The Killer Copy: If you found a mentor like this, you would be making a killing.

by Gail Caban

  “You’ve done well, grasshopper. You were far more capable at killing than I ever thought you would be. You have turned out to be one of my greatest students,” Eddie said as they walked to the door.

  “Students?” Ness asked, surprised.

  Eddie smiled at her. “It’s time to go,” he said walking out of the apartment.

  What have I got myself into? Ness suddenly felt terrified. She had an ominous feeling growing in her mind. What was Eddie really up to?

  18

  Ness drove for home after she and Eddie returned to his house in Northbrook. They drove in silence as they sat together. Ness had a sinister feeling about how Eddie mentioned that she was one of the best of his students. The reason for this is because either he had trained up several serial killers that were now running rampant in the country, or he built them up for another reason entirely. After they returned to the house, they went through the same cleaning ritual that they did previously, and now Ness’ skin truly did feel like she scrubbed off several of the outer layers.

  A honking horn brought Ness out of her daze as she drove. She was struggling to keep her eyes open—even though the bright sunlight was already pouring through her window as she drove. Only a few more miles, Ness. Utica is practically in view, and then you can pass out for a few days, she laughed at the thought that popped into her mind because she could just imagine how worried Wyatt would be if she was ‘comatose’ for that long. Ness opened her window and allowed the cool air to rush over her face and through her hair. She wasn’t sure what emotions she was supposed to be experiencing, but at this very moment, she felt completely liberated. She had rid the world of three horrible men, and even though they met tragic ends, the world was a safer place without them in it. Ness could see the exit for North Utica coming up. Almost home, Ness.

  10 minutes later, Ness pulled into the Wyatt’s driveway and parked in the shade. She had a look at the time on her car’s clock and saw that it was already 8:30 A.M. No one will be home at this hour, so I can head straight to bed. Ness unlocked the front door and walked inside. She peered through to the kitchen, and it definitely appeared that she was alone. She went upstairs and collapsed onto the bed.

  Finally, Ness thought to herself and expected to be welcomed by sleep’s welcoming embrace; however, 10 minutes went by and sleep hadn’t come yet: “Come on, Ness. Just breathe and calm your mind. Sleep will come.” But no matter what Ness tried to do to relax her body and her mind, she was plagued by a feeling of unease. She didn’t feel safe where she was. Something felt different. Something felt wrong. She looked around the room, and everything appeared to be in its place. She got up from the bed and walked downstairs. She double-checked that she locked the front door—she had, and she walked through to the kitchen and checked the back door. Everything appeared to be in order. Ness! Stop freaking yourself out, she shook her head, went back upstairs and laid down on the bed.

  After about an hour of tossing and turning, Ness finally fell asleep, but the feeling of unease hadn’t left her during that time. It was like a sixth sense telling her that she had to be on guard. It’s strange how one’s mind can be sensitive to things that one isn’t physically aware of, and Ness’ was becoming more sensitive with every passing moment. Once a person takes the life of another human being, they will forever be different—they will forever be wary of others. It’s a feeling that Ness hadn’t learned to fully understand yet.

  Though Ness slept with her bedroom door open, from the shadows of the main bedroom, he stood silently and watched her sleep.

  Ness awoke at around lunchtime, and though she was pretty ravenous, she figured that she might as well get out for a bit after sleeping. She thought she’d go into town and say hi to Lindsay. She leaned over to her bedside table to grab her phone, but her phone was out of reach. It was on the other side of the bedside table. Ness knew that she hadn’t put the phone there because she had checked the time right before turning in. She grabbed her phone and walked to her door. She looked into the main bedroom and down the stairs. Everything appeared to be quiet, but her sense of paranoia was building in her mind. She needed to get out of the house just in case. Ness grabbed her car keys and her purse and walked downstairs with her phone in her hand. She unlocked the door quietly and went outside. Once she was in her car, she called Lindsay.

  “Hey, stranger,” she answered. Ness could hear that she was smiling.

  “Hey, Lindsay. Have you had lunch yet?” Ness asked.

  “Nope, why?”

  “Because I’m going to grab us something and pop in at the shop. See you soon,” Ness hung up. She watched the house for several seconds longer before starting the car up and driving away.

  20 minutes later, Ness walked into Lindsay’s shop with a bag of sandwiches from the local deli. She could see that Lindsay was busy talking to a customer, so Ness walked around and admired all of the freshly cut flowers and different bouquets. Ness took a deep breath. It was like breathing in nature’s perfume: the smell instantly relaxed her. The customer carried their purchase out of the shop, and Ness walked up to the counter.

  “My goodness. Working with a smell like that on a day-to-day basis must be heavenly,” Ness said, placing the sandwiches on the counter.

  “Unfortunately, your nose becomes rather accustomed to it after a while. You’ll notice that you barely smell the flowers any longer after about half an hour or so,” Lindsay walked to the door and flipped the “Open” sign to its “Closed” side and locked the door.

  “We better eat those in the back because customers can become rather irate when they see you inside with the door locked.”

  “Alrighty then,” Ness smiled and packed up the sandwiches and moved into the back room. She placed them on the table and sat down.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Lindsay asked walking into the room.

  “Does a possum have 13 nipples?” Ness asked with an expressionless face. Lindsay stood frozen with confusion, “Um . . . I’ve never really thought about it.” Ness smiled, “Yes, they do. So, yes please, that would be lovely.” Lindsay smiled and started brewing the coffee.

  “You know you’re pretty weird. I can see that you and Wyatt are related,” she turned and winked at Ness. “I will take that as a compliment,” Ness smiled in return. “You should.”

  Lindsay sat down, handing Ness’ coffee to her. “So, how was your time on campus? And which friend did you bump into? Did you have fun?” Lindsay started bombarding Ness with questions.

  “It was all fine. Campus was very much the same. Spent some time in the library but then drove around for a while. I bumped into an old friend, Rebecca Lehane, that I used to have classes with, and she was so excited to see me that she begged me to stay over with her and catch up.”

  “You guys must have been close if she wanted you to stay over,” Lindsay said, taking a bite of her pastrami sandwich.

  “We were rather, but things changed after the accident. However, it was still nice catching up. How was your day yesterday with Wyatt?” Ness enquired.

  “Wyatt, unfortunately, got called into work. So, I spent the day with my mom.”

  “He had to work?” Ness frowned.

  “Yeah, some guys in Chicago needed his help, so he spent a large portion of the day there. I actually thought he might bump into you, but then I remembered how big the city actually was.”

  “That would have been something,” Ness said, swallowing nervously. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you or Wyatt pop home today while I was napping?”

  “It wasn’t me, and I doubt it was Wyatt. He rarely goes home during the day. Why do you ask?”

  “Just felt like someone was in the house earlier on, but I’m sure it was just my imagination. I’ve been far too jumpy for my own good of late,” Ness laughed at herself.

  “I kind of noticed,” Lindsay laughed, too.

  “On another note, would you maybe like some company here this week? I can only start re-enrolling in my classes
again next month. Now that I have a lot of spare time on my hands, I’d like to keep busy. I’ll happily work for free if you’ll have me,” Ness put on the best puppy dog eyes she could muster.

  “Of course, you can. I’d really appreciate the help.”

  “Great. Would you like me to start now?”

  “Of course. Mondays can get strangely busy.”

  Ness smiled and took the coffee cups to the sink. She wasn’t going to admit this to Lindsay, but she was almost positive that someone was in the house—she wasn't going to take the chance of being caught off guard. Being here at the shop gave her an edge, and she was glad that Lindsay accepted her offer to help out. Across the road in an alleyway behind one of the dumpsters, his prying eyes continued to watch her. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you ages ago. No, Ness . . . the fun is just starting. He pulled his hat lower over his eyes as he disappeared into a moving crowd. Let the games begin.

  19

  For the rest of the week, Ness helped Lindsay at her shop; considering that she hadn’t had any contact with Eddie, she was starting to feel a sense of normalcy returning to her life. She had humorous mealtimes with Wyatt and Lindsay, and she popped in regularly at the police station to go say ‘hi’ to Heck and Agatha. Maybe she was just being overly paranoid about Eddie.

  Ness stretched as the sunlight beamed through her window. It was Sunday: the day that the whole family was going to grandpa’s cabin in the Illinois woods. Ness walked to her door and could hear that Wyatt and Lindsay were already up and were busy downstairs. Ness walked to the bathroom to shower.

  15 minutes later, Ness walked downstairs and saw that Heck had joined the little entourage. “Hey, Dad,” Ness said, walking forward and embracing her dad.

  “Is everyone ready to go?” Heck asked, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Awesome, why don’t we all go in my truck. Would make sense to save some gas.”

  Everyone piled into the truck, with the men sitting in the front and Ness and Lindsay sitting in the back. It wasn’t a far trip to the cabin, but it would still take them a couple of hours to negotiate some of the hilly terrain getting up there. When Wyatt Sr. chose to retire, he chose to do so as far away from people as he possibly could.

  A couple of hours later, Heck’s truck was making its way up the last obstacle as it made its way up the windy, narrow road. Heck eventually stopped the truck next to the log cabin and climbed out of the truck. “Jeez, Pop, do you intentionally put stuff in the road to keep people away?” Heck walked up to the old sheriff who was making his way off the porch with his rottweiler close behind.

  “Well, maybe I do,” he smiled and embraced his son.

  “It’s good to see you, Dad,” Heck said. “What’s for lunch? Something smells great.”

  “Venison stew,” Wyatt Sr. answered.

  “Venison? Where did you get it, gramps?” Lindsay looked a bit worried.

  “Does it matter?”

  “I prefer to eat meat that’s only ethically butchered,” Lindsay commented.

  Wyatt Sr. looked slightly confused, “I was very ethical when I killed this deer. He didn’t feel any pain at all. In fact, he didn’t even see it coming.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Lindsay frowned and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Because I shot him right between the eyes with a .308 rifle. There wasn’t much left of his head after that. Too bad that I couldn’t get a trophy,” he shook his head but smiled. Lindsay went very pale.

  “Honey, he’s just messing with you,” Wyatt looked at his grandpa to nudge him along and shook his head when Lindsay was looking away.

  “Of course. I’m just messing with you, dear,” he smiled and gave her a big hug. He pulled an innocent expression at Wyatt when Lindsay wasn’t looking, which made Ness giggle under her breath. “Let’s all head inside and get something to drink.”

  They walked up the porch, and although the cabin wasn’t large, it was absolutely beautiful. It was an open plan log cabin with a single bedroom at the back. It did have running water and solar power, but Heck didn’t mind that the cabin was only equipped with an outhouse and not a flushing toilet.

  Everyone sat down in the small living room. “Alright, I have coffee and I have beer. Who wants what?” Wyatt Sr. asked.

  “It’s pretty hot out, Pop, so I think beer will be good. I also brought some extra. Just grab it out of the truck,” Heck said, standing up and heading out the door.

  “Thanks, son,” Wyatt Sr. said as he moved to the kitchenette and removed a six-pack of beers from the fridge and placed them on the small coffee table in the living room.

  “Should we pour those into glasses?” Lindsay asked.

  “I don’t think I have enough, so the bottles will have to suffice,” Wyatt Sr. laughed raspily and sat down in his old recliner.

  Ness grabbed the bottles and screwed off the caps before handing them around.

  “So, what’s new, Pops?” Heck asked, returning to his seat after putting more beers into the fridge.

  “Nothing, really. I’ve been reading a lot and do work around the cabin. I go hunting and fishing every so often, but I mostly just do woodwork in the small cabin outside. How are things at the station?” Wyatt Sr. coughed loudly before removing his pipe and compressing tobacco inside. He struck a match and started puffing.

  “You know that’s going to kill you one day?” Heck scowled at his dad.

  “Hey, at least I’ll die happy,” Wyatt Sr. took a long puff on his pipe and blew three consecutive smoke rings.

  “The station is doing well. It’s very much the same as it was. You should pop in sometime. There are many folks there that would love to see you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Wyatt Sr, said, standing up and walking to the stove on the other side of the cabin. He removed the lid from the pot and stirred the stew.

  “I hope that’s almost done,” Ness piped up. “I’ve been so hungry nowadays.”

  “It is actually. Everyone grab a bowl and come and dish up for yourselves” Wyatt Sr. said as he placed freshly baked bread and butter on the dining table.

  Everyone jumped up and started dishing up healthy portions of the thick, venison stew and moved toward the table. Once everyone was seated, Wyatt Sr. said grace for the meal, and they started eating. There wasn’t much conversation while everyone was eating because Wyatt Sr. was definitely a fine stew maker. Even Lindsay wiped her bowl clean with a slice of bread, obviously forgetting about her previous reservations.

  “Hey, Pop, did you make this bread yourself?” Heck piped up as he was having his last bite.

  “I most certainly did.”

  “I’m impressed. You were never really the baker in the household.”

  “Yeah, well, times change,” Wyatt Sr. smiled, but there was a lot of pain behind it. Heck regretted saying anything.

  “I think Wyatt and I will clean up. Why don’t you three go outside and sit on the porch for a while?” Lindsay said, collecting the dishes.

  “Actually, Pop, would you mind if I had a quick nap on your bed? That meal has really made me lazy,” Heck said.

  “No problem, son. Actually, Ness, I’d like to show you the furniture I’ve been making in the cabin outside. You were always the most interested in carpentry around here,” Wyatt Sr. shot his grandson a look. “Hey . . . I didn’t say I didn't like it,” Wyatt looked defensive.

  “Yeah, yeah. Listen to your wife and go help her with dishes. Come on, Ness,” Wyatt Sr. led Ness outside and toward the cabin out back.

  Ness smiled as she breathed in the scents of pine and clean air. She could hear the creek babble a few yards away. “Gramps, can I ask you a question?” Ness asked.

  “Fire away.”

  “What can you tell me about the En Passant Killer?” Wyatt Sr. turned and looked at Ness sternly: “Why on earth would you want to know about that monster?”

  “Because he’s one of the few bad guys that you were obsessed with. Please Gramps. It’s important.�
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  “Fine, come inside,” Wyatt Sr. opened the cabin’s doors and they walked in. It was much smaller than the cabin that he lived in, but it was large enough for him to do his woodwork easily and store other items that couldn’t fit in the house. He climbed a ladder to a small storage section close to the ceiling and retrieved a large box. He pulled it out and handed it to Ness.

  “This is everything that I held on to regarding the En Passant Killer,” Wyatt Sr. said, climbing down the ladder and clearing some space on his work bench. He opened the box and started taking out several pictures of crime scenes, reports, and maps of where the killings took place.

  “These are pretty graphic,” Wyatt Sr. pointed at the pictures beneath the reports.

  Ness pulled a face when she started looking at them. “What can you tell me about him, Gramps?”

  “There are two types of serial killers in the world, Ness. The first is the serial killer that identifies with certain methods of killing and targets specific sorts of victims. Many of those types of killing are normally sexually driven. Those types of serial killers kill certain types of victims normally because the victim reminds them of a particular person. Ted Bundy liked attractive women in their late teens and early twenties. Jeffrey Dahmer targeted younger boys, and John Wayne Gacy targeted young men. They had specific victims that they found attractive.”

  Ness grimaced. “What about the second type of serial killer?”

  “The second type is actually far worse,” Wyatt Sr. grabbed a stool and sat down, and Ness did the same. “The second type of serial killer is attracted to the act and the violence of killing. It doesn’t matter who or what they kill, as long as they let their deranged and violent personas set loose. En Passant is one of those killers,” Wyatt Sr. said as he picked up a few pictures and handed them to Ness. “He was known as a family annihilator.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Ness said.

  “It’s pretty horrific. Family annihilators target entire families and kill them regardless of their age, race, gender, religious affiliations, or income. Because of his changing victimology and killing styles, it would have been practically impossible to know if he was responsible for certain crimes, if it wasn't for his calling card.”