by Jack Parker
Before I knew what I was doing, I was out the door and speeding down the freeway towards the most likely target. I hadn't put together much of a plan. But the general idea was to confirm he was there and then call the police. I made it to the house in almost record time. Cars were parked on the side of the road. This was probably a good indication that someone was there. But was it just the bomber straightening up a house he would be showing tomorrow? Or did he have company?
I closed in on the front door, which was unlocked, and made it just inside the entryway. A few of the house lights were on, so someone was definitely here. I didn't want to spook the guy if it turned out he was alone, but I needed some form of confirmation that the Vigilante wasn't here if I were to move on to my next target.
Suddenly the lights went off and as I crept closer I could hear a struggle of some kind in the other room. I move a little bit closer to see what was happening, but before I could get a visual on the fight I heard gunshots and then total silence. That was my cue to get out of there. Gunshots probably meant the Vigilante was involved, but even if it didn't it was still bad. I had to call the police before-
"Give me the phone, Puzzle Boy." an all too familiar voice demanded from behind me. I turned around and could see him pointing a gun at me from across the room. He was breathing hard, like he had just gotten in a fight with someone.
"You killed him, didn't you?" I said, even though I already pretty much knew the answer.
"Yes, and you might be joining him if you don't hand over your phone."
So I gave him my phone, which now left me out of options. I couldn't call for help, and he probably wasn't going to let me go. My only hope was to stall for time and hope someone came to my rescue. I looked the Vigilante dead in the eyes as I tried to figure out from his expression what he was planning to do with me.
"Cuff yourself to the chair over there." he said. There was a chair in the living room that wasn't that heavy, and since it wasn't bolted down I would still be able to escape if he left. Maybe he just wanted to make sure I couldn't chase him. But I didn't necessarily want him to leave yet.
This was the closest the two of us had ever gotten to each other, and it was the first time I had gotten a good look at this guys face. And as we stared each other down, I saw something familiar. I couldn't quite place it, but then when I started thinking about how Taylor might be involved in all of this and what Agent Vickers had said when we told him about what was going on in Houston. That's when I started putting everything together.
And after a few moments of thinking, I had figured the whole thing out. My new theory perfectly explained everything, including why Taylor resigned and why I was able to recognize the Vigilante Killer on that security footage at the hospital when no one else knew what he looked like. A sigh of relief came out of my mouth having solved the mystery. It really was a great feeling to have all the answers after all of this time spent searching.
"You wouldn't happen to be interested in a story would you?" I asked.
"Not really."
"But this story concerns you." I pointed out. "It's about a man that I've had the pleasure to work with for the past year now. A man who was at the top of his game at one point in his life. He had a family, and as the Chief of Police he was well respected and had a job where he could make a difference."
The Vigilante standing a few feet away from me didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't want to add on to the story. Maybe he wanted to see what I knew.
"Some would say he had it all. But of course, nothing can last forever, right?" I paused, hoping he might react in some way. "I don't know what happened. Maybe he was just too good at his job and it caused him to spend too much time away from home. But whatever it was, it caused friction between him and his wife. Eventually it got so bad that she left without saying goodbye or without saying where she was going."
"I assume you have a point?" said the Vigilante. But I kept going.
"She ended up traveling to New York City, thinking the time away from her husband would give them both some perspective. But that's not what she got. A few days into the vacation she just happened to be traveling on the wrong street at the wrong time of day. A man appeared out of nowhere and attacked her. It was just your run of the mill mugger, but she fought back and in the exchange got stabbed in the chest twice. He took off with her purse and ran away. Does this story sound familiar?" I asked.
He didn't say anything.
"The police of course didn't make it in time, and she died on that street… leaving behind her son, Martin Taylor." I pointed a finger at the Vigilante. "You."
If I had been able to put all of the pieces together, I would've figured this all out a long time ago. But the truth was, I simply remembered where I had seen his face before. It was that photo that Taylor used to hide in his desk. His son was ten years older in his early twenties, but as he stood in front of me, you could see the resemblance to the person in that picture.
"Clever." he finally said. "So now you know my story. It's not like it matters because despite the fact that you put all of the pieces together, you still couldn't catch me."
"I'm here aren't I?"
"Who has the gun?" he asked rhetorically, waving the gun in his hand at me.
"You aren't going to kill me. It goes against your code."
"Try and escape and see what happens." he said. He leaned against a wall and let himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor. I noticed his face wince a bit as he went to sit down.
I didn't understand what he was doing. He wouldn't kill me if I didn't try to escape. Does that mean if I stay he won't shoot me? But then why wasn't he leaving? Why didn't he just say 'don't follow me if you want to live'? He could leave with my phone and keys and I wouldn't be able to chase him even if I wanted to in my predicament. Then suddenly I noticed how he was favoring his right leg a bit.
"You are injured." I said, then thinking back to everything I had heard a few minutes ago. "He shot you?"
"Maybe he put all the pieces together just like you did." he answered. "Or maybe he just got extra paranoid when he heard about a serial killer that targets criminals was in town. But yeah… he shot me."
"Then you are bleeding. You need to call an ambulance."
"I'm not leaving." he said.
"I don't understand."
"Sometimes you just know when you've been beaten." he said with a certain edge to his voice that only magnified the seriousness of his words.
"So you are going to kill yourself?" I asked.
I didn't understand why he would just give up. Did he hate his father that much? He had called him earlier in the week. I imagined he wanted to confront him after so many years of holding a grudge. Obviously he blamed Taylor for pushing his mother and him away, leading them to take a break in New York City… which of course was where the murder of his wife occurred.
"I was there when it happened." he started to say. "When she was attacked. He didn't see me, but I saw the whole thing and I couldn't move. She was helpless as he took her money and killed her, and I just stood in the background unable to do anything. For the longest time I replayed that night in my head. Sometimes I came to her rescue and the man ran away, and sometimes I was the person getting stabbed."
"It's not your fault that she died."
"How can it not be! She was dying and I did NOTHING!" he yelled. He then struggled to pull something out from under his shirt. It looked like some kind of jewelry. "This charm necklace is all I have left of her. She used to wear it all the time."
The next obvious question to ask would've been why he didn't bother calling his father back in Denver to come get him. But I already knew the answer to that one. If he was anything like me, after losing his mother he probably felt like there was no reason to go back to a home where he and his father didn't get along. A lot of people wouldn't understand it, but that was one thing I could relate to.
"After the attack, I just ran away. Those first few days I was trying to fi
nd the person that killed her. I was just blindly looking without any sort of method to my madness, and eventually I had to give up. I stayed at a covenant house and made some money on the side running errands for this private detective. I was a smart kid. Everyone saw my potential as I was growing up back in Denver. This detective apparently did as well. It wasn't long before I wasn't just running errands; I was actively helping him on some of his cases." he said.
"This guy was good with computers." he continued. "I learned most of what I know now because of him. I watched him work and asked a lot of questions. He was also very thorough, and a lot of my technique and technical knowledge came from working with him and picking up his habits. We worked together for six or seven years until fate reunited me with the man that had killed my mother. I wasn't going to let him out of my sight this time."
I watched him exhibit a wide range of emotions as he told his story. He went from deep sadness as he recalled the attack that ended his mother's life. Then a somber expression filled with regret as he talked about the events that happened right after. And then when he mentioned seeing the man he had been looking for this whole time, his mouth formed a smile.
"He had been stupid enough to commit another robbery that got someone else killed." he explained. "The detective I had been working with had other things he was doing, so I cut ties with him and decided to put together pieces of information together. After a few months of research I finally decided to act. And of course… the rest is history."
"How do you go from wanting revenge on a guy to turning into the nation's next serial killer?" I wondered.
"I didn't know how I would feel after killing the man I had been after for over six years. You would think that it would completely change who you are. And I guess it did a little. I certainly slept well that first night. And I slowly realized what my true calling was." he admitted. "I still had a lot of research done on various criminals that had yet to be charged with the crimes they committed. So I took care of the ones that I knew I could safely kill without that much risk of getting caught, and I took off before the police got on my trail."
He then proceeded to explain the details that I had all but confirmed already. He took off for Denver because he knew that was where his father worked. He found out that he had since left, and that no one knew where he went. Eventually he found out from sheer luck that he was the new Chief of Police in Houston and made plans to make that his third stop. He tracked down where he lived and tried to confront him at his house, but he never showed so he left a message. Nothing special, just something that would let him know he was back and wanted to talk.
"What were you going to do?" I asked.
"I wasn't going to kill him if that's what you were thinking." he reassured me. "I certainly thought about it. I don't know. I dreamed of confronting him after all of these years, but could never put into words what I wanted to say. So I never tried to contact him again."
"You think he's this ruthless man that wanted nothing to do with you and your mother, but he cared about the two of you." I told him.
"Did he ever talk about me?" he asked, and then when he saw the look on my face and my hesitation to answer he just said. "That's what I figured."
"Do you know how I found you? Your father had a picture of you and your mother with a note on the back saying 'It's over. I'm taking Marty with me. Don't try to find us.' He's kept it with him all of these years and I one day when I was looking through his desk I found it. You think he doesn't care about you but he does."
"I bet you are hoping for some kind of father-son reunion, but it's too late for that. I wouldn't survive prison." he said.
"You could make a deal with the DA to get sent to a minimum security jail with a chance of parole after so-"
"I can't just stop doing this." he interrupted me. "All of those years I was looking for the person that tore my life apart. And when I found him I found out who I was. You of all people should understand what I'm talking about."
"What?" I asked in shock. What WAS he talking about?
"You wondered why I sent you those videos. I wanted to know for sure what kind of person you were. But I know now… you are just like me."
"I don't kill people." I said coldly.
"No. You don't." he responded. "But how many hours did you spend looking at those videos? You had virtually no stake in this investigation, yet you've put the most effort into finding me. Ok, maybe the FBI worked on it just as long, but they were getting paid. You, on the other hand were taken off the case… and you kept working it like nothing had changed."
"I was worried about your father and wanted to know what happened to him." I said.
"Maybe." he said. "But what happened when you figured it all out? How did you feel? Was it a sense of relief perhaps? Did you feel an overwhelming rush of satisfaction that makes you think you are on top of the world? Because that's what I felt every time I looked a murderer in the eye as I took his life."
He was absolutely right. When I found out everything that happened, namely the incident in New York ten years ago where Taylor's wife had been stabbed, I had the normal emotions that most people probably did: shock… horror… pity. But along with that was a very liberating feeling. And without it I wouldn't have had the nerve to finally confront this serial killer today.
"Your point?" I asked.
"People like us… we're better off alone." he said with almost no emotion. "We've gotten a taste of how cruel life can be. We know that at any moment life can turn around and take us down a peg. And it has nothing to do with karma or what's fair. Innocent people can have there lives destroyed for no reason, and sometimes bad people get away with their actions unless someone is there to stop them. So what do we do? We hide, and we put all of our effort and interest into things that are safe. For you it's puzzles. It provides a challenge. It's a distraction and takes up your time. But mostly… a puzzle can't hurt you. My obsession on the other hand is revenge. I can't stop doing what I'm doing, and if you take that away… I have nothing left to live for."
I always wondered why I accepted Taylor's job offer to become a consultant last year. It was a type of job I had never done before. It was something that would thrust me into the public light, despite everything he had done to keep me from doing anything too nerve-racking. Yet in the face of all that, I took his offer. Why? Because it allowed me to solve the biggest puzzles this world could throw at us.
That might've been why I took the job, but it wasn't the reason I kept it. Not even a month in I found I was bonding with people. Taylor and I had a really good work relationship, even if we never liked to talk about our personal lives. I finally reconciled with my dad, at least to the point where I don't actively try to avoid him at all times. And then of course… there was Kari.
"You are wrong. There's more to life than your obsessions." I started to say. "At one point in time I had your philosophy. And I probably would've said the exact same thing you just did back then as well. But then I met someone last year and it changed all of that."
"That reporter friend of yours…"
"Yes." I confirmed. I found a corner of a wall to look at as I said what I had to say. "I wasn't even looking for a friend. It's just funny how those kinds of things sneak up on you, I guess. It wasn't until a couple of days ago that I realized just how much I cared about her. She was a very positive person, very outgoing… and her smile always lit up the room like a beacon. Every time I was feeling down she was never afraid to make fun of herself to cheer me up. People don't usually change, but relationships do… and around her I felt like a different person."
"And yet for the past week you avoided her so that you could go after me. What does that tell you?"
"She told me that she was leaving because of some other job and maybe I got a little mad. I thought that I had more time to tell her how I felt. This wasn't just something I could rush. But now? Now she'll never know." I said, my eyes heavy with sorrow. "And I'm going to miss her when she's gone."
>
It felt nice to be completely honest with myself for once. This whole week I had been lying to myself thinking that as soon as she left I could just pretend nothing happened between us. And as much as it pained me to think about, those memories we shared would never go away.
"Maybe… maybe not." Marty said. "As soon as she leaves you'll get yourself caught up in another puzzle… and then another… and then another after that. Then months will pass by and you'll move on."
His voice had started to get weaker and I knew that soon his body would have lost enough blood for him to finally lose consciousness. By then it would be too late to save him, but it would be easy enough to carry the chair I was handcuffed to over to his body and grab my cell phone and the keys I would need to un-cuff my hand from the chair. And sure enough, no more than five minutes went by and that's exactly what I did. I took my cell phone and my only call was to Taylor. He didn't pick up, but I had a feeling he would listen to my voice message.
"Hey, it's Mike. I found your son." I said coldly, and then proceeded to give him directions to the place we were at. At the end of the message I added "He's dead. I'll leave it to you to inform the FBI."
CHAPTER TEN
I sat there waiting in the same chair I had been handcuffed to, although I had long since used the key to free myself. There was nothing I could do but wait. He had to show up eventually right? That's why he left in the first place. His son left a message on his phone and he wanted so badly to see him again. He couldn't do that while he was still the Chief of Police.
"That's him?" he said from behind me.
"Yeah." I said, turning around to see him.
