The Front Range Butcher

by R Weir

  I quickly dodged out of traffic and roared down Evans. I knew of a couple of strip malls I could pull into that were mostly vacant. Traffic wasn’t terrible, and I weaved in and out, as best as I could, hitting my brakes from time to time, honking to push people out of the way. I had pulled ahead some, but the BMW was still following, which was good. I didn’t want to lose them.

  Coming upon the strip mall I took a sharp right turn, wheels squealing as the Mustang spun sideways. I roared around a center island with a small tree then headed back the way I came. The BMW pulled in and I cut him off, pinning him against a curb. April and I were both armed, and we stepped out, aiming our guns at the car.

  “Turn off the motor and get out,” I yelled. “Make sure we can see your hands.”

  I still couldn’t tell who it was, the front window tinted so you couldn’t even see the center rearview mirror. The engine went silent and the door opened. Two hands, both with gloves could be seen first. The tall man stepped out, the sparkle of his diamond earrings reflecting the sun. Wolfe didn’t appear nervous or scared, as he looked at us, a happy smile on his face.

  “Nice driving,” he said, though with no joy in his voice.

  “Are you carrying?” I asked forcefully. I knew I needed to be strong when facing him.

  “What do you think?”

  “Pull it out with two fingers and toss it on the seat.” My eyes scanned for any wrong moves.

  He did as he was told, for he knew with two guns pointed, the odds were against him.

  “Why are you following me?” I said, my gun steady, aiming center mass.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Not a good time. A friend of mine is missing. We need to find her.”

  “It won’t take long. It’s about our mutual friend and how you reneged on our deal.” He sounded annoyed.

  “The deal blew up. The man you gave me for The Butcher killings was framed.”

  Wolfe looked surprised by what I said. Interesting fact to learn and I was happy it was a fact I could exploit.

  “Apparently you didn’t know. You thought he was the real killer.”

  He nodded, his face turning dark and serious. “Do you have proof?”

  “Not on me. But I can send it to you. I can tell you that Simon lied to you. He framed this young man to get back at another woman. The same woman he tried to have killed, twice. Something you may have also arranged.”

  Again surprise. “Twice? I don’t know anything about a second attempt.”

  I gave him a description of the killer.

  He shook his head. “He is not one of mine. Someone else arranged it.”

  Simon was using him, like everyone else he used. Wolfe seemed like his own man, someone who wouldn’t care to be played. More ammunition I could use.

  “Simon is a sociopath. He twists and turns everyone. He is the original Front Range Butcher. A murderer of innocent women. I believe you have enough integrity to understand this. It is time for him to pay for his crimes. If it means I need to go up against you, I will. It doesn’t have to be that way, but I’m willing to if necessary.”

  “You believe that strongly?”

  “I do.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “The same reason I believed you, when we talked in the park. My word.”

  He stood there for several minutes. A few cars went around us, the glares at what was happening certain to draw calls to the Denver police. But April could handle any cop cars that came along.

  “What do you say, Wolfe? Do we battle it out or will you let this go? I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I have to.”

  “To be clear, you wouldn’t win. You know it and I know it. But I’m willing to let this go, if you provide me proof.”

  “I can send it to you once I get to my destination. Give me a number or email.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket slowly and pulled out a card. Carefully he walked to the front of the Mustang and placed it on the hood, then walked back. April grabbed the card and tucked it away in the back pocket of her jeans.

  “We’ll be in contact,” I said. “Back out, drive on and don’t follow me.”

  He nodded, got back into his car and left. Once I felt safe, I holstered my weapon and April and I got back into the Mustang.

  “Was he right about what he said?” asked April. “The part about you wouldn’t win?”

  I looked her in the eye and let her know “Yes” and with that we drove on to the Diaz house.

  Chapter 76

  It was two, long, agitated days before Melissa finally called her dad.

  “Where the hell have you been,” he yelled into the phone, before putting it on speaker. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine. I went away for a few days with a couple of friends. We went biking and did a little dancing up in the mountains.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your calls?” asked her mother with immense relief in her voice. “We were worried sick.”

  Jonas closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks and I smiled as a weight lifted.

  “I left my cell phone at home by mistake. Really odd being without it, but it was nice not having the distractions. What is wrong?”

  “You may be in danger,” stated Jonas. “Jarvis is here. He is coming over to get you.”

  “Lock all your doors and windows, Melissa,” I explained. “Don’t open them for anyone unless it is me.”

  “Jarvis? Danger from whom?” Her voice took on concern and an edge of panic.

  “I’ll explain when I get there. Don’t leave your house, understood?”

  “I’m outside right now, unloading. But we’ll be inside soon and…”

  Melissa stopped talking as I heard a male voice and my blood ran cold. I hoped it was her friend, but then the call ended. Jonas tried calling back, but there was no answer. I hoped it was a cell issue, but deep down I knew it wasn’t. The happiness we had that she was safe for a whole couple of minutes, was now replaced with sheer terror. Reacting on instinct, I told Jonas to call the police, then ran outside and got in my car, driving as fast as I could in a panic.

  When I arrived, a car was sitting there but no one was around. I pulled my gun, my eyes on a swivel looking for anything. Further up the driveway was a female body face down. The hair didn’t look like hers, but I still feared it was, she could have gotten her hair done. My stomach sank seeing blood pooling on the ground, I rolled her over with a sick feeling deep in my gut. My eyes closed briefly with relief when I realized it wasn’t Melissa, but the poor young woman was dead, her neck having been slashed. It must have been her friend, someone I didn’t know.

  I stood up and looked towards the house. The front door was open, and I was about to run in, when my phone rang, the caller ID showing it was Melissa.

  “Where the hell are you?” I demanded, hoping that she might have escaped.

  “Get in your car right now and start driving,” said the deep voice I didn’t recognize. “Waste any time, and like her friend, she dies right here and now while on the call.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You’re wasting time. If the police show up, and they are coming, you won’t get away and she is dead.”

  I heard the sirens and ran to my car. He was right, if I stayed, I’d be answering questions and going to make statements. I obeyed my orders and, jumping in, I took off, taking a route out away from the cops, putting the phone on speaker.

  “Don’t hang up,” said the cold, warning voice. “If you do, she is dead. For now, I want you to drive around and get to Kipling, and head south. From there I’ll tell you where to go. Let’s hope both cell connections hold, for if the call drops I kill her and dump the body.”

  My face was grim as I gripped the wheel. Cell calls drop all the time, so my only hope was wishing the towers where I was headed were robust. I followed his directions, going south of county line road, into Douglas County. I took a couple of back roads, sweating when the bars on the
phone dropped to two, and then one, but then quickly back to three. This was open country, with houses spaced far apart. Likely few people around to witness a potential crime.

  Soon I was on a narrow dirt road, the wheels of the tires kicking the dust into the air, blown by the fall wind into a cloud behind me. My eyes scanned ahead, watching for clues of what was to come, bare cotton wood trees and leafless bushes filling space as I drove deeper. I slowed seeing an older two-story house on some horse land, or at least was at one time. There was a stable area, but no horses and no smell of them either. Another larger red barn shed in need of painting further back on the lot. The Mustang pulled up the main driveway, the voice directing me what to do.

  “Park to the left of my car and turn off your engine,” commanded the voice, calm and steady. “Any sign of aggression and she dies. Understood?”

  “Yes,” I replied, turning off the engine after parking, my eyes still scanning the area. There was no sign of him or anyone else.

  “Step out and place your keys and gun on the hood. Leave your car door open and walk forward, hands raised until you get to the steps.”

  Once I got out, I did as ordered, putting my keys and gun on the hood, then I walked up with my hands in the air towards the front of the structure.

  When I came upon the front steps, a bald tall white man stepped out with a gun in hand and fired. I felt two pokes in the chest, looking down to see the darts at center mass. I instantly felt weak, as my arms grew heavy and lowered of their own accord. Then my legs gave way, before I slumped down with a crash, the back of my head finding dirt and gravel.

  Still semi-conscious, I heard footsteps, my eyes open just enough to see pant legs, before growing weary to a restless sleep I didn’t want. My eyes closed, my body not able to move. Though faint, I could just sense activity around me, the noise of footsteps crushing on gravel, as two hands grabbed me then dragged me, thump, thump, up and down stairs. Music was playing, and, through the haze of the drug, I heard someone speaking, though I was uncertain what they were saying. Hands started grabbing at me, ripping at my clothes. I wanted to scream out, yell for help, but couldn’t find the energy. My eyelids were heavy, and I struggled trying to open them. Then, even if they opened, it was only for a moment and I couldn’t focus, couldn’t hold onto any details. I was lifted onto something, limbs bound, helpless to do anything, no strength to muster a resistance. I gave in and slept, hoping when my vigor returned, I could lash out at my captor.

  Whatever I was drugged with was strong. Even in sleep I couldn’t move or dream. Time seemed to pass, but I wasn’t sure how long. When I finally found the energy to open my eyes, it took time for the cobwebs to clear and my head was pounding. What I saw didn’t give me much hope. I was tied down to a wooden chair, with plastic straps, pulled so tight they almost cut into my skin. Both my hands and legs couldn’t move. I had been stripped bare, my skin feeling cool, though the room warm. I shook my head several times to clear it, the nausea waning, albeit slowly. Illumination from the room came from neon bulbs overhead, no natural light, as there were no windows in the room. It appeared to be a basement, only partially finished, with framing in spots, with no walls to one side, but traditional drywalling covering the other side. My mind flashed back to the basement of the house where we found Darren, and the poor victim carved up to the point of unrecognition, that moment in time feeling surreal. Now I was a prisoner in his horror chamber, part of his psychotic game I didn’t care to play. The terror of the moment consuming me, the situation all too real, the drugs in my system making it hard to think clearly.

  I sensed movement and closed my eyes, hoping he still thought I was out. His hand touched my face, a latex gloved finger opening my eyelid. I tried not to move, his hand pulling away, satisfied I wasn’t fully awake. Once he stepped away, I peeked out, and saw him, clothed as if he were going into surgery. Full gown, mask, cap and gloves, good sized, taller than I was with some meat to him. He was standing at a table, blocking my view, but when he moved I saw Melissa. She was shackled down, with no clothing as well. She wasn’t moving, though I could see her chest slowly rising and falling, so she was alive. I felt a small sense of relief. He was running his hands over her, testing the skin, singing a song I didn’t recognize. It gave me the creeps the way he was touching her, but for now I couldn’t do much. My brain was finally clearing, allowing me to think about what options were before me. I needed to find calm within the storm. No miracle solutions were forthcoming, but I would do whatever it took. I was not anxious to be a headline in the paper. I groaned as my head spun.

  “I see you stirring over there,” said the voice, filtered through the mask over his face. “You’re extremely tough, as I expected. I gave you enough sedative to keep you down for a day. Twelve hours is a quick recovery. I’m glad I darted you twice. Good advice from my mentor.”

  My mouth was dry, to the point it hardly could open, a wave of nausea, though it seemed to be passing. A drink of water would be helpful, but I managed to work up some saliva, rubbing it around with my tongue. If it really had been twelve hours, that would mean it was dark outside, not that the information helped me in any way.

  “I have a king-sized headache,” I said, my voice raspy and unfamiliar. “Could use some Tylenol and a glass of water.”

  “A side effect, it will wear off in time or be replaced by other pain that will make the headache seem trivial.”

  I licked my cracked lips, not wanting to imagine what that will be. “You realize people will come looking for me. It would be best to walk away before this gets any worse.”

  “They have no way to find you, Jarvis. They can’t ping your cell, because I took it apart, removed the battery and destroyed the SIM, as I did with Melissa’s. And no one knows this location. If they did, they would have come and got me already. The three of us are alone. Once the pretty lady wakes up, which should be soon, as I didn’t tranquil her as much, we can begin the fun.”

  I was certain his idea of fun didn’t line up with mine. Tied too tightly to move, my best bet was to keep him talking, hopefully stalling and distracting him until I could come up with a way out.

  “I know you’re ‘The Front Range Butcher,’” I said. “But what is your name? I only got a glimpse of you before you darted me, and I don’t think we’ve met.”

  He checked on Melissa, patting her face. My heart sank as I realized that she was slowly waking up. Though for the moment she was still pretty much out of it.

  Then he came towards me, sliding down his mask. I stared. The nose, hazel eyes, cheek and chin bones looked exactly like Darren’s, only this time they were hairless, as part of his protection.

  “Call me Simon,” he said with a bow. “I’m the incarnation of the previous Butcher. Protégé extraordinaire.”

  There was little doubt this was the twin brother of Darren. The one Belinda was told who had died. Who had been given the name of his father.

  “Extraordinary is not the word I’d use for a maniac who carves up his victims.”

  “I’m the manifestation of his greatness. Simon senior was an original. I’ll take what he did and raise it to another level.” He smiled with pride.

  He was clearly insane, but I needed to use that as much as I could. Play off his insanity.

  “I’ve met your father. I’m not sure you’re living up to his prominent level. He does not speak of you in glowing terms.”

  “My father would never talk to you about me. He has told me of your attempts to get him to perjure himself. You failed miserably.” He chuckled and ruffled my hair. I cringed inwardly as his roughened fingers touched my skin.

  “Ha! I don’t think so. He often would reveal facts, though in pieces, that led me to getting close to finding you.”

  “Misdirects on his part. You were never close to finding me, for I never existed. I was the one to find you.”

  I realized he was right. I was only here because he took me here. I kept up the verbal assault, hoping to throw him
off guard and distract him from Melissa. “You even let one of the victims escape. I remember telling him this, and you could see the anger in his eyes. His pupil fucking up, as he never did. Did you ever admit to him your mistake?”

  His face went flush with anger. “It was his fault. He directed me to grab her. I like picking my own trophies. But he needed her put down. All to appease his damn sister.”

  This was news to me. “His sister asked him to have her killed?” I asked with surprise.

  “She did. Said the whore had slept with her husband. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. She wanted the bitch to suffer, from what Simon told me. Take extra time to peel her skin away. I thought she would be a handful, but he didn’t care. Just wanted it done. She really does push his buttons. He talks of wanting to kill his sister, as he did all the others. But he couldn’t quite do it, no matter how much he hated her. Who knows, maybe I’ll do her next and make him proud. Free him from her control. It would be something I would enjoy as I despise her as well. Put her on the table, have her beg for her life as I carved the skin off her bones.” He was still angry, pacing in agitation while he talked.

  I nodded encouragingly. “He told me some about Christina. I could tell he was conflicted about her. And she talked about hating him. I never imagined the role she was playing.”

  “He learned cutting skills from her and some medical training, like sanitizing to prepare a body for surgery. Then handed them down to me. She is involved, though unwelcome in my eyes. We might get more done if she kept her nose out of our business.”

  This really was like the Manson family. Deranged and crazy.

  “Christina may push his buttons, but you’re being controlled by him as well. A pawn for his bidding. I’m sure he is the one who said to grab Melissa and me.”

  The red had subsided some with his pacing, but you could see my tact was bothering him, so I kept pushing.

  “When will you break out from his control?” I asked. “Be your own man. Make your own decisions. Not be a pussy under daddy’s thumb.”