by Rick Murcer
Yet, they were all sinners, weren’t they? The fact that she had come to the mission for help had verified that little tidbit. Even those people everybody loved danced with their own demons. Secretly, he questioned why that was so. Why God allowed such a paradox.
Henry clenched his hands into fists, trying to ignore the taboo questions his mind always begged to examine. He fought off the emotion. It wasn’t the right time. But it would be. Very soon.
Reaching her street, they turned left and were suddenly confronted by her rundown apartment building, graffiti and dirt the main décor.
“Let’s see if they’re here,” he said, his voice taking on a calm demeanor.
Glen did a double take and then nodded. “You’ve been here before?”
“I have.”
A minute later, they were knocking on the door of 1F. Almost immediately, Cheryl responded. “Who is it?”
Her breath was short. Like she’d been running. Henry closed his eyes, fighting the good fight.
“It’s Henry and Glen, Cheryl. The Father sent us to gather you and Joel, if he’s here.”
A few moments later, the door swung open. Cheryl stood in the opening, hair mussed, clothes disheveled. Joel Harper stood behind her.
“What is going on?” asked Henry.
“None of your concern, brother. We won’t be going to the service tonight, but will speak with The Father tomorrow.”
“It’s important for both of you to come tonight,” said Henry, trying to relax clenched teeth.
God help me.
She leaned toward him. “We have this, Henry. We’ll speak to The Father, as I said.”
“So, you’re going to fornicate all night?”
A nervous Glen put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Henry, we need to leave. You know the rules.”
Cheryl’s face grew tight. “Listen to Glen, Henry. This is none of your business. Understand?”
Henry looked at the grubby floor, watching as a small cockroach scooted out of the room, then lifted his eyes back to Cheryl. “None of my business? None?”
“You heard the woman,” said Joel, as he settled at her side. “Time to go.”
Henry was supposed to do his part, do as he was told tonight, but he hadn’t been able to do it earlier when he’d followed them to her apartment. Cheryl had been that reason. But not anymore.
The voice inside Henry’s head, the one that always gave him proper directions, spoke three words.
Henry pushed Glen inside, shut the door, and then obeyed.
Kill them all.
He never really knew how his ability unfolded. It simply happened. He only recalled the beginning, when he took his knife from his pocket, and the results when he had completed his assignments. Nothing in between.
Five minutes later, he stared at the almost-unrecognizable three people lying on the floor in front of him, blade dripping blood.
“Sin will not be tolerated,” he said softly. “You are all free from it.”
Gathering what internal strength he had left, moving his lips in prayer, he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
CHAPTER-28
“Why would you say that?” asked Brice. “The person or people who killed these people had to have access to the limbs so they are the killers, right?”
“Not necessarily. They are certainly accessories to murder, but not necessarily the killers,” said Ellen.
Brice nodded slowly. “You’re saying that someone wants the evidence trail to go a certain direction and right to the killer? I suppose that’s possible. God knows we’ve seen some weird cases. But why do that? Why try to point us in that direction?”
Ellen glanced at Agent Williams and Sophie. “I’m not sure yet. Misdirection? Double-cross? Or maybe it just looks like that’s happening.”
“All those scenarios are possible,” said Manny.
Big Harv moved out of his chair and stood beside Ellen, his hand working his chin. “We had this case in ‘96 where two gangs were at each other’s throats. They were doing the usual crap. Beating the tar out of each other. Shootings, painting over each other’s symbols, and all of that dumb-shit stuff. Then it got ugly. One gang member broke into the other leader’s house and killed his mother. All hell broke loose, as you might imagine. We brought in 100 state troopers to go with our own CPD.”
Big Harv stopped, then stared at the table. Her dad’s eyes seemed to see something the rest of them didn’t. His pain was almost palatable as it rose into the air and surrounded them all.
She felt the sudden urge to reach over and hug him, to hold him and comfort him like he did for her when her mom had died.
He glanced at her, offering a quick smile. Still reading her mind after all of these years.
“I lost my first partner in the shit storm that came after that one vicious act,” he said quietly. “But the point I’m trying to make is that it really wasn’t the leader or anyone from the other gang that gutted the other leader. It was one of his own cousins, a Lieutenant in his gang. The real killer, who had stepped out of the leader’s house with blood all over him, immediately spread the lie that this other gang had started this shit and so the war was on. No one questioned anything. They just began killing each other.”
Big Harv stepped back, his hard demeanor returning.
“Six dead CPD cops, four state boys, and twenty-one gang members died in those three days. All because of a lie and subsequent assumptions that the lie was truth. We just didn’t find out until after people died. We didn’t guess the right agenda.”
Ellen let the air settle around Big Harv’s comments as her dad returned to his seat beside Dave Ackles.
“So the lesson here is what? That someone might be trying to shed the blame on someone else?” asked Bella, frowning.
“That part’s true, I’d guess. But take it one step further. They could be working together,” said Ellen. “That wouldn’t be so farfetched. I mean we’ve seen it before.”
“That could add up scientifically, too,” said Aaron. “We do have a few minor discrepancies with estimated time of death, loss of blood, condition of the bodies, and lividity. Like Ellie said. It looks like people were killed in different locations, but not too far from the same time.”
“And, as I mentioned about the second set of murders, although they were both found in the same place, as were Castle and Ramona. There were different amounts of trace and blood evidence at the scene that shows what Aaron and I have said,” said Ellen. “So that could mean another location of interest for us.”
“So we’re narrowing things down as possibilities and that’s a good thing. But we need more information. Working together or not. Setting someone up or not. Misdirection to cover their trail. The science is helping some, but these cases need a full-picture attempt,” said Brice. He hesitated then reached for his tie, loosened it, removed it, then carefully placed it into his jacket.
Taking off his tie at work may have been a first for him. She couldn’t recall Brice with his tie missing while on duty.
The man might be changing right before her eyes. Ellen refocused as he continued, his voice growing smaller, almost sultry.
“Agent Williams, you and Agent Lee indicated that you’ve seen this before. Now’s a good time to elaborate. It seems we need this part of the puzzle now.”
“That was my next question,” said Ellen.
Manny ran his hand through his hair. “You’re right. Here we go. Back in 2007, I was consulted on a case by the Detroit Police Department’s Special Task Force that was never solved. They had seven murders in six days. All on the tough east side of the city where things aren’t always as good as they could be.
“There were plenty of drug issues and the crime rates were through the roof. But these murders were particularly brutal and, per two of the investigators, shook up even some of the hard-asses in the city. I’ve already arranged to have the files sent to your emails for your review when time allows. At any rate, the victims, fou
r women and three men, were located within a mile of each other. While only one murder scene had two bodies, the killing method was similar, yet different in small ways for all of them.”
“Like a copycat?” asked Ellen.
He nodded. “It looked like that, but anyone who saw the scenes up close knew that it wasn’t a copycat, just different. Our Lansing PD CSI looked at the wound entry points, angles, and the slight striations in the flesh and was positive that the two weapons used to kill these folks were the same.”
“The killer used two weapons?” asked Brice.
“He did. One in each hand, if Alex was right, and he almost always is.”
“What is that, rage?” asked Ellen, the hairs rising on the back of her arm.
“I believe so. I’ll go over that when I give you our profile.”
“Okay, so you’ve got these murders a decade ago in a different city. What else makes you think these murders could be related? Every city has sick shits that get away with horrible crimes,” asked Big Harv.
“I’ll answer that,” said Sophie. “They each had identical silver crosses draped around their necks.”
CHAPTER-29
Dinner parties had never been her forte. Not really. She was as charming as anyone, even more, yet the idea of high society, and all that it saddled its participant’s with, was barely tolerable to her. But everything served a purpose, especially for her.
God knew she’d lured enough men she’d met from these show-me-your-dick settings into her bed and then, after a bit of persuasion, increased the balance in her checkbook. Funny thing about showing someone’s wife pictures of her naked husband in another woman’s bed.
She tugged at the red, low-cut gown. Too much cleavage was tacky, not enough was less than fruitful. Yet, tonight, she didn’t believe she’d be attending any late-night get-togethers with some horny, depraved old man. She was now past all of that. Those occasions had served her purpose quite well too.
Purpose.
Interesting word. Some traveled the world to find how life’s purpose applied to them. Purpose remained something far less mystical than others believed. Sitting on a mountain chanting a mantra that made sense to no one was hardly her idea of opening her full potential.
Good God, people were idiots.
One’s purpose was directly related to the desire in one’s heart and, of course, the guts to execute that desire. Nothing more. Be a sheep or be a wolf, it was all up to you. Wolves ruled. Sheep hid in a group, shaking and blatting in abject fear at who was going to be the next meal. What kind of life was that?
Not one she could embrace or ever would again. Not since those years ago. Not since he taught her a better way. Admittedly, she hadn’t gone in the direction he thought she’d go. But he’d taught her just the same.
The knock at her door pulled her away from the mirror. She grabbed her cashmere stole from the leather chair and strolled to the door. She opened it and nodded at her large, good looking driver. “Good evening, Mike.”
“Good evening, Miss. You look ravaging, as usual,” he said with a shy smile.
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. That’s what makes you the best driver in the city.”
“Why’s that ma’am?” he asked as he herded her toward the elevator.
“Your honesty,” she said, laughing.
He laughed with her.
Five minutes later they were on the way to the party of the night on Chicago’s northeast side and the fine people of Winnetka. Or at least those wannabes meeting there. Including her new friend, the Councilwoman, Calista Forest.
New friend?
In a world where she had no true friends, she guessed this weak-minded woman would have to do, for now.
As Mike guided the limo along Lake Shore Drive, she looked out over Lake Michigan, the moon riding the gentle waves into shore. She reflected on how the last forty-eight hours had played out and how the next twenty-four would go down.
She was aware of the old adage regarding the plans of mice and men. She knew it very well. But, then again, there had never been a mouse or a man quite like her, had there?
Mike pulled the Mercedes up to the entrance and through the gate. She stared at the lighted mammoth mansion appearing to be more of a vision from someone’s imagination than a true to life home.
As Mike threw open the door and helped her from the vehicle, she was struck with the thought that this place had seen a wild night or two. No question about that.
She smiled. But never a night like this one.
Never.
CHAPTER-30
“Shit,” said Ellen softly. “Identical crosses to these scenes?”
“Almost. There was no symbol of a sheep on the first set of crosses. And oddly enough, no manufacturer to trace them to.”
“Handmade, then?” asked Ellen.
“We think so. And let me guess, you’ve no hits on a maker for these either.”
Ellen glanced at her partner. “Aaron?”
He shook his head. “That was one of the first things you wrote on the list to check out, but so far nothing. I’ve got another tech looking deeper, but like I said.”
“You sound like you have a handle on these details so let’s get back to the profile so you can get it out,” said Manny.
“That works. We’ve got more work to do in the lab. Like I always say, you can’t argue with science,” said Ellen.
“Yeah, that’s what our forensic guys says too. Alex has come a long way though and now uses that little intuition voice that won’t quite leave him alone. You know that one, right Ellie?” said Sophie Lee, the smile widening across her face.
Ellen was about to respond when she saw Manny look at his phone and, raise his eyebrows. He put the phone in his pocket, then he stood.
Here it comes.
He looked at Sophie, her grin grew wide as she tugged on his sleeve. “You’re gonna give it to them now, aren’t you Manny?”
He sighed, his own smile returning. “Yeah, then I’m making you buy me a pizza before we leave.”
“Leave?” asked Ellen.
“Yes. I just got a text from our boss, Josh Corner. It seems we have another problem in California. We’ll be in the air to Michigan in an hour or so for a meeting. Then on to San Diego.”
“Damn, I was getting into this case,” said Sophie.
“We’ll help as much as we can before we go,” said Agent Williams.
“You two are profilers, so I assume you are going to give us that side of the equation. That’s what ‘give it to them’ means?” said Big Harv.
“Not me, Big Man, I just try to make him think I’m important. He’s the brains of the outfit. Of course, unless you discount the fact that I had to teach him how to turn on his new smart phone. Then I’m the Goddess of this team,” answered Sophie.
“We’ll talk about your divine status on the jet. And don’t let her kid you, she knows her stuff,” said Manny.
He waited, gazing at the table. Ellen could almost see him making order out of chaos.
He continued. “You can ask questions after I finish, but wait until then. We may answer them before we’re done.”
“When he’s done,” said Sophie.
“When we’re done. I’ll start. I was much younger when I worked that case in Detroit. Certainly not experienced with profiling like I am now. I think there was another possibility with those killings. I think maybe someone could have been teaching this killer to kill.”
Ellen knew that partnerships for killers like this one weren’t unusual. But to have one teach another was out there. But Williams was the expert.
He then moved away from the table and stood beside Ellen, Beaux between them. He licked the man’s hand, then leaned on Ellen’s leg, staring up at the agent seeming ready to listen.
She wasn’t going to lick his hand, but Agent Williams had her full attention.
“There are a lot of details in these four deaths that indicate typical serial kil
ler tendencies, especially those in line with mission killers. I think the four crosses help validate that part of our profile. Yet, there seems to be a real element of organization. Which means this killer may stalk his victims for a day or two or longer, to get the setting he wants before acting out. He feels safe in the dark so he acts then. That also tells me he has a basic fear of being caught, like most of these men. That night safety may even be accentuated because he wants to hide something. Maybe a limp or a scar or some other physical issue or disfiguration.”
“He’s a white male around thirty. I don’t believe he is older than that. Sometimes they can be in their forties, but not this one.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Brice.
“The fact that his victims are younger says to me he identifies with them, wants to be like them or may even is jealous of them. At any rate, he wants to be in their world.”
Brice nodded.
“I think that he’s probably of average build or slightly less. He won’t stick out in a crowd, except for the possible physical trait.
“He’s done this type of thing before. You’ve heard the old adage that these kinds of killers go off to another area, maybe even hundreds of miles away, to practice their ritual. To perfect that part of them. I’ve not seen that to be entirely true. Disorganized killers move often to avoid being caught. Their IQs are typically lower and they act on urges. Those facts don’t apply to this one. And, if I’m right, the organization seen here, combined with the rage and sense of purpose, is too much for one killer. I’ve only seen one man do that, ever. Those facts make me think that there is some relationship or partnership going on here, like in Detroit. Help makes him, them, more difficult to locate.”
Agent Williams scanned the silent room, making sure everyone was paying attention. He didn’t have to look twice. Ellen had already scribbled a half-page of notes and saw that the others were doing the same. Except for Detective Brown. He was staring at the floor. Strange, but cops process differently.
