Angel of Death

by Suzanne Steele

  He sat on the main strip waiting for her. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to kill her. He was thinking strangling her to death would be the easiest way. He could just take his belt and wring her ugly neck. Maybe it would help calm the voices and relieve some stress. He popped a couple of pain pills in his mouth and waited.

  “Hey baby, you want a date?”

  The doctor looked over to see a girl who looked much too young to be out walking the streets. For some odd reason, unknown to him, he felt a pang in his chest. What if that was his daughter? He didn’t understand how he could be so conflicted. Guilt, fear, and now compassion.

  “Aren’t you kinda young to be out here?”

  She smacked on her gum like she was taking the time to think about how she was going to answer this man with a conscious. “I’m legal.”

  “That’s not why I’m asking. Don’t you have family?”

  “What are you, a social worker or a john?”

  He reached in his back pocket and pulled out two twenties, handing them to her. “Be careful out here.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Somebody did get killed last night. One of the girls out here saw it happen.”

  “Well, I hope she’s smart enough to stay off the streets tonight.”

  “Nope, girl’s got balls of steel. I just saw her get in a van with some guy, so I don’t guess she’s too scared.” She tapped the door frame twice. “Thanks for the money, man.”

  “Be careful!” He had no idea why he even cared, but for some reason, tonight, he did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jericho turned in his seat towards the girl in the back of the van. He and Angel were both looking at her like her life depended on what they were telling her, and in truth it did.

  “Okay, from the beginning, what happened?”

  “I took the guy, the guy you’re saying was a doctor. Well, the news said he was too. Anyway… we’re back in the alley and I’m well, you know. All of a sudden, I hear this guy say ‘Give me your money.’ He sounded like he was trying to change his voice or something. Then, all of a sudden, the john says, ‘Jackson?’ like he was asking a question because he recognized him or something. Then, he just shot him. I’ve never run so far or so fast in my life. I was so scared. I just kept thinking a bullet was going to rip through my back at any moment. It was crazy. I can’t believe that stupid reporter said my name on the television. And showing my face, who fucking does that?” She shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it.

  “You’re not safe out here working. This guy won’t hesitate to kill again.”

  “Yeah, well I gotta pimp who’s gonna kill me if I don’t come home with my quota.”

  “Any man who would put his woman in danger for money. Jericho just shook his head like he couldn’t understand it. “You don’t need a man like that.”

  “I know. I think about leaving, but I don’t know. Being out here alone, it’s rough out here in these streets.”

  Angel could feel the weight in her chest for this stranger. It was evident she didn’t want to be out here, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go. With no job skills and no family to help her, Angel could see how it would be hard. The saddest thing about it was that her so called man didn’t give a shit if she got killed, other than it would mess with his money. It made her grateful to have a man like Jericho by her side—a real man.

  Jericho turned, handing her a card. “You’ll remember his vehicle. If you see him, call me. We’re going to hang around for a while and make sure you’re safe. You might want to reconsider your choice in men. Your man is the one who should be out here watching you.”

  The words, mixed with the direct look in his eyes, made what he said cut deeper than any other element of truth the girl had been subjected to in the past.

  “It isn’t your fault.” Angel attempted to ease the harshness of his words. She felt sorry for her, but she knew the only way the girl would escape her lifestyle was by brutal truth hitting her between the eyes. “You’re young and you can still go back to school, get a job, have a life, and maybe even a family one day.”

  Angel felt his hand brush against hers as an affirmation he was pursuing just that, a family. He wanted her to have a new beginning. The difference between him and other men was he would do whatever it took to make it happen for her.

  He knew the whore would recognize his car, so he’d made a lame excuse as to why he needed to use his wife’s soccer mom van when he’d left his house. It would be less conspicuous and she’d never see him coming. He was getting excited thinking about killing. Maybe he’d play with her before he killed her. He’d rented an apartment closer to the hospital, telling his wife it was for the long shifts when he was too tired to drive home.

  A den of iniquity to sate the monster that lived inside his head. Day by day he was becoming the very voices he tried so hard to squelch. He hated them for taking over his life. They had systematically weaved their way into his subconscious, and now they were becoming more and more evident in the forefront of his consciousness. He was losing his mind and it terrified him.

  He took a moment to take in his surroundings. The night sky was black, dotted with twinkling stars that gave the illusion of peace. A gentle breeze blew lightly over his skin through the partially rolled down window.

  He lit a cigarette. The crackle of the paper and the ember glowing in the small space of the van calmed his jittery nerves. He’d transformed over time, giving into the addictions that promised to quiet the voices in his head. Lies. They were all lies. His whole life was a lie, and he could blame no one but himself.

  A dog barked in the distance, giving the owner warning of a nonexistent threat. The only threat of violence in the shadows of the night was a serial killer looking for the witness who’d seen his last kill. For the first time in a very long time, the night air cradled him in the assurance that everything would be okay—after this kill.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Angel took a moment and laid her head back against the headrest. The night air felt good, and the view was something no amount of money could buy. It felt good sitting there in the quiet of the peaceful evening. By all appearances, this area of the city wasn’t the habitation of drug addicts, prostitutes, and the pimps who selfishly used them. If a person didn’t know the logistics of the city streets, they would mistakenly assume this was a good neighborhood. The strategically placed historical homes gave the illusion of suburban yuppies making their mark on a hip city ripe for the taking.

  It was true, this was a neighborhood of college students and young hipsters, the up and coming, a technically savvy generation who were financially stable. It was also the beginning of what the street people termed the stroll. It started in the housing district, and as you made your way down Fourth Street, towards the river, it turned into the red-light district. That was where the strip joints and bars invited in those with fat wallets and fantasies of the next beautiful woman falling for them. Men who enjoyed watching a woman work her magic on a pole, and maybe even in a secluded backroom that offered more privacy.

  “Jericho”—her voice was soft, laced with caution— “how did you get started in the mercy killing undercover operation?”

  It was a question he knew she would ask him sooner or later. He was grateful for the solid foundation of intimacy and love they’d obtained. It would be hard to reveal such a sacred secret without knowing the person you were revealing it to intimately. He knew being honest with her would solidify the bond they already shared.

  “I watched my mother die of cancer. Towards the end she begged me, pleaded with me to kill her. I knew it was hard for her to ask me to do something so permanent. The pain that plagued her took away any of her reasoning to think about the consequences I’d have to endure.

  “What she didn’t realize was the guilt I’d carry because of her asking me to take her life. If I had killed her I’d be ridden with guilt. If I didn’t, I’d still suffer it. It got me started to thinkin
g about mercy killing at a young age. I wouldn’t tell anyone else this, but I actually thought about doing it for a living—the money’s damn good, that’s for sure. Anyway, I figured if I got into police work I would be able to give back, help people, anything to make the guilt go away.” His voice was almost a whisper, laced with pain she knew all too well.

  “It means a lot you shared that with me.”

  She could feel his eyes on her in the darkened space of the cargo van. It was the perfect cliché vehicle for an abductor.

  “I want to share everything with you. Don’t disillusion yourself that it will all be good. I’m troubled, dark, and impossible to understand sometimes, but I’m loyal, and I’ll be here for you in ways no one else can be. We’re connected by pain, the kind that goes much deeper than anything physical. The kind that cuts into your soul, leaving you broken with jagged, shattered edges that cut into anyone who tries to get close to you.

  “That’s the funny thing about that kind of pain, it doesn’t just destroy you; it destroys anyone who attempts getting to know you. Because both of us are broken, we won’t destroy each other. That kind of dysfunction keeps others at bay. You’re mine because you can’t get close to anyone else without destroying them. We are damaged goods, babe—we’re made for each other.”

  “You make it sound so bleak.”

  “I’m keeping it real, girl. I’m just keeping it real.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The feeling of serenity that the cool of the peaceful evening had provided had now given way to impatience. He had to find the woman who threatened his freedom—his right to exist. With no thought of how he had intruded on the rights of trusting patients in the past, he started the van and put it in gear to make his way into the deeper depths of the city.

  It was a city that had an ever-changing pace and hum of its own. One night this area would be a hub of activity and another it would be slow with nothing happening. Tonight was one of those nights.

  Perhaps fear was keeping the girl from coming back to where she’d witnessed a crime. He liked the idea of making a woman afraid. What would it look like to see it in her eyes? The thought of that kind of power was intoxicating. He was escalating. He popped three more pills in his mouth and chewed them up for rapid effect. He grabbed the watered-down soda and took a drink to wash away the bitter taste they left behind in his mouth. Being high when he killed her would make it much more enjoyable.

  He lifted the console, reassuring himself he had the syringe filled with a concoction that was guaranteed to keep his victim submissive to him. He’d already planned how he would take her in his back door so no one could see him in the quiet of the night. He was almost tempted to pick up a random prostitute to kill, but fate had seen to it only she would do. She’d been the reason he had the desire to kill just for the entertainment of it. This time would be different. He wouldn’t be killing for money, or even for the fact that she was a witness. This time would be an enjoyable relishing in the debauchery of his world. He would open her eyes to what the true meaning of pain was. He wanted to see suffering in her eyes, to transfer the anguish he felt over onto her, so she would be forced to the see the world through his eyes.

  Finally, when he saw her, his heart quickened, making him feel more alive than he’d felt in years. This was the answer to all of his problems. Surely his blood-stained hands would quiet the voices. A blood sacrifice would be payment to the demons in his head.

  He waited until she went down a secluded street and pulled up beside her.

  When she saw his van, she wasted no time hitting on him. “Hey baby, you lookin’ for a party?”

  He shook his head yes in an effort to keep her from recognizing his voice. She didn’t seem to notice, and just started rattling off prices like he was at a fast food restaurant or something. It amazed him how she acted like it was normal behavior to quote prices for selling her body, and maybe for her it was. Crazy… the new normal.

  Twenty for a blowjob, thirty for a fuck, and a half and half is forty. Any kinky shit’s extra.”

  “Okay,” he said in a soft tone, almost a whisper to keep her from hearing his voice.

  She got in the car and held out her hand in his direction. “You need to pay me first. I’ve been robbed before, ya know?”

  He lifted the console like he was getting money, but removed the syringe. It never raised any suspicion. She just sat smacking on gum and looking out the window like she was already looking for her next customer. He was nothing but a number, and that thought angered him, causing him to jab the thin needle in her upper leg harder than what was necessary.

  “Hey. What the fuuuuck?” Her words slurred immediately, showing signs of the drug hitting her system quickly like he knew they would. Being a doctor came in handy at times like this.

  Her head was slumped against the window. “Safety first.” He smirked, pulling her seatbelt over her and clicking it. He didn’t want her to die in an accident. It was his job to kill her now. He couldn’t resist slipping his hand beneath her blue jean mini skirt. He wasn’t quite sure why he was surprised to not feel the barrier of panties in his way. Her pubic hairs tickled his fingers, causing his cock to twitch in his tailored pants.

  The prospect of playing with her before he killed her was exciting him more than he’d thought it would. She felt warm and wet like the whore she was. Tonight, she would pay for her sins and give redemption for his. Yes… a sacrifice would appease the tormentors.

  It had been easy to drag her small body in through the back door of his apartment. The night was as quiet here as it had been when he was parked waiting for her to appear. There was a sinister, still atmosphere to the night that was almost tranquil in nature.

  He’d thought about doing this before. He’d had fantasies about kidnapping and abduction. He’d even gone so far as to outfit a room that could hold a captive. Each window was secured by being nailed down. He had sandwiched mass-loaded vinyl between extra layers of drywall to do the job. Sound was vibration and he’d made sure no one would be hearing anything coming from his apartment. Why hadn’t he done this before now? Maybe he’d been a coward and now he was brave. Survival would do that to a man. He’d been pushed into a corner this time. He was being forced to kill, so he may as well have some fun with it, since this was his first female victim.

  Her body crumbled in the corner where he’d laid her, and he went to work. He took a heavy-duty chain and hooked it onto a meat hook he’d installed in the ceiling. He pulled up a chair and made his way over, picking her up after he grabbed the handcuffs he needed.

  When he finished, she was hanging nude from a hook with her feet barely dangling on the floor. She’d be weak and under his control when her eyes finally fluttered open. His very first captive; he was so excited.

  He ran his fingertips lightly over her face, behind her ear and down her arm, much like a lover would do. The goosebumps he left in his wake mesmerized him. He was an artist starting his creation on the canvas of his choosing. He hadn’t noticed before, but she was beautiful. He made his way over to the nightstand and grabbed a scalpel he kept there. The tools of the trade were a must to a man with his knowledge of anatomy. He had access to so many toys, and now he would put them to good use.

  He made his way back over to her. The excitement he felt showing in the bounce of his gait. He almost wanted to rub his hands together like a child in glee. Those two freckles on her chest needed to be connected.

  He placed his forefinger on the top of the instrument and his thumb at the bottom with the precision of a trained surgeon, and he made a tiny cut connecting the two dots. He watched the blood slowly trickle down, taking his finger and swiping through, then sucking it off the tip. Death tasted good, like a cuisine of crazy he was driven to indulge in.

  Her eyes fluttered open and he could see the drug filled haze in their brown coloring. If there was such a thing as an angel of death, he was a deliverer sent by the opposing side of good. Good and evil… he had made
his choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I don’t like this, babe.” Angel shook her head. “The not knowing where she’s working is agonizing. He could have her right now and we wouldn’t know it. We need to talk to these girls and find out where she was working tonight.”

  “I think they’ll be quicker to talk to a woman. Just don’t say anything about being with a cop, or they won’t utter a word. There’s an honor among thieves down here—an unspoken code.”

  “Okay. Keep your eyes on me.”

  He grabbed her arm and she could feel his piercing gaze through the shadows. “I will never let you out of my sight. I don’t even want to think about anything bad happening to you. Plus… you’re having my baby.”

  She was glad he couldn’t see her blush in darkness. He had this way of making her feel good by the things he said to her. His words were a healing balm to the pain of the past.

  “I’m a big girl. I’ll be careful.”

  “You should be. I’d hate to have to kill somebody tonight.”

  She thought he was joking until she noticed the expression on his face showed no sign of humor.

  “Okay, wish me luck.” She jumped out before she could change her mind. Working at the hospital had taught her what the streets could do, but she didn’t want to tempt fate.

  She made her way up to a group of girls standing on a corner. Immediately one the girls sauntered over with a look of distaste.

  “I know you ain’t out here working. This is our corner.”

  Angel made sure she had a non-threatening expression and answered, “I’m looking for Sarah Sanders. Have any of you guys seen her tonight?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m a nurse at the hospital. She witnessed a killing last night. I’m not a cop, just a concerned friend.”