No Ordinary Killer

by Rita Karnopp

  “Okay, Megan, go to your meeting. Make sure you call the twins after church on Sunday.”

  “Fine, I’ll call after lunch.” A quick press punch to the off button flooded her with relief. These phone calls were getting more tiresome and annoying as time passed. Maybe she should just give the twins to Cooper and be done with the frustration. No, that would please Cooper too much.

  What was the hoopla about being a mother? Demanding, exhausting and annoying were only a few adjectives she’d call kids. Maybe it got better with time … but she doubted it. If she hadn’t wanted to please Coop, she’d never have allowed it. He was a good father, and that annoyed her even more. He loved the twins and for that reason alone she’d never give him full-custody.

  He’d humiliated her. He’d told her family about her botched abortion. He could have considered her feelings and kept that mistake between them. She’d lost friends and her marriage … all because of Coop.

  She tossed the deli sandwich in the fridge, no longer hungry even though she’d only eaten a bagel all day. On second thought, she grabbed a bottle of wine, removed the cork and poured the enticing liquid into her favorite Tiffany glass. A long soak, candles, and soft music would make her feel better. Hopefully by then she’d be ready for some satisfying sex … the kind that made her forget everything and everyone.

  Settling down against the headrest, scented water reached her chin. Beethoven soothed her mind, sandalwood candles soothed her soul. Closing her eyes, she allowed the stress between her shoulder blades to evaporate….

  A thin young man, long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, laughed as his older, male lover tied his wrists to the bed post. “You don’t get too kinky, do you?”

  “I’m going to bring you to the height of your senses. I’m going to help you face your greatest fear.”

  “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”

  “Death.”

  “Shit, what you talking about?”

  The older man finished the last knot on the ankle restraint. The fear in the young man’s eyes was all consuming. “You should never go home with a stranger. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that?” The older man’s laughter held a steel edge.

  “You seemed so nice. You know my friend Billy.”

  “You ever wonder what happened to Billy?”

  “He … he went to Chicago to live with his real dad. You even told me so.”

  “What would you say if I told you Billy never left this apartment alive? He stayed here for weeks … but then I had to get rid of his body. The neighbors started complaining that my garbage was stinking too much. I had to take him away.”

  The young man snapped his head to the right, then left, looking around the room as though seeing it for the first time. “He was dead and you kept him here? Man, that’s sick. You aren’t going to do that to me, are you?” His voice rose and trembled.

  “No, Joey Fallon, I have better plans for you. You’re going to become famous. Hell, I’m going to be famous. You see, I told you we’re going to be good together.” The older man raised an eight inch butcher’s knife, then stabbed it into the mattress near Joey’s side. “You have a marvelous body,” he said, moving his left palm the length of Joey’s chest and taunt stomach.

  “Don’t do this. I’ll stay here and be your lover. I … won’t start stinking that way. I’ll do whatever you say, honest. I don’t want to be famous. Come on, let’s have some fun and forget about this shit.”

  “Joey, Joey, no can do. You’re perfect for this, man.” He jerked the knife out of the mattress. Reaching over he turned the small lamp on the night stand down … then turned the radio up … a tasteless rapper yelled his poetic riddle. Slow and deliberate he slid the young man’s boxers off, excited by the view. Breathing heavily, the killer shoved them into Joey’s mouth, followed by a strip of duct tape.

  “I wish I could tell you this isn’t going to hurt … because it’s gonna hurt like hell.” A stream of blood followed the tip of the knife as he split open the young man’s perfect body from center neck to pelvis.

  Joey’s stifled screams filled the room.

  Megan bolted upright in the cold water. She glanced around the bathroom, then stepped out of the tub, wrapping her chilled skin in a heavy velour robe. Two steps and she dropped to the toilet seat, struggling to collect herself.

  I’d been so vivid … so real … so intimate. She’d written that scene, but it had come alive in her dream somehow. Joey’s fear overwhelmed her. The violence and cold-bloodedness of the killer stayed with her. She attempted to shake it off … but it clung to her like a static sheet of fabric softener.

  Hesitant, she pulled the water plug lever, quickly blew out the scented candles, then switched off the CD player before heading to bed. She crawled between the cold, cotton sheets and wished her lover had found a way to sneak his way into her bed. She hated being alone. She liked the games, the sex, and in so many ways the secrecy of their relationship was an aphrodisiac. She smiled to herself.

  Her lids grew heavy and she welcomed the peace.

  In and out … in and out … in and out the older man plunged the eight inch knife into young Joey Fallon’s body. Long after he was dead. Blood splattered on the ceiling, the walls, and the mirror. Blood covered the killer and he reveled in the feel of sweet, warm blood as it dripped off his face.

  Megan gasped awake. Shaking, she quickly turned on the reading light. Breathing quick and labored, she pushed the horror from her mind. Damn that Kari Winslow for her blaming questions. Damn everyone for pointing an accusing finger at the author of a fiction book. She dropped back against the stack of pillows.

  Dare she close her eyes and try to sleep again? Would this murder continue to haunt her? Exhaustion pulled at her mind and body, yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn off the light and snuggle back under the covers.

  This had been a bad idea from the start. She knew Copper was going to be furious once he read the book. She wanted him to hurt … and she’d succeeded. A bit of hard work stole his dream and she’d become an instant success in the process. At what price?

  They’d been good together. They still could be good together, if it hadn’t been for the twins. They spoiled everything. He doted on them. They were the joy of his life and that left her where? She used to be his baby, his only. She used to be all he ever needed or wanted. The twins ruined everything. She wouldn’t have needed to look elsewhere if Cooper hadn’t gotten her pregnant.

  The sound of a door clicking shut caused Megan to tense. She reached over and turned out the light. Sitting in the darkness, her body trembled, waiting for the next sound of an intruder in the house.

  There … she heard a creek on the stairs. Shaking, she reached over and withdrew a Smith and Wesson Chief model 38. Cooper liked the five-shot revolver with only a two inch barrel. He’d told her the shrouded hammer eliminated the possibility of snagging on clothing. She’d always hated having a gun in the house; now she was more grateful than she could imagine.

  Muffled footsteps caused her to hold the pistol out in front of her. She trembled, causing the gun to visibly shake. She imagined the doorknob turning, but silence answered. Her arms ached from holding the gun up.

  She tried convincing herself that this behavior was neurotic and dangerous. She still couldn’t bring herself to lower the weapon.

  “Megan?”

  A chill washed over her. “Who’s there?”

  “Your lover.”

  The whisper nearly caused her to pull the trigger. “Damn you! I could have shot you. You’re crazy for sneaking up here and scaring me like this.” She dropped the gun into the night stand and slammed the drawer shut.

  “Tell me you’re not happy to see me. Aw, come on … I was going to sneak up here and slide naked into your bed. Tell me that doesn’t excite you.”

  In the dim light she could see he was in fact naked. Smiling, she lifted the cover. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I’d hate to explain how a cop ended up dead in my bed.�
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  “I’m sure you could convince everyone of something innocent.”

  She smiled at his answer. She allowed him to pull her into his arms, sliding her on top of him. She lowered her perfectly round, bought-and-paid-for breasts to his hungry mouth. She missed the tingling she’d experienced with her natural breasts. Her nipples were taut and beautiful, but they no longer made her yearn for more.

  “I still can’t get over these gorgeous breasts. It was damn smart to have them enlarged. You looked great on TV the other day. Poor Kari Winslow was doing her damn best to show more cleavage than you.”

  “Thanks, Bucko. You say the sweetest things.” She pulled away and rolled, putting her back to him.

  “Awe, babe, come on. You have any idea how hard it was for me to get my ass up here without being seen? You’d better get yourself in the mood so I can ravish that hot body of yours.”

  She smiled and turned to face him. “You really think my body is hot?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “How much do you want me?” She slid her palm down his muscular thigh. “Oh, I can tell you want me pretty bad.”

  “Can’t hide it, that’s for sure.”

  Moving over him, she straddled his gym-toned torso. He moved his large, warm hands down her thighs, then pulled her closer, giving him access to her breasts once again. She smiled at his soft moaning.

  Raising her hips, she took him in fully and gasped at the fervor of it. He answered with deep, throaty moans. She continued riding him, unrestrained … faster and faster … harder and harder. She wanted more and more of him. Giving freely, her labored breaths matched his.

  A gripping chill shook her with intensity, then caused her to wilt across his chest. The climax had been fast and satisfying. She lay spent for a few seconds, then rolled off him and snuggled her back into the curves of his body.

  His tense posture told her he hadn’t been fully satisfied. She really didn’t care. His hot kisses on the back of her neck held a certain hesitancy. He wanted more. “I’m exhausted. You going to stay for a while or do you have to leave?” He pulled away.

  “I was hoping for a little more action. Since that’s not going to happen, I’d better get my ass out of here before someone catches us.”

  “Don’t sound so put out. Realize this hasn’t been all that easy on me.”

  “Shit, Megan, get real. I’m the one taking the chances. I’m the one whose balls they’ll fry if this doesn’t go down just right. So don’t be giving me any crap about this being hard on you. A lot of what’s going down was your idea … remember?”

  “You are touchy tonight, aren’t you, Bucko? She turned to face him. “You’d better go. Keep in mind we’re in this together.” Kneeling, she offered him a breast. Savagely he pulled her to him, kissing her hard and demanding. He flipped her onto her back and drove into her. She moaned and rose to offer him more. He took her over and over. She was amazing in bed … Cooper was a fool.

  * * *

  “Jesus!”

  Cooper glanced up to find Art Bicsak, his arms stretched across the doorway, blocking Dallas out.

  “What the hell you two doing here? This is no place for you, Dallas.”

  She pushed past Bicsak. “Because I’m IA or because I’m female? It’s gruesome yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.”

  “No one should have to see shit like this. It’ll haunt you for years.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Reynolds.” Dallas cased the room. “Looks like a controlled killer … gone uncontrolled.”

  “Meaning?” Bicsak asked, not moving from the door.

  “Well, it looks planned out. The position of the body for instance, it’s deliberate. The acts performed all have meaning,” she paused, looking the perp over. “But, somewhere along the way the killer got off on the blood splattering and went … into a frenzy.”

  “That might be how the first killing took place, but this time it’s all deliberate,” Cooper closed his notebook. “A complete copycat murder. Right down to the number of stabs, folds in the sheets, and the victim’s size, age, and sex preference I’m sure.”

  “Our perp was a homosexual?”

  “True in the first case, and I’m guessing it’ll be true in this one.”

  “You know what we have here? We have one sick bastard who has more than Megan’s book for a blueprint.” Dallas wrote herself a note.

  “I’m not sure I follow you,” Cooper watched as she scanned the crime scene.

  “We have a killer performing unspeakable acts and it has nothing really to do with the murders.”

  “I’m not following you either. Enlighten me,” Bicsak shook his head.

  “Ask yourself, what is the killer saying? Is he angry with Megan Reynolds? Or, is he angry with how the original cases were handled.”

  “He feels we screwed up and these murders will keep happening until we get it right?” Cooper added to her scenario. “I’ve been thinking in that direction myself. Josh and I worked both these original cases with detectives Sparks and Weaver.”

  “Have you checked into vendettas?” Bicsak offered, writing in his notepad.

  Cooper wondered what the Internal Affairs man thought worthy writing down. “We haven’t had much time for anything but check out crime scenes since this all started. I can tell you one thing, we won’t quit until this bastard is apprehended or killed.”

  “And I’ll tell you right now,” Bicsak said, stepping toward Cooper. “This whole thing reeks. If you weren’t involved with that book of your ex-wife—you’re still involved somehow in all this shit. Either way, I’m taking you down, Reynolds. Dirty cops don’t sit with me.”

  Stepping even closer, Cooper grabbed Bicsak’s jacket. “Get one thing straight, I’m not dirty. When this is over I’ll expect your apology. Until then, stay the hell clear of me. I won’t get in your way, and don’t even think about getting in mine.” Cooper clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back from smashing the smug man’s nose in.

  “Guys, there’s no need for this hostility. We’ll get to the truth and we’ll find this killer. We need to work together.” Dallas backed into the night stand and shoved it into the wall. “Hey guys, come see this. It looks like a ring of blood.”

  “Looks like a ring left from the bottom of a glass.” Cooper stooped down to view the evidence closer. “Hand me that camera, would you Bicsak?”

  “Is this something new? Did the first crime scene have this … or did you miss it?”

  “We didn’t miss shit, Bicsak. “

  “Megan didn’t mention this in her book, that much I know. We should keep this little item between the three of us.”

  “Boys and girls, I think we’ve found our first discrepancy in this case. We’ll need to keep it in mind when we review the first crime scene patterns.” Cooper wrote several items down in his notebook.

  “Hey, don’t mention this in your notes, either of you.” Dallas tapped her pen against her knuckle. “We can’t be too careful. We know a cop is involved … we just need to prove which one.”

  Cooper glanced at Bicsak and didn’t miss the accusatory expression. “I agree. Just the three of us. Let’s take a few more pictures. Bicsak, would you get something to conceal this find? Finally we agree on something.”

  Bicsak left the room without comment. The moment he was out of sight, Cooper pointed to a broken fingernail. He wasn’t surprised when Dallas snapped a quick picture of it, then picked it up and dropped it into a small plastic bag. He couldn’t have been more surprised when she dropped it into her jacket pocket. They should have included Bicsak in on that bit of information, too, but Cooper went with his instincts. After all, Bicsak and she were on the same team.

  He took a Q-tip from a collection bag, rolled it into the bloody ring, then dropped it into an evidence bag and zipped it shut. He repeated the process with a second Q-tip, then handed both bags to Dallas for labeling.

  She’d become quiet and that somehow bothered Cooper. Did she th
ink he had something to hide? “Maybe we should share the nail with Bicsak?”

  A quick negative head shake told him to back off.

  “Why isn’t Arnott here with you?” Bicsak asked, holding out a wet paper towel toward Dallas.

  Cooper snatched it from his hand and mumbled, “Thanks.” He moved the night stand back in place, until the blood ring was undetectable to the naked eye. “He’s working on putting a team meeting together to compare evidence from both recent crime scenes with the originals. We want to include the third murder Megan wrote about in her book. We know there’s a connection … we just haven’t found it yet. Hopefully five-o’clock in the conference room and you both should be there.”

  “You planning on letting us know when?”

  “That’s for Arnott to confirm. Since he left about fifteen minutes ago, I’m sure he hasn’t even arrived back at the office. I’m just giving you a heads-up.”

  “He just left you here all by yourself? You have any idea how that can be misconstrued? You’re already in shit up to your kneecaps. Any evidence could be argued planted or removed by you. What were you thinking?”

  “Listen, Bicsak, I’ve never had to justify my existence at any crime scene. I’ve been to plenty of them alone, and I’ll be damned if I’ll stand here taking crap from you when I’ve got a job to do.” Cooper shoved the camera into Dallas’s hand. “There’s a disk with pictures from the crime scene, get them processed for the meeting. I’d do it, but I don’t want to be accused of being selective or tampering with them.”

  “Cooper, we’re all a bit uptight right now but we have to—“

  “Work together, yeah, I know. Why don’t you try telling that to your partner? I’m not the one having problems. As a matter-of-fact,” Cooper pulled his jacket pockets inside out, then pulled everything from his pants pockets into his hands while pulling the material inside out. “You now know I’ve taken no incriminating evidence with me.” He stuffed everything back into his pockets, then stomped to the door.

  “That wasn’t necessary, Reynolds. I’m just doing my job.”