The electricity surged triggered a power outage. “Damn you Judas. What have you done?”
***
A stack of case files and boxes piled onto the coffee table busied Janice as she prepped for an upcoming trial. She looked at her watch. Where’s that S.O.B.?
“Deedra, call Tom.”
“Congressman Tom Thompson’s phone is forwarded to Meagan Montgomery. Would you like for me to proceed?”
“Proceed.”
Meagan Montgomery’s recorded southern bell voice grated Janice. “You’ve reached Congressman Tom Thompson. A strong Congressman makes for a stronger America. Please leave a message and we’ll return your call.”
“Deedra, call Meagan Montgomery.”
The phone rang twice; Meagan answered it in her sleepy southern voice. “This is Meagan.”
“Meagan. Where is my husband?” Her voice curt woke Meagan and grated her.
“Ms. Bennett, he left the office around nine. I thought he was going home to be with you. Have you tried calling him?”
“It goes straight to your voicemail.”
“Would you like for me to call him and see if he answers?”
“No thank you. Deedra, end call.”
Janice paced the living room in deep thought. “Deedra, how many girls have been murdered by the Sorority serial killer?”
“Search parameters have commenced.”
Janice paced. He can really get beneath my skin.
“Display the names when you find them.” Janice sat on the couch. “How much longer Deedra?”
The screen powered listing seven names.
“Deedra, who killed Roxy Starlite?”
“That information has not been determined as Roxy Starlite was not a member of Alpha Sigma Kappa and the cause of her death does not match the signature of the Sorority serial killer.”
“Deedra, what was the cause of death for Roxy Starlite?”
“They have not released the details on the cause of death for Roxy Starlite.”
“Deedra, who killed Kara Haynes?”
“I’m sorry Janice. There is no information on the cause of death for Kara Haynes and her file is marked with a level five security clearance.”
“Damn it, Deedra. I have a level six clearance.”
“I’m sorry Janice, I don’t understand your question.”
“Deedra, open the file for Kara Haynes.”
“Janice. Please listen this time, Kara Haynes file is sealed. You must have a level five security clearance.”
“Deedra, are there any missing report cases of women in our area between the ages of eighteen and thirty in the last year?”
“Search parameters commenced.”
“How long will this search take?”
“There is no need for rudeness. I am processing what you have asked.”
“Deedra, limit your comments to the results.”
“I have found five missing person reports in the New Orleans Metropolitan area since September fifth of two thousand fifty-seven matching your search parameters.”
“Deedra, list the missing person report and the Sorority serial killer victims in a second column on my screen.”
The screen changed and added eight more names.
“Deedra, use the search parameters and compare any of the girls listed above, along with Kara Haynes and Roxy Starlite, with the Congressman’s calendar and cell phone records and identify them?”
“Search parameters have commenced. There may be a delay as I will search several databases. Please remain patient while I obtain the information you requested.”
“I have time.”
“Thank you for your patience Janice. I have identified the following information.”
Monica Perry – Murdered -12/15/2057 - UNO
Loraine McDaniel – Murdered - 1/26/2058 - UNO
Nancy Dubois – Murdered - 2/14/2058 - LSU
Tracy Nelson – Murdered - 3/15/2058 - LSU
Phyllis Cantrell – Murdered - 3/27/2058 - Loyola
Frances Cook – Murdered -3/28/2058 -LSU
Zelda Hepburn – Missing from Kenner, LA - 10/28/2058
Jackie Perone – Missing from Metairie, LA - 11/12/2058
Anna Conda – Missing from New Orleans, LA - 3/27/2058
Roxy Starlite – Murdered - 3/29/2058 - New Orleans, LA
Kara Haynes – Murdered - 3/29/2058 - Metairie, LA
“Deedra, print the last three screens and send a PDF to my D-Mail.”
“Job complete. I have sent a copy to your D-Mail.”
Janice waited by the printer for the information she requested until she grabbed the papers. She stomped to her and Tom’s walk-in closet, retrieved the business cards and napkins from her panty drawer and compared the names against the reports. My God, they’re all here and others not on these lists. “Tom, what have you done?”
***
Congressman Thompson and his friend, Michael Edmonds, sat at the Alley Cat bar. Madame Laveau belted the song Dark Waters from the stage although they were the only customers in the bar.
Alex threw his wet rag across his shoulder and rested his hands onto the bar’s counter in front of his only two patrons. “Last call. You both up for another round?”
“Sure, why not?” The Congressman finished the last part of his drink.
“Not me. I have football practice tomorrow.”
“I thought it was off season for the Saints. How is it you have practice?”
“My contract is up. I’m a free agent. The Falcons are looking at me.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. You can’t play for the Dirty Birds. At least hold out for another season. I want to watch you play.”
“I may not have a choice. Since Uncle Tom died and his wife passed, the asshole running the show assumes she knows everything.”
“Are you talking about his granddaughter? She’s got to be old by now?”
“Don’t know the relation. She’s as old as they get and a hag too. I’d be glad to go play with the Dirty Birds.”
Alex placed the drinks and the tab on the bar. “We close in five minutes. Drink up gentleman.” Alex turned and sauntered to the end of the bar and poured a draft beer for Madame Laveau and her piano player.
“Back to the Dirty Birds. Atlanta doesn’t have the reputation of accepting gay men into their organization. How do you think you’d fair?”
“I haven’t come out publicly.”
“Well, in that case, let’s go to your place and play touch football before you get traded.”
MONDAY, APRIL 1, 2058
chapter 20
Special K
Throughout the night, Marge tossed more times than she dared to count. Her husband’s behavior and invention disturbed her waking and sleeping thoughts. Shit. I can’t take this anymore.
“Deedra, what time is it?”
“It is four thirty AM.”
“I should be sleeping and not worrying about an invention of doom.”
“I’m sorry Marge. I don’t understand your question.”
“Damn you Judas, Transcendence must be stopped.”
“I’m sorry Marge. What would you like me to do?”
“Stop Transcendence.”
“I’m sorry Marge. I do not have authorization to stop Transcendence. I can start your musical playlist if you would like.”
“Deedra, shut up!”
“Marge, you do not have to raise your voice.”
“Deedra, power down.”
Marge forced herself out of bed and paced. Not even the weapons used during the Third Global War compare to the potential of what’s in my garage. She took in a deep breath. “If one terrorist group got a hold of Transcendence, humanity as we know it would end.”
***
Agent Mansfield studied the criminal map board as Agent Locklear entered. When he heard the door squeak, he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re up early.”
Agent Locklear yawned covering her mouth with her hand. “I
couldn’t sleep knowing what’s out there.”
“I couldn’t sleep knowing we have another serial killer on our hands.”
“It’s way too early to speculate and come to that conclusion. New Orleans averages two to three murders a night. There are probably three thousand serial killers in America today roaming free.”
“I’m concerned the recent deaths of Kara Haynes and Roxy Starlite are the beginning of two more.”
“These are isolated cases. There isn’t any evidence to support the theory of another serial killer, much less two.”
“That’s what I thought until I received a phone call from William Beal, my last partner out in Portland. He called me late last night after I sent the information to VICAP. After reading the details of the body disfigurement of Kara Haynes, he called.”
“You need a security level five clearance to read that report.”
“He’s a level seven in charge of the northwest division stationed in Seattle.”
“I thought you told me Portland.”
“We were both posted there. After my transfer to New Orleans, he received his promotion and went to Seattle. That’s not what’s important. He told me he knows of at least thirteen cases throughout the United States, Canada and Scotland where the victim’s tongues and teeth were extracted. One more thing. Seven years ago, another woman in New Orleans was discovered with her teeth and tongue removed. This isn’t an isolated case. We have another serial killer. Because the victims cross state and international borders, this case belongs to the FBI to solve. He’s sending over the paperwork.”
“It’s not as if we have nothing else on our plates. I’ll never sleep.”
Agent Mansfield received a text. He looked at it. “You can sleep in the car. I texted the medical examiner last night and told him I needed to see him as early as possible. He’s on the way to the morgue now.”
“I guess this is no April Fool’s day prank.”
***
The morning sunlight seeped through the tinted curtains in Matthew’s bedroom where he slept. Kelly slumbered beside him. The alarm buzzed. Matthew peeped at the time. “Six fifteen already. No, I don’t want to get up.” He melted into his pillow. He pressed the snooze button.
Kelly moved and stretched her arms above her head which showcased her purple silk gown with pearl beads at the neckline. “I love where I am. I can’t believe you let me sleep over again.”
“Why not? I enjoy your company.”
“I know how you feel about me transitioning.”
“You said it yourself, you’re a woman now.”
“Is that why we didn’t make love last night?”
“I’m not there, yet. For now, we’re just friends. Friends without benefits.”
The alarm sounded again. “Okay, I have to get up. You can stay and sleep as long as you want.”
“I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“I don’t have time. I’ll grab a bowl of Special K cereal and be on my way.” He slid out of bed. “I have to find Anna.”
“You have no way of knowing that. Want a piece of advice?”
“Not really. But I have a feeling you’re going to give it whether I want to hear it or not.” Matthew ambled to the bathroom door. Why me?
Kelly lustfully gazed with wonderment at his back dimples and drum-tight butt. “If I had a body like yours, I probably would still want to be a man.”
Matthew blushed with embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.” He closed the bathroom door behind him.
“That’s some fierce fine eye candy.”
***
Blaze on her couch studied for her English exam in her living room. Shakespeare, yuk. Like I’m going to need to know this in the future.
Lorenzo entered wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and sat on the coffee table in front of her. “I like your outfit. Very grunge for a rich girl.”
“I can do grunge. Now, let me study for my English test this afternoon.”
“I forgot what it was like to study for college.”
“You’ve been in prison for three years. Why didn’t you take online classes?”
“I did. I got my bachelor’s degree last December in business.”
“What? Congratulations. You never told me that.”
“We weren’t allowed to communicate, remember?”
A double tap followed by a triple tap on the door interrupted their conversation. Blaze shrugged sending Lorenzo to the door. “I’ll get it. You keep studying.”
“Thanks, you’re so sweet.”
Lorenzo squinted his left eye and peered through the peep hole. “It’s a guy with red hair and freckles holding two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts.”
“Let him in. It’s my friend, Roth.”
“The guy with the dog who helped you with your homeless paper?”
Roth tapped again.
“Open the door and let him in.”
He opened it as instructed, but his face indicated sternness. “I’m Lorenzo, Blaze’s boyfriend. Come on in.”
“For a second I thought I might have overshot her apartment.” Roth stepped into the living room. “I would have brought three coffees and more donuts if I knew you had company.” Jealousy tinged his inner soul.
“No problem. I don’t drink coffee and I don’t eat donuts.” Lorenzo tapped his stomach and bulked his chest. “I’ve got to watch my six-pack.”
Roth placed the cups and donuts on the coffee table. He extended his hand to Lorenzo. “I’m Roth. Blaze’s study buddy and carpool driver.” The men shook hands.
Blaze’s expression yielded genuine confusion. “Roth, class isn’t until two this afternoon. It’s nine o’clock. What are you doing here?”
“I guess you forgot Professor Faust combined his classes today because of the guest speaker on near death experiences.”
A grin of total understanding tugged at the corner of Lorenzo’s stern mouth. “It’s good you’re already dressed.”
“That’s so true. I’ll get my stuff.”
***
In the autopsy medical lab, Agent Locklear, Agent Mansfield and Robby studied Kara’s corpse.
Locklear turned away gagging. “It smells like rotten flesh in here.”
Robby sniffed the air. “In a sense that’s accurate. Decomposed bodies always smell like this.”
Agent Locklear gagged again. “Excuse me. I thought I could handle this. I’ve seen a lot of corpses, but nothing like her.”
“It’s not for the faint of heart. If you need to leave, you can.”
“I’ll stand over here and listen to what you have to say.” She backed away and bumped into another autopsy table still gagging from the odor of decaying flesh.
Robby glanced up at her. “Be careful, Roxy Starlite is on that table. May I suggest you wear a mask?”
“Shit. They’re everywhere.” Agent Locklear moved to the end of the autopsy table.
“There’s a couple more on ice too.”
Agent Morrison looked at Robby. “Autopsy findings, please.”
“There are several unique signatures that resurfaced. It’s a strong possibility it’s the same serial killer.”
Baffled, Agent Locklear’s lips developed into a long horizontal line. “How do you know? You don’t have the autopsy reports from the other thirteen victims.”
“Director Beal sent them when he sent them to you last night. I reviewed every detail. Once I identified his pattern and signature, I determined we have a Surgical serial killer.”
“What? A Surgical serial killer?” Agent Locklear leered toward Robby with bold sternness. “Who came up with that name?”
“I did. I had to separate these monsters. Now a little known forensic fact. Like fingerprints, tongue prints are as distinctive. However, in our case the unsub surgically removed her tongue and teeth. Fortunately, we didn’t need Dr. Franklin’s services to identify her. I realized the moment I saw her, she was Kara Haynes. That hasn’t held true with the other cases. The FBI has only id
entified seven of the thirteen victims. Without fingerprints or tongue prints, we must resort to other means of forensic analysis.”
Agent Mansfield dropped his jaw. “Are you saying these victims don’t have fingerprints either?”
“That’s correct. The unsub burned or torched them. I also could determine each victim had fresh or brackish water on them. The police discovered her floating in a lake. Not the same lake, but still in a lake. This fact indicates the killer is fond of water sports or grew up near a body of water.”
Agent Locklear squinted her eyes. “That’s a bold assumption.”
“Not bold. A similarity in pattern identification. The water wasn’t from a chlorine or salt water pool, a river or an ocean. Lakes have particular micro-organisms; so, not that difficult to make that assumption.”
Agent Mansfield exhaled. “What other similarities do these women have?”
“Glad you asked. Half of the victims had breast augmentations and the other half had cosmetic surgery. The breast implants have serial numbers; so, they were easy to trace leading to the victims’ identifications. Before you make the leap and suggest our unsub could be a plastic surgeon, a variety of specialists performed the implants, in several states and countries where each victim lived. As for the victims receiving other cosmetic surgeries, there’s no way to identify the surgeon or where the surgery occurred. This makes it impossible to identify a victim that way.”
“Meaning?” Agent Locklear pursed her lips.
“To clarify, those women didn’t have any titanium rods or screws implanted to trace the serial numbers. No hip replacements. Nothing traceable. However, each girl was already dead before being dumped into a lake.”
“You know this how?” Agent Mansfield stepped closer to the corpse.
“Based on the lack of hemorrhagic tissue. That means, dead before going into water. I recalled every girl had at least one tattoo. Granted, none of them were identical in any way; so, this may be a coincidence rather than a forensic identifier.”
The Keystroke Killer Page 20