Killer's Diary

by Brian Pinkerton

  Within ten minutes, sirens screamed and lights flashed outside every window of her apartment.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The police interviewed Ellen the following day at the Lakeview station. Bandaged, healing and still very sore, she sat in a hardwood chair in a small, blank room and told them everything she knew about Seymour Ravenwood. She talked about his father’s abusive behavior, the escape to Chicago together, and the recent reunion at the Book Shelf’s café.

  She described how perfectly normal he appeared then, seated with a pretty blonde companion.

  Detective Jack Allen took particular interest in the blonde girl. “Did you catch her name?”

  “I think it was Nikki.”

  The detective sighed and looked over at his partner, Officer Noel.

  “What is it?” Ellen asked, catching their worried expressions.

  Noel produced a snapshot of Nikki, a picture that appeared to have come from a family holiday gathering. “Is this her?”

  Ellen nodded. Then her stomach turned. “Oh no…what happened?”

  “Same as the others,” said Allen.

  Ellen knew what that meant. Murdered. Eyes removed. She wanted to vomit.

  Allen reported, “He met her in a bar. Flirted with her for a few days. Gained her trust. Played the part of a regular guy. Then took her out late one night for a walk in the park…”

  “Enough,” she said. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

  She answered questions about Peg next. The most agonizing moment of the day came when they played Peg’s recorded screams and asked her to confirm the source.

  “Yes. It’s Peg. Please shut it off.”

  She needed a break. The constant questioning and small space were suffocating her.

  “Can I see my boyfriend now?” she asked.

  Charles was waiting for her in another part of the station. He had not left her side since bursting into her apartment. He had gone with her to the hospital, stayed overnight with her, and accompanied her to the police station.

  The officers looked at one another. She saw a nod of agreement.

  “We can resume this afternoon,” said Detective Allen.

  Ellen’s mother arrived at the station later that day. She looked a mess. She wore mismatched clothes and no makeup. Ellen imagined her getting dressed in a panic and speeding to Chicago as fast as possible in her little Honda.

  Ellen ran to her mother and hugged her. She told her mother that she loved her. It was the first time she had said that since childhood.

  Ellen introduced her mother to Charles. Her mother eyed him warily.

  “You better take good care of my girl,” she told him.

  “He is,” said Ellen.

  “I will,” said Charles. “I promise.”

  “Good,” said Ellen’s mother. “Because she doesn’t take no crap from nobody.”

  “Yes. I have seen that firsthand,” said Charles, and he had to smile.

  When the police arrived at the Decatur, Illinois home of George Ravenwood to talk to him about his son, no one answered the repeated ringing of the bell and knocking on the door. Calls to his phone remained unanswered.

  Officer Bill Roberts circled the side of the house, looking through the windows for any sign of activity. As he stepped onto the rear patio, he noticed the back door was partially open.

  That’s when the wall of stench hit…

  George Ravenwood was discovered in his bed. He had been stabbed to death. The blood had drained out of him, outlining his body in dark crimson.

  His eyes had not been removed. They remained wide open and glassy. In this instance, the attacker had not wished to be anonymous.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  He showed up behind the glass door, leaned forward, a hand shading his eyes to peer into the darkness.

  She saw him but he could not see her, and she held the moment to stare at him and admire his handsomeness all over again.

  Charles tapped lightly on the glass and Ellen stepped out of the shadows. He smiled when he saw her. He held a small cardboard tray with two cups of coffee from Pacific Coast Coffee.

  Ellen unlocked the front entrance and let Charles into the Book Shelf’s new State Street store in Chicago’s Loop.

  “Hello, Assistant Manager,” said Charles. “Don’t you have any lights?”

  “If I get here early and I’m alone, I like to keep them off for a while,” she said. “It’s just me and the books, having a quiet moment, before the support staff gets here, and all the customers and noise.”

  “You’re weird,” said Charles. “And I identify with you all the way.”

  She took the tray of coffees from him and set it aside. “You better not stay too long,” she said. “You don’t want to be late for Terri. Not in your first week.”

  “I’ll go in a few minutes,” he said. “But first, I have something for you.” Charles pulled out a paper bag that had been tucked under his arm.

  “It’s a present,” he told Ellen. “It’s something I’ve been working on for several weeks. I was going to give it to you sooner, but things have been pretty crazy. I wanted all the commotion to die down. I wanted a time for us to be alone.”

  “That hasn’t been easy,” she said, sympathetic. After the Lakeview killer had been apprehended in her apartment, she had been thrust into the media spotlight—a jarring experience for a shy woman who had spent a lifetime avoiding attention. She never wanted to see another TV news camera again.

  “This is for you,” said Charles. He reached into the sack and took out his green notebook.

  Ellen stared at the green notebook for a moment, startled. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Take it.”

  She accepted it from him.

  Charles said, “There’s a reason I’ve been so secretive about my new notebook. I didn’t want anyone to see it, not even you, until it was finished. It’s a departure from anything else I’ve ever done. Open it to the first page.”

  She lifted the cover and looked inside.

  The first page said: “For Ellen With All of My Love, Charles.”

  “I’ve been writing for you,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s any good, but it’s from the heart. It’s about us and how I feel about you. I might not be good about expressing these things to you out loud, when we talk, but I tried to capture them on paper. This is nothing like my other notebook. I was in an angry place and I was getting rid of demons. This is closer to who I really am.”

  She turned the page and read the first few lines of the opening entry.

  “My life changed forever the day I met Ellen, a young woman of uncommon grace, warmth and beauty. My heart healed, my head cleared and I embraced the world again. She brought me into a brand-new space without boundaries, where strength and wisdom are driven by the essential goodness of the human spirit.”

  Ellen’s eyes watered. She shut them before a tear could roll down her cheek.

  She heard Charles chatting nervously, telling her, “I know it’s not very subtle or sophisticated. It’s probably not as good as the writing you like to read, or as good as any of the books in this store, but it’s honest about how I feel. I just wanted to go with it, write it all down and see what happens.”

  She put down the journal and kissed him. Then she hugged him, holding him tight. He returned the embrace, and she felt the warmth of his body.

  Ellen and Charles stood in each other’s arms for several minutes, wordless among the thousands of books. They didn’t need to speak and they didn’t want to part, engaged in the slowest dance of all, the beating of two hearts.

  About the Author

  Brian Pinkerton writes stories of horror, mayhem and suspense. He is the author of Abducted, Vengeance, Rough Cut, How I Started the Apocalypse and Killing the Boss.

  You can discover more about Brian’s twisted world on his web site, Facebook page and Goodreads.

  www.brianpinkerton.com

  www.facebook.com/pages/Brian
-Pinkerton-Books/109555812420087

  www.goodreads.com/author/show/288505.Brian_Pinkerton

  Safe Haven is about to become a slaughterhouse!

  Stronghold

  © 2013 Maynard Sims

  Welcome to Safe Haven, a brand new luxury complex built on a remote island off the California coast. Fully automated, with the latest in high-tech security, Safe Haven is the perfect refuge for people who can afford to live a better life, free from the crime and dangers of the modern world. But can the complex protect its residents from the far worse dangers of a forgotten world? Ancient creatures have awoken from their long hibernation, hungry and driven by bloodlust. And the tenants of Safe Haven are the perfect prey.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Stronghold:

  The night was warm. Insects worried around their heads as they moved away from the buildings, out across the site and down to the slope where Williams had found the cave.

  “Hey, what d’ya know, the big man was telling the truth,” Chico said when they reached it. “Must be a first.”

  Williams glared at him as Billy Marshall pointed his flashlight into the dark depths of the cave.

  “Well?” Williams said.

  “Look at the earth around here,” Billy said. “It’s fresh. The blasting must have taken away the side of the slope enough to open the cave.”

  “See anything?” Chico said.

  Billy shook his head. “Too dark.”

  Chico edged past him and peered into the blackness. “Wonder what’s down there.”

  “Probably bats, rats…little else.” Billy tried to sound flippant but he didn’t feel it.

  There was a curious tension building in the pit of his stomach and sweat was breaking out under his shirt, trickling down his back. He hoped the other two wouldn’t want to look any further so they could get back to their bunks. He was beginning to feel the first fingers of fear tugging at him, but his ego wouldn’t let him show it. The fear was laced with a strong feeling of doom, and he could sense his Indian ancestors standing at his shoulder, yelling at him to get away.

  “Much evil. Spirits. Bad, bad medicine. Get away!”

  He thought of Jennilee, her warnings. Wished now he’d listened. Wished he was wrapped in her arms in their safe bed right now.

  “Hey, let’s get down there!” Chico said, his eyes alight with excitement.

  Williams looked at Billy and the Indian held his gaze. There was a challenge there. Williams belched. “Yeah, why not? What about you, Marshall? Man enough for it?”

  Man enough?

  “You lead the way, Williams. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Williams grinned and ducked down into the mouth of the cave. Chico followed. Billy took one last look up at the stars strung out in the sky before he stepped inside and the darkness of the cave swallowed him.

  Inside they found the cave was bigger than it first appeared. There were three tunnels leading off from the main entrance, one of the tunnels wider than the rest. Billy aimed his flashlight down it and turned to the others. They shrugged.

  “Might as well see what’s down there,” Chico said.

  The progress was slow. It was so dark they could only see a little way ahead of them in the beams of their flashlights.

  The tunnel was roughly hewn from the rock. It didn’t look natural. At intervals the walls were indented with places where lamps might fit. “What’s that?” Williams was leading. When he stopped the other two nearly crashed into each other.

  “What’s the problem?”

  Williams pointed his flashlight on the floor a few yards in front of him. It was a boot, an ornate cowboy boot. A torn pant leg was still inside. Inside the pant leg was what looked like something a shark might spit out. Red, mushy, ripped and torn.

  “Jesus!” Chico exclaimed, “What…”

  “That’s Eddie Ryker’s. The boots he bought when we went to Vegas.” Williams sounded scared. Ryker was one of the three men who had disappeared.

  Billy sent a silent prayer for his spiritual grandfathers to look over him.

  “Listen,” Williams was having trouble controlling himself, “I think we should get Redmond. This is too much for us to handle. Let the bastard deal with it.”

  “You’re right,” Billy heard himself say. “Let’s get the boss. Let the pretty boy dirty his hands for a change.”

  “Hey, no way.” Chico sounded elated, as if the finding of the boot was some kind of reward. “Let’s move on. We can solve this ourselves, no need to involve Redmond.”

  Williams shook his head. “Not me. I’m drunk but I’m not stupid. I’m out.” He pushed past the other two and they watched as his flashlight moved away and out of sight.

  “Are you sure you want to go on?” Billy said.

  Chico grinned. “I’ll look after you. Okay?”

  Billy smiled despite himself and pushed Chico gently forward. “Whatever comes, you go first, you get it first. Okay?”

  Then they heard Williams scream.

  “Chico, wait here. Don’t move, right?”

  Billy ran back down the tunnel, his flashlight beam bouncing from the uneven floor as he ran. He found Williams standing against the wall and shone the light at his face. It was pale, drained of all color.

  “Sorry, sorry. Rat the size of a cat. Scared me. I didn’t see it until I almost fell over it.”

  “We thought…”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Listen, you get out and bring Redmond back. Chico seems to be on some adventure high here, but I agree with you, for once. I think we should get this place sealed again. Fast.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  Billy shook his head. He hadn’t seen a thing. Not even a rat. But he had felt enough.

  His father once told him that the people from his tribe were psychic in varying degrees. All had the gift to sense evil in an evil place. The legacy of their persecution by the white settlers, he told him. Billy hadn’t thought that much about it. Up until now.

  Williams went off again, eyes ready for any more hidden rats. Billy went back to Chico.

  When he reached the spot where he’d left him, Chico was gone.

  It was as if a hand clamped round his heart. The strongest premonition he could imagine. His breathing was heavy like he had been running and he felt light headed. He wanted to run after Williams, out into the warm night air, smell the sea, hear the mosquitoes, feel the comfort of the familiar.

  He knew he should go find Chico.

  He knew he should.

  He moved further into the cave. Slowly along the tunnel, his senses alert, every muscle in his body tense.

  He felt a quivering in his blood, a warning of danger. It was nothing he could successfully explain to anyone, except perhaps Jennilee; she’d understand, but then she’d always been more in touch with her feelings than he had. But there was no denying the sensation that was sweeping over him now. It started in his gut and spread out throughout his body, heightening his senses and sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was alert and tuned into his surroundings, aware of the slightest shift in atmosphere.

  His first instinct was to call out but something stopped him. He shone the flashlight down the tunnel, hoping to catch a glimpse of the little Mexican’s green jacket, but there was nothing but darkness. “Damn it, Chico,” he muttered under his breath. “Why couldn’t you just stay put?”

  Suddenly he reeled backwards, almost dropping the flashlight. Something cold swept over him - bitterly cold, blood freezing. It felt as if a hand had clamped itself around his heart and was squeezing the life out of him. He started to breathe heavily, feeling like he’d run a marathon, and his vision was blurring. What the hell was happening to him?

  And then he heard a noise coming from further down the tunnel.

  It sounded like a dog worrying a bone, muffled growls and the sound of teeth grinding.

  Killer’s Diary

  Brian Pinkerton

  The more she reads, the less
she wants to know.

  A murderer is stalking the Windy City, carving out the eyes of his victims as grisly souvenirs. When shy Ellen Gordon finds a diary left behind in a coffee shop, she can’t keep from reading it. And when she meets the author in person, he’s just as charming as his writing. Only when she reads further does she find clues to the identity of Chicago’s terrifying serial killer. Could it be the author himself? Ellen will have to uncover the truth about her new boyfriend quickly if she doesn’t want to become the killer’s next victim.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Killer’s Diary

  Copyright © 2013 by Brian Pinkerton

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-303-6

  Edited by Don D’Auria

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2013

  www.samhainpublishing.com