The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

  A few more days had passed and I still hadn’t received a call from the rapist, so this time when I called I said I was with the FBI and I needed to talk to him immediately. I stated it was an extremely urgent issue.

  Five minutes later, Fabian called my cell phone. “Yeah, this is Robert. How can I help you?”

  “Sir, this is Mr. Deorsam with the FBI. Boston field office, Criminal Investigations Division. Is this a secure line?”

  “I think so. What’s wrong?”

  “Sir, I need you to listen closely.”

  “Okay.”

  “We would normally contact you in person, but we are in the middle of investigating a serial killer that we strongly believe has targeted you and we can’t take a chance of alarming him.”

  “I’m going to leave and head home.”

  “I do not advice that, Sir. If this person even suspects something has changed, he will most likely move on his target.”

  “Target? You mean me?”

  “Yes sir. We are dealing with a very sick person. I cannot go into the specifics, but he skinned his last victim and wore their skin as a bathrobe.”

  He stayed quiet.

  “Sir.”

  “Yes, I’m still here.”

  “I will be contacting you shortly to set up a place to meet at a secured location.”

  “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Do your normal routine.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And remember, it’s very important to keep this to yourself. This person might know someone you know and will be alerted.”

  “Yes sir. I understand. When can I meet with you?”

  “Soon.” I hung up the phone and started laughing. The main reason I called was to get his voice on tape, but it was also fun messing with him.”

  Seth sat up. “I wasn’t sure if my bullshit FBI introduction worked, but he did sound worried. Mr. Deorsam was a real FBI agent from the Boston field office, but he was on paid administrative leave, which I had found out from one of my sources beforehand. I did this in case numbnuts called, and if he did, they would simply tell him Mr. Deorsam was out of the office. And most likely they would not comment on any investigations that Mr. Deorsam was or wasn’t involved in. Now that I had his voice on tape, I used voice identification software to compare his current voice with the recorded voice on the CD; it clearly indicated that they were the same.”

  Seth stood up. “It was sure nice to have someone else do most of the footwork for me. It really saved me a lot of time and allowed me to be more active in the chamber. Between the university student who sent me the info and Judge Terryhole’s files, I figured they saved me several years of researching and stake out trips.”

  “Good for you.”

  Seth laughed. “Would you be interested in being my secretary?”

  He looked at Seth like he was crazy.

  Seth shook his head. “No, I think suffering is going to be your occupation.” Seth leaned up against the rusted bars of the cell. “The next morning, I loaded up everything I might need and took off in a black late nineties Crown Victoria with tinted windows. I drove nonstop, except for getting gas, to New Haven, Connecticut. The area was very congested with people, and cameras seemed to be on every freaking corner. The school campus had even more people and cameras. There was no way I could get to Fabian without drawing attention to myself due to the amount of people coming and going. Anything I did would wind up on a camera and it would be crazy to even try to disable all of them. He lived at his frat house, and sneaking in there would be impossible. At any given time, day or night, I knew there would always be a handful of dickheads coming or going. I needed a way that would allow me to snag him right out in the open, and where he wouldn’t get spooked. Over the next few hours I drove around and studied the area. Around lunchtime I rented a storage unit in the town of Hamden that fit the layout I was looking for. To make sure the unit couldn’t be traced back to me, I wore a disguise and used false information. I also paid two years of rental in advance, and told the guy at the facility I was heading overseas to make my story creditable. The facility was a run-down piece of shit and didn’t have a security gate or fencing, which meant I didn’t have to enter a gate code that would be time stamped. The leasing office closed at six pm, so there wouldn’t be anyone around at nighttime. There were cameras, but there would have to be a reason for someone to review the video, and after a short period of time, the system would overwrite the data anyway. And I really doubt the owners would keep long-term records; like they give a shit what happens to your crap.

  Later that evening, I parked my car at a strip center that was a mile down from the storage facility. From there I took a taxi over to Kinneytown and bought an older Harley Davidson with a small cargo type trailer from a guy that had them listed on Craigslist. That night I went back to the storage facility and parked the bike in the unit. I walked to my car, then headed back to New Haven to wrap up the final step. I drove over to a car wash on the shitty side of town that didn’t have any cameras and shot out the light bulbs in one of the bays with a CO2-powered BB gun.

  The next day, I called the fucker and told him I wanted to meet him at six pm in the Memorial Garden Park that was on his campus. I knew he would feel comfortable meeting there because it was his territory and there would be people everywhere. That evening I was leaning on the hood of my car wearing a gray ban-lon type pullover, khaki cargo pants, black shoes and a black nylon tactical jacket. My hair, or wig I should say, was jet black and slicked back, which fit well with the Freddie Mercury style mustache that I was sporting. I was also wearing some prosthetics and makeup that slightly changed the appearance of my face. Around six pm I noticed Fabian walking around the park as he looked around for me. When he finally looked in my direction, I waved him over. When he approached, I nodded towards the passenger door, then walked over and got into the driver’s seat. The law school moron plopped his ass right down in the front seat and shut the door. I didn’t even say a word as I jammed a needle into his leg and knocked his ass out. He had apparently told a buddy what was going on because the dude was watching from a distance. Getting Fabian was easy, but unfortunately there were a couple of cameras in the area. When I was leaving the parking lot I noticed there were several young punks eye fucking me as I drove away, not to mention his buddy was wondering what the hell was going on and most likely calling the police. Time was crucial, so I drove straight over to a carwash that was ten minutes away. The sun was setting and the area was getting dark. I drove into the bay where the lights were out. No one was able to see me wash the black temporary auto paint off the car. I had driven in with a black car and exited with a white one, all under the cover of darkness on the ghetto side of town where nobody gives a shit about installing cameras.

  My next destination was the storage facility, and as I drove I removed my disguise and put on another one. When I got there, I drove straight up to my unit and pulled the car inside. I was now at ease, so I took my time in preparing for the next step. The rear of my storage unit was also the back of the building, which backed up to an alleyway. On the other side of the alley was an unoccupied building. I exited the storage unit, shut the roll up door and secured it with a pad lock, then walked out of the facility and down a street. If someone reviewed the video, it would simply look as if I had dropped off my car and then footed somewhere else. When I was out of camera range, I doubled back and snuck down the alleyway that ran behind the storage facility. There was only one camera on that side and I needed to temporarily disable it, so I climbed onto the roof of the office. The camera was mounted on a pole that was secured to the roof. I could have turned the pole, but that would have caused suspicion if they reviewed the recording. Disconnecting the coax might set off an alarm, depending on the system and if they had it enabled. I had a simple solution, which I had used in the past. It’s common for bugs to be drawn to the LEDs in night vision cameras. I took an average sized moth, a fake but realistic one, and taped
it to the lens.”

  Dicky laughed. “That was technical.”

  “Of course, I didn’t just slap it up there. I manipulated it with fishing string as if it were flittering around, then taped its wings to the side of the camera.”

  “Sounds convincing.”

  “It actually is. This is something I’ve practiced at home so I could make it as real as possible. The fake moth will move around slightly as the wind blows. From the recording, it would look real. The infrared will bounce off the moth and make the recording blurry. And I’ve had moths or other insects attach themselves to my cameras for hours at a time, so yes, it looked real.”

  He just looked at Seth.

  “Look here, fucker! As I’ve told you over and over, things are not always what they seem. And do I have to go into detail with everything?”

  “Naw, you’re good.”

  “So anyway, I didn’t see any more cameras, but there was a security light that was mounted close to where the back of my unit was. I shot out the bulb with my CO2 BB gun. Now that it was dark and the camera was disabled,

  I snuck to the back of my storage unit and, using a nut driver, removed several self-tapping screws where two sections of corrugated metal came together, then pulled the overlapping sheet away and crawled into my unit. There was no time to spare, so I immediately started moving all my stuff over to the motorcycle. Most everything I had brought with me was in two duffel bags, so I was able to tie them to the rear seat. I connected Fabian to an IV bag filled with a mild tranquilizer so he would sleep the duration of the trip, then duct taped the shit out of him and stuck him inside the small cargo trailer. To prevent trace evidence being left in the car, I gave it a good cleaning, but also had another trick up my sleeve to prevent anyone from finding anything just in case I left something behind. I had three hog carcasses bagged up in the trunk, so I un-bagged them and stuck one in the front seat, one in the rear seat and left one in the trunk. To prevent the smell from alerting someone, I covered the entire car with a thick sheet of poly and duct taped the shit out of the edges to the concrete floor. And to ensure that the duct tape and plastic didn’t come loose, I poured sand all the way around the seam to hold it in place. If enough time goes by, the carcasses will eventually contaminate the entire interior of the car, just like on MythBusters when they did it. When I felt comfortable that everything that needed to be done was completed, I laid out a sheet of plastic and stood in the center so I could change my disguise without leaving any incriminating evidence behind. I changed my clothing to something that was more fitting for riding: blue jeans, a black tee shirt, boots and a heavy leather jacket. It would be hard to wear a complicated disguise such as prosthetics, makeup or wigs because I was going to be flying down the highway, so I made some simple changes like facial scars and pockmarks. Luckily the guy had thrown in a half-shell German style helmet with the bike—I didn’t know which states currently had helmet laws in effect and didn’t need to get pulled over. I was getting tired, and knew the drive back home was long, so I laid on the plastic and took a nap. There really wasn’t any rush as long as I left before sunrise, and that would be better than falling asleep on the highway.

  I slept for five hours. My next move was going to be a little riskier. I wasn’t worried about getting caught because I always have a few tricks up my sleeve, but that would ruin my plan of being stealthy, which would cause me to have to watch my ass all the way back home. I slipped back outside through the corrugated metal, then removed several sheets. I quickly pushed the bike and trailer outside and reinstalled the metal. Before I left, I stopped next to the office and removed the fake moth. It might seem I was going overboard with changing out vehicles and such, but Fabian was from a wealthy family with a lot of influences and if there was any indication he had been abducted, the police would be all over that shit. There was probably a ninety percent chance I could have driven off from the parking lot and made it back home without any issues. Heading home after the car wash increased my chances to ninety five percent and changing over to the bike increased my chances to ninety nine percent. There are risks with doing any type of change out with the potential of leaving trace evidence behind, but I would rather take calculated chances instead of gambling. The owners of the storage facility shouldn’t have had any reason to view the recordings unless some jackass robbed them within a few days. After a short period of time, the part of me coming and going from my unit, which was recorded by the front cameras only, would have been erased. The rear of the unit would eventually be mowed, destroying anything I could have left there. The purpose of the pig carcasses was to destroy the car’s interior, turning it into a rotted meat-covered gore fest, eliminating any trace evidence. The car was what I call a throw away. There wasn’t anything that could link it back to me. I use them instead of my own car when I know I will be ditching them.

  It was around three in the morning when I was finally heading down the highway. I was a little nervous being on a motorcycle—cops tend to pick on bikers. Sixteen hours later I was entering Kentucky and had only made a few stops for gas and taking a break.”

  Seth looked at his watch. “Hey, pal, I’ve gotta take care of something. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Dicky shook his head as Seth walked out of the chamber.

  Murphy and his Fuckin’ Laws

  A few hours later Seth came back. He tossed a picture next to Dicky. “That’s Emily. She was around twenty-two in that picture. It was taken before Fabian.”

  “Who?”

  “You no listening fuck! The second girl that Fabian raped. The one who dropped out of college and moved back home.”

  He looked at the picture. She seemed like a normal looking young person. “Oh yeah, I remember.”

  Seth tossed another picture in his cell. “That’s Emily a year after Fabian.”

  He was saddened as he compared the pictures. “She doesn’t even look like the same person.”

  Seth sat down. “In the second picture, she looked like she had just been dragged out from under a rock. She reminded me a lot of the Kayleigh character from the movie The Butterfly Effect. Before Fabian, she was pretty, intelligent and had a carefree spirit. After Fabian, she transformed into a rough looking and broken down person. Before I made the trip to get Fabian, I had done a little investigation on Emily to see how she was doing, but came up empty-handed. It’s something I’ve always done with the surviving victims of lowlifes that I go after so I can have a greater understanding of the damage caused. If there is something I can do that will make a difference, I will, if I can stay anonymous. The original documentation I had received gave me some information about her. She lived on a farm in Carter County, Kentucky with her parents, which was convenient because that was on the way back home from the east coast. I wanted to drive through and see what kind of town she was from. This was back before Google Maps had satellite view. After I drove through her small town I passed by her parents’ farm, then headed west on 64. About an hour later, I stopped at a diner and parked in the side parking lot away from the other vehicles. I went and sat in the back, and when the waitress came over the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It was Emily. I recognized her from the pictures I had of her. I was caught off guard because I usually don’t come face-to-face with the victim’s. She had a very sad look in her eyes and I wanted to blurt out I knew and I had the scum bag in the cargo trailer, but I remained quiet and ordered. When I was getting ready to leave I noticed the rear tire on the cargo trailer was leaning outwards. When I examined it closer, I found three of the four welds holding the spindle in place had broken. I was aggravated as shit at Murphy and his freakin’ laws as I stood there wondering how in the hell I was going to get out of this one. I could tell someone had tried to JB Weld the damn thing to hide the damage instead of fixing it correctly. I had a bad feeling about the asshole I had bought the bike from. He seemed to be the kind of prick to do such a thing just to get rid of the piece of shit. I knew the tire wouldn’t ma
ke it much further and I didn’t have a plan in place for another vehicle swap. About this time, Emily came out of a side door and lit a cigarette, apparently leaving for the night. She walked over to me as I was crawling out from under the trailer. “Looks like you’re having a crappy night as well.”

  “Yeah, the part that holds the tire on needs to be re-welded.”

  “Is there anything that I can do? My cousin has a shop right down the road.”

  “I have to do something. I’m a long way from home.”

  She looked at the California license plate. She smiled and in a joking manner said, “Ever heard of preventative maintenance?”

  “Yeah…. The jackass that I got this from got one over on me.”

  She frowned. “I know how you feel.”

  I leaned against my bike and lit a cigarette. “Having a bad night?”

  “More like a bad couple of years.”

  “Sounds like you need help more than me. Anything I can do?”

  She looked at me with a sad look as her eyes slightly teared up. “No one can help me.”

  “I can help you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

  She started to speak but I interrupted. “If you had the chance to vindicate yourself against anyone, would you be willing to do it? And could you live with yourself?”

  She started to speak again, but I continued. “What I’m asking is very important. Could you live with yourself and would it make a difference in your life?”

  She started to get a little upset. “Who are you and why are you asking me this?”

  I got back on my bike and started it. “Sorry. Just forget I said anything.”

  She walked in front of my bike and grabbed the handlebars. “No. I need to know what you mean.”

  I killed the ignition. “First answer my question.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re asking. Do you know something?”