Blood Thrill

by David Swinden

  The second area I scouted was actually around a park. The girls would be walking around, and Johns were approaching these women every now and then. In actual fact, this was near a nice neighborhood and there were also children playing in the park. The third area was along a very busy street; there were a lot of pubs and strip joints on this road. The girls here were the prettiest, you could not make out the working girls at first, but soon enough though, you could spot them. Approaching them here was much more subtle - eye contact had to be made first and then a slight nod would bring the girl walking in your direction. There were cameras on this street and things were much more surreptitious around here. Given the quality of the girls, it was obvious that all the Johns with money were working this strip in search of meat for the night.

  After my recon of the three areas, a plan was needed. The Butcher, his earned moniker, could be anywhere. There was no saying at which of these three areas he was to be found at any given time. If the cops got to him before me, then this whole exercise would have been and wasteful and futile one. They must have had much more information about The Butcher than me.

  Brian Miller having come off his latest victory in solving the highway murder case; was now playing lead detective in The Butcher case also. He and his dogs were all over these localities. He had become a very busy person - always in demand. He had a partner, a woman named Jackie. She was assisting him in this criminal investigation and together they had uniforms following their every bid and fancy. The cops were out in full force; even The Chief of Police had promised Brian his unlimited support and corporation.

  This modern day Jack the Ripper had managed to make an entire city irascible. The Butcher must have been hiding somewhere and enjoying all of this publicity. Wonder if this is what he wanted? Maybe this and more; what kind of abnormal psychological urges was he trying to satisfy? My personal thoughts on The Butcher were this - He must have been someone who had grown up with a very strong spiritual upbringing, and his parents must have looked after a very strict home. It seemed as though he was trying to justify his sins, by killing off the people he had committed sin with. Desperately trying to justify the guilt to his conscience; trying to correct his spiritual connection, by killing the temptress. He must have been married, and most probably had a daughter or two. He was a family man of that I was sure. He must also be a highly prominent citizen in society. All this combined had made him very secretive. I was also a person who had Kill Urges but for different reasons. I had not suffered at the hands of anyone, neither was I abused as a kid. I might have abused other kids - mainly boyhood pranks and nothing more.

  I was on the hunt for a classy person, who had a very carnal craving, a troubled conscience, and a happy home. He must also have had a very loving and faithful wife, something else that must have been tormenting and torturing him. No, this was not the work of a depraved and starving individual. I felt very strongly that this was the work of a highly accomplished and successful person. This was my personal opinion though. The cops with all their resources and professional expertise must have been reading the entire situation differently.

  Brian sat opposite Dr. Sara Walters, (Criminal behavior and psychology consultant) as she gave him her assessment of the situation and her reading of The Butcher. ‘He is someone who must be impotent, that’s why all the cutting and gutting. This is penetration… where the actual act had not taken place; it’s a person suffering from homicidal and erotic mania. He is just showing his frustration against women in general, unable to actually approach beautiful women, he settled on prostitutes. People like this feel no emotion, regret, or guilt.’ She said, as he sat opposite her, listening keenly while also taking notes. She continued on ‘Start looking for an older middle aged man, maybe someone in his mid thirties, the kind of person who’s been a failure all his life. He must have failed at his job, business, and a big failure when it came to women. Having nothing left to fight for and instead of committing suicide, he’s channeling his frustration into killing women. He has nothing against these prostitutes’ per se. But he does have a lot against women in general and since working women are the easiest of targets, he’s taking it out on them, a homicidal lunatic.’ Brian now had a question for her ‘How about his dress sense, and the kind of car he might drive?’ ‘Shabby clothes, dirty car, and most probably remains unshaven.’ Armed with this information he had started his search. This was contrary to my opinion - as I was sure that he would be very well dressed, drive a nice car, and his appearance would have been impeccable.

  The cops and I were both looking for a totally different individual. Over the course of the next two weeks, I had established a routine in these three areas. His Kill Cycle had been repeated about every three months or so, which was pretty much when all the excitement was starting to die down. I kept studying his kills to find a pattern, maybe even a Beat that might have been subconsciously programmed into his brain. Obviously he was a creature of habit and worked in cycles. If something had broken this cycle, I was sure that he would lose his rhythm and stop killing altogether.

  His Kill Cycle had been in this order - For his first three kills he had taken women from the industrial area, for the fourth and fifth, women had been taken from the park, and for the sixth kill, a woman had been taken from The Strip. This had been his cycle of victims and kills so far. Each had been taken approximately three months apart or thereabouts. He had his operations running for about two years now. It was only after the third kill, with the news having reached the press rooms, that people were jolted upright. Bringing the harsh reality home to the cops, that they had to deal with a serial killer in their midst. It takes three confirmed kills by the same person for them to be labeled a Serial Killer.

  It was now near the ending of the three month cycle and he was expected to strike again. Maybe he will start a new cycle or continue with the old one and start it all over again from the park area this time. It all seemed too logical and convincing for my liking. Knowing and having killer instinct all my own, was pretty sure by now, that this was done to confuse and mislead criminal psychologists, profilers, and the investigating officers. I had a strong feeling that his Kill Cycle would last for nine victims and then it would be over in our city. He must have had a lot of social and professional engagements, and travel was not a luxury but a necessity for him.

  The Chief of Police was on TV again, telling the general public that things were under control, ‘But please don’t sleep without locking your doors at night.’ He was happy that as of yet, none of the populace had been targeted and it was only street prostitutes that had been singled out. The Butcher had caused enough trouble for the city and held the residents in perturbation. The six gruesome killings were now making national and even international headlines, having attracted the interest of the entire nation.

  Brian Miller was getting busier with each passing day and with Jackie by his side he was now a man on a mission. A lot of responsibilities began to now rest on his shoulders, if he was to gain any street cred, he would have to close this case and put it to rest. A great deal now depended on the local PD, and no chances were being taken. In fact this evening there was going to be local broadcast on The Butcher and his perpetrations. His most gruesome and horrific killings were adding to TV ratings and news channels were all over this case, covering and investigating every aspect of each kill.

  Brian and the Police Force knew much more than I on the manner by which each kill had taken place. What methods were used, the techniques, and the exact style in which each body was disposed off. The telecast this evening was something that I would need to record and study for myself. There was a lot of information that I needed to gather, that could only be learned from looking at, and observing the bodies of the victims.

  The program was very insightful and perspicacious I must say; there were a few details of the case that enlightened me. For one, each cut on the throat was from left to right, same thing with the way he gutted them. A C-section was performed on t
he lower parts of the abdomen and once the body was turned over, and the flesh above the cut lifted a bit, all the guts would then spill out. This was very interesting and made me ponder the reasons for gutting. Maybe he was a fisherman, or he liked cooking fish, or maybe loved to go out into the great outdoors and fish. Eventually gutting the fish he caught; some sort of religious symbolism or cleansing ritual. Maybe he was more of an Angler than a Hunter. Seems plausible to me as that would explain why so many women were not afraid to go out with him. If one prostitute was taken and butchered that would have sent shivers and shockwaves within their entire community, word of mouth spreads like wildfire. When so much was at stake, he was able to lure and hook so many other women. A master manipulator - someone who appeared trustworthy and harmless, the kind that was easily able to bate and snag women, what could have given him this air of reliability and truth?

  My suspicion that he was a trusted member of the community began to grow. This was not a raggedy looking man, but someone with an air of confidence and dependability, a person who was smooth talking, convincing, and a manipulator of human emotions. I began to suspect that he might have also been a regular on these streets, and not someone who would have raised suspicion. He was someone who was on a fishing expedition and not a hunter. A hunter might have killed these women on the spot and not taken them away to a location almost out of town. His crimes were not disorganized, but well planned and executed skillfully. Each kill had been found in a wooded area, which went to show that he was familiar with the outdoors, and knew his way around.

  The profilers were busy working away, trying to analyze and come to conclusions. While the police sketch artist was also attempting to come up with something, based on all these findings and conclusions.

  It was late evening, when I began to drive around the park. Not to appear suspicious, I did not stop to talk to any of the working girls. I did spot a few undercover cops, trying to appear like whores, but they were easy to uncover. Their appearance in trying to appear like prostitutes was at best clumsy and awkward. Real whores had a certain look and trying to imitate their dressing sense was not really going to cut it. The look in a real working woman's eyes was something that could not be replicated, and dumb guys willing to be fooled by a cop dressed as a prostitute, well and truly deserved what was coming to them.

  All I needed was one look, just one look into the killer’s eyes and that would be enough. I knew that look - once again, this was not a look that could be easily duplicated. A real killer had a way about him - the way he would walk, look at others and his attitude to the outside world in general, was totally different. Whenever I felt that longing to kill rising up within me, that same look would appear in my eyes. It was a look only a killer would know. It was for this very precise reason that I needed to look into The Butchers eyes. I was becoming desperate - initially thinking that this would be easy, was now feeling the frustration of the hunt. Why was this taking so long? And why was it proving to be so difficult?

  The Butcher was smart and I needed to give him his credit, he had earned every bit of it, and needed to be congratulated on his success at putting an entire city on edge. This wiley individual was proving to be much smarter than I had initially anticipated. There had been no kills for over three months now and as per his usual pattern, another kill was expected and must somehow be around the corner now, what was he waiting for? The heat brought on by the police must have scared him and sent him scurrying for cover. Maybe he was lying low and this was all a waste of time - what if he never strikes again? I would be so disappointed if he backed off now, as I would not have much to go on with.

  6. Hope

  His name was Nick, a proud owner of one of the strip clubs located on The Strip - the road that housed many pubs and bars, strip clubs, and restaurants. He drove a black Lincoln Continental, with dark windows on all sides. His chauffeur was opening the door for him, while I was passing by. He had a strange look in his eyes, well built, confident and strong, the kind of person that immediately demands and commands respect. He was already making his money from seedy ventures; the kind which only people of questionable characters enter. There were also rumors that he ran a porn company, which required the female performers to first fuck with him. If he liked it, they would then be allowed to perform in one of his many films. Looking at him set my blood on fire, every cell in my body shot into overdrive. Here I was, looking at a man that I was pretty sure, had the potential to become my next victim. It was only natural that my killer instinct would get supercharged, when another killer appeared in front of me, I could see him for what he was, and finally there was something to be excited about.

  I quickly retreated to my car, pulled it out of parking and began following the black Lincoln Continental, eventually reaching a very expensive neighborhood. His home must have sat on at least 10 acres of land. This was a very expensive place and Nick was well and truly a rich man. The drive up to his house was blocked by security detail. Of course if this was my killer, the man who had rained blood and terror upon the city, he was now finally in my sights. I hoped that this time I was right and that my instincts had paid off. If this was the case, than I was way ahead of the cops, and on the verge of claiming my prize. Parking my car, below a few big trees ahead of his house, decided to just stay there and watch what might happen. I needed to know how many people where a part of his family - wife, kids?

  I had hardly been waiting for half an hour, when a car could be seen coming down the driveway. It was a black SUV, as usual the side windows wore dark tinted glass and it was difficult to tell who might be inside. The car however seemed to carry all the hallmarks of the owner - Nick. This car was begging to be followed, and from a safe distance, I began to tag my quarry. He headed down a long and winding road that I knew was going to go up into the hills. Atop one of these hills, I could now see lights, and the road he had chosen to take, had begun to lead us there. I had to fall back now, so he didn’t start to suspect that he was being tailed. As the road got lonelier and more desolate, I had to completely switch off my lights and follow from a safe distance. Reaching a nice break in the trees not too far below the home, I pulled into a clearing, driving it a little further inside. It was now completely hidden from sight. I trekked between the bushes and trees and eventually reached the place from the rear. The house was large and the swimming pool was fitted with beautiful lights. A huge glass door at the back of the house opened to the pool and Nick was there, talking to two beautiful, hot, and sexy women. This bastard had a sexual appetite larger than the feeding capacity of a Blue Whale. He had left his family behind and was now with some high class whores. I was not sure if they were here for some favor from him, or if they were just expensive escorts. He was like a rabid dog, running from one bitch to the other. I continued watching as the liquor started to flow and all of them slipped into a drunken muddle. It wasn't long before they were out of their clothes and slipping into the pool.

  While they were busy frolicking and fucking around, I stealthily made my way slowly around the pool and into the house. This was easy actually and might have been really difficult, had the big glass doors not been kept open. I had made a mental note as to where each security camera had been placed, and there was no second guessing that the front must have been totally covered by cameras. I had made my way from behind and was now able to now slip into the house and explore the place for myself. I could still hear their noise and commotion coming in from the outside, which told me that they were busy. I needed proof that he was indeed The Butcher, something that would point me towards my strong suspicion. It was fairly easy to locate the security room. Here I found the nerve system of all the CCTV cameras and other alarms that were being used to keep a watch and guard the property. All it took was the flick of three switches to turn everything off, after which I gathered all the tapes into my backpack. Looking around the room revealed nothing, apart from the security devices there was nothing else. Walking around the place I reached the stairs tha
t led to a huge bedroom on the maisonette floor. This was a luxurious home and the bedroom was on the first floor, having a carpet area of almost half the house. There were mirrors all around and a massive bathroom that even housed a Jacuzzi. Everything was made of glass, overlooking the beautiful valley below. Only one light was on in the bedroom, which I turned off. Using the flashlight from my bag I was now looking around, to see what might be found. The drawers and cupboards revealed nothing, the place was sterile and clean. Maybe I had the wrong person; there were no clues to be found anywhere. Just then I heard someone climbing up the stairs and in walked one of the women, dressed only in high-heels. Springing into action, I had her on the ground chest up. Covering her mouth I told her not to scream and raise an alarm. She was complying as she lay on the floor, hands behind her back.

  ‘What are you doing with this creep?’

  ‘Ugh, don’t hurt me; we came up here to audition for one of the movies. I just want to act, to be an actress. Please don’t hurt me.’

  ‘How many women come up here?’

  ‘Please, please stop.’

  ‘Just shut the fuck up and answer me, bitch.’

  She was crying now as she replied. ‘All of us, all of us come here every day. He chooses whom he wants, and we have to come. Even the strippers need to fuck him; he sleeps with all of us. He’s a dirty bastard okay, just a dirty pig. Please don’t hurt me.

  ‘Does he have guns, knives, anything?’