by Hadena James
“I forgot about him. Aside from him, how many have there been?” Xavier asked.
“None,” I sighed. “But the kill is the means to an end, it is insignificant.” I blinked a few times. “I think I just answered my own question. Only a psychopath wouldn’t care about the kill if it were the means to fulfill whatever need he is fulfilling. That is how we catch him, we figure out why displaying these very nicely cleaned bones are so important to him.”
“Narcissism isn’t enough?” Fiona asked.
“Oh, I am sure it could be, but it isn’t. If you just wanted to display your skills, feeding your victims to insects seems like overkill.” I talked slowly, trying to think as I spoke.
“Like our artist. The kill was simply to make art,” Xavier commented.
“The art was his trophy,” I agreed. “So what is this guy’s gold star of accomplishment?” I jumped off the table. “Well, technically, I’m still not supposed to be here and I have a curfew. I’m going to head home. You are all welcome to join me for dinner.” I didn’t normally drop hints, but this time there were exceptional circumstances. We still had things to discuss, like insect farms and gold stars and psychopaths with swords.
Eleven
Ivan Daniels was sitting on the trunk of his car when I turned into my driveway. He had a deep scowl and his forehead was creased. I imagined that was my natural look. On someone like Ivan, it meant there was a problem and it probably involved me. If my car hadn’t been orange, incredibly loud, or an classic, I might have tried to drive past him while pretending to be someone else. Since my car was all of those things, I pulled into my driveway.
“Give me a cigarette,” Ivan said as I stepped out of my car. I did as he asked. He lit it and sat quietly for a few moments. “You know, I didn’t believe you killed Christian Hunter. A sword isn’t your style, especially one as large as a Claymore. However, it seems we have an eyewitness and he wants to stay anonymous. He was there around 1 a.m. That got me thinking though, that parking lot is not frequently used. The lighting is terrible. The woods border it on three sides. It doesn’t have an emergency call box or any cameras. In other words, there is no reason to use that parking lot after dark when there are two others that are not victim traps. What if our anonymous caller is your serial killer?”
“Then why leave bones somewhere else? Why not go home and call it a night or stay and watch the action?” I asked.
“I haven’t figured that out yet. But he had some interesting details about our killer. If Malachi Blake was in town, I’d question him regarding our eyewitness’s statement. He described the guy with the sword as very tall, skinny, but strong enough to wield a sword at least four feet long, and dressed in a black robe with a skull face.”
“Aside from the black robe, I’d break down Malachi’s door using SCTU laws based on that description.”
“How many people do you know as tall as Malachi?” Ivan stubbed out his cigarette.
“A few, but they are all in prison and only one can handle a sword.”
“Turkish Jack,” Ivan said the name slowly.
“But he uses a long scimitar, not a Claymore.”
“I know,” Ivan looked at me. “He knew where you were, Aislinn and he slaughtered Christian Hunter, the man you once told me you hated enough that you wished you’d killed him.”
“I didn’t hire someone to do the job for me.” I met Ivan’s gaze.
“I believe that too.” Ivan finally slide off the trunk of his car. “I’m not insinuating that you had someone kill Hunter. I’m suggesting that you have a stalker.”
“I’ve had stalkers in the past.” I reminded him.
“How many of them carried a Claymore and left you dead bodies as presents?”
“Full dead bodies? None. As an SCTU member, I have been known to receive body parts in the mail though.”
“Do me a favor, please?” Ivan looked down at me with concern in his eyes.
“What?” I said.
“Just be careful.”
“Ivan, after what happened in the Fortress, they started calling me The Boogeyman.”
“I know, but Gabriel has his wendigo. Malachi has his demonically possessed serial killer. Xavier has his mystery sniper. Who’s your boogeyman?” Ivan suddenly reached out and folded me in his arms. The hug was uncomfortable for me, I’m not much of a hugger, but I didn’t Taser him. I’d grown to like the Daniels’ clan over the last few years and even more so in the months preceding the Fortress takeover and KC slaughter. I had no idea why Nadine had ever dated Malachi, but we all had judgement lapses I supposed. After a few very long moments, Ivan let me go.
“I’ll be careful,” I assured him.
Ivan knew more than I would have expected. Gabriel’s wendigo story wasn’t that much of a secret. When he was five or so, he and a friend were camping when someone or something attacked them and ate the friend. He described it as a demon and later associated it with the legends of the wendigo, which are fairly well known in Canada where the incident happened. I have always believed it was a person and Gabriel suppressed the memory of who it was.
However, the other two, surprised me. One of Malachi’s first cases and his only unsolved case involved a serial killer that butchered several children. Malachi and a few other members of the VCU almost caught him. Malachi emptied an entire clip into the guy. The guy hissed at him and seemed to disappear into thin air. When Malachi looked down, he had been shot in the chest six times. His only explanation was that the guy was demonically possessed. The case went cold after they encountered him. HIs DNA was corrupted and couldn’t be run, it didn’t even show up as human, as it lacked chromosomes. No more murders took place, but Malachi still thinks about it. I have always found Malachi’s case easy enough to explain, he encountered a super psychopath. He probably curled up in a cave to lick his wounds and die after Malachi shot him. Malachi’s memory of the situation is hazy probably from being shot six times in the chest. DNA degrades when it is exposed to water, which is why it was unusable.
Xavier’s is more complicated. While a grad student, giving a lecture one day, Xavier was shot through a closed window from more than 1000 yards away. The bullet lost some of its oomph by going through the glass and entering his skull. It did damage to his frontal lobe, specifically the personality center situated there. Everyone says he is much different now than he was then. However, the sniper managed to kill himself in the process, but putting the sniper rifle under his chin and pulling the trigger. Only the kid that they found dead, had no experience with guns, no record of insanity or run ins with the law, and Xavier didn’t know him. Xavier doesn’t believe the kid could have made the shot. I’ve read the file and agree with it. Someone else pulled that trigger and then killed that kid to have a fall guy. Why someone did all that is a mystery. Whether he’ll eventually come back for Xavier is also a mystery.
I walked into my house with Ivan watching me. I sat my keys on the counter and thought. For the majority of my life, I believed Malachi was my boogeyman. I expected him to snap one day and take me down with him. I also considered The Butcher a boogeyman until I found it he was my grandfather.
That only left one person in my life that concerned me and that was me. I was my own boogeyman. Or was I? Could someone new be stalking me? Absolutely. Could they be more terrifying than some of the serial killers I faced in the Fortress? Yes. Psychopaths and sociopaths were becoming more frequent personality traits. Could they be more terrifying than the calm I battled every day? Sure. That last bit seemed the least likely, but it was possible that a super psychopath had decided to make me the object of his attention. I wasn’t a super psychopath. I was something else. I had the mentality of a sociopath, but some of the physical traits of a psychopath. I did not have what my brother or Patterson had though, which meant I was only partially a psychopath. A super psychopath could indeed be my boogeyman.
Someone with Turkish Jack’s sword skills wielding a Claymore was poetic in a way, since I was Scott
ish. I would have to consider Ivan’s thoughts as a grave warning. There might be someone out there killing for me. He might have even busted Hunter out of prison. If I seemed ungrateful for the kills, he could come after me directly.
At the moment, I had bigger problems. The piles of bones being left around the area. We did have a lead. Ivan was probably correct, there was no reason to use that specific parking lot. It’s remoteness and isolation was the reason I had chosen it. The lack of lights had meant that my car, while obvious, would have been a deterrent to the average person. It wasn’t a female’s car in the mind of most.
What we needed was some expert computer work. I vaguely remembered seeing a traffic camera at a stop light about half a mile from the parking lot where I had parked. There was also a bank nearby, it should have surveillance video. Our witness would have had to drive past both of these. It was time to put Fiona to work.
Of course, I didn’t know about the legality of hacking traffic or surveillance cameras. The theory was that most laws didn’t apply when we were hunting a serial killer. One might argue that we were hunting a killer. The mystery man with the Claymore was definitely one of those, could we prove he was a serial killer? Not at all. We could make the leap of logic, but it would be hard to convince a judge it was legal under the SKMM Laws. One might also argue that our witness had to be up to no good to be around the park at that hour. Again though, not exactly the strongest case for justifying that it was a serial killer that witnessed the mystery man killing Hunter.
Ivan might be able to get a warrant for the traffic camera and maybe even the bank security camera as he investigated the homicide of Christian Hunter, but that would take time. Lots of time and we didn’t have lots of time. We literally had days, maybe hours, before the next set of bones turned up.
If we did the hack and found a serial killer, we could justify it. If we did the hack and didn’t find one, well, someone was liable to get in some trouble. That someone would be me and I knew it. I was already on the shit list for our board of babysitters because Patterson had slipped away during the confusion at the FGN. When I found him, and I would find him, I was going to take his cane and damage his legs beyond repair so that he couldn’t escape again and make my life more complicated than it already was.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed. A computerized female voice came on the line. I spoke quietly while leaving my message. There was the smallest chance that Apex had seen the killer and he had called it in. It was better to rule him out before we started doing things that bordered on illegal.
Twelve
I was chowing down on Chicken Tiki Masala when my phone went off. The number on the screen said 2. Just 2. No other numbers in the sequence. Not really a number I could call back. Not that I needed to call back. The text said it all. One little word “No”. Apex had not been in the park.
This was mildly disappointing news. If it had been Apex, we could make progress on both cases. Since it wasn’t, we were looking for another anonymous tipster. A tipster that had been near a park in the wee hours of the morning for reasons yet unknown.
While hiding I had seen all of fifteen people go through the park. Three were couples out for a late stroll; one couple was not happy and argued about his infidelity issues. The other two had been holding hands and talking about nonsense. Why people hung out in parks at that time of the morning was beyond me. The rest were joggers. The women were usually smart enough to jog or run with a buddy. The men tended to jog alone. That was just as silly as the couples in the park, but they had made lifestyle choices.
A part of me didn’t want to have Fiona hack into anything. After all, it was my skin they would be flaying if we screwed up. However, I did want to catch a killer, possibly two. If hacking would facilitate that or at least give us a lead, then I could take the flaying. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen to me.
My mind grabbed onto that thought. What was the worst thing that had ever happened to me? It wasn’t Callow or any other serial killers I’d run into along the way. When I realized the answer, the irony wasn’t lost on me. The worst thing that had ever happened was the SCTU. Again, not because of the serial killers, I would have attracted them regardless. It was the friendships. The irony was that it was also the best thing that had ever happened to me. I had real friends. Friends that I could count on. Friends other than Nyleena that would have my back and help me if I needed it. They were my weakness as well. I remembered how I’d felt when I’d heard that Xavier had died and Lucas had nearly died trying to save my life. I had felt alone, more alone than I had ever felt in my life. The fact that Gabriel and Malachi had captured Nick the Mad Bomber was probably a good thing. I would have killed him, despite knowing that Xavier’s death was a clerical error and Lucas would heal. It would have been slow and painful and bloody and I would have made sure that every scream I drew from him was worse than the one before it. Maybe Nadine Daniels was right and the Universe did have a sense of humor.
“So, there’s a traffic cam and a bank near the entrance of the park. There’s also an anonymous eyewitness to the killing of Christian Hunter. I think the average person would avoid that parking lot like they might die in it at that time of the morning, which makes me think that our tipster was up to no good. However, I’m also fairly certain that it’s illegal for us to hack either of those. We can wait for a warrant, but that could take a few days. The bank was small, I don’t know how long they keep footage. Which means, I’m making it optional to hack the camera and surveillance system and run every plate that came through that night after 1 in the morning.” I said as I finished off some naan.
“Really?” Fiona looked at me.
“What?” I felt myself frown without being able to stop it. I don’t have a lot of emotions, but I frown often. It was my signature look. I’d seen it in newspapers several times.
“How many people at this table could hack either of those systems? Me. That’s it. So while that sounded like it was optional for everyone, it was directed at me.” Fiona said.
“Sort of,” I admitted. “Although, since I am more than 90% certain it is illegal, it is optional for the others to stay while it is being done.”
“Before we enter the world of illegal hacking,” Xavier said as he chewed. I think all of us were immune to his terrible eating habits by now. His manners were nonexistent, at best. “What about the bug farming?”
“Bug Farming for Fun & Profit is about as interesting as reading the ingredients on a box of strawberries. There are a handful of legal ones in the area, illegal ones are unknown. I’m not finding much evidence of a black market on bug farming products. There’s some, but not much and most of it is for collectable rare and endangered bugs.” Fiona told us.
“Great,” I sighed and looked at the remnants of food on my plate. I wasn’t a huge fan of Indian food because I hated ginger and curry, I could stand the Chicken Tiki Masala and the naan, but everything else was overwhelming spiced with either ginger, curry, or both. The problem with having a nose like mine was that I smelled everything, including the bitterness that most people couldn’t taste or smell inside those two spices. I looked at Rachael, she was staring at her plate as hard as she could. Her bites were slow and methodical. It was almost as if she were forcing herself to eat. My first thought was anorexia. My second thought was that she was trying not to explode. “When most people try that hard to eat, they either hate their food, hate food in general, or they have something they want to say, but won’t. Which is it?”
“Smooth,” Fiona whispered beside me.
“It’s not the food,” Rachael nearly whispered.
“Serial killers? Dead bodies? What’s bugging ya?” Xavier asked more politely than me.
“What if the tipster was Hunter’s killer?” She asked.
“Good point, we might get a license plate for him. That would definitely make things more interesting.” I commented.
“If he’d claimed i
t, he’d be very Zodiac-ish,” Xavier said.
“True,” Caleb agreed. “But if our tipster is the killer, then he’s an idiot. You don’t bait predators without a really good reason and that would qualify as baiting a predator or three.”
“Thanks for excluding everyone who does not suffer from ASPD in this fun little gang,” Fiona smiled as she spoke and pushed her plate away. “So, when did the coroner estimate the time of death?”
“I estimated it to be between two and five a.m.,” Xavier said.
“Yes, what did the real coroner say though?” Fiona’s smile widened. Xavier had not been allowed to do the autopsy on Hunter. He was still on a slab waiting to be examined more thoroughly by a local coroner.
Xavier put green curry on his fork and flicked it at her. I was suddenly horrified we were at my house. Someone was going to have to clean that up and it would not be me. We should have met in the conference room on campus. There, I wouldn’t have had to worry about food fights and what not.
“Hey, unless you intend to clean my house, knock it off,” I gave a look as Xavier refilled his fork. He instantly stopped and placed the curry back on his plate. Caleb handed him a napkin. “And no more green curry, it kills my nose. I feel like I have been inhaling diesel fumes or something.”
“Dude, really? You had to get curry banned?” Caleb shook his head at Xavier. Xavier shrugged and went to pick up the lobbed piece.
“We have exactly one car going through the traffic cam between 2 and 5.” Fiona stopped whatever was about to come out of my mouth about Caleb and his food.
“And the plate is registered to?” I asked.
“No one,” Fiona answered. “There’s no plate.”
“A picture of their face?” I wasn’t hopeful.
“Not really. If I had a few other angles and better images, I might be able to come up with something, but even that’s a stretch. I can track him for as long as there are traffic cameras though.” Fiona said.