I couldn’t stop thinking about her the rest of the day. I felt like a fraud. She came to me for answers, and all I gave her were worthless sayings like “God has a plan.” But what plan? What good could possibly come from the death of her husband? I had not known him well. In fact, I had only met him the one time at their wedding. But he seemed like a gentle soul. He had a warm smile, and he never took his eyes off his bride that day. I remember thinking that they had a long and loving life to look forward to. But now that was gone.
My walk to her home that night seemed to take forever. It was a difficult journey in the dark. I had left my room just before midnight. Strangely I did not feel tired. There was an excitement that ran through me. I couldn’t wait to see her again.
Alda had left the front door unlocked. That wasn’t a surprise to me, and I had expected it to be that way. I found her sleeping in the back bedroom. I stood at the foot of her bed and watched her sleep for the longest time. I kept waiting for her to wake and see me there. Would she scream? Would she feel threatened? But she never woke. She never even turned from one side to the other.
Before I had left the city, I returned to the alley where Bianca died. I found a rock about the same size I had used then and brought it with me here. It should have felt heavy on the long walk. But it never did. I hardly even noticed it in my hand.
It was time now.
I walked around to the side of the bed and kneeled down on the floor. My head was just a few feet above hers. I shook her awake as gently as I could. She opened her eyes slowly. She didn’t seem startled or even surprised to see me. For a second I thought she was going to smile for her lips had started to curl upwards at the corners, but then she looked past me, and I saw fear in her eyes for the first time. I turned to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing there, just a scarcely furnished bedroom and the open door to the remainder of the house.
I thought of her husband dying on that beach, his blood sinking into the sand. I wondered what his last thoughts had been. Did he think of Alda? What had been their last words to each other? Had he promised her that he would come back? Had he known he was lying or did he truly believe those words when he spoke them?
I couldn’t let her suffer anymore, so I brought the rock down crashing onto the side of her head. She slumped back against the bed. I struck her several more times until I could no longer recognize her face. It had been the same with Bianca. And like the time with Bianca, I closed my eyes afterwards and felt for her presence. I waited for her soul to leave her body and wash over me. But there was nothing. No sound. No breeze. Just the complete stillness and emptiness of the room. It was so quiet I actually thought I could hear my own heart beating. It was calm and steady. There was no excitement. No thrill. No increase in my pulse.
I wiped the blood off the rock with her bed sheet and turned to leave. I was almost to her bedroom door when I heard the moan.
Was she still alive? How was that possible?
I quickly walked back to her. There was no movement. I bent down to her and placed my ear near what remained of her lips. There was no air coming from her body. No sound. I felt her neck for her pulse. Nothing. She was gone.
I must have imagined the moan. It couldn’t possibly have come from her. But was there someone else in the house? A child? A neighbor who had seen me enter her home?
I started to panic. What if someone had seen me? Could they recognize my face in the dark? Would they call for help? I tightened my grip around the rock and quickly searched the rest of the home. I found no one. I looked out the front and back windows. There was no one.
I went back into her bedroom. She was still there. The blood had finally stopped flowing from her head. The bed sheet and mattress had soaked it all up. I don’t know how long I stood there watching her, waiting to see if she would make a noise. She didn’t.
Again I turned to leave and again I heard the moan when I got near her door. But this time I could tell where it came from. Her window. I rushed over to it and threw it open. There was no one outside. But there had to be. I knew now that I had not imagined it.
I raced out of the house and went to the back. I saw the white figure lying on the ground under her bedroom window. The rock was still in my hand, and I thought I would need to use it a second time tonight. I ran over to the white figure and was surprised to see it wasn’t alive. It was a mannequin. I turned it over so I could see its face. The pale, lifeless eyes stared back at me.
I laughed. I had been imagining things. There was no way I could have heard this thing moaning. I had thought myself calm, but I had been afraid after all. I was scared someone would catch me so far from my home. But there was no one here. No one had seen me kill her. No one had heard a thing.
I looked down at the mannequin again. Who would have put it here? Then I looked across the field to the east. The sun had started to rise. I needed to get back before someone noticed me gone, especially the bothersome Father Moretti. I wanted to run, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I shouldn’t have worried. I didn’t see a single person on the road. It was like the whole world had disappeared.
CHAPTER 7
The Woman Without A Face
Present Day.
Marcus thrust his hands deep into his coat pockets. The car’s heater was on full blast, but he couldn’t seem to get warm. Angela was driving, which allowed him to tune out from time to time. The sun was still low in the sky, but it was mostly hidden behind the thick sheet of gray winter clouds.
They had not exchanged more than a few words since she had picked him up outside his apartment building. There was no tension between them. But they were both no doubt feeling the pressure of the case. Another victim and still they had nothing to go on. Their sergeant had been patient with them, beyond patient. He knew how difficult the case was, but now he was pressing them hard.
The media was calling for his resignation for failing to catch the murderer. Everyone was terrified. That was more than understandable. But how could they be expected to catch someone who made no mistakes? If the public only knew how vulnerable they truly were, they would never leave their houses.
Most criminals were stupid. Most made simple mistakes that got them caught without much effort. Most talked nonstop about their crimes and that meant it was only a matter of time before someone sold them out. But what if they weren’t dumb? What if they didn’t talk? What if they picked some completely random victim whom they had absolutely no ties to? Then it was game over for the cops, unless they got seriously lucky. Would this new site provide some evidence, some clue that might help them break this case? Marcus seriously doubted it.
Marcus looked out the window again. You could almost see the cold in the air. He couldn’t imagine how frigid it must be farther north. God, how could people take that level of cold?
He thought about the victims. They were always naked when they were found. Did the killer strip them before or after he killed them? Was their death fast or did they suffer a long and agonizing death?
Finally, Angela broke the silence.
“How are you feeling?”
Marcus didn’t turn to her. He just continued to look out the car window.
“Why don’t we talk about you for a change?” he asked.
“Not as interesting a subject.”
“As my life? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What’s going to happen to your grandfather’s house?” she asked.
“He left it to me. I haven’t decided what to do with it yet.”
“Not the best time to be selling.”
She had stated the obvious, and he was getting a little tired of everyone telling him that.
“I don’t want to make any decisions yet, anyway,” he replied.
Marcus finally turned to her and attempted a smile.
“How’s Dick?” he asked.
Angela frowned. Not this tired old joke again.
“You’re a smart guy, Marcus. Can’t you come up with som
ething more original than that?”
“What can I say? He brings out the immaturity in me.”
“You’ll be happy to know I’m not seeing Richard anymore.”
She emphasized the word Richard.
“When did that happen?” Marcus asked, somewhat surprised.
Angela didn’t answer him. She finally saw the blue and red flashing lights ahead. A police officer, clearly freezing despite his heavy coat and gloves, stood beside the car which was parked beside a large wooden sign marking the entrance to First Landing state park.
“We broke up last night,” she said.
“You all right?” he asked.
There was genuine concern in his voice, and Marcus could tell it surprised Angela. He truly cared about Angela, but he never showed it. Always gave her a hard time, especially about relationships. Was he jealous of her? Was he jealous that she still got to experience love?
Angela slowed the car down as they got closer to the police officer.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.
Angela stopped the car and held her detective’s badge up to the window. The police officer nodded, and Angela turned into the entrance of the park.
The road was quite long and twisted and led then through a thick patch of woods. Although the leaves had fallen off, the trees were still thick enough to make it difficult if not impossible to see deep into the woods.
The road veered sharply to the left, and after making the turn, Angela and Marcus saw the controlled chaos that was typical for a crime scene. Several marked and unmarked police cars were crammed into the tiny parking lot. An ambulance was also there. Its back doors were swung open, but there was no body present. Several narrow dirt trails connected to the parking lot and fanned out in all different directions.
Marcus noticed the medical examiner’s car was not there. It would be soon, no doubt. He and Angela had spent a lot of time in the last several months with Dr. Greene.
Angela packed her car in a narrow slot between two police cars. Both she and Marcus exited the car and took in their surroundings. Although the park was close to the beach and several crowded housing developments, the running and hiking paths were relatively isolated. Still he knew the park was in constant use by diehard runners, even in the cold weather. It must have been quite difficult to smuggle the body back here and not be seen by someone, especially the park ranger. Was the killer getting reckless or was he just extremely confident? Unfortunately, they hadn’t given him much reason not to be.
A gust of cold wind reared up and hit them both hard. Angela involuntarily winced as she pulled the collar of her long black coat up against her face.
The responding police officer, Jim Patterson, approached them.
“Little cold for you, Detective?” Patterson asked Angela.
Patterson was in his forties and was a good twenty pounds overweight. All of the extra weight found its home around his bulging waist. The rest of his body was thin. He looked like he had swallowed a small beach ball. Patterson’s face was bright red from the sting of the frigid air. He did his best not to appear cold, but his body was slightly shaking.
Angela didn’t know whether the comment was meant to criticize her or point out what Patterson may have believed to be a sign that she was a member of the “weaker” sex. Regardless of what it was, she decided to let it go. She knew Patterson and thought he was an insecure asshole, not worth her time.
“Where is she?” Angela asked him.
Patterson nodded towards one of the dirt paths that led into the woods.
“A jogger found her on a morning run,” he said.
“Morning run? Who the hell runs in this weather?” Angela asked.
Patterson motioned in the direction of a man talking to a police sergeant. The man was wearing jogging pants and a thick fleece. He had a wool hat that was pulled low over his ears. The man was talking to Marcus’s and Angela’s supervisor, Sergeant Ramsey.
Ramsey was now overweight, but the extra pounds were spread throughout his body and made him seem even more intimidating than he had been in his youth. In his heyday he had been an athlete, the high school football star who returned to their town after being an even bigger college football sensation. A blown knee had ended what looked to be a promising career in the NFL.
Ramsey must have had eyes in the back of his head because he turned around and looked at Marcus and Angela. They both nodded to him, and Ramsey turned his attention back to the jogger who had found the body. The man looked terrified and cold and like he wanted to be anywhere but this parking lot in the dead of winter.
“Guy seems pretty spooked,” Patterson said. “I don’t think you can fake that.”
Marcus felt bad for the man. He knew he would never be able to erase the image of the faceless woman.
“Let’s see the body,” Angela said.
Patterson led them towards the path where the body was discovered.
“Guy found the body, then ran back to his car and called 911,” Patterson continued.
Marcus and Angela absorbed it all: the thick woods, the gray sky, the crunching of the frozen dirt under their shoes.
After a short, winding hike, they saw several people combing the woods. A few uniformed police officers controlled the area, which was a relatively easy job considering there were no other citizens wanting to use the park at this time of day. The other people Marcus saw were forensics investigators. They were dressed in civilian clothing, and they were using expensive looking Nikon digital cameras to record every square inch of the scene.
“She’s just a few feet off the path. He wanted her to be found,” Patterson said.
Marcus saw the body before Patterson pointed it out. Patterson was right. The killer did want the body to be found, but he already knew that would be the case. She had been dumped in a clear cut section of the woods. It would have been impossible not to see her. She was naked and lying on her stomach. Her skin had turned a faint shade of blue. A dead snake had been wrapped around her neck. The letters “MAI” were carved into the flesh of her back. Her head was turned towards the running path. It was easy to see that her face had been removed with expert care. The entire scene was stomach churning. Of course this wasn’t the first victim Marcus had seen, but the gruesome sight still struck him hard in the pit of his stomach. He fought the sudden urge to vomit on the frozen path.
Neither Marcus nor Angela said a word. They just reluctantly continued to take in every detail of the crime scene. Patterson did his best not to appear shaken or disturbed, but it was clear he was. His face had lost its redness and had turned a ghostly white. He was actually sweating profusely, despite the constant cold wind battering everyone there. Angela felt somewhat immature for taking delight in his obvious discomfort. Perhaps she hadn’t let go of the earlier dig.
“You feeling okay, officer?” Angela asked, doing her best to repress her smile.
Patterson looked at her, expecting a smirk. But instead she looked concerned for his well being. He ignored her question and looked back at the victim.
“Same as the others,” Patterson stated.
“We can see that, officer,” Angela responded.
He was really getting on her nerves now, and she hated the fact she didn’t have more control over her emotions.
Marcus finally took his eyes off the victim and observed the forensics investigators.
“I don’t suppose they’ve found anything?” Marcus asked, already knowing the answer.
“Nothing so far,” Patterson said.
Marcus turned back to the victim. He kneeled before her. Marcus knew it wouldn’t be difficult to get an ID even though her face had been removed. If the pattern held, the victim would have a criminal record, and they would find it with a fingerprint match. All of the other victims had been prostitutes, and if there was one thing this killer was it was consistent.
Marcus studied the intricate muscles of the face of the victim. He was always amazed at how many muscles made up the hum
an body, especially the face.
The killer left the eye lids intact, and he always closed them, like the women were sleeping. Maybe he didn’t want the victims staring at him as he removed their faces. Or was it something else? Would Marcus ever find out?
“How many does this make?” Patterson asked Angela.
She was full-on annoyed now. She was the homicide detective, not him. He should have left them alone and allowed them to do their job. Why did this jerk-off think she needed to answer his questions? She wished Marcus would tell him to get lost, so she wouldn’t be the one to look like a bitch.
But Marcus seemed oblivious to Patterson. He continued to study the victim. The killer had carved away the flesh of the forehead too. It was removed right up to the hairline. Why just remove the skin of the face and forehead though? Why not the entire body?
Suddenly the eyes of the victim opened. They blinked once, twice. Marcus, who was still kneeling, involuntarily moved backwards. But his balance was off and he started to topple over. He caught himself by extending one arm backwards towards the path.
After he regained his balance, he looked back at the victim. Her eyes were closed like when they first arrived at the crime scene.
He looked up at Angela. She and Patterson had stopped talking and both of them were now staring down at him.
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked.
Marcus stood up, trying his best not to feel humiliated. He didn’t answer Angela. What could he say to her? “I thought I saw the dead girl open her eyes.” “My eyes are playing tricks on me.” “Maybe I’m cracking under this stress.”
Instead, he said nothing.
Angela took a step closer to him.
“Marcus, what’s wrong?” she whispered.
Marcus looked to the ground.
“I thought I saw something move.”
Patterson looked relieved to discover someone else was just as spooked as he was.
“No snakes out here, detective. Too cold,” he replied.
Patterson looked over to the dead snake wrapped around the throat of the victim.
Nature of Evil Page 4