest. We need to head back to the station and fill them in."

  "Shit...Wait, they can't get involved unless we ask them to."

  "Doyle says they may have had some similar killings in Nevada."

  "Great. The good news better be damn good."

  "He says some lady showed up, she says she's got information on one of our murders. He's holding her for us, and hasn't told the Feds yet. He wants us to interview her first."

  Best news I've heard all day. Maybe Doyle isn't such a moron after all.

  Chapter 7

  Two Years Ago

  Will

  "Doyle, you're such a moron. Cut it out!"

  My name's William, cousin. I hate when they use my middle name. How many times I gotta tell ‘em? What kinda stupid name is Doyle, anyway? It's a last name, that's what it is. This whole family is stupid, even my idiot parents, giving me two last names.

  "Leave it alone, dude. It's already dead."

  Lance, so handsome, but so dumb. Jess is always making excuses for him, says it's because he don't hear good. But hearing ain't got nothing to do with knowing stuff. "Not quite yet, he ain't." I poke the bird with a stick, and it don't move.

  "See? I told ya. Now do what Jess said and leave it."

  I poke it again, and it twitches, ever so slight.

  "Fine, then, it's mostly dead. Can we just go now? Lance has an interview at that convenience store in like five minutes."

  Sighing, I put down the stick. There's nothing I can do for the little guy anyway, except help speed his passing. "Jess, relax, ok? It ain't that far away."

  She rolls her eyes and gets on her hog. Lance hops on the back of mine, after I start her up. "He ain't gonna get the job anyway. Look at him. He can barely form complete sentences."

  I feel a slap on the back of my head. "Asshole."

  Jess turns to me and shakes her head, all judgey. After I elbow the retard in his gut, I just scowl. "See?"

  The speed limit on the road to the grocery store is 35, so of course we're flying down it doing about 60. Speed limits are merely suggestions, I always said. I can hear Jess yelling from behind me, but damned if I can make any of it out.

  "Slow down, Doyle! Yer gonna get a ticket, er--LOOK OUT!!!"

  It's a second or two before I see what Lance saw, or maybe longer. It feels like forever, though, like slow motion. Then, I feel nothing at all.

  ----------

  "How long's he been here?"

  "Six days. Hasn't moved since they brought him in. Missed his 21st birthday, poor guy."

  "I think I'll save my pity for the guy he...Doctor, I think he just moved. Look, his eyes are opening."

  Geez, what a headache. Where the fuck am I? And who the fuck is this shining a bright-ass light in my eye?

  "Mr. Nelson, can you hear me? My name is Doctor Corbin. Can you speak at all?"

  "Hnnhh, where...what..."

  "You were in an accident. You were thrown from your motorcycle, which was going quite above the speed limit, as I understand. You're lucky to be alive."

  "Wha...how long...Lance?"

  "Yes, your cousin, I believe. The other Mr. Nelson got off light, only a broken leg."

  What motorcycle? My leg's fine. It's my head that's killing me. And that smell. "Headache" is all I can muster.

  "Take it easy, Mr. Nelson. We'll get you something for your head, and I'll let your family know you're awake."

  Family? What family? My mother, she died from... what was it? Pneumonia, I think. And my old man... AIDS. He was so stupid with those drugs. I got away from them, before they got me, too. So...what family?

  "Doyle, you lucky bastard. I thought you were done."

  Doyle? Crutches. Who... is that... "Lance?"

  "Yeah, ya turd, who else's leg ya think ya broke, ridin' like a horse's ass?"

  "Lay off, Lance. He obviously ain't right yet."

  "Jess. You're ok."

  "Well yeah, I'm not the one was on the bike with your dumb ass. What were you thinking, Doyle?"

  That name again. "My name's not Doyle. It's--"

  "Come on, cuz. You don't really expect us to call you Willie Nelson, do ya? Lance here giggles every time someone does."

  "William. It's...No, call me Will. Just Will."

  Jess rolls her eyes, but for some reason she takes pity on me. "Fine, Will. That ain't so bad, I guess."

  Lance nods his head. "That's pretty badass, actually. Will, The Will, Will Power, haha." Jess and I each just stare at him. "What? It's badass!"

  "If you say so, cuz." I turn to Jess. "How long they gonna keep me cooped up in here?"

  "I dunno, Will. I ain't no doctor, but you was in a coma for days. They're prolly gonna wanna run a bunch of tests, make sure you ain't got no brain damage or nothin'."

  "Haw! How would they be able to tell?"

  "Shut it, Lance! Or I'll break the other leg that Will didn't!"

  Tests? Don't want that. Those never led to good things before. Not when ma died, not when my old man bit it. And certainly not after I played with those cats and dogs. "Jess, be a doll and get them to bring me something for my head. It's poundin’ somethin' awful."

  "I will...Will." She smirks. Great, so now that's gonna be a
thing.

  I remember one other thing as she turns to leave. "Hey, and ask them to do somethin' 'bout that damn smell."

  Jess looks around, then at Lance, looking all confused. "What smell?"

  "You don't smell that? It's strong, like sticky sweet, kinda musky too."

  "Yup, definitely some brain damage."

  "No, Will, I don't smell nothin' like that. You, Lance?"

  "Nah. All I smell is stale hospital air, and that old people smell."

  Weird. Maybe I am brain damaged. Great, so I've got that going for me, which is nice. "Sorry I messed up your job interview, Lance."

  "Ah, that's alright, Doy--Will. You was probably right, I wouldn't a got it anyway. Least now I got an excuse for Pa." He taps his cast with a crutch.

  I smile, which feels weird. I ain't smiled in a long time, long as I can remember. Though to be honest, I don't remember much at the moment.

  ----------

  A few days later, they let me leave. They made me take all sortsa tests, just like Jess said they would. She's pretty smart for a looker. If she wasn't my cousin... Ick, that thought almost made me hurl. She's been more like a sister since my folks passed. She's always been the strong one. Lance was always the dumb one, or the "funny" one, as he puts it. And me... I guess I'm the weird one. Never did feel like I had a place since moving in with them. My auntie and uncle been nice enough, mostly let me do what I wanted, mainly on account of what happened with Ma and Pa, but also, cuz I think I scared 'em a little. They never known quite how to deal with me, with my... issues. First at school, then at the facility, now since I've been let out.

  Uncle Bill at least helped me get back on my feet and got me a job. It ain't enough for me to get my own place, but it's something. And it helps to pay some bills, since things been tighter after Aunt Pauline died. Can't say I love washing dishes, but there ain't much choice for a dropout in these parts. Lucky for me, the diner took me back after the accident. I was gone for over a week, but I guess Jess or Uncle Bill put in a good word for me. Maybe it says something that they didn't give my gig to Lance. Come to think of it, does he even know how to wash dishes?

  As I sit here scraping grits off a plate, I think of the tests again. The hospital said it'd be a few days before they found anything, but I don't even care much. It's not like they're gonna tell me something epiphanal about myself I ain't already know. I'm fucked up, and have no future. There, I didn't even need no expensive spinning machine to tell me that. Maybe I shoulda just done what my daddy did, woulda done everyone a favor.

  Ah hell, fuck 'em. They ain't never did me no favors, so why... Why do I feel sorry for 'em? Well, not all of 'em, but some of 'em I downright feel bad for all of a sudden. I don't remember ever feeling that way. I used to not care at all, not about anything, not about anyone. At least, I don't think I ever gave a shit. But ever since I woke up from that coma... I'm forgetting things, and getting these weird... I dunno, feelings, I guess. They come and go, and I can't quite wrap my head around 'em. So damn frustrating. It's like, I think I'm about to see this big master plan, and then it's gone.

  Heh, if I told Jess, she'd slug me so hard, my jaw'd pop out. And Lance, he'd just laugh and say I need more tests.

  "Hey, shit for brains! Whatcha doin'?"

  Speak of the dummy. "What does it look like? I'm washin’ dishes. Ya know, doin' a job, that thing you can't get. Hey, and be careful not to slip off your crutches and break somethin' else."

  "Yeah, maybe I'll break your face."

  "Alright, boys, settle down, geez."

  "What you guys want, anyway? You know old man Jenkins don't like me havin' people back here."

  "We just came by to see how you're doin', and to grab some grub. How's your head, darlin'?"

  "Eh, the headaches still come and go. Sometimes the meds they gave me help."

  "Any other brain damage, dude?"

  I shoot him a look. "Even if I did, I'd still be smarter than you...Damnit." The headaches aren't bad enough. Now this shit is back, too. That sticky, sweet, musky smell, just like at the hospital

  "What is it, Will?"

  "Nothin', it's this...smell...I need some air."

  I walk out back, and Jess and Lance follow. Instead of helping, though, being outside, the scent only gets stronger. Like instinct, I start looking 'round for where it might be coming from.

  "What're ya lookin' for, dude?"

  There. I see something twitching. Small. A squirrel. This is it. This is where the smell is coming from. But why?

  "Will?"

  "You ok?"

  Lance and Jess are just voices in the background now. My focus is on this poor animal now, fighting for what little life it's got left. I reach out to it.

  "Don't touch it, dude. It's probably got rabies or somethin'."

  I pay him no mind. I'm drawn to this creature, somehow. Like I need to help it in some way. But how? I ain't no vet. I put my hand over its head, and it stops twitching. It's calm.

  "What the..."

  "Ssshhh, let him be, Lance."

  Go on, little fella. Let go. It'll be alright. And just like that, he's gone. And so is the smell. He's at peace now. I know it. And so am I. I also know that this sounds as crazy as it feels. I get up and turn back to my cousins. Jess isn't sure what to make of it. She looks confused, but concerned. Lance just looks like a moron, his mouth hanging open like an ape.

  "So...ya killed it?" So dumb.

  "No, it was already on its way. I just...helped it along, I think."

  Jess stays silent, brow furrowed, gears turning in her head. Then Lance starts laughing. Quietly at first, but then he bursts, and it's enough to startle some birds in a nearby tree.

  "That is the stupidest thing I ever heard! You 'helped it along.' All you done was hold it while it died. Ya mighta suffocated it, even. You are one weird dude, Will."

  I don't have the energy to even shut him down. I just walk back towards the diner. Jess follows, but Lance is quick to hobble outta the way. He mutters under his breath, but not low enough for me not to hear it. "Don't be touchin' me with them rabies hands."

  ----------

  We don't talk about it again that day, or for awhile after. Them, because they're probably weirded out by it. Me, well, because I have no idea what actually happened. Maybe something changed me while I was sleeping. Maybe that accident on my bike broke me.

  I forgot about it, until a few days later, when I caught a whiff of that damn smell again. I looked around the diner, but didn't see nothing outta the ordinary, and it was too strong to be outside. But it wouldn't go away, so I went out there to clear my head. That's when it got stronger. But still nothing, at least, not right outside the place.

  I went back inside, but it didn't help. It was pissing me off, so I went back out and checked again. I even went around the block, but still didn't see where this damn smell was coming from. Then it hit me, stronger than ever, and I knew I was close.

  A few minutes later, down the road a piece, I found a dog, lying on its side, bleeding. Looks like he was on the wrong side of a fight with another dog. This was it, alright. That bitch was pungent. I don't know breeds, but it looked like a German Shepherd mixed with something. He growled when I went near him, but he was too weak to do much about it. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't bite. And he didn't, just whimpered and growled some more. Poor thing, I thought, but that thought went right outta my mind, replaced by other thoughts, like this dog didn't deserve my pity. He was a mean dog, a nasty dog. He bit plenty of folks, and woulda chomped down on me, too, if he coulda. Looking back, I ain't got no idea how I knew all this, but I did. Yet here I was, in his final moments, keeping him calm, keeping him company. And he appreciated it. He appreciated it even more when I helped him break on through, bones cracking in my hands. His suffering was over. And so was the suffering of all those he woulda torn through in the future.

  The sticky sweet smell slowly went away, same as with that squirrel, replaced by other smells. Still not pleasan
t, but less stuffy. It was then that I knew it was real, not just in my head. It was then that I knew I had to learn all about it. Now, it was my density, er whatever ya call it.

  ----------

  A few weeks later, I pieced together enough that I knew I had to tell Jess. She'd believe me, at least, if I took her along once, showed her what I could do. She doubted me at first, even though she seen what I done with that squirrel. After the cat, though, she understood well enough.

  "How did you know?"

  "I told ya, the smell."

  "But that cat was...we musta drove like two miles."

  "It's faint at first, but enough to point me in the right direction."

  She took my hand and squeezed. Hard. It almost hurt. Jess is pretty strong for a girl. "See, Will? We are family." Then she told me what Lance could do, and then she showed me what she could do. After that, I made a mental note to never piss her off.

  Lance took a little more convincing, but he always was a little slow. The horse was finally enough to bring around even him.

  "Now show me your thing."

  "Ew, dude, I ain't gay."

  "Not that, jackass. You know, the other thing. Jess told me."

  He looked at her, like for permission, and she nodded. "It ain't much, not as cool as what Jess got, but maybe better'n yours. Here goes."

  He was right. It ain't all that. I guess it might be good for... something, but kinda boring mostly. I knew we were being all show and tell, but all I could think to say was "...Cool."

  "You think it’s dumb."

  Was it that obvious? "Nah, it's...You can literally find a needle in a haystack."

  Jess stifled a snort, barely. Lance didn't notice. Maybe he really can't hear so good.

  "Anyway, enough 'bout my shitty thing. What about people, Will? Do you smell them, too?"

  "Only when they don't shower like your dumb ass." I ain't even thought of that. It had been a few weeks, and whenever the scent came, it was always animals. "Maybe no one in town died lately, ever thinka that?" Not sure why I got so defensive. Maybe my power, or whatever, is even dumber than his.

  "Geez, fine, Will."

  Jess thought about it for a second. "Let's go to the hospital. Ain't that where ya first smelled it? There's probably some people 'bout to die there. Maybe you gotta be closer for people, or somethin'."