“You didn't really ask me down here to go over the details we discussed at my apartment, did you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I think you can help me find out what happened to that young girl.”
“You cops are all the same,” Randy said, sitting back and somehow relaxing even more. “You go digging into things that you shouldn't, things that are better left buried, and then you think you know all the answers.”
“If I did go digging into your past, Randy, what might I discover?”
“You know exactly what happened to me as a kid; don't you, Detective?”
Randy's expression was still calm, but a smoldering hatred began to burn in his dark eyes.
“If you mean the abuse you suffered at the hands of your foster parent, and how it might have played a role in how you've turned out, then I guess you're right. Why don't you tell me about it?”
“You think you know what makes me tick. Well, you are wrong. You can't even see the real me. None of you can. All you see is this outer shell. Underneath is something you can't even begin to comprehend. You can sense it, but your primitive mind can't do more than poke at it with a stick. You're like a monkey trying to understand particle physics. You're a joke.”
“I get it,” Gary said, mimicking his posture in a last ditch attempt to gain some rapport by mirroring his suspects posture and matching his cadence. He'd read about the technique in a book by Tony Robbins, then later studied NLP books that his buddy at the FBI recommended. Like the Air Conditioning Trick, it seldom worked; but Gary was convinced that the flaw was in him not in the science.
“Nobody can see you like they see you. Is that it? It takes the eyes of a child to see what you are. Something like that. Is that why you pick them? Or does it have something to do with your foster sister, Beth?”
“Leave Beth out of it,” Randy snapped. For a moment he lost all composure, his mood shifting to savage darkness like angry storm clouds suddenly forming in a clear summer sky. Just as quickly as it came the fury passed, and Randy put his mask back on. “She doesn't deserve to be talked about that way is all.”
Gary smiled. He'd struck a nerve, just as he’d intended, and made Randy drop his guard, showing his real self.
I knew it was there all along. That's the face the girls see before they die – the face of a killer.
“Mitzi mentioned that you were very protective of her,” Gary said. “She said you spent a lot of time together. I think that's where this all started. Correct me if I am wrong.”
“If you are suggesting that I had anything to do with the death of my student, Bonnie, then yes, you are wrong.”
“I'm trying to help you,” Gary said as he calmly flipped the file open again and began taking out pictures of dead girls. He set them on the table in front of him, but Randy wouldn't look at them. Instead he continued to glare at Gary, as if he could kill him just by looking hard enough.
It's a dance, Gary thought. Or better yet, it's like a game of chess only in the end the stakes are much higher.
“Six dead girls, all sharing very similar backgrounds and suffering terrible fates, all in some way traceable to you. We've got you. It's game over, Randall. I know you think you're very smart but look – you can't fight what we've got on you. A witness has come forward that saw you moving Bonnie's body in the early hours of the morning. One of the neighbors can put you at the scene of the crime with the dead girl. It's not time to play any more games; it's time to make a deal. Otherwise you're going to be looking at twenty-five years of appeals, and then the needle. You wanna show me how smart you are? You can start by playing along.”
“I'd like to speak to my lawyer now,” Randy calmly replied.
“You sure about that? Once you lawyer up, all bets are off. You'll be arrested and charged with the premeditated murder of six girls. The DA will definitely go for the death penalty in a high profile case like this. You know that, right? All he needs is to link you to one of the girls – to Bonnie – and he will get it. I'm offering you a chance at leniency. Cooperate with me now and you'll do life without parole. You'll be a celebrity killer with a movie of the week deal and a book. They'll send people to study you and write articles in every newspaper in the world. That's what you really want, isn't it? To be famous for your crimes?”
Randy laughed in Gary's face.
“What's so funny?”
“Everything,” Randy said, relaxing now and grinning at Gary. “Your whole approach just reeks of desperation. First of all I didn't kill any of those girls, but even if I did I wouldn't just walk in here and admit it to you. Why would I go to all the work of covering up my crimes only to just spill the beans at the first sign of trouble? You obviously don't think much of my intelligence or of me. That's been clear from the moment we met. But you honestly can't think I'm dumb enough to fall for these cheap theatrics.”
“You think it's funny now, but you won't be laughing when you're sitting on Death Row surrounded by animals even scarier than you,” Gary somberly replied. “This is your one last chance at spending the rest of your life in a cage instead of being put down like an animal. It's better than you deserve and it's got an expiration date so I suggest you take it seriously, kid.”
“I know my rights,” Randy said, still smiling. “I'd like my lawyer now.”
Gary shook his head.
“Okay,” he said. “It's your call.”
“You'll find him waiting for me out in the lobby, where the air conditioning still works. I told you someone was waiting for me.”
“And I told you we have a witness,” Gary said. “So I hope your lawyer is damn good.”
“Don't you worry,” Randy said. “He's the best. They call him ‘Mr. Rainy Day.’”
Gary wasn't done playing his hand just yet. He was still stalling. He stood up and moved toward the door, then turned back to Randy who was now pouring over the crime scene photos with an unabashed look of pride on his face.
“Why did you pose them like that?”
Randy looked up into Gary's eyes, but didn't answer.
“If all these girls are based on Beth, why did you feel the need to humiliate them even after they were dead? I'm serious. I just want to understand, is all.”
Randy laced his fingers together in front of him.
“Murder’s not art unless there is someone there to see it,” Randy replied at last. “I suppose that's what the killer was thinking when he put them on display, when he transformed them and made them whole again, and pure.”
Gary walked back over and sat down again.
This is it, he thought. This is what I've been waiting for. Any second now his arrogance will cause him to make an obvious mistake, and then I've got him!
“So in the end it's all about having an audience? It's not enough that you strip away every last ounce of their humanity; you need to let the whole world see it as well?”
“You're mistaken, Detective. It's not about degrading them from what I can see. It's about something far greater. These girls could only experience very limited lives. They would never have gotten married. They would never have families of their own. They would never be productive members of society. Just the opposite. They were a burden on everyone around them from the moment they were born until the moment they died. Their very bodies were a prison that kept them trapped just like their weak, fragile minds. Their only redeeming value was their pure innocence, but no one could see that past the glaring corruption of their genetically inferior form.”
Gary fought his urge to push him into saying more. He felt like he was sitting on a live wire as he held his breath, waiting for Randy to continue.
“They've had all the weakness drained from them, washed away. No one who witnesses them can deny they've been set free, immortalized in death like a timeless work of art. They are beyond us all now, safe and unable to experience pain ever again. They are a witness to the darkness of man's inhumanity, as well as the revelation of his ultimate salvation.”
&nb
sp; Randy stared off into the distance, lost in memory, reliving his kills. When it was clear he'd finished explaining his motivation, Gary pressed him for more.
“So you see yourself as a kind of artist? Like Michelangelo? Only instead of paint and a brush you use torture and rape? Is that it?”
“I told you, Detective,” Randy said, a look of smug satisfaction on his face again. “I didn't have anything to do with their deaths. You asked me my opinion and I offered it to you. Nothing more.”
“How are you able to see so clearly into the mind of this killer when the rest of us can't? I really want to understand.”
“I don't know,” Randy admitted. “Maybe it has something to do with my childhood after all, Detective. Maybe all that forced sex and all those beatings helped me see something the rest of you can't begin to fathom. I wasn't raised in a privileged manner like you, in a home by a mother and father who catered to my every desire and told me how special and loved I was. Instead, I was raised by monsters, thrown out like garbage, unwanted and unloved.”
“Mitzi sure seemed to love you,” Gary said, watching Randy's eyebrows rise at the contradiction. “So did Beth from what she described. Maybe you were just too far gone by that point to recognize it, but they loved you. I didn't have the heart to tell her how you've turned out.”
“Like I said, I guess we were just raised differently, Gary.” Randy turned and spit at the two-way window. “Can I have my lawyer now or do you want to continue to violate my rights?”
Gary laughed.
“You're lucky you weren't raised like me. My mother would whip your ass just to teach you some fucking manners.”
“That explains a lot about you actually, the fact that you had an abusive mama. Was it always hard to win her love or did you screw up somehow and have it taken away? Do you even know what it was that you did to make her turn against you? It must drive you crazy night after sleepless night to not be sure.”
Gary stared at Randy without speaking for a moment. This time, Randy never broke eye contact. A loud rapping at the door brought Gary back out of his spell.
“We'll continue this in a moment,” Gary said, getting up quickly and moving to the door. “Be right back.”
Gary slid through the partially open door and shut it behind him. His partner Arnold looked visibly upset.
“Arnold, what the hell? I'm in the middle of working over a suspect. What the fuck did you interrupt me for?”
Gary could barely hold back his agitation with his partner.
He's making it easy for me to ask for the switch, that’s for sure.
“We've got a problem…” Arnold said, but Gary cut him off.
“Is it about his lawyer waiting for him? Because I want to keep him at bay as long as possible. We were really close to a confession in there before you pulled me out.”
“Yeah, that too,” Arnold said. “Greeley is in talking to the lieutenant right now.”
“Greeley? How did he get in the building?”
Aiden Greeley had built a reputation for himself filing cases against the LAPD. He'd grown famous over the years for getting civil judgments against officers involved in killings in the line of duty. He was an opportunistic cockroach who lived to fuck over cops. The fact that Randy had brought him along only underscored his guilt as far as Gary was concerned. There would be nothing Greeley could do if Randy accidentally slipped up and confessed though. Gary just hoped he could get him back on track before Greeley got in the room.
I'm so close now, Gary thought. The sooner I get back in there the better.
“One of the IA guys walked him in,” Arnold said, looking flustered. “That's not what I called you out here for. We got a report of another one of Randy's students going missing. Parents just called in. Elena Maria Padilla. Sixteen years old. Missing since this morning, right before our boy came waltzing in. Last seen a few blocks from where Randy lives.”
“She's probably at his apartment now,” Gary said, anger rising up in him. “He left her there to come do the interview. He's fucking with us, man. The prick is just dicking us around and getting off on it.”
“I don't know,” Arnold argued. “Seems like the dude knew he was being investigated. He brought a lawyer, man. Guys like that don't leave loose ends.”
“He knew we'd make a play,” Gary said, the anger making his hands shake. He could feel it taking over. He imagined that poor girl tied up and crying in the shitty apartment, not knowing if she would live or die. It was enough to push him over the edge.
“You finish the warrant?”
“All typed up and ready to go, but it's pretty flimsy,” Arnold admitted. “Without something from him all you have is circumstantial.”
“He knew all the victims,” Gary fired back. “That ought to be enough.”
“We don't have anything connecting him and the other victims, Wendell. Think about it.”
“We don't need anything on them,” Gary countered, “not yet. All we need to do is charge him with the first murder. Then we start tacking on the rest. Hopefully, we'll get that out of him in an attempt to bargain for his life. Don't you see that?”
“What's his motive?”
“He's a sick bastard! These aren't crimes of passion, Arnold. They're premeditated acts of cold-blooded murder, most likely stemming from his history of abuse.”
“Which you can't use because most of what you got is from sealed juvenile records.”
“I've got plenty from his fosters. Not to mention his flimsy alibi. He said he was at home all night practicing for an upcoming concert, but no one can verify actually seeing him.”
“The landlord said she heard music all night.”
“He could have used a recording,” Gary shouted. “You think he didn't think of that? This guy is a pro, like Bundy. He's already thought of all the angles.”
“Come on, man,” Arnold said. “You of all people should know better than that. It's not going to hold up unless he admits to something.”
“Just have it ready to go.”
Gary turned back to the interview room.
“Hey, man,” Arnold pleaded. “Don't do anything stupid. You got eyes on you. We all do.”
Gary ignored the taunt and walked back in, closing the door behind him. It was a different ball game now. Time was a factor and he needed something out of Randy now. Without a confession it would be hard to get a warrant to enter Randy's apartment. They just didn't have enough. And having Greeley involved only cemented that.
Randy looked up and smiled. By now Gary would know about his lawyer being present. It was still just a game to him.
“You back to talk some more about your mommy?”
“You're in deep shit now, Randy,” Gary said, feeling his anger surge once more. “Way up over your head.”
“Your threats don't scare me, mama's boy. I know my rights. Bring me my fucking lawyer.”
“I'm done fucking around with you.”
“Good!”
“I'm gonna give you one last chance, and then I'm gonna break your fucking neck. Where is she?”
“I don't know what you're talking about, Gary.”
“Last time I'm going to ask. Where is Elena?”
Randy smiled as a malicious glint gleamed in his eyes.
“Poor Elena,” he said. “She is such a sweet girl. It's really a shame how things turned out. I had such high hopes for her, but she just didn't have the stamina. You know what they say, right? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Gary could feel himself slipping over the edge as he lost control. The dark pit of rage buried inside him rose up like black bile, clouding his reason. He saw the hands raised up in front of him before he realized they were his own. His legs were carrying him forward, and before he knew it he had knocked Randy out of his chair and was on top of him. He brought his fists down into Randy's face over and over again. Randy squealed in pain like a girl. Whatever he'd been expecting to do, this wasn't it.
Gary though
t of all the victims he'd seen over the years as he continued to pummel Randy. Randy brought his arms up to his face and Gary shifted his punches to Randy's chest. He could feel one of the ribs crack as he drove down hard into him, and it brought him a deep sense of satisfaction. Randy brought his arms down as he cried out and Gary hit him square in the jaw in response. He thought of all the shattered lives he'd born witness to over the years, all the unresolved cases with sick fucks like Randy taunting them over crimes they'd never pay for in this lifetime, and he let his righteous anger pour through him like unleashed vengeance. It felt good to cross the line. It felt good to take matters into his own hands. This was real justice, raw and pure and unfiltered. No courts, no trials, no sentencing; just the unyielding reality of being called to pay for his crimes.
Gary heard the door of the interview room open and heard loud voices shouting behind him. His partner Arnold was dragging him off Randy. His lieutenant was there with Greeley, as well. They were all shouting at once, but all Gary could hear was the whimpering coming from Randy. His right eye was black and his nose was broken and bleeding. They locked eyes once more as Arnold dragged Gary out of the room. Randy flashed a bloody smile that took the wind out of Gary's sails. The deep feeling of satisfaction that had coursed through his veins now soured as Gary realized what was happening. He'd been played. He'd been right all along. It was all a game, and Gary had just lost.
*** *** ***
Gary got the call from his lieutenant, Jack Peterson, while on his way to work from his studio apartment in Culver City. He was jammed in traffic on the 10 Freeway heading into the PAB downtown when it came in. Most cops he worked with lived either down in South Los Angeles or out in Simi Valley. Gary had taken a liking to Culver City after living there for several years as a kid, and decided he would move there after his suspension ended and he was transferred to Downtown. He settled into a spot that was walking distance from both Joxer Daly's, a cop-friendly Irish bar on Washington, and Johnnie's Pastrami on Sepulveda, since he spent a fair amount of time off work at either place.
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