One (Count to Ten Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  It was a ridiculous promise.

  Right now they didn’t have any leads, they didn’t have any clues, they didn’t even know if this was personal against the Englewood family or if it was a random act.

  Xavier knew he shouldn’t have promised Annabelle that they would find the person who had destroyed her life when he knew he might not be able to deliver, yet he wasn’t sorry that he had done it. He had wanted to ease her suffering, if only for a moment.

  He wondered whether it was possible that he was falling for her. It had been so long since he had been on a date, or even been interested in a woman. Sometimes Kate tried to set him up, but usually he bailed before the actual date. His track record with women was disastrous; he didn’t want to end up causing Annabelle to lose more than she already had.

  And yet, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  As he tucked himself back into bed, he knew that he was going to dream about Annabelle again and the thought actually made him smile.

  * * * * *

  11:58 P.M.

  “Eenie, meenie, miney moe, catch a tiger by the toe, if he hollers let him go, eenie, meenie, miney moe,” he sang softly, his finger coming to rest on one of the faces in the photo he clutched.

  Standing in the quiet living room of the next family on his list, he was even more excited than he had been last time. The Englewood family had been his first. He’d been excited but also a little apprehensive. He hadn’t been entirely sure how things would go. He’d known it would bring satisfaction, but he hadn’t been anticipating the rush he’d got seeing the blood.

  This time he knew what to expect and that had him wound up all the tighter.

  He couldn’t wait. He was almost squirming as he set the photograph back down on top of the cabinet. He’d chosen which family member was going to survive. With the Englewoods, it had been easy, he’d always known it would be Annabelle. But this time he didn’t really care, hence the game of ‘eenie, meenie, miney moe.’

  As he slipped down the hall to where the bedrooms were located at the back of the house, he wondered whether the family member left behind was the lucky one because they got to live, or the unlucky one because they didn’t get to die with the rest of their family.

  This time he had decided to go without the drugs, make things a little more interesting. And since it was the wife and mother who was to survive, it was also going to be fun killing the husband without her seeing anything important.

  There were four members of the family: twelve-year-old Callie, fourteen-year-old Timothy, and parents, Henry and Nicole. He should be able to take out the kids easily enough—they were, after all, a lot smaller than him—and their rooms were a little away from their mom and dad’s in order to give the parents some privacy.

  Arriving at the door to the first room he opened it and took in the smells, the sights, the sounds—savoring every single second. He knew it would be all over way too soon.

  Without hesitation, he crossed to the bed and before the boy even knew what was happening, he’d slit his throat.

  That now familiar rush tingled through him as he watched the blood spill everywhere. This time he couldn’t resist putting his hands in it, letting it slide all over him, enjoying the feel and the smell and the way it dribbled down his fingers like little red rivers. It was so beautiful.

  However, he knew it was not the time to get distracted; there was more work to do.

  With a few deft strokes of his knife, he removed the tongue and the eyes. Mildly annoyed at the sawing it took to sever the hands, when it was done he set each eyeball in a hand and the tongue in between. When he was satisfied that the scene was perfect and that none of the other residents of the house were aware of his presence, he moved on to room number two.

  The girl’s room was next, just across the hall, her name spelled out in bright green letters across her door. Inside, the green theme continued—green walls, curtains, cover on the bed, and he couldn’t help but feel a little queasy. Green did that to him sometimes, reminded him of something he’d much rather forget. Still the room wouldn’t be green for long; soon it would be a bright, shining red.

  Bending over the sleeping girl, his every nerve was aquiver with the expectation of what would soon happen. Lifting his knife, still glittering with the blood of young Timothy, he was about to bring it to little Callie’s neck when the girl’s eyes suddenly popped open, growing wide with horror when she saw him and even wider when she spotted the knife.

  Suppressing a chuckle, he brought his finger to his lips to quiet the girl. Then before she could utter a sound or make an attempt at escape, he brought the knife to her neck, her blood mixing with her brother’s as he slit her throat.

  In the split second when she realized her life was gone, the shock and surprise that lit her eyes intrigued him. He hadn’t seen it in the Englewoods because they had all been drugged, hadn’t known what had happened to them, but that look was almost as intoxicating as the blood.

  He’d have to bear that in mind next time. It was too late for this family. In order to kill the husband before alerting the wife, he’d have to do it quickly. But next time he just might have to alter his plan a little.

  Finishing off the girl, he left the room and headed to finish off the job. Entering the parents’ bedroom he drew a deep breath wanting to memorize every delicious second so he could replay it over and over again.

  Then in the interest of making sure nothing went awry, he moved quickly to the bed, slicing the husband’s throat before he had a chance to realize anything and thrash about.

  Pleased when the wife remained asleep, he pulled the roll of duct tape from his pocket, cutting off a strip, he crossed to the other side of the bed. Excited about how this would work out, he slapped the tape down across Nicole’s eyes. A fraction of a second later, the woman sprung awake, squawking in terror, her hands clawing, her legs kicking.

  Without a word, he brought the blade of the knife to her neck. When she felt the cold, slick metal pressed against her flesh, she went instantly still. Since he planned on letting the woman live, he decided it was better not to speak. Instead, he plunged the knife into Nicole’s shoulder, careful just as he had been with Annabelle not to hit anything vital.

  The woman shrieked in pain, so he cut off another piece of tape to cover her mouth, smothering her howls so they were nothing more than muted whimpers. He looked on, enthralled as her chest rose unevenly with each gasped breath, as her pulse thumped in the hollow of her neck, as tears tried to force their way through the tape to wind down her cheeks.

  As fun as it was to watch the woman’s terror, he had to keep moving. So he proceeded to remove her husband’s eyes, tongue and hands, positioning them in his special arrangement.

  However, as he painted the blood on Nicole’s feet, he felt himself losing control.

  All he could see, all he could think about, was the beautiful thick liquid. He knew as surely as he knew he was here in this room that he had to be a part of it. He had to make it a part of him.

  Before he even registered what he was doing, he had stripped off all his clothes and was scooping up handfuls of blood, rubbing it all over himself until he was pretty much covered from head to toe. Dancing and springing across the carpet, he ripped open the curtains so the moonlight streamed through, illuminating him and the glorious blood.

  At last, as all good things did, he knew it had to come to an end. Checking to make sure Nicole was unconscious, he ripped off the tape from her eyes and mouth, threw his clothes back on over the top of the blood, then headed back downstairs.

  Pausing at the phone, he dialed 911, then set it down on the table. The unanswered phone would eventually bring the police running. Then he walked back outside, climbed into his car, and drove away immensely satisfied.

  One step closer to finishing his goal.

  MAY 6th

  3:16 A.M.

  “This one is worse,” Diane cautioned them as they arrived at the Jenner crime scene. “A lot
worse.”

  “How are we so sure that this is related to the Englewood murders?” Xavier asked. Images from his dream about Annabelle still lingered in his mind. For the first time in three years, he had been disappointed about being roused from sleep; his dream about Annabelle had been simple and fun and nice. Being woken by a phone call from his partner informing him that the man who killed the Englewood family had struck again had certainly put a damper on his peaceful mood, yet he couldn’t help but feel pleased that they had another reason to visit Annabelle again.

  “You’ll see once we get inside,” Diane replied glumly.

  “So, we just wasted an entire day trying to track down someone with a grudge against the Englewood family,” he sighed. After visiting Annabelle, they had spoken with every colleague, friend and family member they could find, but had come up empty—obviously this was why. It seemed like they had a serial killer at work.

  “Only two days in between kills,” Kate mused thoughtfully. “It feels like he’s on a mission.”

  “We can always hope that he only had two families on his list,” Xavier suggested halfheartedly. They all knew that this killer would never stop after only two kills. Probably would never stop until he was dead.

  “Four members in the family?” Kate asked as they followed Diane inside.

  “Uh huh,” Diane confirmed. “Thirty-six-year-old Henry, thirty-four-year-old Nicole, twelve-year-old Callie, and fourteen-year-old Timothy.”

  “Who got left behind this time?” Xavier asked, noting that once again it looked like the only action was going to be in the bedrooms. The rest of the house looked undisturbed.

  “The wife. She’s pretty shaken up.”

  “Any sign of a break in?” he asked.

  “Yeah, the glass panel on the back door was cut, so he probably came in that way. First responders said the front door was left wide open, so it looks like when he was done he walked straight out the door,” Diane summarized.

  “That kinda seems like working backwards,” Kate frowned in puzzlement. “You’d think he would have broken in, and then worked up to stealing a key.”

  “Maybe he just found the Englewoods’ Hide-A-Key,” he suggested. “We can ask Annabelle when we see her next.” Ignoring Kate’s raised eyebrow at the mention of Annabelle, he continued. “He called it in this time,” Xavier thought aloud. “He wanted us to find them immediately, wanted us to know what he’d been up to.”

  “Maybe he was planning on calling in the last one, only the neighbor beat him to it,” Kate suggested.

  “Bedrooms are down the back.” Diane led them through the living room, dining room, kitchen, games room, and a den to where the bedrooms were situated. “Looks like he started with the boy.” She led them into a room that could easily have been one of the ones from Annabelle’s house.

  The scene had been replicated perfectly.

  Once again, there were no signs of a struggle. Both the bed and the boy were drenched in blood from the slit to his throat. The post-mortem mutilation was identical. “He drug them again, Diane?”

  “No leftovers in the kitchen, but we’ve taken everything from the fridge and Billy will do a tox screen.” Diane couldn’t take her eyes off the boy’s face.

  “Where’d he go next?” Xavier asked gently.

  Rousing herself with a shake, Diane crossed the hall. “Daughter’s room.” She opened a door across which green letters spelled out the name Callie. “She was only twelve, her brother only fourteen.” Diane shook her head in disbelief. “I have three teenagers; what kind of person does this to kids?”

  “The kind who’s going to slip up eventually,” he replied, hoping that was true.

  Nodding somewhat halfheartedly, they all knew that the killer would likely kill a lot more people before he was caught or killed himself. Diane refocused herself. “Covers on Callie’s bed are a little mussed. Maybe she woke up before he killed her. Might suggest that he didn’t use drugs this time, or…” she sighed deeply, “…or maybe the girl was just a restless sleeper.”

  “So he takes out the kids first,” Kate began thoughtfully, “instead of taking out the dad, the biggest physical threat. He leaves him till last and does the children first—pretty gutsy.”

  “Pretty stupid,” Diane muttered under her breath.

  “But it gives us a good insight into what makes him tick,” Xavier added. “You said this scene was a lot worse than the Englewood murders. So far, everything looks identical.”

  “You haven’t seen the parents’ room yet.” With a last look at Callie’s lifeless body, Diane headed for the door. Passing through a small living room, which seemed to be used exclusively as a retreat for Henry and Nicole, then past a sparkly white bathroom complete with spa and double shower, a huge walk-in closet filled with enough clothing to clothe a small city, and finally entering the master bedroom.

  Immediately, he saw what Diane had been talking about.

  The room was literally covered in blood.

  It was all over the walls and the carpet, there were drips of it spattering the curtains, the window and most of the furniture. It looked as though someone had smeared blood all over themselves and then danced around the room.

  “He didn’t do this last time,” Xavier observed.

  “Maybe he didn’t realize how much he liked the blood until he’d seen it,” Kate proposed.

  “But he had to have killed before,” he added. “He couldn’t have just started with the Englewoods; he had to have worked up to it.”

  “Agreed,” Kate nodded. “Maybe he hasn’t killed with a knife before. Didn’t know how much he’d like the sight of the blood, but I’d say now that he’s tried it he’s definitely enamored. Anything else different this time, other than all the blood?”

  “Everything else appears to be the same. Nicole Jenner was already on her way to the hospital by the time I got here, but the first responders said she had a stab wound to her shoulder, just like Annabelle Englewood. They also said she was semi-conscious. They asked her if she saw who attacked her but all she could say was ‘blood,’” Diane explained.

  “Greetings,” a voice spoke behind them.

  They all turned to see a very haggard looking Billy standing in the open doorway. “Hey, Billy,” Xavier greeted the medical examiner. “You look terrible.”

  “Oh, and you look like a meadow,” Billy snapped, then softened. “Sorry it’s been a long day and an even longer night. Why do hot days always mean more crime, and almost summer, a broken arm?”

  “One of your kids break an arm?” Kate asked.

  “Yes. Bike riding. Apparently Felicity thought it would be a great idea to try and jump her bike over her little sister, suffice it to say all did not end well. So…” His gaze flitted to Henry Jenner’s body and the blood that dressed the room. “I guess it’s safe to say this conclusively counts Annabelle out as a suspect. She was safely tucked away at the hospital, and she would have no reason to have the Jenner family killed.” He raised a challenging eyebrow.

  “I’m convinced,” Diane joined in with Billy’s challenge.

  “Me too.” Xavier was positive that Annabelle was not involved. They all turned their attention to Kate.

  “Hey, I’m not the enemy. I agree. I don’t think that Annabelle is involved in any way other than as a victim,” Kate surrendered.

  “Which means we are definitely hunting a serial killer.”

  * * * * *

  8:00 A.M.

  “Right on time,” Robert smiled at them all; their boss had a thing for punctuality.

  She yawned so widely it felt like it split her face in two, she was exhausted already and it was only eight in the morning. “Billy, you get anything yet?” Kate knew there wasn’t enough time for Billy to have done full autopsies, but she also knew that he would have done something, and right now they needed anything to point them in a direction. Any direction would be good at this point.

  “No drugs in their systems,” Billy looked even more
tired than he had earlier.

  “Any drugs in the food?” Xavier asked Diane.

  “No, food was clean this time,” the CSU tech replied.

  “Maybe he was nervous the first time,” Xavier suggested. “It was his first, and he might have been worried about someone waking up and ruining things. The Englewood murders went smoothly, so he gained confidence and decided he didn’t need to bother with the drugs this time.”

  “What else was different this time?” Rob queried.

  “He called it in himself,” Kate explained. “Well, at least he dialed nine-one-one on his way out, and when the operator got no response but the line remained open, they sent a car over.”

  “Prints on the phone?” Rob directed his question to Diane.

  She nodded. “Yes, but so far no luck matching them with anyone in AFIS. In fact, there are prints and fibers all over the place. Most of them are probably not related to the case, but we’re matching everything we have with what we collected from the Englewood house. It doesn’t seem like this guy is afraid of being caught.”

  Kate nodded in agreement; she was getting the exact same feeling about their killer. “It feels like he’s on some kind of mission.”

  “You think we have a spree killer?” Xavier asked.

  “I think that we have a killer who has a particular goal in mind and isn’t going to stop until he’s accomplished it,” she replied, trying to best articulate what she was feeling.

  “You don’t think he chose these families at random?” Rob asked.

  “No, I think he chose them for a specific purpose. We just have to figure out what that purpose is.” They all knew that was going to be easier said than done.

  “It’s hard to get a read on this guy,” Xavier tapped his pen as he spoke. “On the one hand, he seems to be organized; he brings his own weapons, he kills methodically replicating the scene over and over, he gets into and out of the houses unseen, and although he seems to leave fingerprints and stuff behind, he seems to know it won’t lead us to him. Yet, on the other hand, he seems to lose control whenever he sees blood, so much so that he smeared himself in it and danced around the Jenner master bedroom.”