The Killer Copy: If you found a mentor like this, you would be making a killing.

by Gail Caban

  “Which was?”

  “He would leave a chess pawn at each of his victims . . . well, all except one.” Ness frowned as she wondered about that statement.

  “En Passant would leave a more powerful piece like a knight or a bishop at one of the other victims. These victims would always be in their late teens or leaning toward early adulthood, but no one could ever figure out why he would leave pawns at all of the other victims and then one powerful piece. The symbolism of it never made sense.”

  “But you’ve thought of something, haven’t you, Gramps?” Ness looked at him carefully.

  “It’s not something I could ever prove or substantiate, but I believe that En Passant would befriend the person that he left the more powerful piece at. Perhaps he would train them in killing or just develop them into beings that would be more challenging to kill.”

  “Why would he do something like that?”Ness asked.

  “Well, if he is a good chess player, then it might explain a lot. Experienced chess players get bored if they play against opponents that aren’t challenging. If En Passant is as good as I think he is, then that same mentality may have overflowed into the way that he kills. Maybe he just likes a challenging opponent. The only reason I started this theory was because the more ‘powerful’ victims would always be the last to die of the family members. It’s like En Passant would taunt them by killing the people that they care about.”

  Ness gulped drily. Oh shit . . . “Why did they call him En Passant?” Ness finally asked.

  “Do you know the rule in chess?” Wyatt Sr. asked.

  “I've heard of it, but I’m not exactly sure how it works. I know a few basic openings, but there are still some rules that are foreign to me,” Ness admitted.

  “Well, you know how pawns can take pieces that are diagonally in front of them. Well if a pawn is pushed up to a line where an opponent can push double past the pawn, it may seem like the pawn is moving past the square that it can be taken on; however, the En Passant rule allows a player to still move their pawn diagonally and take the pawn that has moved two squares.”

  Ness nodded.

  “En Passant is a French term which directly translated means ‘in passing’ and because this killer managed to escape the police after so many close encounters, he was branded the ‘in passing’ or En Passant Killer. He would even go so far to call the police when one of his victims was still alive and would escape right before the police arrived on the scene—talk about a sick and twisted bastard, right?”

  Ness remained quiet as she processed all of this new information: “Gramps, I have one more question that I need you to answer honestly . . .”

  “Alright.”

  “How did Gran die?”

  “What’s going on, Ness?” Wyatt Sr. suddenly looked concerned.

  “Just answer me, please. Did she die from heart failure?” Ness asked.

  Wyatt Sr. stood up from his stool and started pacing in the small cabin. He rubbed his forehead and wiped his face several times, “No, Ness. She didn’t die from heart failure. That’s just something I told everyone.”

  “What happened?”

  “Your gran was very ill, and she was in hospital for several days. I was working late one of the evenings, and I got a phone call on my cell. When I answered it, the person on the other side told me that he would kill her if I didn’t drop the En Passant case.”

  “And then?” Ness pressed.

  “I agreed, and I rushed over to the hospital. When I arrived in her room, he was still standing over her bed. He wore a black ski mask and said that she went peacefully. When I drew my weapon, he jumped out the window.”

  “Wasn’t Gran on the third floor?” Ness exclaimed.

  “Yes, but the bushes below cushioned his fall. He disappeared into the night before anyone caught a glimpse of him.”

  “So how did Gran die?” Ness felt nauseous.

  “He injected a large amount of morphine into her IV. She went to sleep and stopped breathing. At least she did go peacefully.”

  “But why did he kill her when you agreed to drop the case?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he thought it was a mercy killing, or he just couldn’t help himself. Either way, I didn’t have it in me anymore to keep chasing him.”

  Ness didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t believe how defeated her grandpa seemed. He looked very similar to how Heck did when she woke up in the hospital after the accident.

  “I’m sorry, Gramps,” Ness whispered after a long moment of complete silence. She leaned over and held his hand. “Would it be alright if I took this folder with me when we leave?”

  “What’s going on, Ness? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  “I can’t explain now, but when I return the folder to you, I will tell you everything. I promise,” tears started welling up in Ness’ eye.

  “Deal, but always know that you can come to me, no matter what.”

  “I know, Gramps. Thank you,” she stood up and gave her grandpa a long embrace. “So why don’t you show me this furniture that you were bragging about?” Ness forced herself to smile. Wyatt Sr. smiled in return and turned to show her everything that he’d been up to in the last several months.

  A little while later, they returned to the cabin to see everyone sitting lazily in the living room, but Ness continued walking and put the En Passant folder in the car and hid it under her jacket.

  “This has been a wonderful visit, Pop. Would you like to come and stay with me for a few days next week?” Heck asked. “It will be great to spend some time with you again, and besides, I worry about you here by yourself.” At least it isn’t only me who worries about my father staying alone, Ness thought to herself.

  “I’ll see if I can get away. Big game hunting season starts soon, and I was hoping to bag myself a few trophies this year with a freezer full of meat,” Wyatt Sr. smiled but had to hide his grin when he saw Lindsay’s face. “I’ll definitely think about it though, son.”

  “That’s great. Thanks for having us, but we should head back before the sun sets. This road will be a nightmare to navigate in the dark,” Heck said, standing up and hugging his father. They all said their goodbyes and climbed into the truck. Ness ensured that the folder was well hidden under her jacket. She looked at her grandpa as they drove away and she blew him a kiss, who caught it and then sent one back to her.

  Wyatt Sr. watched the truck disappear down the road, and he felt a sudden pang of sadness as they left. He liked being on his own, but it was always difficult for him to compensate for the loneliness after he spent some time with his loved ones. He walked inside the cabin and started straightening up. It was really great of Lindsay and Wyatt to clean the lunch dishes, he thought as he straightened the cushions on the sofa. A sudden burst of wind came through the door, and it was colder than Wyatt Sr. was expecting. Maybe a storm is coming, he thought as he walked outside to grab some logs from the wood pile. Even though the days are warm in this neck of the woods, the temperature can drop drastically because of the higher altitude. Besides, Wyatt Sr. loved reading by a fire, so he would make any excuse to build one in his fireplace. He bent over and started chucking logs from the top of the pile onto the ground behind him.

  Crack . . .

  Wyatt Sr. lifted his head to the direction where he heard the sound. It sounded like a large tree branch snapped in the distance. He looked to see if he could spot any movement. Even though bears weren’t commonly encountered here, they did occasionally come walking through, and he didn't want to be outside if one was on its way. He couldn’t see anything moving, but because fall was quickly approaching, many of the leaves in the trees were starting to change color and not fallen to the ground yet. Wyatt Sr. knew that a large predator could easily blend into the surroundings.

  Crack . . .

  This sounded closer, but it almost sounded intentional. Multiple crunches together could mean that an animal is passing through an area of dense vegetation, but individual ones
seemed deliberate. Wyatt Sr. grabbed the logs that he threw down onto the ground and moved inside his cabin. Once he was on his porch, he scanned the area again for movement.

  “Hello?” He called out, and his voice echoed. No response.

  Wyatt Sr. felt uneasy. Something didn’t feel right, and after 35 years of being a cop, he learned to listen to his gut. He kept scanning the surroundings, but the sun had dipped behind the mountains, and darkness was quickly enveloping the area. He went inside and closed the cabin door behind him. The door didn’t have traditional locks, but Wyatt Sr. installed a removable beam of wood that could be placed into two brackets on either side of the door. It may be archaic, but it is very effective. He jammed the beam in securely and pulled on the door. It didn’t budge. He checked the windows and closed all of the curtains in the cabin. He walked into his bedroom and grabbed his .357 Magnum revolver from his nightstand and carried it with him to the living room.

  It may be the paranoia talking, but I definitely feel safer when I’m armed, Wyatt Sr. placed the revolver on the coffee table, and he started loading the fireplace with the logs that he carried inside. He placed pieces of tinder underneath the logs with a few pieces of coconut husk at the bottom. He lit a match and held it to the husk. The hairy fibers caught practically instantly, and the fire spread warmly over the logs. He stood up from the floor and walked to his liquor cabinet. He poured himself a large dram of single malt Scotch and sat down in his recliner as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace.

  He opened one of the many books that he had on the table next to his recliner, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words on the pages. His discussion with Ness was truly bothering him. What had she got herself into? He rubbed his forehead with his calloused hand.

  Crack . . .

  He heard a branch snap outside, and this sounded very close to the cabin. Wyatt Sr. quietly put his book down and retrieved his firearm. He walked quietly to the door and put his ear close to it. He knew going to one of the windows would be dangerous because if someone was outside and intended to harm him, they would easily see the movement of the curtains because of the light inside the cabin. Additionally, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to see anything in the darkness outside. Wyatt Sr. grabbed a flashlight in case he needed to move outside quickly and waited by the door.

  Creak . . .

  One of the floorboards on the porch sounded under the weight of someone moving slowly towards the front door. Shit, someone is actually out there, Wyatt Sr. strained to hear anything above the drumming in his ears. There was no doubt in Wyatt’s mind that whoever was moving toward the cabin intended to harm him. He was like a sitting duck in this cabin, and whoever was out there had the advantage of the darkness around them. He had to equalize the playing field. He quietly lifted the beam off the brackets and put it down as quietly as he could. He lifted his firearm and flashlight and swung the door open.

  “Stop, you son of a bitch!” he screamed as the shadow disappeared into the tree line. Wyatt Sr. chased after the shadow. Being a retiree didn’t prevent him from staying fit, and now he was flying through the trees at a remarkable speed. Wyatt Sr. lifted his flashlight and shone it around the area. He couldn’t see anyone, and then he realized that he was standing in the middle of the woods with a flashlight that gave away his exact position.

  “Idiot,” he scowled quietly and turned the flashlight off. Wyatt Sr. ducked low and moved quietly through the undergrowth. Being a hunter and being familiar with the area was quickly putting him at the advantage here. He moved behind a tree and strained his ears. Whoever it was that he chased had either run off or was being very still. He stayed put for several minutes, but he couldn’t hear anything. He knew that if he started moving now it would definitely give his position away. If he did move, he would need to move as quickly as he could back to the cabin. Wyatt Sr. took several deep breaths and then took off sprinting in the direction of the cabin. When he was moving through the tree line, he could see that the cabin’s door was still open.

  “Damn it,” he cursed and ran inside with his gun aimed in front of him. He scanned the interior of the cabin and then shut the door behind him, placing the beam back into the brackets. The fire was burning well, but the lights weren’t turned on yet, which allowed for many places for one to hide in the shadows. He aimed his flashlight and scanned all of the nooks that might cover a person. Once he was satisfied that no one was around, he just needed to clear the bedroom. He moved quickly but quietly through the cabin and into his room. He scanned the corners and checked the closets. He got lucky this time, and he knew it. Wyatt Sr. exhaled a sigh of relief. Whoever it was outside must have taken off when he was chasing them. He walked back into the living room, placed his revolver back on the coffee table, and downed the remainder of his Scotch as he sat down in his recliner. “I hope they don’t come back again tonight,” Wyatt Sr. said out loud and rubbed his eyes.

  Creak . . .

  “Don’t worry, I never left.”

  Wyatt Sr.’s eyes widened in terror.

  “You didn’t check under the bed,” the voice whispered from the other side of the cabin.

  20

  Ness sat on her bed in the guest bedroom and looked through the En Passant folder. In total, there were 52 known victims of the En Passant Killer, and his victims ranged from young children to the elderly. He had no propensity toward particular victims, but what he did have was a strong inclination towards violence. The more he killed, the more deranged his killings seemed to become. Ness organized the folder in order, and although this folder didn’t include detailed reports of all 52 murders, it did contain enough for Ness to create an accurate timeline of En Passant’s killings. His first murders back in 1993 seemed to be primarily performed by shooting his victims. Although it is a violent way to kill someone, it does create distance between the killer and his victims, so it’s rather impersonal. Ness read that he quickly changed his killing techniques to either stabbing or strangulation. He liked to feel his victims die and not just see it.

  Sick bastard, Ness felt sickened looking at the innocent blood that he’d shed. It also dawned on Ness that because of her family, it would only be a matter of time until she came across this information, and Eddie still chose to mentor her. The real question now was why? Why would he go through all of the risk? Unless he was looking for a worthy opponent, just like what Gramps said.

  Ness got up from her bed and started pacing her room. She needed to make a plan for in case he came after her, or worse—her family members. But no matter what move she made now, Eddie was going to constantly have the upper hand. This was, after all, his game. He’s always made the rules, and that puts him at an unfair advantage. Unless I change the rules of the game. If I make unexpected moves, he won’t be able to plan ahead, Ness stopped pacing and looked out the window as a cool breeze wafted in. She knew what she had to do to start changing the rules of the game.

  She popped her head out of her room and could see that Lindsay was lying on her bed, reading in the master bedroom, which meant that Wyatt was still up. She walked downstairs and saw that the den’s lights were turned on. Ness walked inside and could see Wyatt was working on the desktop. She grabbed a chair and sat next to him. He looked at her and could see that her expression was icy.

  “Are you ok?” Wyatt asked with the back of his pen still in his mouth.

  “Why did you follow me to Chicago on Sunday?” Ness whispered.

  “I didn’t. They needed my help on a case out there.”

  “Bullshit,” Ness answered in return.

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes at Ness, “I went to Chicago because they found Henry Martin’s body at the bottom of a cliff. The scene was staged to look like an accident, but it was easy to see that he was murdered. The killer left a significant amount of evidence behind, and it's only a matter of time now until they’re caught.”

  Ness dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap, “I killed him, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt stop
ped moving in his chair and stared at her. He had his suspicions, but actually hearing the words come out of her mouth still shocked him. “Damn it, Ness. Why?” he rubbed his face.

  “Wyatt, I need to tell you something,” Ness leaned forward. “What?” Wyatt asked.

  “It gets a lot worse than that.”

  Wyatt remained silent as Ness began to speak.

  “After I killed Martin, I left his body in the alleyway, but when I returned the next day to see why no one had reported on it, his body was gone, and the scene was cleaned up.”

  Wyatt frowned, “By Eddie Rose?”

  Ness sat back in her chair, “How on earth did you know that?”

  “I placed a tracker on your car last week Saturday night. I followed you to the address after I left the precinct in Chicago. I reverse searched the address and saw who it was registered to, and I thought it was pretty strange that you’d be hanging out with a middle-aged bar owner. After I found out that Eddie’s Bar was one of Martin’s haunts, then it wasn’t difficult to make that deduction.”

  Ness looked genuinely impressed. “I know . . . I’m not as stupid as you thought I was,” he grinned.

  Ness pursed her lips and then said, “Yes, Eddie Rose did clean the scene, and he helped me dispose of the body at Devil’s Head. But that isn’t the worst part.”

  Wyatt crossed his arms as he waited for the next detail.

  “Eddie Rose is the En Passant Killer.”

  “Fuck . . .” Wyatt uttered. “So, what does he want with you?”

  “At first I thought he was wanting to mentor me into becoming a killer.”

  “Woah . . .” Wyatt held up his hand which stopped her. “You didn’t actually go and kill with this guy, did you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. There were these three men that approached me in his bar, and then they raped a 14-year-old girl. Eddie showed me how to kill them and clean the scenes.”