The Front Range Butcher

by R Weir

  April got up and pulled a piece a paper from her purse and handed to me, then sat down again. It was a bill for her bodyguard work.

  “Wow you’re expensive.”

  “Top money for the best.”

  “I was hoping for a boyfriend discount.”

  “That is the discount. I normally charge twice that much. I figure your skills in bed warrant the price cut.” She put her book down and leaned into me, glaring into my eyes. “Besides, you get me guarding your body tonight for free.”

  “Guarding you say.”

  “Yep I’ll be right on top, underneath and beside it all night.”

  “I may not be up to my normal range of motion again tonight. I can try to make up for it in quantity, if I’m given sufficient time to rest in between.”

  April looked over at the clock, noting the time.

  “Early enough for before dinner sex. We eat a meal and start again. Does that give you enough time?” she said seductively, her eyes pools of passion.

  “With the proper carbs, yes,” I replied.

  Gently she pushed me back on the sofa, sliding up my body. “We’ll start with on top and go from there.”

  Nothing like a good physical challenge to end the day on a high note.

  Chapter 56

  She was begging him to stop, the pain beyond anything she’d felt before. Though he had just started, each slice he took made him feel stronger again. It has been so long since he’d felt such power. He relished it like nothing else. Breathing in deeply, taking his time, cutting when the moment was right. The Butcher was back doing what he did best.

  “You want it to stop,” he said. “Give yourself to me completely. Be my loving slave who will nurture me in ways no one ever has.”

  “Why are you doing this to me!” she yelled. She could barely breathe, her heart pounding at the feeling of her skin coming off.

  “Isn’t it obvious? You’re special to me. With perfect skin, I want to feel and touch. To cherish up close, examine and admire. Make my own. You’re my trophy.”

  She looked around, panicked hoping for a way out. Chained to a cold table, naked and exposed fear spread through her, a fear like she’d never felt before. Having awakened hours earlier, to find herself in some dark cellar, with no windows and light only from long neon bulbs above her, the claustrophobia engulfing her, adding to the terror she felt. Her yells for help unanswered, no one could hear her down here. She tried tugging at the chains but there was little give, the movement only causing pain. Though that pain was nothing like his first cut into her thigh.

  “Please don’t do this,” she yelled out again. “I don’t want to die.” She could see no hope, the intense shock of the situation overwhelming her.

  He walked over to her, putting a surgical glove covered hand on her face, the blood smearing on her cheek. She winced as he ran the hand down her neck, to her breast, leaving it there, the pounding of her heart matching his own.

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it,” he said. “I can sense it in your chest. It’s not fear you feel but pleasure. Give yourself to me and we can find enjoyment with the pain.”

  She didn’t know for sure what he wanted. Was it sex or did he simply want to torture her? He had her and could easily rape her and all she could do was scream. But he hadn’t raped her. Why didn’t he?

  “I don’t know what you want,” she said, sobbing uncontrollably.

  His hand moved down to her belly, the flesh rising and lowering.

  “I want you physically. To love you and bring life into the world together, a child that we can use as our own. But I won’t take you without your consent. That is the rule I follow, and I won’t break it. If you say yes, the pain stops. But if you say no, then I enjoy you in a way that still nourishes me, but not completely. Once I’m done, then I go and find another who suits me.”

  The feeling of his hand sickened her. She couldn’t give in to him. But would the pain he was causing break her down? Force her to his will? Was she strong enough? It would only get worse and there would be a breaking point. She had to decide now if it was more important to hold out as long as she could, and die, or give in and hope to find a way out of the situation.

  “What is your answer?” he asked, his hand moving back up, to her sternum.

  “I don’t know. I can’t say yes. Can’t you please let me go? I promise I won’t tell anyone what happened. I want to live.”

  “Then I must continue. But be advised there is a point of no return. I won’t have the woman of my dreams permanently scarred.”

  He walked over grabbing the scalpel and went to the other leg, to begin cutting. She screamed and yelled as he slowly cut down taking off a one-inch long deep slice and walked it over to his work table to examine it. He felt excited. She could be the one who breaks down to him, her pleads more desperate, her willpower beginning to break more rapidly than the rest. None of the others gave in, all refusing to say yes. Their strength holding out, even in pain, until life left them.

  “What is your answer, Jill?” he said. “Do I continue cutting or will you give yourself to me. We could be something special together.”

  She couldn’t take much more of it. The pain was too horrible. But would he still let her live once he had gotten what he wanted? Her mind raced to come up with the right response. Maybe somehow, if she was loose, she could find a weapon and kill him. She had to try something, for she was totally at his mercy.

  Finally, she stared into his soulless eyes. “Yes,” she said softly, barely audible with no emotion.

  He leaned down closer, a grin of joy behind the mask, coaxing her to say it louder. There would be no denying him once he had her permission.

  “Yes, I consent.” As the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them instantly, ashamed she had been so weak, but she knew there was no turning back now. A new horror awaiting her.

  “We will be together in a way that completes me,” he said, feeling a little flush with an excitement he had been waiting for. “I will get some soap and water to clean you up. Treat your wounds properly so they can heal. You will be good as new, with only a couple of scars as a reminder of how we came to be a couple in love. When you’re properly sanitized, we will begin the process of making our love complete and consummate it.”

  She was still in physical pain, but the thought of him touching her, taking her that way made it even worse. He would have to loosen her chains, maybe even remove them completely. When that happened, she planned to strike somehow. She wasn’t sure with what, but she would do something. Her arm, fists and fingernails. Visions of clawing his hazel eyes out gave her hope.

  In the background, a ringtone played. He excused himself and walked into the other room. He answered the phone, she could hear him talking, though he wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what was being said. He became angry, yelling and cursing at the other on the phone, before settling himself down. A few more words, and then silence. It was maybe five minutes before he walked back, standing next to the table.

  “Change of plans,” he said. “It would seem you aren’t the perfect one after all. I must complete the procedure and find another.”

  She held her breath, she wasn’t sure what that meant. “What are you going to do?” She asked frantically, her heartrate picking back up.

  “Back to work cutting your skin, of course. I’m so sorry. It would have been glorious making love to you.”

  “What do you mean,” she yelled. “We had an agreement. You can’t do this to me.” Jill started thrashing around, in shear panic, summoning all the strength she had, with no hope of breaking free.

  He went over to the table and grabbed the scalpel, mumbling apologetically under his breath, waiting for her to tire. She was so perfect, yet he must do as he was commanded.

  Her strength was waning, her sobs louder. “No god please no more!” She said it over and over, hoping in vain a deity would intervene.

  His hand touched her face, wiping the tears, then moved d
own to find the perfect section of flesh just beneath the ribs. Scalpel at the ready to again peel off her skin, piece by piece, the horrible screams filled the room, as he needed to work quickly, her being forfeited for the bigger cause.

  Chapter 57

  April and I decided to take the Sunday to ourselves. Just her and I doing what we wanted to do. I ignored all calls on my cell, as did she. We did some shopping, or I should say she did most of the shopping, including finding some new clothes for me, we then went to a movie and rested at her place, where no one could find me.

  When Monday morning rolled around, April had to get back to work for the afternoon shift. We decided on breakfast out, more carbs on my mind to replenish the body and soul, but needed to go by my place for a change of clothes. When we arrived, a man was waiting for me by the Mustang. He was tall, black, dressed well, and built like a basketball player. He handed me an envelope without saying a word and walked back to his European sedan, driving away and leaving me without any idea of who he was.

  “Too small to be a bomb,” I said, staring at the envelope suspiciously.

  “Looks like a card,” replied April. “Do you have a secret admirer?”

  “If it’s from Milani, I’m going to scream!”

  I looked over the outside. It was white, with “Jarvis Mann” written on it. It didn’t smell of perfume, so I doubted I had a woman hot for me. It didn’t seem ominous, so I opened it. It was basic white stationery, with the words “Let’s Talk” written on the outside. There wasn’t much more on the inside.

  “It says ‘Meet me at Ruby Hill Park at 2 p.m. today.’”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “It doesn’t say specifically. At the bottom, it’s signed with a large fancy W.” I handed her the card.

  “Who is W?” April wondered, staring at the lettering.

  I thought for a minute. There was only one name that came to mind.

  “If I had to guess, I would say Wolfe.”

  “That enforcer who works for Liquid Assets?”

  “Yes. And specifically, Powers USA Inc.”

  April’s eyes widened, and she looked at me with renewed concern. “He is dangerous, from what you told me. Are you planning on meeting him? It could be another trap.”

  “Ruby Hill is a pretty busy place. I doubt he would be setting up an ambush there. I have a feeling this will just be a conversation, much like the one with the lawyer. Though likely more along the lines of leave Simon alone or I kill you right here.”

  There was much unknown about Wolfe. He had greeted me with a stare down after leaving Liquid Investors last year, there to intimidate and nothing else. Reputation told me he was a killer for hire, taking on only the most dangerous foes, none of which who lived long once they were in his crosshairs. If it truly was him I was meeting, I had made the top of the hit parade. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

  April looked apprehensive as did I. But I didn’t let it get in the way of my appetite, so I ate a large breakfast, as we discussed it some more, nearly an hour back and forth. In the end, I knew I was going to meet him, as did she. Though I planned on showing up early to walk around and check things out.

  After dropping me off at my place, and hugging me for a long time, she left, and I got myself ready, leaving at one to arrive early.

  It was a sunny day, but I wore a light jacket to cover up my gun holster. Even if I didn’t consider this an ambush, I wasn’t going unarmed, my Beretta sat loosely under my arm with two extra clips.

  Ruby Hill Park sat between West Florida and West Jewell streets, running west of South Platte River Drive, which runs along the river it’s named for. It was a large park, with green grass, lots of tall trees, swimming pool, baseball diamonds, pavilions, picnic tables and running/walking/biking paths. A classic example of the wonderful park system the Denver metro area had. A place for families, kids and pets to enjoy the outdoors. And for meeting a killer for a less than casual conversation.

  Being a Monday afternoon, it wasn’t extremely busy, though there were enough people around that I felt relatively safe. My leg was doing much better, so I went for a slow easy jog starting from the parking area on the northwest side of the park near the pavilion, heading south. Jogging with a sore leg was challenging, and with a shoulder holster even more so. It was more of a fast walk, but I did it, covering lots of ground and surveying the area.

  After about fifteen minutes I slowed to a complete walk and took a drink of the water I was carrying. I was happy it was a cool day, even though I had worked up a decent amount of perspiration.

  I covered most of the park in less than an hour. There were no snipers hiding in the trees or behind a hunting blind. No ominous figures waiting to jump out and knife me. Most everyone could care less about me and what I was doing there. Only a couple of acknowledgements from fellow joggers with music playlists filling their eardrums as they passed. I made it back to my car, grabbed a second water from my cooler and then found a seat in the pavilion watching for whomever summoned me.

  At about ten minutes past the hour, a strong, muscular looking black man came walking up from the grassy area to the east. He was dressed in gray slacks and jacket, with brown highly polished, expensive shoes. The sparkle of diamond earrings filled both lobes, and wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes. His hands were covered with gloves, and as he approached, I stood, ready for any action he may attempt. There was little doubt he had hardware under his coat, but he made no effort to use it. Under the shade of the pavilion covering he took off his glasses, so I could see his eyes. They were deep brown, like the short hair on his head, and the goatee on his face. I had seen him once before last December. Wolfe looked as powerful and as dangerous as I remembered him.

  “Let’s walk,” he said, in his deep baritone voice.

  I pointed for him to lead the way. His pace was moderate, as I walked beside him, with enough space in between.

  “You’re carrying.” He said it as if he wasn’t concerned, only to verify.

  “As are you.”

  “I have no intention of using it.”

  “Neither do I.” Or at least I hoped I didn’t.

  “Hazards of our line of work. Hard to walk around without the hardware.” He acknowledged.

  “I rarely carry. Only when a case requires it. My latest one has come with quite a few hazards.”

  Two women in tight colorful spandex, passed us coming from the other direction, jogging. Both cleared a path around us, either in fear or admiration.

  “Your latest case is why I’m here. We need to come to some type of resolution.”

  “Which case are you referring to?”

  “The Front Range Butcher.”

  There was little surprise he was there for that reason.

  “Of course. Who sent you?”

  “It’s not important. Or relevant. All that is important is we need to find a satisfactory conclusion for all involved.”

  Off to the side a couple were sitting on a blanket, a basket next to them. Each were enjoying a sandwich and something to drink, eyes lovingly staring at each other.

  “Little satisfaction on my part so far,” I said. “First a slick lawyer comes along and tries to buy me off. Second, three men show up at my place a couple of days later and beat on me. Third, those same men try to kill me, after killing Belinda Woodley at her place in Pueblo. As I’ve told Simon Lions I won’t quit until I put him behind bars.”

  “Those were unfortunate acts against you. Something that has led to more scrutiny for all involved. We would like to end this confrontation peacefully. It is in everyone’s best interests.” He worded everything so as not to implicate himself or Simon.

  “You say ‘We’ and ‘Everyone,’ but won’t name who these people are. Makes it difficult for me to work with you if I don’t know the players.”

  “Mister Mann, I’ve studied you, and I know you’re a smart man and a decent detective. You know who the players are, but I’m not going to confirm for you, for
it does me no good. If you’re willing to work with us, in this case, me, then we can possibly stop the bloodshed and get on with our lives.”

  “As I stated, I’ll only stop when he is behind bars.”

  We were walking past the pool now. It was closed for the season, the water drained and the pool top covered. A trip to the gym was in order, swimming a good exercise for my healing thigh.

  “What if we were to give you The Butcher?” His tone sounded as if he meant it.

  I was surprised by the offer. “Would that be the current one or the one from twenty-two years ago?”

  “Current.”

  “You know who he is?”

  He nodded, his expression emotionless and businesslike. “I do.”

  “And you will give him to me.”

  “Yes. Red-handed, with all that is needed to put him away for good, ending the senseless bloodshed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it makes the most sense for business. All this trying to outsmart and kill each other isn’t doing any of us any good. We have corporations to run. Money to be made. In your case you will be a hero who caught the infamous Front Range Butcher. Be on the news, making money with new cases. Who knows, maybe you’ll write a book about it and retire on the royalties.”

  I stopped walking, turning to Wolfe who stopped as well.

  “Again, I ask why? There has to be a condition.”

  He smiled. “See, I was right, you’re smart. And yes, there is a condition. Catch the killer but leave everyone else out of it. Put the sicko away and leave the rest you perceive to be involved, alone.”

  Leaving everyone else alone, had to mean Simon. And also meant he was involved in sending Wolfe to work this deal. This was a big connection to the case, though again no way to prove it.

  “You mean Simon Lions.”

  “I won’t mention any names,” he said vaguely, giving a slight nod before speaking. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just part of his mannerisms.

  “How do I know this isn’t another trap?”

  “Because you have my word.”