by C. M. Sutter
Brandon was asked to start. The note in his envelope had told him to go to the tent city south of downtown, where the homeless had set up camp beneath the freeway overpass. His instructions were to find the shelter of a homeless person who was farthest from the main group—someone literally on the fringe—and slit their throat from ear to ear. Jacob and Evelyn needed photo evidence and details of the killing until the moment that the victim took his or her last breath.
Jacob and Evelyn were particularly interested in Brandon. Brandon had mentioned to his recruiter that he wanted to be a part of something, and that information was passed on to Jacob and Evelyn. He’d said that being in a group of likeminded individuals, people he could identify with, was the answer to his dreams. Jacob had learned that Brandon had prior offenses, so the kid was just the type of person they sought. He was an outspoken hater of many, a friend to few, and was passionate about exacting justice on those who deserved it. He’d said it made him feel alive, and all he needed was something to belong to. He’d found what he was looking for with Jacob and Evelyn.
“Tell us everything in detail, Brandon,” Jacob said. “Spare nothing.”
After taking a deep breath, Brandon began. “I went to the location the note said to go to and found the homeless camp. There were about thirty tents and makeshift cardboard shelters. It was two in the morning, so only a few people were milling around. With my head down, I picked up my pace, got around them without being noticed, and didn’t make a peep. I needed to locate my target.”
“Good call,” Jacob said. “You don’t want anyone to be able to identify you, even though most of those people are druggies and don’t live in reality.” He tipped his head. “Go on.”
“I continued until I was at the last few shelters. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, so I followed from a distance. It was a woman who was walking to a tent, I assume after taking a piss. Hers was the last tent, exactly what I needed. She bent down to crawl inside, and I grabbed her from behind, cupped my hand over her mouth, and dragged her away.” He went on. “She put up a good fight, kicking and flailing, but I like the fight. It revs me up, you know?”
The group nodded. After all, homeless people were disposable and the perfect practice subjects.
“Then what?” Evelyn leaned forward, clearly focused on his story.
“After I dragged her about a hundred feet from the camp, I saw an alley that was lined on both sides with dumpsters. I wedged her and myself between two of them so she couldn’t kick anymore, flicked open my knife, and pulled her head back. That’s when I sliced her.” His eyes widened. “The damn blood squirted so far it hit the brick wall and ran down it. I even took a picture of that.” Brandon passed his phone from one recruit to the next and finally to Jacob and Evelyn. It was a job well-done.
“So nobody saw you, and she didn’t scream?” Jacob asked.
“Nope. Easy as pie.”
Evelyn caught Jacob’s attention with a subtle head tip.
He stood and turned to the back of the building, and she followed. “Give us five minutes, people. We’ll be right back.” Once they were out of earshot, Jacob asked why she’d pulled him aside.
“It’s Brandon. He has the enthusiasm and bravery that we need as a leader. I’m sure the others did as they were instructed, but Brandon seems to be in a league of his own. I think he’s capable of being our second in charge.”
“He’s not even twenty-one, and you’d trust him over the others who have been in our group from the beginning? I don’t want to cause jealousy or any bad blood between our helpers.”
“Just keep it in mind. I’d say he’s at least on equal ground with Erik.”
“Really?”
Evelyn nodded and took Jacob by the hand. “Let’s get back to the meeting. I want to hear the other stories.”
After returning to their seats, Jacob and Evelyn continued with the other recruits, listened to similar stories, and viewed proof of the acts through cell phone pictures. Everyone seemed trustworthy and willing to move on to the second task.
“Are any of you left-handed?” Evelyn asked.
They all shook their heads.
“That’s even better. I like the idea of making this hard on the police and the city officials. The medical examiner won’t have anything to differentiate one killing from another, and all of you completed your tasks between two and two fifteen a.m.?”
They said that they had.
“Okay, that’s all for now, and I’m pleased with your dedication. Those homeless people were your easy targets. It’s unfortunate that they’re throwaways, but nobody cares about them, and they won’t be missed. Jesus will take them into his fold. Now, we need all the knives back, and then you can go about your day. Your recruiter will be in touch soon with the second assignment.”
After the knives were collected, the recruits were escorted out.
Chapter 4
At the first scene Renz and I went to, an officer walked us to the body. I knew from the police report that the victim would be a woman who, according to Dave’s best guess, looked to be around fifty. He didn’t find an ID on her, and the police said there wasn’t one in her tent either.
When we reached the alley, the deputy guarding the scene lifted the blood-soaked sheet and exposed the woman’s body. She was lying between two dumpsters, her legs buckled behind her and her head resting abnormally on her left shoulder. I’d grown used to seeing dead bodies over the years, but that never made it easier. I furrowed my brow, knelt, and gave her a long, hard look. I pointed out the inside of her elbows, which revealed scarred skin and recent track marks.
“She’s a junkie. It always boggles my mind how they get access to the drugs. They can’t afford to clean themselves up or eat right, but there’s always money for drugs, alcohol, and smokes.” I pushed off my knee and stood then swapped places with Renz so he could take a look.
“They’re resilient, Jade, and find ways, whether it’s by sexual favors, robbing people, or stealing food and bartering for their drug of choice.”
“I know, but it still makes me sad. I mean, where’s their family?”
“Unfortunately, that’s the million-dollar question. This woman will get her autopsy and then likely be buried in the county cemetery as a Jane Doe. Let’s go take a look at her tent and talk to the person who discovered her.”
We walked to the cluster of tents, and the officer directed us to the green one just beyond the end of the overpass. The constant rumble of cars, trucks, and semis passing above us was louder than I’d imagined. Even if our Jane Doe had fought for her life, her struggles would have probably been drowned out by the noise. Yet if Dave determined that her death occurred late at night, the traffic would have been substantially lighter. Still gloved, I pushed aside her dome tent’s flap and crawled in. Directly to my left sat a small tote, and opposite that was her makeshift bed. It consisted of two tattered blankets on top of three-inch-thick stacked cardboard. Its purpose was likely twofold—to provide a cushion and to ward off the cold dampness of the pavement beneath the tent. I felt a twinge of guilt as I recalled lazily lying in the comfort of my clean, cushy bed only hours earlier. I turned around and opened the tote. Renz excused himself and squeezed in next to me.
“What’s in there?”
“Don’t know. I’m just about to open it.”
Renz pointed with his chin. “Go ahead.”
As I lifted off the lid, he illuminated the tote with his phone’s flashlight. Inside were several cans of pork and beans, a bag of potato chips, a half-eaten jar of peanut butter, two pair of sweatpants, two T-shirts, one open pack of menthol cigarettes with a lighter inside and six unopened packs, and four dollars in change that had fallen to the bottom of the bin.
I’d never been in a homeless camp, let alone in one of the tents, to actually see how few worldly possessions those people had. This woman’s possessions boiled down to a small amount of food, a few items of clothing, her much-needed cigarettes, and what I a
ssumed was an uncomfortable bed of sorts. Some homeless people probably had it better, and some had it worse.
I turned to Renz and shook my head. “Why don’t these people just stay in shelters? And then what happens when the temps fall below zero?”
“They figure it out or freeze to death. Many build barrel fires and huddle around them to stay warm.”
“But why—”
“Why don’t they move indoors?”
“Yeah.”
“Because outliers don’t want rules imposed on them. They aren’t the down-and-out types who just need a handout and a clean bed to sleep on for a while. These are the diehards who won’t abide by rules set by establishments that are there to help them. The shelters have rules, and the residents can’t have drugs or alcohol inside. There are curfews they have to abide by, too, so they choose to tough it out rather than cave in.”
“That’s a real shame, and obviously, by what happened overnight, a dangerous life too.” When I noticed people waiting to grab what few items the deceased woman owned and her tent as well, I shook my head. “What do we do with this stuff?”
Renz shrugged. “There’s nothing in the tent that leads to her identity, and it doesn’t look like anyone rifled through it. I’d be fine with letting the other homeless take what they want. Why guard a tent that doesn’t have any forensic value? We don’t even know who her next of kin is to call.”
I agreed, yet the whole scene reminded me of vultures waiting for their chance at roadkill. I needed to stop thinking about the sad reality and focus on the murder itself and why she in particular was the target. I waved down the officer who had taken us to the body. “Who found her?”
He pointed at a man six tents farther in under the overpass.
“He’s been interviewed?”
“Yes, but he seemed real fidgety, like he was coming down from something.”
“Sure. We’ll interview him again anyway. Anyone else?”
“Nope, but there were a few people up and about during that time according to Mr. Fidgety. He might be able to shed some light on that.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Renz and I walked over to the man whose eyes darted back and forth as he sat on an advertising crate next to his cardboard shelter. He was one of the lucky ones to have his “home” under the overpass since rain and snow would definitely turn his cardboard into mush in no time. We approached cautiously, not wanting to give him a reason to clam up, yet we didn’t know if anything he told us would be credible.
“Hello, sir,” I said as we neared. “We hear you’re the one who found that woman between the dumpsters this morning. Can you tell us about that?”
“I told that guy.” He pointed at a random police officer, and we knew he hadn’t spoken with the man.
I played along. “Yes you did, but he can’t remember what you said. I’ll write it down, though, because your story is very important to us. What’s your name?”
“Ray. My story is important?”
“Of course it is, Ray,” I said. “Right now, you’re the man of the hour.”
“I am?”
I nodded and gave him my best smile then pulled my notepad and pen from my pocket. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“I need a cigarette first. Do you have one?”
I gave Renz a side-eyed glance and stood. “I’ll be right back.” I rushed to the woman’s tent, grabbed all the packs of cigarettes to use as bargaining chips, and returned to the man’s campsite. “How about a brand-new pack of smokes?”
In a flash, he tried to snatch the pack out of my hand.
“Hey, hey, not so fast, buddy. You’ll get one now and the rest of the pack after we hear your story. Deal?”
He squinted as he sized me up. “Two now and then I’ll talk.”
“Okay, two it is and eighteen more later.” I opened the pack and pulled out two.
With shaky fingers, he fished a lighter out of his pocket, took the cigarettes from me, and lit one. The end glowed orange as he drew in a mouthful of nicotine.
“Go ahead,” Renz said. “We need to hear everything you know.”
The man blew out a puff of smoke then pointed toward the alley. “I heard it back there last night, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to see what the commotion was about. I knew it couldn’t be anything good, and even though my life sucks, at least I’m alive.”
“Ray, wasn’t the freeway noise too loud to hear anything?” I squatted to his level and leaned in closer.
He looked past us as if watching his memory play out on the big screen. He pointed over his shoulder. “The fellas down there were yacking among themselves and didn’t hear what I heard, and at that time of night, it’s quieter than now.”
“And what you heard was?”
“A scuffle, muffled cries, and then a dragging sound on the pavement. I crawled out of my box to take a look, but they were too far away. I couldn’t make out anything except dark figures moving into the alley, and then I heard noises at the dumpsters.” He stuck a shaky finger in my face. “I’m at those dumpsters all the time, and I know the sounds they make. It wasn’t long before everything was dead quiet again. I never saw anyone coming or going after that, so I crawled back in my box and stayed perfectly still. I didn’t want to be seen or heard—just in case.”
“Understood,” Renz said.
I jotted down everything Ray had said then asked about the time. “Do you have any idea when you heard those sounds?”
“Only because of the bells.”
I looked around for a steeple and saw it. “The church bells?”
He nodded. “Ding-dong, ding-dong.”
“So two in the morning?”
He nodded again.
“We heard that you didn’t crawl out of your box again until this morning.”
He shook his head vigorously as if he wanted to rattle away the memories. “Nope. I didn’t show my face until the sun was up and it looked safe. I waited until more people were moving around before I went to the alley to see if anything was there to explain the noises I heard.”
“And that’s when you saw her?”
He looked at me, squashed the first cigarette under his worn-out sneaker, and lit the second one. “I’ll admit, I haven’t run full speed in five years, but I did then. I went to that quick shop on the corner over there”—he jerked his head to the left—“and told them to call the cops. When they showed up, I took them to her body.”
“How did you know she was dead?”
He stared off into space. “Because there was so much blood, even on the brick walls.”
“Did you know the woman by name? Have you ever talked to her?”
“Nope. She kept to herself, and that’s probably why she pitched her tent farther out. Big mistake, big mistake.”
I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“She hasn’t been here long—only a few weeks. Nobody from our camp knew her, so the killer isn’t one of us. We’re all in the same boat with nothing worth a shit, so why bother?”
“That’s true,” I said.
“What’s your opinion?” Renz asked.
He wagged his finger. “I’d say a stranger was out looking for trouble and just happened by her tent. That woman was an easy target being on the edge of the camp like that.”
Renz rubbed his chin. “But how would a passerby know it was a woman in that tent?”
Ray shrugged then continued. “People take pisses at night, you know, especially if they don’t want an audience. They go find a dark spot and drop their drawers. Maybe he saw her and followed her back to the tent.”
I tipped my head. “Makes sense.” I pointed at other people milling around. “Anyone else see anything besides you? Was there anybody near the alley this morning?”
“Nope, and there wasn’t talk from the others of anyone hearing noises last night.”
“Okay.” I pushed off my knee and stood. “Here’s my card, Ray. I know you don’t have your own phone, but if s
omething strange comes up, go to that corner store and call me. Here are the cigarettes I promised you.” I handed him the pack and noticed several missing teeth as he formed a wide smile.
“Much obliged”—he looked at the card—“Agent Jade Monroe.”
I glanced at the woman’s tent as we passed it. The camp’s residents had already emptied the contents and were now arguing over possession of the tent. I wondered how life had gotten so bad for so many people. Homeless settlements were everywhere and in all major cities across the country.
“Earth to Jade.”
I looked at Renz. “What?”
“I asked if you were ready to go to the second location.”
“Oh, yeah. Are we supposed to say something to that deputy at the dumpster?”
“Like what?”
“Like we’re done and they can release the body to the nearest hospital’s morgue until Dave has them all delivered to the medical examiner’s office.”
“I’ll call Taft, and she can arrange that with the local police chief or the sheriff.”
I sighed. “Okay, and I’ll look over the second police report while you drive.”
Chapter 5
Renz clicked off the update call to Taft just as we got back to our car. The second site we were headed to was a vacant lot and only feet from a public sidewalk. The police report mentioned a woman by the name of Terry Gerhart who had made the 911 call.
I paraphrased the report as Renz drove. “Okay, sounds like a deceased male was lying in a vacant lot between two run-down buildings. Apparently, this Terry Gerhart told police she was going to the gas station to pick up a quart of milk when, from the back seat, her daughter yelled out that there was a man lying on the ground. Terry stopped, backed up to make sure her daughter hadn’t mistaken a bag of trash for a man, and she hadn’t. That’s when Terry called 911 from her cell phone. The police told her to wait there and said they were en route. The report shows they arrived four minutes later. They describe the man as someone possibly in his fifties, disheveled, and wearing ragged clothing. They also said they were aware of a homeless camp that was set up in a park two blocks away, and the man might have come from there.”