by Terry Keys
He stepped away and gave Stacy a hard stare. “If I ever see you around here again, it won’t be pretty.”
The next hour was uneventful. Several cars pulled up near her, all looking for the same action, and she quickly dismissed each one. Suddenly, she noticed the red Corvette heading in her direction. Romero stopped fifty yards away from Stacy, and the girl he’d picked up earlier got out. As he pulled away from the curb, Stacy pretended not to see him and stepped out in front of his car.
Romero slammed on his brakes and glared at Stacy. She pushed her sunglasses down and peered at him over the top of them. She turned around and strutted back to the curb, her minidress leaving little to the imagination on either end.
Stacy hurried down the sidewalk and was several yards away from the car by the time Romero called out to her.
“Hey, you! Red!”
Stacy stopped and waited for the car to pull close to the curb. “Hey Red? That usually work for you? I’m a lady, not a fucking dog.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. I’m Mark. Do you want some company? I sure wouldn’t mind some.”
Stacy sauntered over to his car. “Whatcha got in mind, big boy?”
Romero offered to take her to his private party spot. She climbed in and they were off.
Chapter 63
Stacy nibbled on her finger. “So where are we going, handsome?”
Romero smiled. “Somewhere real special. Only be me and you, baby. No interruptions.”
Romero’s cell phone rang.
He put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything. I gotta take this.”
Stacy nodded.
“Hey, baby. How’s the shopping going?”
Baby? Stacy thought. This guy’s taking his wife’s call with a girl he’d just picked up in the car.
“Yeah, I just left the station. I’m going to the gym. I’ll be home in a couple hours.”
There was a pause. “I love you, too,” Romero said before disconnecting from the call.
He smiled at Stacy. “Sorry about that, sweetie. We’re almost there.”
Stacy couldn’t wait to dig into this guy. She’d get two birds with one stone with this kill—a cop and a rapist pig.
They pulled up to a tiny non-descript house that was isolated. The closest house was too far away to even hear someone scream. This guy’s poor wife probably had no clue that her asshole of a husband had another house where he took his whores. How long had he been doing this? How many girls had he taken advantage of?
“Come on, baby. I don’t have much time.”
Stacy followed Romero into the house. He didn’t know it, but he was about to be all out of time—permanently.
Before she’d even closed the door behind her, Romero had already started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Gotta take a leak. Wait here,” Romero said. He gave Stacy a deep, wet kiss.
He set his keys, e-cig, cuffs, and gun on the table and headed for the restroom.
After Romero was completely out of sight, Stacy grabbed his e-cig and quickly changed out the canister with the drugs she’d acquired from the smoke shop. Damn! This shit is easier than I thought it would be. Buy a set of tits and you can literally have whatever the hell you want, Stacy thought as she returned the e-cig to the table and made herself comfortable on the couch.
When Romero came back into the room, minus his shirt and pants, Stacy gave him a once-over and a seductive smile. “Moving kinda fast there, Mark, aren’t we?”
He picked up his e-cig and took a few drags. “I told you I don’t have much time. So let’s just get this over with.”
He walked up to Stacy and wagged his finger at her. “And don’t think I’m paying you anything either, fucking skank.”
Stacy stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. “What? You think I’m gonna fuck you for free? You’re cute but not that damn cute. It’s two hundred for a fuck and one for a blow. What’s it gonna be, hon?”
Mark laughed and took another long drag on his e-cig. “I think you’re going to do whatever the fuck I want you to do, bitch. There’s something I guess I forgot to mention.” He pointed at the gun on the table.
Mark paused, blinking hard. Stacy could tell he was becoming disoriented.
“I don’t pay whores for sex. I’m fucking NYPD. Where do you think the gun came from? My badge is in the right-front pocket of my pants, if you don’t believe me.”
Stacy tried to act surprised. She hoped he’d take a few more drags. The smoke shop manager told her that if she wanted to get fucked up fast, this was the shit to do it.
“So you just pick up whores and fuck them because you’re a cop? It’s either fuck you or what, go to jail?”
Mark took another drag. “That’s exactly what it is. But I know you don’t want to go to jail, so that just leaves fucking, right?”
Mark tried to remain on his feet but lost his balance and fell. He dropped his e-cig and put both hands on his forehead.
“What the fuck did you do to me, you bitch? You fuck with my E-cig?”
“Ahhh, the stupid little whore girl has outsmarted the big-time NYPD cop. You like to rape prostitutes. Making a girl fuck you because you want some ass is pretty low, Mark. You’re a piece of shit.”
He managed to stand up but not for long. His breathing labored and he couldn’t move.
Stacy went over to her bag and took out everything she needed. She took out a set of rubber gloves and put them on. She rolled him to his side and cuffed his hands behind his back. He put up a little resistance but not nearly enough. The drugs had delivered as promised. She used her heavy-duty zip ties to bind his legs together.
“Listen up, Marky Mark. I’m going to carve you up real good. Been in the business a long time, so I’m pretty good at it. Should we record this for your wife?” she said as she selected a Bowie knife from her stash.
Mark tried to respond but couldn’t get anything out of his mouth.
“How many girls have you raped? Thirty? Forty? One hundred? How about I slice you once for each girl you’ve raped?”
Stacy rolled him onto his back and started on his thighs. She drew back and thrust the knife deep into Mark’s leg. Blood shot out like cannon fire, spraying all over the carpet.
“Lift, lower, stab,” she whispered over and over again. God, this feels amazing! The more she stabbed the more of a rhythm she developed. It invigorated her.
Mark’s body trembled. He yelled, but no one was close enough to hear. She lost count, but from the looks of it, she’d stabbed his legs at least fifty times.
She was exhausted.
Stacy walked over to her bag and took out a vial.
“Mark? Open your eyes, baby. Do you know what this is?” She held the bottle close to his face and smiled as he tried to focus on it.
“No? It’s called hydrochloric acid. You familiar with it? Probably not but let’s do a science experiment, shall we?”
Stacy opened the vial. Mark’s eyes rolled back in his head as his body quivered. Then she poured, beginning with his legs. His skin sizzled and popped, melting away as the acid ate at his flesh.
Stacy thought about hitting him with her knife a few more times but was having way too much fun with the acid for now. She held the vile over his eyes and slowly dripped the acid into each of them. Mark roared in pain.
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Stacy yelled.
Mark was still sobbing, so Stacy decided to stop him on her own. She poured the acid around Mark’s lips and watched as pieces of his face oozed away.
“Goddamn! You look like shit. You look like that character from Batman. What’s his name? Come on. Help me out here, Mark. Two-Face! That’s it. You look like a real-life fucking Two-Face. Good for you, Mark.”
Mark lay motionless and silent.
“Fuck! I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t know that shit was so strong. I really wanted you to suffer longer. Maybe I should have diluted it or something, huh?”
Stacy checked his pulse. It was weak, but sh
e wasn’t done with him. She grabbed her knife and came back to finish him off.
Lift, lower, stab. Lift, lower, stab. Again and again and again. She delivered blow after blow to his chest until she could no longer lift her arm. Exhausted, Stacy dropped the knife and slumped over onto Mark’s lifeless body.
She took off her rubber gloves and jumped in the shower. She took out a sundress from her bag and slid it on. She had panties in the bag but decided not to bother with them. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She wasn’t showing yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. Stacy thought about leaving a calling card for Porter, but she wanted to kill a few more of the cops on her list first. There was probably GPS on Romero’s phone, but by the time they found him she’d be long gone, and nothing here could tie her to the scene.
Stacy peeked outside to make sure no one saw her leaving. She walked about a mile to a convenience store, found an Uber driver, and scheduled a pick up.
Chapter 64
I had two members of my team already in place. I hoped Lafitte would be joining us soon. The Rapist Killers Club was our first official assignment. Fingers, De Luca, and I spent time scouring websites looking for breadcrumbs, any clues Stacy and Brittany might have left on their murderous trek across I-10.
The chase had gone cold. We were analyzing more murders than I ever had at any one time. And not just in Houston—nationwide. We scoured every murder that even vaguely looked like something Stacy might have been responsible for. So far we’d come up empty. Maybe she took a sabbatical to mourn the loss of her sister. Perps often did that. It would explain why she’d suddenly become so quiet. I knew she wouldn’t remain in hiding forever, but when she resumed her killing, where would she be? If she left no DNA at the scene, pinning her to something would be next to impossible. What if she stopped leaving her calling cards for me? David thought.
The more people she killed, the more blood she felt was directly on my hands. In her sick, twisted mind, the murders were my fault instead of hers. She wouldn’t stop killing until she was dead or in jail.
We made sure her picture was everywhere. We got it out nationally and hoped every beat cop and department in the country had their eye out for Stacy. Sadly, the pictures we had were outdated. Hell, her hair could be purple, and she could be sporting green contacts. Even those two simple changes would allow her to walk right past a cop without a second glance.
Two weeks passed with no new leads, and then everything changed.
My desk phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Detective Porter, this is Michael Ozzo NYPD Homicide Division. Do you have a minute?”
I sat up straight. “Sure, detective. What can I do for you?”
Just then I heard the ding of my laptop’s email notification. I listened to Ozzo as I logged in.
What he said next chilled me to the bone.
“We think we have your killer here in New York. Someone killed an officer here two nights ago. Stabbed him over one hundred times. Most gruesome, sickening thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been a cop for over thirty years. Poured some kind of acid all over him, too. Real horror movie shit.”
As Ozzo talked, I scanned my email. It confirmed a hit on Stacy’s blood. She was definitely their killer.
“You there, Porter?”
“Yes, sorry. Go ahead.”
“One of our own gets killed, we pull out all the stops. I’m sure you can appreciate that. We worked and worked on Officer Romero’s body and finally got what we were looking for. Found a trace of blood that didn’t belong to our guy and ran it through all the databases. Sometimes, you know, these overkill stabbers cut themselves. Knife handle gets slick; they’re going ape shit. It’s bound to happen. She probably didn’t even realize she was cut till she left and the adrenaline wore off. Anyways, got a hit on a Stacy Demornay, aka Lisa Crease, and a note to notify you if there was a positive hit. So who the hell is this girl?”
“Well, Ozzo, as you found out for yourself, she’s an extremely dangerous woman. I’m going to tell you something you aren’t going to want to hear right now. She’s part of a gang of women who go around hunting down rapists. So if she killed your guy, either he was a rapist or she thought he was. Honestly, I haven’t found them to be wrong yet.”
“She some goddamn vigilante or something? Mark never raped anyone. That’s bullshit, Porter. Give the dead guy a little respect.”
“All I’m saying is that’s who she targets. She’s a rape victim. So was her sister. The two of them and another woman started a Rapist Killers Club to go after rapists. They’re seeking justice for all rape victims out there. My Major Crimes Division here in Houston has been tracking them, but we’ve been a step behind for much of the investigation. If she’s unaware that she left a trace of her own blood at the scene, it might be the big break we needed. Was there a note left at the scene for me?”
“A note?”
“Yes. She normally taunts me with a note or a calling card after each killing.”
“No note.”
“Romero a good cop? He have any troubles?”
There was silence on the other end. I knew if Stacy had killed this man, he must have been a discipline problem. And undoubtedly a rapist.
“Some of the boys thought he might be banging prostitutes in exchange for not arresting them. Plus, he’d been put on leave a few times for some other shit.”
“Wait, what? He was—”
“Yeah, you heard me right. That was the rumor.”
“That’s it, Ozzo. Stacy must have found out what he was up to. I bet that’s how she got him alone. He probably picked her up and tried to have sex with her. She trapped him when he thought he was trapping her. He was forcing prostitutes to have sex against their will to avoid charges. It’s rape any way you slice it.”
“I’m not telling anyone about that right now, Porter. Everyone here is hurting. The department’s on high alert, ready to burst.”
“I understand. Listen, my team and I will be in New York tonight. Keep all of this, even the blood match, to yourself. This may be our big break. If Stacy doesn’t know I’m coming, she won’t be running from me. In the meantime, see if you can find out where Romero typically picked up girls. I want to interview some of the girls when I get there.”
Ozzo laughed. “Interview whores? What do you expect to get from a bunch of prostitutes?”
“Please just get the information for me. I gotta run. I’ll see you tonight, Ozzo. And thank you.”
Chapter 65
I called a quick meeting with De Luca and Fingers to fill them in on what I’d learned from Ozzo.
“So when do we leave for New York?” De Luca said.
“You and I will leave tonight. I’ve already made travel arrangements. Fingers, we may need you; if so, I’ll shoot you a text or call. I’m not leaving New York without Stacy, one way or the other.”
I left the office and went home to gather my things. I knew Miranda and the girls wouldn’t like this one bit. We’d just gotten back together and settled into a somewhat normal routine, and I was already running off again. Hunting down bad guys. Being away from my girls was the only part of my job I didn’t like. That and getting shot at, I suppose.
I parked my truck in the driveway and headed for the house. I wasn’t looking forward to telling them I was leaving.
Miranda was waiting for me at the door. I guess my face gave me away.
“What’s wrong?” she said before I could open my mouth.
“I’ve got to leave. Tonight. We got a huge lead on Stacy’s whereabouts. I think I know where she is. DNA evidence isn’t usually wrong.”
She put her hands on my shoulders. “Where? The girls are going to be devastated, David.”
I shook my head. “I know they are, but I have to end this.”
I heard footsteps bolting down the stairs. “Daddy!” Karen cried as she leapt into my arms.
“Hey, princess. How was your day? Did you do anything
fun? ”
“Me and mommy always have fun, silly.”
“I bet you do. Where’s Hilary?” I kissed the top of Karen’s head and set her on the ground.
“She’s out with friends,” Miranda said. “When do you have to leave? It’s almost Thanksgiving David; you can’t miss Thanksgiving.”
Karen crossed her arms and pouted. “Where are you going? Why are you leaving again?”
“You know Daddy chases bad people. It’s my job, and I do it to protect all the good people, like you and Mommy.”
I scooped Karen up and tossed her on the couch. I tickled her, smiling as her sweet giggles warmed my heart. Nothing made me feel better on the inside than seeing joy in my little girl.
Finally, she pushed away from me. “Don’t think I forgot that you’re leaving me, mister. I’m still mad about that.”
I laughed. “I know you didn’t forget. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
She held up her hand. “Pinky promise?”
“Yes, pinky promise.”
I kept a bag ready for emergency trips, and this no doubt qualified. I tossed in a couple extra shirts and headed back downstairs. I hugged Karen and told Miranda how much I loved her.
“I promise I won’t miss Thanksgiving,” I said as I headed out the door.
I met up with De Luca at our terminal a half hour before our flight was set to leave.
“You all set?” De Luca said as she walked up to me.
“Yup. We got about a, what, four hour flight? That should give me time to make it through both of these.”
I held up two books on forensic psychology.
“Is there anything else out there for you to learn on the subject?”
“The more I learn in life, the more I realize I don’t know. Funny how that works.”
“Meh. I got something much lighter.”