Kray

by Brooklyn Jones

  Chapter Six

  Trevor stood by his bike with the rest of his MC in the middle of the desert at night. The air was cold even after the blazing hot day. He put on his leather jacket and proudly wore the new Sgt-at-Arms patch on his chest.

  “The Devil Hearts are late. What do we do now, Prez?” Cameron asked, sticking his tongue through his missing his teeth.

  “Give them time,” Flash replied.

  “Give them time? We've been freezing our asses off for hours now,” Jett, the prospect, said.

  “Not our fault your mommy didn't pack you a warm set of clothes,” Flash said

  The entire MC erupted in laughter and Jett quickly shut up.

  Trevor pulled out his black Sig Sauer P220 and checked the magazine. The gun felt good in his hand. He felt like nobody could touch him. He put it back in the waistband of his jeans.

  Headlights appeared in the distance. The Devil Hearts MC rode through the dirt on their bikes until they arrived at the meeting place.

  Each member took off their helmets and stowed them on their bikes. The Devil Hearts were armed to the teeth. Every single of them carried either a shotgun or machine gun. Like they were expecting a big firefight.

  And with these two rivals, a firefight was likely.

  Flash broke away from his group and walked to the middle of the circle. The president of the Devil Hearts did the same.

  Aiden was one of the ugliest motherfuckers to ever ride a bike. There wasn't one thing that you could point to that would give away the ugliness. It was more like the whole painting itself didn't work together.

  Flash shook his hand and they hugged each other. An outsider would think that the two of them were lifelong friends instead of lifelong enemies.

  “You got our money?” Flash asked.

  Aiden nodded and snapped his fingers. An Irish member ran to the middle with a large duffel bag. He threw it on the ground between the two presidents. Flash used his foot to kick it open and saw the stacks of green bills.

  Trevor put his hand on the butt of his gun. This was usually when things went sour.

  “Bring out the guns,” Flash announced.

  Jett jogged to the middle with two long duffels on each shoulder. He had a hard time balancing with the heavy bags. Jett set them down and ran back to the rest of the MC.

  “Let's see what we got here,” Aiden said. He opened up each bag and started pulling out guns. Pistols, shotguns, and machine guns of every variety.

  “Like what you see?” Flash asked.

  “These look like they will work.”

  “Good, then we have a deal?” Flash put out his hand.

  Aiden looked down at it. “I never thought I'd be making a deal with the Dog Soldiers. But desperate times.” He grasped his hand.

  “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  “Let's roll out, boys.”

  Trevor watched as the Devil Hearts rode out one by one, their tires kicking dust into the air. He took his hand off his gun and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Aren't they just going to kill us with the same guns we just sold them?” Jett asked.

  Flash put on his bucket helmet and fastened it under his chin. “The Devil Hearts have bigger things to worry about than us. The Asian gangs are seizing their territories. If we're lucky, they'll wipe each other and we only have to clean up the mess.”

  “Sounds like a good deal then.”

  “Let's get back to the bar and celebrate. The Dog Soldiers have some money to burn.”

  Trevor dreamed about how many prostitutes he could buy with all the money he made tonight.

  Chapter Seven

  Karen sat on the floor of her childhood bedroom, files and photos spread about. It was a couple hours past midnight and she wasn't close to tired enough to go to sleep. A single lamp shined down onto the ground. Karen picked through the papers looking for anything that caught her eye. It had been a few days since Karen arrived in Jimstown and she wasn't any closer to catching the serial killer.

  She stared at a photo of one of the victims, Carolyn Mayne. The picture was probably taken when she was in high school posing next to a tree. Carolyn looked like any other average girl with long brown hair and acne. Nothing that would set her apart for a serial killer to pick her from others.

  So what why did the killer pick her?

  Was it out of desire? Convenience? Was it all just random?

  Karen closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was the killer, hunting for a potential victim. She pictured herself at the college at night, watching girls walk by. Did he know them beforehand? Maybe he met them somewhere else and used the college at night for his kill spot.

  A knock at the door made Karen jumped. She clutched her chest and exhaled. “Come in.”

  Lindsay walked in with a tray of food. “What are you doing up so late?”

  “Can't sleep and I need to figure this case out. Why aren't you in bed?”

  Lindsay tilted the tray of food so Karen could see. “I made your favorite, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crust cut off.”

  “Mom, I'm old enough to eat crust now.”

  She set the tray onto Karen's bed. “Well I always used to make it this way for you.”

  “Thank you,” Karen replied. She took a slice and took a bite. PB&J always tasted better with the crusts cut off.

  Her mother hovered over her shoulder and looked at the photos. “Who is that?”

  “It's one of the victims, Carolyn Mayne.”

  “It's terrible what happened to her. I can't believe somebody in Jimstown could be capable of such a thing.”

  “There's always evil in the world, Mom.”

  “Well if it wasn't for these motorcycle clubs, this town wouldn't be so bad.”

  Karen was about to suggest that not all bikers were bad. But something clicked in her head. She fumbled through the files, searching for something.

  “Is something wrong, honey?”

  “I think I may have figured something out.”

  “I'll leave you to it.”

  Karen pulled out a file from the stack. “Thanks again for the sandwiches.”

  Lindsay closed the door behind her. Karen took another bite of peanut butter and smacked her lips. She ruffled through the papers until she found the witness account for Teresa Cullen, the first victim.

  Teresa was killed the same as the others, a large gash in her neck most likely caused by a long knife. But unlike the other victims who were found the next morning, Teresa was found right after she was killed.

  The witness, Jennifer Skylar said her in statement that she heard screaming and rushed to the scene. She found Teresa lying on the concrete pathway bleeding from her neck. She called 911 but it was too late. Karen had bled out before the paramedics arrived.

  When the police questioned if Jennifer had seen anybody suspicious, she told them she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

  But Karen had a gut feeling that Jennifer might know more if she was asked the right questions. It was the only lead she had.

  She found Jennifer's address written down on the statement. She knew exactly where she lived.

  Karen finished the rest of her sandwich and grabbed her black coat. She quickly realized that she couldn't talk to Jennifer in the middle of the night. That wasn't very professional. It would have to wait until morning.

  She dropped her coat and collapsed onto the bed. The mattress springs creaked underneath. Her eyes felt heavy. Karen didn't realize how tired she actually was. Her mind had been working so hard for days now and she barely had taken a break.

  It didn't take long to fall asleep with the light still on.

  –

  Karen woke the next day still wearing her clothes from the night before. She wiped the dried slobber from her cheek and checked her watch on the nightstand. It was almost noon.

  She jumped out of bed and didn't even bother changing into a fresh pair of clothes. She went to the bathroom and fixed herself up before l
eaving the house.

  Talking to the only witness couldn't wait a moment longer.

  She drove to the outskirts of Jimstown where the trailers were parked. When she was younger it was a lot more common to see trailer parks all over town. Now they were relegated to the edges.

  Kids played in the dirt road between the trailers as Karen parked next to Jennifer's. She got out of her nicely air-conditioned car and began sweating immediately. Wearing all black in the desert wasn't the best choice for an outfit. Karen took her sunglasses off and knocked on the front door.

  A young girl in her early twenty's and long blonde hair answered the door. “Whadya want?” The smell of bubble gum and beer spilled out of the doorway.

  “Are you Jennifer Skyler?”

  The girl nodded and closed the door a little for protection, chewing pink gum.

  Karen flashed her badge. “My name is Karen Taylor and I'm from the FBI. I'd like to ask you a few questions about Teresa Cullen.”

  “But I already told the cops everything I saw.”

  “I know but can I come in for a moment?”

  Jennifer didn't want to but she knew she couldn't stop the FBI. The door opened wide enough for Karen to walk through.

  The trailer was even more cramped than it looked like from the outside. Empty beer cans littered the ground and the sink overflowed with dirty dishes.

  Jennifer swept a stack of newspapers off a wooden chair and motioned for Karen to sit down. Jennifer sat on the couch across from her. “Like I already said before, I told the cops everything I know.”

  Karen took out a small notepad. “I just wanted to clarify a few things.”

  “You must not be close to catching this guy if you're back here talking to me.”

  Karen ignored the comment. “Can you describe what happened the night you discovered Teresa's body.”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Fine. I was walking home from class when I heard a scream.”

  “And what time was that?”

  Jennifer blew a big bubble. “Whenever my last class ended.”

  It didn't matter because she had the time from Jennifer's first statement. “Where did you hear the scream?” Karen interrupted.

  Jennifer closed her eyes. “I was walking out of the history building and I heard a scream come from close to the engineering building.”

  Karen wrote down notes. “And what did you do?”

  “I ran to see what was going on.” Jennifer crossed her legs.

  “Keep going,” Karen said.

  “I saw a woman lying in the middle of the sidewalk. There was blood everywhere.” Jennifer's eyes glazed over.

  Karen knew she would was going to lose her. She needed to wrap this up quick. “Did you know she was already dead or did you check for a pulse?”

  “She definitely looked dead. I didn't check for a pulse until I called 911 and they told me to. Then I knew for sure that she was dead.”

  “And you didn't see anyone around?”

  Jennifer shook her head.

  “And you didn't notice anyone suspicious earlier in the day?”

  She shook her head again.

  “What about any noises?” Karen asked.

  Jennifer cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean did you hear anything when you found Teresa?”

  Jennifer was visibly uncomfortable. She couldn't get the picture of the dead body out of her head. “No.”

  “Close your eyes or a moment. Try to remember. Did you hear any cars leaving?”

  Jennifer closed her eyes. “No but I think I heard a motorcycle off in the distance. I remember because it was crazy loud.”

  Karen smiled and continued writing in her book. “Did you notice any bikers that day at school. Someone who didn't belong.”

  “Now that you bring it up. I did notice somebody in the parking lot when I was going to class. I mean we see bikers around town all the time but this guy was just sitting on his bike doing nothing. You don't normally see those type of guys going to college.”

  “What did he look like?”

  Jennifer concentrated with her eyes still closed. “He wore a leather jacket.”

  “Any insignia on it?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I didn't see what was on it.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I don't know.” Jennifer opened her eyes. “I can only see his shadow. I'm sorry but that's all I remember”

  Karen wrote it all down. Every word. “You did very good, Jennifer. Better than most eye witnesses.” She stood up and Jennifer opened the front door.

  “I hope you catch this fucker.”

  “Don't worry, I'll get him.”

  Karen finally found the break in the case she was looking for. She was finally on the trail of the killer now. It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Eight

  Karen parked at the Jimstown sheriff's office. Randall Higsby came running out of the small building, his holstered pistol knocking against his hip. He knocked on her car window. Karen couldn't find the controls to lower the window and finally opened the door instead.

  “You told me it was urgent. Is everything all right?” he asked.

  Randall held a cup of coffee in one hand. The smell itself woke Karen up a little bit.

  “Yes. Everything is fine. I need every file on the motorcycle clubs in town and in the surrounding areas.”

  “Every club?”

  “Yes every club. And get me a cup of coffee.”

  Karen sat down at a desk in an interrogation room. It was the only place quiet enough to get some work done. She blew on the hot coffee and took a sip. It was no Starbucks but it was better than nothing.

  Randall brought in stacks of files on a cart. “Here is everything we got on motorcycle clubs.”

  Karen stood up as he unloaded stack after stack onto the desk. “This might take a long time.”

  “Tell me what we're looking for and I could help.”

  Karen flipped open the first file labeled: Dog Soldiers MC “I'm not sure exactly. I questioned Jennifer Skyler and she may have heard a motorcycle flee the scene.”

  Higsby sat down at the table and opened another file. “And you think it was someone in one of these motorcycle clubs? Because I can tell you that there are a lot of people that ride motorcycles in this town and not all of them are apart of a club.”

  “It's just a hunch I have.” Karen knew it was a long shot but she had to try.

  She combed through the files on the Dog Soldiers MC and came across Trevor Kent's file. She almost spit out her coffee when she recognized him as the man she made out with at the bar.

  “Did you find something?” Higsby asked.

  “Nothing yet.” Karen tried to hide her face as best she could. She had worked on her cold expression while at Quantico to help with interrogations but she was never able to fully master it.

  Higsby returned to his work and Karen delved deeper into the file. Trevor Kent was twenty-six years old and had a rap sheet longer than most. The list of misdemeanors was almost impressive. The one that got him was armed robbery of a liquor store. He did five years in the state penitentiary for that one.

  Karen always believed she was a good judge of character. A quality she thought would benefit her at the FBI. But here she was sticking her tongue down a convicted criminal's throat. Good thing she was able to resist him.

  But she couldn't help thinking about what could've happened if she went home with him. Her feeling his hard muscles over his tight white shirt jumped into her head. She imagined taking off his shirt to reveal a canvas of tattoos. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “You all right, Karen? You're just staring off into space.”

  Higsby pulled her out of her fantasy. Karen rubbed her eyes and pretended she was tired. She took another sip of coffee. “Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night.”

  “I'm not finding much here.” Higsby closed the last file in his stack. “We know who the major p
layers are but we don't have anything beyond that.”

  “That's not unusual for such a small town. You need a lot of money and manpower to put on big investigations.”

  “How are you going to spot a serial killer among all these?” Higsby waved his hand across the files.