by Hadena James
“In this particular case, the suspect moved out of the fantasy world and could only achieve arousal by watching his ‘pets’ eat a human being. One of his ‘pets’ was actually a woman that he had kidnapped when she was only three. He kept her caged with jaguars and she became feral. The suspect was particularly interested in watching her consume the humans he captured for her to eat.” Lucas told them. “However, that is not your concern now. I believe your daughter’s name is Joanie. I’ve talked to a few therapists and they will take her case.” Lucas handed them cards. “She does not need to know any of this information. She believes she was going to be mauled by the jaguar. She doesn’t know that the jaguar and the human were going to eat her. She doesn’t need to know. Neither does your son. In reality, you should all seek treatment with a licensed professional.”
“This is our resident psychologist, Dr. Lucas McMichaels,” I introduced Lucas.
Thirty-Five
“What are you doing here?” I asked after Joanie and her family had left.
“I’m here to conduct psychological evaluations. I’m useless in the field, but I can sit in a chair and ask questions with the best of them.”
“Great! I’m very happy to see you.”
“I can tell from the frown on your face.” Lucas said. I touched my lips. I was frowning. I tried to smile and failed. “Give it some time, you’ve been through a lot from what I hear. Your cousin holding people hostage and feeding them to others is pretty gruesome. Finding Vera Callow alive and feral is also gruesome. The fact that you didn’t kill her despite being attacked, requires some thought.”
“Why? She was a victim.”
“That’s the reason it needs some thought.” Lucas looked at me. “You identified with her, maybe not on some great cosmic level, but you saw her as you saw yourself at the time of your abduction, as a victim.”
“I have never been a victim,” I told him.
“Yet, you identified her as such. You must have had some feeling for her.”
“You’re here to evaluate me,” I sighed.
“I wish,” Lucas also sighed. “John says Gabriel wanted to give the suspect to you to kill, but didn’t.”
“You’re here to evaluate Gabriel?” I asked.
“Sort of,” Lucas answered cryptically. “Don’t worry, I’ve already formed my opinion and Gabriel is as sane as he is going to get. He certainly hasn’t slid further off the deep end. Everyone has something that bothers them more than others. You dislike bombers. Xavier dislikes snipers. I harbor a deep-seeded hatred of necrophiles. I think we found Gabriel’s.”
“Cannibalism?”
“No, voraphilia. It’s a very broad term, but most voraphiles either want to be eaten themselves or they want to watch as someone or something eats another person. On rare occasions, they want to do the eating, but as I said, it’s rare. I imagine John harbors a particular hatred for certain types of killers, we just haven’t seen it yet. However, I’m giving Gabriel very high marks for not turning August over to you. Xavier told me why he didn’t do it.”
“Something about pushing me over the edge.”
“Yes,” Lucas said. “Killing in self-defense is one thing, in cold blood is another. Gabriel saw the distinction and realized that if you started killing in cold blood, it wouldn’t stop. So he curbed his urge to save you.”
“That’s...” I frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Nice, sweet, thoughtful, any or all of those would work. Like a true friend, he put your needs before his own desires.”
“I believe I’ve had this conversation already,” I frowned harder. “Malachi thinks I am romantically interested in Gabriel.”
“Malachi is just terrified that he isn’t the biggest, baddest man in your life anymore. He doesn’t really believe that, he just can’t figure out how he fits into your world and he needs to fit. It’s less about you and more about himself.”
“Well, he is Malachi.”
“He is and you accept that in him. Malachi has always thought of himself as your guardian angel, now you have a few more and he isn’t sure how much he’s needed. It’s worse with Gabriel because while you are friends with Xavier and me, Gabriel seems to fulfill the role of big brother. Malachi deliberately misinterprets the connection to give him some righteous indignation. He isn’t sane enough to fulfill the role of big brother, but he could fulfill the role of lover should you ever decide to break your vow of chastity.”
“I think of you as my big brother.”
“I know, but I’m not a big brother like Gabriel is. Gabriel goads you and I don’t. That’s more sibling rivalry. It works for both of you. Gabriel needs someone to help keep his sanity. You give him power, control, a friend, a sister, and an ear when he needs to talk. As long as we all continue to fulfill our roles in the group, the group is harmonious.”
“Power, control, blah, blah,” I told Lucas. “He keeps me on a leash so I don’t become more of a predator than I already am.”
“And it works. I can’t do that for you. Xavier certainly can’t. Gabriel has his role. I have mine. Xavier has his. You have yours.”
“You didn’t mention John.”
“That’s because I don’t know John’s yet. Currently, he’s an antagonist. He stirs the pot a little too much. We aren’t as by the book as he would like and it’s a problem. One I hope he sorts out soon.” Lucas began to walk away.
“Hey,” I went after him. “What exactly is my role?”
“You fill many,” Lucas looked at me. “You can be the damsel in distress, the sister we all need because our own families don’t understand us, the friend that can listen to our woes, as long as we don’t mind you telling Nyleena or your mother, or you can be the monster that rips apart the bad guys with your bare hands and then rushes to our side to make sure we are alright.”
“I think I’m mostly monster,” I told him.
“You are, but like most monsters, you can hide in plain sight.”
“People keep pointing out that I’m a terrible friend.”
“You aren’t a terrible friend, you just don’t do secrets. Given your family, on both sides, I would be more surprised if you did keep secrets. In your mind, secrets are dangerous and maybe, evil.”
I let him go. I hadn’t considered that. I did consider secrets to be bad. Secrets led to grandfathers butchering grandmothers and then stalking their grandchildren. Secrets had let a serial killer go free for at least twenty years. Secrets had resulted in my being kidnapped by Callow and held in a closet while I thought about ways to kill him.
As I walked slowly, pondering my dislike of secrets, Gabriel came into the hall. His jaw was clenched, his face red. He saw me and his face softened.
“What’s up, Kemosabe?”
“Ace,” Gabriel took a deep breath. “It’s Nyleena.”
“Where?” I looked around.
“There was an incident. She’s in the hospital.”
“Incident? What sort of incident?”
“She’s been shot, witnesses say an older gentleman walked up to her and Nina as they got out of a car at a restaurant. Nina was killed. Nyleena was shot in the face. She’s alive, but just barely.”
I couldn’t breathe. My knees gave out under me and only Gabriel catching me kept me from hitting the floor. I had to get to her. It was the only thing I could think about. I had to get to Nyleena.
The Butcher
He had followed his sister from Nyleena’s apartment to the restaurant. The car had crisscrossed through the city as they made stops at different places, getting different things. How much stuff could one person need?
Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. He parked in the free spot directly behind them. He got out and waited, his legs were sore from being in the car that long. Age had brought muscle spasms and cramps. It had slowed his walk, but only a little. Lines had formed in his face, his hair had turned grey at the temples, but not on the rest of his head. A feat considering he was nearly eig
hty-seven.
However, he’d kept in shape. A small paunch had formed at his mid-section from too many TV dinners, but that was it. No arthritis or dementia, no diseases associated with aging had set into his body. He was slim and not bad looking for a guy his age. The ladies at the VFW’s Friday Night Bingo swooned over him.
The women emerged. The younger one fussing over the movements of the older. He watched his sister for a second, wondering whether to call her name or not. He opted not to. Instead, he drew a gun from a holster on his waist.
“Excuse me,” he said, grabbing both their attention. The gun fired. The younger woman collapsed, blood flowing from her cheek. Bubbles formed as the air escaped her sinus passage. His sister looked shocked. He didn’t know why. He fired at her. She crumbled to the ground.
He walked over, straddling her as she lay bleeding and put a second bullet into her head. He sighed, relief washing over him, he’d done as she asked. He waited another second before getting back into his car and driving away.
The VCU had taken the bait, tracing the call to some place in Maine. He’d been right outside the police department when he’d made the call. He’d watched his favorite granddaughter rush out with her team to track down his sister and her wretched son. He’d watched Malachi Blake leave with his team of federal officers. He’d even waved at the younger man.
The secrets might not have been kept, but he was sure Aislinn and Nyleena wouldn’t tell. And if Nina hadn’t told them, they’d eventually figure out the connection with Tennyson Unger.
Now, he had other business to attend to. Business that would require him to cross the state again. He’d gotten a lead on the sniper that Aislinn was desperate to catch. A friendly visit to the man wouldn’t hurt, at least it wouldn’t hurt him. It might hurt for the sniper.
Epilogue
Aislinn had flown back to Kansas City three hours earlier. Nyleena was in a coma, but alive. Gabriel would know where to find her. In the meantime, he had something else to deal with. Lucas sat across from him in the conference room. They should have already left Columbia, but Lucas had brought damning information that delayed their leaving.
Not only had The Butcher killed Nina and critically injured Nyleena, he had been trying to pass messages along to Aislinn the entire time. Gabriel had hung up with the hotel less than thirty minutes ago. John Bryan, their newest member, had ordered all her messages and calls be routed to him. It was problematic to screen her messages and calls. It was a huge fucking deal that he had failed to pass that information along to anyone. They could have wrapped up the case the day the plane touched down if he had given the information to Gabriel or Xavier.
Xavier came into the room. They hadn’t told him anything except to be there at four. It was two minutes to four, he was early for Xavier. The mood was somber and Xavier fidgeted uncomfortably. He said nothing though, waiting for the fourth member to come in.
At a minute past four, John joined them. He took a seat and immediately mistook the somberness as grief for Nyleena, a woman he didn’t know very well. Gabriel cleared his throat. These were serious allegations that might go beyond the SCTU. He was waiting for one more to join them.
However, the fifth wasn’t showing up. He was late. The minutes ticked by, Xavier fidgeted more and more. Lucas was calm. Gabriel was not. His hands kept clenching and unclenching.
“What’s this about?” John asked after a half hour.
“Just a few more minutes,” Gabriel checked his phone. A text message appeared. He sighed and clasped his hands together. This was going to be tricky. He needed Malachi to do his job and not let his personal impulses control him. Sometimes, Malachi needed help with that. Gabriel hoped Lucas, Xavier and himself were up to the task. Especially since Malachi was in a heightened state of psychopathy due to the shooting of Nyleena. He might not have a personal attachment to her, but she was Aislinn’s life line, transference ran both ways.
Any semblance that Malachi was a healthy, sane, well-adjusted thirty-four year old male, was completely lost when he walked into the conference room. He had completely dropped the mask that he wore all the time. His face was devoid of emotion, but his nostrils flared when he breathed, his heartbeat was strong enough to make the pulse in his neck visible, tendons stood out on his forehead, creating ridges, his eyes were alive, vividly green and containing nothing short of the fires of Hell within them. His body screamed that he wanted nothing less than to bathe in blood. None of them wanted to guess what he was thinking, they were sure it involved pain, unbearable pain that would make eternity in the hands of demons seem like a pleasure cruise.
He didn’t walk, he stalked into the room. The door banging loudly as it bounced off the wall with his opening it and slamming closed from the momentum. He moved to stand behind Gabriel, his rage too consuming to allow him to sit down.
Xavier didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t about Nyleena. John squirmed under Malachi’s searing gaze.
“We were informed that Aislinn Cain received four messages from The Butcher, Patterson Clachan, while we were working this case. The first one arrived at the hotel a few hours after us. We also know that she didn’t receive these messages and that they contained the identity of the killer. Can you explain why you directed the hotel staff to have all her messages sent to you as well as any phone calls she received?” Gabriel asked John. John squirmed a little more.
“Someone died because she didn’t get that message,” Lucas spoke calmly to John. “That was vital information. It doesn’t matter that it came from a serial killer, you had no right to keep that information from the team.”
“Or pretend to be in command so you could dictate what messages one of my Marshals received.” Gabriel added. “Now, we are giving you the chance to explain yourself. Special Agent Blake is here to act as a witness.”
“You’re all crazy,” John snorted. Malachi growled. It was low. More predator than human, John didn’t even know humans could make those noises. He felt it rumble in his chest.
“That’s not going to help you,” Lucas said.
“Marshal Cain has been helping a serial killer avoid justice for a long time.” John said. “She has repeatedly been in contact with Patterson Clachan over the years.”
“We know,” Gabriel said. “She reports all contact to Special Agent Blake because he’s in charge of the investigation into The Butcher.”
“How can you justify allowing your Marshals unit to be in contact with a known serial killer and pedophile?” John shouted.
“The Butcher is not a pedophile,” Lucas answered. “Patterson Clachan has no gender preference for victims, but he does have an age preference. During his years in Europe, it was Nazi soldiers and occasionally, a civilian when soldiers were in short supply. Back in the states, he kills both men and women, but they tend to be people he thinks has slighted him in some way. George Killian tried to kill Aislinn Cain when she was in high school in a drive-by shooting and has since been following her and killing to frame her. Nina Clachan asked Patterson to kill her, so that she wouldn’t suffer through the end stages of her cancer. His next target is the sniper that killed Michael Giovanni. Unfortunately, he knows more about the killer than we do and he was unwilling to share that information because he felt slighted that Aislinn wasn’t responding to his messages. He attempted to kill August Clachan when August was a child, but that was because Tennyson Unger raped August’s mother and August was the by-product. He never sexually abused any of the people he killed. He likes to kill, but it does not give him a sexual rush. It gives him a feeling of control and power.”
“He raped and murdered my daughter!” John shoved his chair away from the table.
“No, he didn’t,” Malachi frowned at John. “Unless you found your daughter with her organs removed and nailed to different pieces of furniture in your house, Patterson Clachan didn’t kill your daughter and he certainly didn’t sexually assault her. He considers rapists and pedophiles to be the lowest of the l
ow.”
Gabriel turned the full weight of his stare at John. “I don’t know why you thought Patterson Clachan killed your daughter, but he didn’t and your personal vendetta not only cost a life, but endangered the safety of this unit. You are relieved of your duties and will be turned over to the FBI to be prosecuted. Do you understand?”
“If it wasn’t Patterson Clachan, who was it?” John demanded. “My daughter was raped then butchered.”
“No, your daughter was killed and then raped,” Gabriel told him. “Your information is wrong. In your mind, she might have been butchered, but in reality she was stabbed seventeen times. That is nothing compared to what Patterson Clachan does to his victims.”
Malachi produced a photo and put it on the table. George Killian, split from navel to chin, sat in a chair. The torso cavity was devoid of everything. Blood had soaked into the chair so heavily, that it dripped from the bottom.
“That is what Patterson Clachan does to his victims when he can’t think of a more ‘poetic’ way to kill them, like breaking their legs and leaving them to be eaten by their abused dogs, like he did with Tennyson Unger.”
All heads turned towards Malachi. He had forgotten they didn’t know that or that Patterson Clachan had an MO. He had known for years that Patterson Clachan was The Butcher. He had kept it secret because of a letter he’d received telling him that he had personally taken care of Tennyson Unger and that their family no longer had to worry about the old devil who had done things worse than raping Gertrude Clachan.
Two VCU agents came into the room and took John into custody. They were alone. Malachi knew what came next. He had slipped up. Aislinn was making him soft and forgetful at times.
“Would you like to elaborate, Special Agent Blake?” Gabriel reminded him of his job. Malachi was an old pro at lying, it was one of the benefits of being a psychopath.
“When Aislinn first started receiving letters from The Butcher, I did as well. They stopped after only a few, then after the funeral of Tennyson Unger, I received my final letter from him. He knew that Tennyson had molested my younger brothers. I didn’t know it was Aislinn’s grandfather and I didn’t know how he knew about it. The only people that knew were my mom and Aislinn’s mom. In the letter, he stated that he had incapacitated Unger by breaking his legs and then left him to be eaten by his mutt. Since I was glad he was dead, I burned the letter. Now that I know about Gertrude Clachan tapping Nina’s phones, I understand how Patterson Clachan found out about it. I wasn’t an FBI agent at the time, I hadn’t even graduated college yet. I should have turned it over, like Aislinn did, but I was young and I didn’t want my brothers to be humiliated by it being revealed to others.”
