The Butcher Box Set

by Sian B. Claven

  Lincoln attempted to get up, but James pushed him down, stabbing at his throat again and again until he stopped moving, just like the animals he killed.

  James stood up, covered in blood, unsure of what to do next. Then, revelation upon revelation came to him as he stood there, and he got to work quickly.

  _____

  Robyn

  She couldn’t believe it. James! He had been targeting James the entire time. She had been so obsessed with keeping an eye on Clinton, thinking he would be the next Butcher, that she hadn’t even realized James had been killing animals as well. Unlike Clinton, James killed neighbourhood pets, a sign that he had dark motives.

  Robyn had followed the boys, Lincoln and James, to the Butcher’s home and witnessed James’s first proper murder. And he was there.

  Bart stood behind James as the poor boy stared at the mess he had created. Robyn rushed forward and tried to make her presence known, but Bart got to the boy first and now whispered sweet instructions into his ear, letting them take root in his mind.

  Quick as a whistle, James started to clean up his mess.

  He then went downstairs into the basement, unsure as to how he knew where to go, and pried open a wooden floorboard in the middle of the space. There he found a katana, dusty but sharp.

  Robyn watched as he carefully lifted it out of its hiding place and took it upstairs. It was a bit big for him to use, but with the Butcher’s guidance, he managed to cut off Lincoln’s head. James propped it on Lincoln’s lap before he pried open his mouth and, using his pocket knife, removed the tongue.

  Placing the grizzly trophy in his pocket, he cleaned up, wiping off any surface he might possibly have touched.

  He then retrieved the katana and, careful not to touch any doors with his bare hands, made his way out of the house via the back door and into his house, up to his room, swiftly.

  Robyn followed as he stashed away the katana and sat on his bed, taking out Lincoln’s tongue and playing with it in his hands.

  Bart sat next to him, whispering into his ear again. His bloodshot eyes trained on Robyn and a smile played on his lips as they moved.

  Robyn couldn’t believe what happened next.

  _____

  James

  He didn’t know where he had learned to clean up a scene like that but put it down to watching far too many murder documentaries. It obviously just came to him. Now, sitting on his bed, he pulled Lincoln’s tongue out of his pocket and toyed with it.

  Ideas formulated in his mind and he realized that if anyone searched his room, they would find the tongue and pin it on him. The katana he could explain - he found it in the backyard, and it looked cool, so he kept it. How was he to know it was a murder weapon? However, if they found the tongue as well, he would be directly linked to Lincoln’s murder. He had to get rid of it.

  But how? He knew these sorts of issues were the undoing of most mastermind adult killers far more professional than he was. Yes, he was a killer, and a sense of pride welled up inside of him. It was something he felt he had always known but had never shared. Something his own, which Clinton couldn’t take away from him. He had been dreaming of this moment for ages, the ability to take life, not from some stupid animal, but from a living, breathing human.

  He dreamed about it ever since his father took them hunting and he had, well, ‘accidentally’ shot his father in the leg with a rifle. The sight of blood pouring from the wound and the anguished cries elicited from his father had made him so excited.

  And now this. Getting revenge for being blackmailed while taking a human life, it was all too much for James, and he realized suddenly that his penis was hard. This was something that excited him. He didn’t know what to do.

  That was when the only thing he could think to do, happened. He lifted the tongue up, opened his mouth and took a great big bite out of it. It was wet and chewy and tasted metallic, but it had a certain, likeable tang to it. Something that James felt a real fancy person could appreciate.

  He took another bite and another until there was nothing left except to lick his fingers clean. He swallowed the last bit and leaned back, sighing. He shivered slightly, as though he had passed through a cold spot, and before James knew it he had dozed off on his bed.

  _____

  Diana

  When Diana saw the flashing blue lights outside her house, she panicked. James was home, and Robbie wouldn’t be back until later, so as a mother she assumed the worse. She sped up and held her breath until she realized the cars were parked outside her neighbours’ house and not her own.

  The police had marked off the area around their neighbours’ and, as they climbed out, Clinton asked, “What do you think happened? Do you think Lincoln is okay?”

  Diana shook her head. “I’m sure he’s fine, baby. Why don’t you take Charlie and go check on your brother while I see what’s going on.”

  She walked the short distance between the two houses and saw a nurse standing there, a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. She had tears streaming down her face, crumpled tissue in her hand, dabbing at her wet nose, and her breaths were coming out short. Diana recognized her as her next-door neighbour; she had seen her whenever they took the garbage out. Diana felt quite bad now, not knowing what her name was.

  Quickly she made her way towards the woman. She was briefly stopped by a policeman before the nurse waved him away and said it was fine.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” Diana asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

  “Oh … oh … it’s Lincoln,” she sobbed. “He’s dead,” she managed to get out.

  “What?” Diana gasped. “How? What happened?” she asked without thinking. “Never mind. I am so sorry …”

  “Megan,” she said, hugging Diana and sobbing into her shoulder. “He was murdered in his bed,” she revealed between gasps for air. “I found him … someone cut off his head and cut out his tongue and … oh, my poor baby …” She burst into renewed sobs and Diana couldn’t make out another word after that.

  She stayed with Megan until a family member arrived and took over. Diana quietly excused herself and went home to check on her children. She felt nervous; the murder was seriously familiar to those she had heard about when she rented the house.

  Once home, however, she found her three children setting the table for dinner. James had a big smile on his face and was telling Clinton stupid jokes. Clinton was half listening, smiling as well, but his mind seemed far away.

  “Clinton, honey, we need to talk …” Diana said, taking her son by the hand and leading him to the living room.

  _____

  Chapter Five

  Diana

  Clinton was terribly upset by the news that his new friend had been murdered. After Diana tackled the difficult task of telling him, he locked himself in his room for the rest of the evening, refusing to have dinner.

  The police came over, and it was the only time Clinton was willing to talk to anyone. He had a lot of questions for them, most of which they were happy to answer so he could better understand what was happening. Diana was grateful for that.

  Then the interrogations began.

  The police started by questioning Diana about where she had been the entire day. She had to provide evidence that she spent the day shopping with two of her three children. They then went on to question why she left James at home, and she explained that James wasn’t a very social child and therefore didn’t like going out.

  The police then wanted to speak to James since he had been home all day. James was cooperative; in fact, he was rather chatty, which was most unlike him. It surprised Diana that he was so willing to talk about his day, but then she knew James was a smart boy and he knew to tell the police everything, or he would land himself in hot water.

  They then questioned her about her husband Robbie, who arrived a moment later, confused by the police cars outside. They interviewed him to see if he came home at all, and he had to provide contact numbers of people who could con
firm where he had been all day.

  “How did he die?” James asked as they were wrapping up their questions.

  “He was murdered, son,” a police officer answered gently.

  “Yeah, you said,” James commented, “but how?”

  “Those are not details for children to know,” the officer said, crossing his arms. “And you’d do well not to bother Miss Tudor about it either; she is in a right state with the death of her only child.”

  “He knows that,” Diana said defensively. “He’s just a boy, he’s curious.”

  “Curiosity can get him into trouble.”

  James smiled at the officer, and for a moment Diana thought he might giggle, but he simply bid the officer farewell and went back upstairs.

  _____

  Once the police left, Diana set about ordering take-out for dinner since it was too late to cook, and sent Charlie with Clinton to go run her bath water.

  “I overheard them talking,” Diana whispered to Robbie. “His head was cut off and his tongue removed.”

  She shivered, and Robbie wrapped his arms around her.

  “Sorry, love,” he said, in the absence of the right words to really comfort her.

  There was no comforting her because both thought along the same lines. If it had been one of their children if it had been James …

  “They’re okay, though,” Diana said. “Clinton will be fine eventually. I feel so bad for him. Lincoln was the first friend he made here.”

  Robbie pulled her to him and kissed her forehead “He’s sturdy, he’ll be fine. I’m just glad it wasn’t James. I know that is a horrible thing to say, but still, I’m happy we’re not the ones mourning.”

  “So am I,” Diana admitted.

  _____

  Robyn

  The food arrived, and the family sat down to eat. It was already late, and Charlie seemed ready to fall asleep. Robyn stood next to her, stroking her hair softly. It probably didn’t help the sleepy little girl stay alert.

  James ate with a small smile playing on his lips the entire time. Bart stood behind him, smirking at Robyn. They had never spoken, not in the whole time they were both in this house. Bart’s leer grew, and Robyn turned to look behind her.

  There was Darren’s body, hanging from the staircase, and she shivered. All the people she had tried to save were on display, and in the end, she couldn’t save any of them.

  Once the family had finished eating, Robyn followed Bart and James upstairs and watched as the boy got ready for bed. Robyn wondered if Bart had picked James because he too was a murderous killer at such a young age. She knew Bart was, from when Kallista had investigated him, but she wondered if he had enjoyed it as much as James seemed to if their personalities were alike. She often pondered over why Bart became who he became. If something, if one little thing in his life had changed, would he have turned out better?

  James went to sleep, and Bart sat on the bed, whispering into his ear. Robyn needed only to imagine what kind of thoughts Bart planted in the young boy’s mind.

  It dawned on her that she could do the same with the mother if she were susceptible to it. She went to Diana and Robbie’s room, but they were still awake, murmuring about the poor boy that had died that day.

  What she needed was a way to warn everyone about what was happening. She needed someone who could see her and not just a young child no one would believe. She needed an older person, someone with direct links to her.

  She needed Sylvana to come back.

  _____

  James

  That goddamn singing again! James went to his bedroom window and ripped open the curtains. She had to be his age, maybe a little younger, and she was singing at the top of her lungs as she walked along, heading down the road.

  James didn’t know what came over him, but he quickly got dressed and ran downstairs. “Going for a walk,” he called before heading out the front door.

  He fell into step behind her and tried to make it look like a coincidence that he was walking in the same direction. She was shorter than him and weak-looking, and with luck, he might be able to get her. Something stopped him from attacking her immediately, though; an idea formed in his mind. Something told him to plan this better, to ensure that everything went smoothly.

  He didn’t know where these thoughts came from, but he enjoyed them; they made him excited. It was like some dark God whispered in his ear and he intended to listen to every word.

  The girl turned left into a nearby park. James hung back a little before following, a bit nervous that he would lose her. He didn’t. When he turned the corner, he saw her blonde head bobbing a few meters in front of him, and he was thrilled to note she hadn’t noticed he was following her.

  Follow her he did.

  Through the park - a shortcut through the trees - and on to the street crossing over to the other side. She walked along happily, and James wondered if she wandered just for the sake of it, until she came to a stop outside a house. She knocked on the door and was let in.

  James crept along the side of the house until he found an open window where he could hear what was going on.

  “Thanks again, Mrs Kamper,” the girl was saying. “I’ll be sure to have Bobby ready for nap time before twelve. You enjoy work now.”

  That was why she was here early every day! James understood now; she was a babysitter for a little boy called Bobby. Clearly, the family knew her well and trusted her to take care of their child. James found it surprising, considering she was so young, but he put it down to her being a family friend. People did weird stuff all the time.

  James knew his mother would never trust Clinton to watch Charlie because he was so easily distracted, but she might let James watch her. He smiled; he wouldn’t trust himself to watch her. Accidents happened, after all.

  With nothing further to see, he left and returned home, a plan already forming.

  The next morning he was already up when the singing started. James told his mom the night before that he found a park nearby and that he wanted to start walking in the mornings so she would know where he was. More than anything, she seemed happy that he was getting out of the house, and for once, he was pleased to be getting out of the house as well.

  _____

  Diana

  James had spoken to her about getting out. He found a nearby park that looked nice to play in, so he wanted to go there in the mornings while it was quiet. Although the murder still rocked her to her core, she knew the park was a public place and had seen it was relatively busy enough in the mornings, so she felt he would be safe.

  She made him promise not to wander from the paths and to stick to where people could see him. After he promised, she felt better knowing that he was getting some fresh air. Perhaps he would even make a friend.

  As for the murder, Lincoln’s killer had not been found, and soon enough the police stopped coming over to Megan’s house.

  Diana visited her often, to offer some comfort to the bereaved mother. She helped coordinate the funeral and even made sure Megan ate every night. Someone had to take care of her because it seemed as if she had no one else. The family didn’t visit often, friends came and went, and everyone was too busy with their own lives to realise this woman’s world had come crashing down around her.

  “It’s just like the old murders when I was a child,” she said one morning after James had left for his walk.

  Diana had gone over to make Megan breakfast.

  “I heard about them, but I thought that killer was caught,” Diana said, scrambling eggs in a pan.

  “Killed, actually,” Megan said, staring out the window. “The police said this might be an admirer, a copycat.” She hugged herself. She looked terrible.

  “Who would admire someone like that?” Diana asked, disgusted with the thought.

  “I don’t know, but they took him away from me.”

  Diana bit her lip; it always came back to that. She always felt awkward simply because she didn’t know what to say.


  “It’s okay,” Megan said this time. “I know you’re just glad that it wasn’t your son and that’s okay.” She brushed her hair out of her face. “I would feel the same way if it was reversed.”

  Diana dished up their breakfast. “Well, just know you have a friend in our family, and we are always here for you.” She sat down at the island bench so they could eat.

  “I should have known,” Megan commented. “Tempting fate by moving into his house.”

  “Don’t say that. You couldn’t possibly know there would be another killer.”

  “Yeah, but I tempted fate. The house was sold dirt-cheap, and I only have one salary, and I thought nothing could go wrong and now it has.”

  Diana reached across and squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Besides, the police also said it’s likely it was someone Lincoln knew because there was no sign of forced entry. That happens to people everywhere. You couldn’t have predicted that someone you or your son knew would attack him.”

  Megan looked up. “Either I tempted fate, or I befriended someone who killed him. Either way, it’s my fault.”

  Diana bit her lip. “Eat up; you’re going to need your strength.”

  _____

  Chapter Six

  James

  It was all coming together nicely. James spent a few days following the little girl and even learned that her name was Christina. He was up before her every day, and she followed the same route through the park every time. He had approximately fifteen minutes to detain her when she veered off the path into the trees where no one else wandered. It was such a childish thing to do - stray from the path - and yet it was precisely what James needed her to do.

  He prepared everything he would need. Rope and duct tape, a baseball bat to hit her over the head, as well as his precious katana. He hid all his belongings in the hollow of a tree they would pass when they walked through the small forest, except for the baseball bat. That he kept with him.