The Front Range Butcher

by R Weir

  “And when they asked nicely, you did.” There was a tinge of unhappiness, so I quickly gave more detail.

  “Not really. My first reaction to them, when they forced their way into my place, was to tell them I had no idea how to get a hold of you. The bigger of the two started insisting with his fist, before April stepped in and pointed a gun at them. We got them arrested, but that didn’t hold them for long.”

  “You and April are still together?” He smiled.

  “Yes.”

  “It is good she is around to save your hide, as she did before when we approached you. Hopefully she didn’t have a take a bullet for you this time.”

  “No bullet and yes, it is good to have her around. I am fortunate she is in my life.”

  “Then I’m to assume they didn’t stop after being arrested?”

  “Hardly…” I went on to give him the rest of the story of Milani and how they tried to use her against me. When that didn’t work, forcing the issue and now threatening to kill her.

  “It would seem you don’t owe this woman anything. Why not let them kill her? Or is that against some code of honor you have?” The idea of a woman being killed didn’t faze him at all.

  “I did tell them to take a flying leap, but they said they’d leave the dead body at my place, making things difficult for me to explain to the cops after the initial charges. Under the circumstances I agreed I’d try to find you. I have no intentions of letting you walk into a trap. That is why I’m giving you the whole story. Try to see what options we might have.”

  Aleksi pondered what I said, looking pleased I had come to him. He took a drink of his whiskey, then asked the attendant to bring some peanuts and pretzels. It wasn’t the balance in food I was hoping for, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully the sodium and Russian beer mixed well in my stomach.

  “I’d still tell them to take a flying leap, like you said. Honestly it is your problem and something I can’t get involved with. In time I’m sure the Chinese and I will meet. Do you know the name of this Chinese government person making the threats?”

  “I don’t. But he said he is the husband of a prominent level Chinese official. And that she was the sister of Lok, the one I had fought in the ring and that you had shot. Does that give you an idea of who is involved?”

  Aleksi pondered again, another drink of whiskey, warm with no ice.

  “In our business, you must always know the players. There are not many women in power in China, so it wouldn’t be hard to find out, even if I didn’t know. When the deal was being struck with the Chinese, bringing them in after us to help prop up WANN, I made it a point to learn names. So to answer your question, yes, I know who this woman is.”

  “Is she someone to fear?”

  “I fear no one,” he snorted. “This I’m sure you’ve already learned when dealing with me. But she will be a challenge. And I doubt she will stop harassing you until you give her what she wants.”

  I swallowed down some peanuts and pretzels. Only two sips now gone from my beer. I wondered if I’d look like a wuss, if I’d asked for some water to dilute it.

  “Then I’m screwed.” I answered instead.

  “Probably. But there might be something we can do.”

  “Then you will help me?” I was pleased to hear the possibility existed.

  “We have some time on the flight to work out some options that may be beneficial for both of us.”

  Which is what we did, talking back and forth, coming to an agreeable conclusion, before landing in Denver at the Arapahoe County Airport, where I had to take a cab to the DIA to get my car. I was happy there might be a solution on the horizon and rocked out to some tunes on the drive home, thrilled to have my feet on the ground and in one piece.

  Chapter 66

  When I arrived back in town, I decided not to call the Chinese man, and would make him sweat. Possibly even wait for them to call me. Instead I got a hold of the public defender, Hector, and setup a meeting with Darren. He needed a day to make sure he could get a room arranged for a private meeting. When he called back, he gave me a time and location.

  Darren was being held at the Englewood Federal Corrections Institution on West Quincy. This was a temporary holding facility for now, until a trial date and location were set. Because of the publicity, it would be difficult for him to get a fair trial in the Denver metro area. Discussions had been about moving the case north to Fort Collins and as far south as Pueblo. Even moving it out of state had been floated around. No matter, Darren wanted to talk with me about something and I agreed to meet.

  Once I was through security, I was escorted to a ten by ten room with no windows or glass, and was now sitting on an uncomfortable chair waiting for him to arrive.

  A guard brought him in, Darren dressed in orange prison overalls, shackles around his feet and hands, connected with a chain, making it difficult to walk, let alone run. Once inside the guard helped him to his chair and then attached the chain to a metal eyelet bolted to the floor. Because of the agreement Hector had made, the guard left the room, leaving us alone. There would be no watching or recording of the conversation. Only Darren and I would know what was said.

  “We meet again,” said Darren. “I appreciate you coming to talk with me.”

  “I’m here to listen because your legal counsel asked nicely. Don’t beat around the bush with any pleasantries or I’ll knock on the door and walk out of here.” I was purposely curt, I didn’t want to waste time.

  His arms sat on the metal table, his hands still cuffed together, fingers linked as if in prayer. His eyes were bloodshot, his face looking sullen, the hair on his head longer than when he was arrested, though still quite short. He glanced around before speaking, as if worried someone was listening.

  “We are alone. No one will hear what you say but me. Hector made sure of it.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. I want you to help me clear my name.”

  I was surprised by the request.

  “I see you’re shocked. But I need your help. I didn’t kill those women. I was framed.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding, the evidence was right there in front of us.” I stood up and was about to leave.

  He stood up as well, moving as far as the chain holding his feet would let him, pleading. “No, please. Hear me out. If not for me, do it for my mother. She doesn’t have much time left on this earth and I don’t want her dying thinking I’m The Butcher.”

  I did feel some sympathy, at least for his mother, as she had been through a lot. And my gut still didn’t feel right about how the case concluded, even with all the evidence stacked up against him. I relented and sat back down.

  “For your mother, I’ll listen.”

  “Thank you.”

  I looked in his bloodshot hazel eyes, remembering Makayla’s description of the eyes of her attacker. More evidence pointing to his guilt. It would take a lot to convince me of his innocence. As he talked I would watch for any clues of deception, reading his face and reactions. For now, he appeared stressed and tired.

  “I received a call about a job. I’ve had a tough time recently finding work. I even moved up from Pueblo to Denver a few months ago, to find something, anything. Mom’s medical bills were mounting and needed paying. We couldn’t rely on them being covered anymore.”

  “By your father?” I added.

  He nodded, his face showing anger that his father was not held in high regard.

  “The call told me to meet them at this house about some contract work they wanted done on their cars. Full restoration of a classic vehicle, they said, exactly the type of work I’m good at. When I arrived at the house, I knocked on the door. It was open, so I yelled if anyone was home. Someone yelled back and told me to come into the kitchen. I walked in and next thing I remember is waking up with you and that detective tossing me on the floor. Even that was foggy, since I couldn’t think straight.”

  I wasn’t sure what to believe. It sounded like he was drugged like his vict
ims, but there was the empty Old Turkey bottle there.

  “You were drunk,” I reminded him.

  Darren shook his head. “That’s the thing I couldn’t have been. They didn’t do any type of toxicology tests on me, but I can tell you straight up that I hadn’t been drinking.”

  “We found an empty whiskey bottle. You had the smell of it all over you.”

  “I can’t explain that, I just know I hadn’t been drinking, and I don’t remember anything. Well that is until they told me what I had been arrested for. Until then I had no idea what was going on.” He stopped, leaning forward speaking in a determined tone. “I’m telling you I didn’t kill those women.”

  “They found your DNA at the scene. You were wearing surgical gloves, with blood on you. On top of that your prints were found all over the place. It’s pretty cut and dry, everything points to the fact that you’re the killer. I’m not sure what I can do to help you.”

  He looked down at his hands, his eyes wet. He was upset, there was no doubt. There was really nothing that didn’t point to him. If he didn’t recall any of it happening, and was telling the truth about that, could he have another personality? One that is a brutal killer underneath this innocent one. It was something I’d have to check with Hector about.

  “Please, I’m begging you. I had never been to that house until that day. Someone called me and asked me to come over. I was lured to that home and taken advantage of.” His voice was desperate.

  I was feeling his pain, but still wasn’t sure. “I really don’t know. I would have to think on it for a while.”

  “Think about this,” he pleaded. “I’m wondering how you knew to go to that house to find me. Were there clues that led you there or did you get a call as well?”

  I thought about how best to answer. “I received a call too. A tip on where the murderer was.”

  “Who gave you the tip?” His voice was cracking, sounding stressed.

  “It was anonymous.” Which wasn’t exactly the case, as Wolfe had been the one who told me they’d get me The Butcher. The uneasiness of the whole situation was mounting in my gut. “What day did you get your call?”

  He told me. It was the day before my tip. If he had been set up, they could have brought him in, drugged and then got his DNA all over the crime scene. It may have been a stretch to consider that possibility, but still the people I was dealing with certainly had the resources to pull this off. The biggest question was, why him? Which was the next thing I asked him.

  “I don’t know why,” Darren stated, confusion in his voice. “I’ve been sitting in my cell, racking my brain wondering that exact same thing. There really is no explanation.”

  “Could it be to get back at your mother?” I asked.

  “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “Maybe your father.”

  “I’m not sure why he would want to get even with her. She has always followed his rules, and until you showed up, we have never talked to anyone about our connection with him.”

  I wondered how I should approach this. Should I tell him what I suspected of his father? There was mounting evidence, some I might be able to prove. The question was do I reveal this to him or hold it in reserve? I decided to start small and see where it led.

  “What do you know about your father? Do you ever talk with him? Go to visit.”

  “No. Mother told me to stay away from him. Part of some agreement she had. He paid the bills for the longest time. But the money didn’t flow in as much over the last few years and with her health issues what savings she had was consumed quickly. That is why I needed to find more work, to help her out.”

  “Do you know the history of the original ‘Front Range Butcher’? The crime that you are being charged with now and the relationship to it,” I asked again.

  “Not really. I never followed the news much.”

  “He was a killer who butchered at least sixteen people about twenty-two years ago.”

  “I wasn’t even born then, so it couldn’t have been me.” His fingers stretched out, shaking with his words.

  “No. But the thought is, the original butcher was back and had a protégé. Training them to take over and do the killings for him, since he couldn’t do them anymore.”

  “And they think I’m the protégé?” He looked stunned.

  I decided to go for broke. “Darren, I believe your father is the original ‘Front Range Butcher.’”

  Darren looked overwhelmed by the words, his cuffed hands going to his forehead.

  “He couldn’t be.”

  “There was no proof then. But he was a suspect all those years ago and used his power and connections to fend off the investigation and then the murders ended.”

  “Oh my! I don’t believe you.” His head rocked back, his hands now pressing his temples.

  Now I needed to add one more shocker for him to deal with.

  “Darren, did your mother ever tell you about how she was The Butcher’s last victim all those years ago and escaped.”

  More stunned looks and silence.

  “I can tell the answer is no,” I said. “She was, and I believe she was able to escape by making a deal with him. A deal that brought about your birth nine months later.”

  “What are you saying?”

  I decided to go for broke and lay it all out there, seeing how he reacted.

  “You’re the son of the original ‘Front Range Butcher.’ And now he is using you as his protégé to kill again.” I said it forcefully to have effect.

  He started shaking his head, hands still at his temples. “No, no, no! That isn’t true. I’ve never talked with my father. I’ve only ever seen him from a distance.” His words were panicked, though sincere.

  I continued to study him. His arms came down on the table, the metal of the cuffs clanging when they hit the top, fingers laced again. He lowered his head, twisting back and forth as if in pain.

  “Darren, I know that isn’t true because you visited him in the hospital.”

  His head raised up and looked me square in the eye. “What hospital? I’ve never been anywhere and talked with him. Especially not in any hospital.”

  He was getting angry now, sounding out there, to the point of losing it. Now I was wondering if he was a split personality. If I keep pushing would the other persona reveal itself?

  “Come now Darren, admit it. You were seen there by a witness at EverCare for Better Living. A reliable person placed you there, said you came to visit Simon.”

  Darren looked surprised by the name. “Who the hell is Simon?”

  “Your father. Simon Lions. You went to visit him.”

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about. My father’s name is Windsor Bowles.”

  I gaped at him. “Windsor Bowles, the State Senator, is your father?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Now it was my turn to be stunned.

  Chapter 67

  I wasn’t sure what to make of what Darren said. I’d quizzed him repeatedly, spending more time than I planned, but he stuck to what he said. Either he was lying, a sociopath who could lie convincingly, or didn’t know he was lying. Another persona never coming to the surface. The last possibility was that he was telling the truth. At least the truth as he knew it. I left there with more questions than I had answers for. When I got home I digested further what I’d learned and then started making phone calls. The first one was to Hector.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “I learned some interesting things. But I must ask you, did you have a psych evaluation done on Darren?”

  “Yes. It is in the initial stages, so there are no real answers yet from the doctor talking with him.”

  “Any indication of a split personality?”

  “Nothing has been said yet about that possibility. Like I said it’s early. Something like this takes time. Why?”

  “He told me some things that are hard to believe. And one item which totally shocked me.”

  “
I believe I know what you’re talking about. He told me as well.”

  “Who his father was?” I asked pointedly.

  “Yes. I was stunned when he said it.”

  “Are you going to investigate if it’s true?”

  “You realize I’m a public defender, don’t you!” He sounded agitated. “With limited resources, time and money. I will do what I can but a claim like that is out there and against a powerful figure like him won’t lead to a positive career path for me if I did pursue it.”

  “Sorry, you are right.” I was disappointed but understood his limitations.

  “That is why we were having him evaluated. If he really is ‘The Front Range Butcher,’ then psychological competence is a real likelihood. And could be our best defense. I want to get those answers before throwing out wild allegations.”

  “Can you arrange another meeting with someone? I’d like for her to talk with him too. She is a serial killer profiler. Her name is Doris Zahn. She might be able see behind the mask of sanity.”

  “I’ve heard the name. Doesn’t she work for the FBI?” He didn’t sound pleased.

  “She does.”

  “I’m not sure it’s in my client’s best interest.” Hector didn’t sound convinced.

  “She will be fair. And I trust her. If he is telling the truth about not being the murderer, her input could be valuable, to you. And it would put me on board to considering this further. Then you would have a resource that wouldn’t cost you anything.”

  I made my case, hoping to quell his doubts. I was on the fence on what to do about helping Darren. Doris’ feedback would be enough to persuade me on a definitive answer.

  “If it means helping my client, I will. Give me a day to arrange it. I’ll call you once it’s done.”

  I hung up and made a call to Doris. She wasn’t available to talk and would call me back in an hour. My next call was to Jonas; the first words out of my mouth were about Darren’s claim Senator Bowles was his father.

  “You’re kidding me?” Jonas said. “How can that be?”

  “I don’t know. Could be a lie or a lie he was told. I’m thinking I have two choices, talk with the Senator or find Belinda and see what she says.”