The Ripper's Daughter

by B Anders

  Pickman rubbed the back of his neck as he slipped the check into his front shirt pocket. He had almost forgotten about the creepy chick traveling with the cop, the looker with the vacant eyes and the sick, sugary smile.

  "Sure. No problem," he said

  The man hustled out of the way as fast as his bow legs could carry him. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the other chick. She made his skin crawl.

  Colby went to the passenger door. She tugged it open but Jessie looked away. Colby could tell from the way she was sitting all hunched up that she had no intention of even attempting to get out on her own. Colby let out a loud sigh and leaned in to grasp her by the elbow. Colby was fast learning everything was a battle of wills with Jessie. Once out of the car, Jessie meekly allowed Colby to guide her each step of the way, pushing herself up close against the taller woman. Although the broken pavement under their feet made the walk a bit treacherous for Jessie in her shackles, Colby didn’t believe for a minute personal safety was foremost in the other woman’s mind. Still Colby kept a firm hold on her until she was safely settled into the back passenger seat of the Charger.

  "Fuckin’ asshole," Jessie whispered in Colby's ear. "He's probably got a boner the size of a bratwurst. He's totally enjoying seeing me as your bondage bitch. Bet he’s going to beat himself off once he gets into the wagon. You'd like to get off too, wouldn't you, Officer Willis? Little old me all tied up in chains with my pants pulled down to my ankles and your hand between my legs."

  Colby felt a rush of fire ignite deep inside her stomach. She knew she was enjoying Jessie’s sexual taunts far too much. But, she could not seem to back away from the dark edges of their relationship.

  "Forget him. We have better things to do." Colby remarked before she stepped back and swung the door closed gently.

  Standing at the side of the car, she curtly waved Pickman away. She watched him back his way out in the behemoth, her frown darkening when Pickman beeped her as he drove by. She stood and waited until she was sure he was heading for the highway travelling away from them and not coming back. Taking off her leather jacket, she walked to the passenger door and let herself into the back seat of the Charger.

  "What are we going to do, Officer Willis?"

  Jessie’s question echoed in her ears as Colby pulled the smaller woman towards her. Her hands travelled lower to yank the loose sweatpants down. Her actions answered with a deep moan, she forced the strong thighs apart and slipped her fingers into the wet, dripping slit.

  “You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

  Colby hissed between clenched teeth. Encouraged her actions were welcome, her calloused fingers began to work on Jessie’s sensitized nub. Roughly pulling, stroking it to the sound of the other woman’s choking cries of pleasure.

  “You like this, don’t you, bitch? All tied up with a woman’s hand hard at work between your legs. Marty was right, you’re nothing but a goddamned slut.”

  Jessie smirked at the mention of her father’s name. Looking Colby directly in the eyes, she clamped her hands down onto the back of the taller woman’s hand and forced Colby’s fingers deeper inside her. Her thighs spreading as wide as her shackles would allow. She gasped when Colby pushed hard. First one finger then another.

  “Jesus, you're so tight.”

  “Fuck me, Willis. I want you to fuck me with your big, fat cock.” Jessie purred. Her lust reflected in Colby’s wild blood shot eyes.

  "Baby girl, you can be sure once we get a chance I’m going to fuck your brains out with nothing less than an eight inch dong, but for right now I’m going to let my fingers do the talking.”

  Jessie’s soft cries intensified into whimpers as Colby plunged her fingers harder and deeper into her, the steady thumping rhythm building itself slowly into a shrieking crescendo. Jessie climaxed with a jerk onto Colby’s hand, her release covering Colby’s arm with a thick coat of slick.

  Rolling a sobbing Jessie onto her stomach, Colby kept a tight rein on the trembling woman’s neck as she urgently pulled down her own pants. Her hand snaked round the other woman’s waist to pull her up onto her knees allowing Colby to mount Jessie from behind.

  “Fuck you, goddamned bitch. You’re so hot. I’m friggin' going to explode.”

  Colby snarled out loud, her own body beginning a series of frantic grinding motions as she desperately sought her own orgasm. The sound of wet flesh furiously slapping against another warm body filled the car for a long moment before Colby tensed, her body going limp and falling heavy on top of the smaller woman with a shudder.

  ***

  Colby hurried to the driver's side after getting Jessie seated safely in the front passenger side.

  "Fuckin' shrimp!" She cursed out loud as she slid into the familiar seat before manually adjusting it for her long legs. Finally satisfied she was in a good spot, Colby announced, "Okay, murder site one, the Esplanade."

  "Not so fast. The Esplanade is not the first one, not by a long shot. It was murder number four. Don’t you know anything, Officer Willis," Jessie stated flatly as she made herself comfortable on the worn leather seat.

  Colby felt her belly flip. "What?"

  Jessie cleared her voice, "Go to the JFK library site. The first one, the first of his recreational ones anyway, was the JFK site."

  "Recreational?"

  "The murders the cops and the press know about are the ones I consider his recreational killings. You know the ones he did for fun and laughter. There were a lot more before, but they were strictly business. The business ones aren't really important. His heart wasn’t into them. It is the recreational ones, the ones that brought out the artist in him that will trigger your memory."

  Colby’s hands were shaking. She felt feverish, stunned by the information Jessie so casually let slip. She wanted to open her mouth to say it was a startling breakthrough, but that would have been a lie. The fact of the matter was Jessie's revelation was vaguely, frighteningly familiar.

  Without bothering to question Jessie further, Colby started the Charger up and pulled onto Hallet Street. She headed for Morrissey Boulevard with a loud screech of tires, from there it wouldn't take them no more than fifteen minutes to get to the Kennedy Library.

  As Colby made the right at the lights, she wondered if she should take the onramp to 93 and hit the expressway north until she got within sight of Canada. Toronto, Quebec, Montreal was all waiting across the border promising escape from current hell. Colby calculated it would only take her eight or ten hours of driving tops. Pickman had thoughtfully left her with a full tank. She had enough change in her pocket for another tank or two, a couple of hamburgers, and a change of clothes for Jessie if necessary.

  The deathly slow lights at the Neponset River Bridge gave her ample time to plot their getaway out in her mind. They could start over. She knew the streets. She could get a job as private muscle at a strip joint until Jessie was well enough to go back to med school. They’d get new names and have a quieter life this time around. Maybe they'd even make it official and get married. A happy couple with regular jobs, Jessie down at the hospital doing rounds in the pediatric wards and she would work in a homeless shelter for battered women keeping abused women safe. They would live in a cute one bedroom apartment downtown with a balcony and window boxes growing tomatoes. A second chance for her to make it all up to Jessie and all Colby needed to do was take the right at the split after the Sozio store.

  The Charger stayed to the left on Morrissey, a winding road twisting under and beside 93, but stopping hundreds of miles short of the state line and two lifetimes away from the Promised Land. The jangle of chains in the seat next to her pulled Colby back to their collective nightmare.

  "C#."

  Jessie glanced at Colby but didn't ask about the note. She resumed squirming in the seat using extra care to extract the handcuff key from the pocket of her pants. Her thin practiced fingers nimble and up to the task. Colby wondered how many hours Jessie needed to perfect that skill.

  "Don't," Colb
y muttered as they passed the Phillip's Candy House with the peppermint pillars.

  Jessie didn’t even bother to look up as she replied. "Fuck off, Colby. Quit telling me what to do. I wore the chains so your fathead mechanic doesn’t go squealing to the tabloids when he sees my mug shots all over the evening news. Been there, done that. Now I’m taking these fuckin’ things off."

  "Look, we are in the heart of Marty's old beat. His old station house is less than five miles down the road. Do you have any idea how many cops on the force think you sliced your old man open for kicks? All of them. You’re the wicked witch of the West End. You know ‘Ding Dong the Witch is Dead’? That got played over the PA the day they locked you up and threw away the key. Why did you think none of Marty’s buddies ever came to see you?”

  Abruptly Jessie looked up, stilling her hands. Her mouth opened slightly but there were no words. Colby continued speaking seeing she had gotten the other woman’s undivided attention.

  "If we bump into one of them good old boys and you aren't hooked up, I won't have enough time to open my mouth much less talk my way out of an ugly situation before one of them gets the idea to pay hero and a full clip gets unloaded in your chest. They hate you that much, Jessie."

  Colby tossed a quick glance at her. There were tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Her chin quivered. Still, there were no words so Colby continued. "Look the chains and all that, it's just a cover. I know you won't run or try to hurt me. But, if Garrett or Tamulis or Spanky see us then I need to look like I'm in control, like I'm doing nothing more than a routine prisoner transfer for your big shot lawyer."

  "Spanky's my godfather, he stood up for me at my confirmation. That man taught me how to drive. You think he believes the shit the press said about me? You think he'd empty his Beretta into me?"

  Colby hit the right turn signal at the lights before turning onto the graceful driveway leading to the JFK Museum. "I'm sorry, Jessie. Spanky would skin you alive if he ever saw you again. He hates you just as much if not more than the rest of them. You were his number one girl, his pride and joy. He couldn’t even bring himself to mention you by name after they brought you in."

  Jessie’s head dipped forward dropping a curtain of hair between them as Colby pulled the car into a parking spot. She waited a few moments after turning off the engine, but Jessie neither looked up nor spoke.

  "Don’t be like this. Come on, let's get to work. The sooner we finish the sooner we can get out of here and the sooner you get out of those chains." Colby finally encouraged.

  Jessie gave a brief shake of her head. "We'll do this part your way, but then it's my way or the highway."

  "What do you mean? You have no fuckin’ choice. It’s the chains or a chest full of lead."

  Jessie looked up with steely determined eyes and a snarl, "When we finish up here, we go to a CVS. You're going to get some hair color for me then we go back to the house. I’ve always wanted to be a petite blond and here’s my chance. I gonna take more than a few inches off my usual length with gardening shears and top my makeover off with a pair of dark sunglasses. That should keep the boys in blue more than a little confused if we stumble into any of them."

  “Come on, get real. Hair dye and sunglasses are not going to get you past a troop of Boy Scouts.”

  Jessie gave a low growl as she stated her position in no uncertain terms. "I'm not staying on a leash while you parade me around the city like a dog, Colby. You better get it into your thick skull. I'm not your prisoner. Fuck it! I'm not anybody's prisoner. I didn't fuckin' kill Marty as much as he might have deserved it. I didn't get that privilege extended to me. And, if you could get your head out of your ass you'd remember everything on your own and not need me to hold your hand like some goddamned, fuckin’ wet nurse."

  Colby could feel her insides cringe at the bitterness in Jessie’s voice, but somehow managed to maintain her stoic external composure. She gave a brief nod which passed for tough. Truth was she didn't trust herself not to cry.

  Exiting the car, Colby could feel the winds off Dorchester Bay cut through her like a knife. An icy shiver ran down her back leaving her numb. Pulling her jacket closer, she hurried to the back of the Charger and retrieved the briefing notes for the JFK victim out of the locked case in the trunk. Tucking it under her arm, she went and let Jessie out of the car. They walked silently arm in arm to the bench where the victim was found.

  "The victim was sixty years old, white female, no distinguishing tattoos or scars, no identification on the body. She was found in an upright sitting position on this bench. From a distance, it looked like she was slouching forward."

  Colby read monotonously from her notes before Jessie interrupted with a giggle.

  "Screw slouching. Her thighs were nailed to the bench with a high pressure nail gun. The sound popped like a firecracker but security didn't notice. Probably told themselves it was a backfire to avoid coming out here to take a look."

  "She must have screamed. Someone must have heard her," Colby stated.

  "Couldn't. He stuffed her mouth with an apple before the assault. He sat down next to her and struck up a conversation. She was not nervous at all. He was a well-dressed man with nice manners. It was a bright sunny morning. What could happen?" Jessie whispered and knelt before the bench.

  "She was homeless. Came here every day to grieve Kennedy. She suffered from mental health issues more than substance abuse but there was some of that shit as well. She drank and she often didn’t stop until she ran out of money. He saw her by chance one afternoon when he was here for a political event. He takes his civic responsibilities very seriously. He watched her for days after that. He liked her. She interested him. Soon an idea formed in his mind, he would make her immortal. She would be his first grand project. That afternoon he wandered over with a backpack like he was here for a picnic although it was much too cold for one. He sat down on the bench and fished an apple out of the bag, politely offering it to her. As she bit into it, he put his arm around her shoulders and wedged the apple firmly between her teeth choking her. She clawed at him but she was having trouble breathing and he's strong. His hands were double gloved under the leather pair. He likes sheer rubber surgical gloves, only the best for him. He smeared crazy glue around her lips. The nail gun took all the fight out of her. With her hands and thighs secured to the bench it was easy to tie a garrote with piano wire around her neck down to her ankles and then up her back to tie off at the back of her head.”

  "The ME said she lasted a while."

  Jessie nodded. "He didn’t intend for her to just die. She had to suffer for his art. He watched her from his car for hours. Came back once to check on her, even told a guard she was fine and just resting."

  "What?"

  "One of the guards saw him. Don't know why he didn't tell you." Jessie looked up with a smirk, "And, I bet the guard's name is in the file you're holding."

  Colby sat down hard on the bench and began to violently flip through the pages. "Four guards interviewed. None of them saw anything unusual. None of them noticed the woman on the bench."

  "Liar, liar, pants on fire. Read their names out loud, Colby."

  "Jackie Eagan. Rachal Davis. Tan Huat Feng. Jose Rivera."

  Jessie waited with a smile.

  "Jackie Eagan," Colby muttered. "Jacob Eagan. He was a marathoner, lived just on the other side of the MFA, across the footbridge in the Fens." Colby felt her stomach lurch. "Is he the guy in the snow pile?"

  "Oh, so you finally found him. Nice looker wasn’t he?"

  "How the fuck did you know about him?" Colby's anger broke through. "You've been locked away in the twilight zone for three fuckin’ years. No TV, no newspapers, no visitors except your fuckin’ expensive lawyer." Colby stopped dead. "Melissa Swartz, how is she involved in this?”

  "She fucked the devil. She wanted to marry him, have his little baby devils, the old cow. She got jealous of me so she tried to keep me locked away forever. Do you know I had a review due with poss
ibility of a transfer to a low security facility? She deliberately bungled it, but he wasn’t fooled. The bitch got what she deserved."

  "Who's your financial guardian, Jessie?"

  Jessie laughed "If I try to tell you, Colby, you'll have a seizure and I don’t want to play that game anymore. You have to remember on your own and you are so running out of time."

  *****

  Chapter 13

  The acrid stench of peroxide choked the second floor. The toxic cloud caused Colby to gag momentarily. Blinded with tears from the fumes, she stumbled over trash strewn across the floor.

  “Jesus, Jessie, don’t you do anything but eat?”

  Colby muttered to herself in complete resignation. She bent over to pick up the cardboard pizza box discarded in a sea of rainbow candy wrappers under the watchful gaze of a half-eaten jar of anchovies. She couldn't think with the battery of smells assaulting her senses. Greasy cheese, mixed in with the rancid odor of fish, chocolate, and hair dye was enough to send her already queasy stomach into an outright revolt.