A Master's in Murder

by Katie Moon

  So, I looked around for past job offers he’d posted. Since the chat room is carefully exclusive, people discuss pretty openly what they’re looking for. Twelve months ago, a group well-known on that side of the web for sex trafficking and coerced prostitution put out a request for gullible targets for a modeling scam. You know, girl shows up thinking she’ll get a job posing, but she ends up getting snatched and sold.

  Well anyway, your boy responded to the ad, saying he could easily rustle up a few girls. Then a few days later, he posted again with a list of five girls. Your two missing girls were on the list,” Theo finished, pointing his index finger at Officer Corey.

  Brielle watched as Officer Corey nodded, his hand scribbling furiously on his notepad. She could feel her stomach flipping and squelching nauseously. The faces of each girl from the news report earlier that week flashed before her eyes. Two beautiful, innocent girls had gone in one day for an audition, unaware that they were about to have everything taken from them. Their dreams, their freedom, their choice. She felt a tear slip down her cheek. Maybe they had wanted the job to get their big break, or to make ends meet while they were in college. Maybe they just wanted to see if they could do it. Whatever it was, one small decision had shattered their reality and replaced it with…. Brielle could not stop the shiver that ran down her spine. As part of her psychology studies, they had studied the effects of sexual trauma. She could only imagine they were holding on by a thread, wherever they were. If they’re even still alive, she thought morbidly.

  And as for the person offered them as human trafficking targets, could this actually be someone she knew? Could it even be possible to look into the eyes of someone so depraved and not recognize the devil staring back at her?

  Brielle was pulled from her thoughts by Officer Corey, who asked, “What’s the name of the group tied to the trafficking?”

  “Not sure what they go by on the surface, but at least down there they’re the Dolo Institute,” Theo answered. He once again leaned towards Officer Corey, but his smirk had disappeared. Instead, his face looked serious, and Brielle was surprised to see a hint of pain in his eyes. “Look, I know you think I’ve done some bad things, but they don’t compare to what probably happened to those girls. Only the scum of the earth could do what they did, maybe still are doing, to them,” he said hoarsely.

  “Oh, I agree. But as far as I’m concerned, you’ve lost the right to mourn them,” Officer Corey answered quickly, his eyes blazing with anger. “You act as if you still have a moral high ground here. You’re a murderer. You’ve destroyed lives that were just as packed with potential as those two women. You belong with that scum.”

  Theo looked visibly shaken, and his face turned a ghostly shade of white. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered, sounding tortured.

  Officer Corey raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. “I don’t? You killed Artimer and who knows how many others, good people with meaningful lives, just because you could. No empathy, no remorse. I mean, look at you! You killed your own mother! At twelve years old, you already had so much bloodlust—“

  “No, that’s not true,” Theo tried to interrupt, but Officer Corey drowned him out.

  “—that you slaughtered your own mother—“

  “You’re wrong, she was—“

  “—for what, some sick sense of power?” Officer Corey exclaimed, his voice rising.

  “NO, she—“ Theo tried again, looking disturbed, but he was cut off again.

  “You showed you were only ever going to be a monster—“

  Theo slammed his hands down on the table. “She was sexually abusing me!” he shrieked.

  An icy silence filled the room, penetrated only by the soft rhythm of Theo’s labored breaths.

  Brielle felt bile threatening to climb up her throat as she saw thick tears running down Theo’s cheeks. As she gazed horrified at Theo Walters, she saw for just a moment, not Eric’s killer, but a terrified, traumatized little boy. He threw his hands up in the air. “So there you go, it’s all out there. For four years, little innocent, unsuspecting Teddy was locked in his room while my excuse of a mother got drunk out of her mind and then would come up and please herself however she liked,” he said bitterly.

  Officer Corey’s face stared intensely at Theo, pity now muddled in with anger. “So you put a stop to it.” It was not a question.

  Theo wiped his sleeve across his sniffling nose. “No one knew just how much her life had collapsed. Outside of the home, people only ever saw a friendly, sociable woman. No one knew she finished every night drowning in vodka, or that she had an unhealthy draw to little boys. If I had tried to get help, I would’ve been ostracized as the lying son seeking attention,” Theo replied angrily. “It was my only way out. She made me who I am.”

  Brielle stumbled back, grasping for something to steady her, until she fell down unceremoniously in one of the viewing chairs. The nausea with which she had become too familiar in the past week crashed over her, and she felt her stomach clench and unclench as she gagged on dry heaves. How could a mother, the person meant to be the nurturer and protector of her child, do such a thing? Brielle wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, rocking back and forth. She had witnessed more heartache and mind-boggling, inhumane cruelty in the past week than she had in her entire lifetime. Betrayals. Abuse. Assault. Kidnapping. Trafficking. Murder. Her life had turned into a compilation of humanity’s darkest sins.

  Brielle lifted her head as Officer Corey’s voice whispered huskily into the gloomy silence. “I am truly sorry you had to experience that. No one, especially a child should ever have to experience such a heinous violation of their own body. I can’t imagine the trauma that you’ve been living with throughout all these years.” After a moment’s hesitation, he continued, his voice stronger. “But it’s time for you to stop living in the shadow of your mother’s wickedness. She terrorized you for years, and you couldn’t stop her. But now, every day that you live as a product of her actions, you let her continue to terrorize you, to control you.

  “I’ve seen more cruelty and brutality in this job than I dreamed possible,” Officer Corey mused, and Brielle watched him as he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling reflectively. “Evil has a way of planting a seed in its victims, spreading like a disease to people who otherwise would have lived good lives. It takes a lot of work to uproot it and break the cycle, but it’s either that or constant misery.” He looked back at Theo, and Brielle saw a hint of gentleness in his gaze. “You’ll have to answer for your own crimes, but it’s time to stop answering for your mother’s.”

  Theo just sat there, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

  There was a minute of silence that lingered in the air like fog, and Officer Corey stood up. “That will be all, Mr. Walters,” he said softly, and he turned and walked out the door, leaving Theo weeping alone, haunted by the ghosts of his past.

  Brielle continued to gaze through the glass as she heard the viewing door swing open. “You doing okay?” said Officer Corey gently.

  Brielle glanced over to give a small smile and quick nod before focusing back on Theo. Tears dripped from his cheeks onto the metal table, forming two small pools in front of him. “I wanted to hate him. I was so ready to hate him,” Brielle whispered. “I hate everything he’s done. I hate that he took Eric away from me. But then to hear what he lived through… It’s heartbreaking. I wanted so badly to hate him, but I—I can’t, not completely.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Officer Corey turn to face Theo. “I’ve come to realize that most people are not wholly good or wholly bad. But when trauma and pain is all you’ve learned, it often becomes part of your actions too. I’ve seen so many lives destroyed, first by the perpetrator, and then, unfortunately, by the victim themselves, mimicking what they’ve experienced,” he said dejectedly.

  Brielle twisted her head around to stare at him. Officer Corey had seemed to age a decade in a day. Deep, tired lines creased his s
kin, and his face had developed a permanent scowl. With a deep sigh, he motioned for Brielle to follow him. “C’mon,” he said. “It’s time for me to look into Brute2e. Maybe we can stop him from destroying anymore lives.”

  22

  “Do you think they’ll be able to find him?”

  She looked up. She was sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor in her living room area while Randall sprawled on the couch in a daze. He had lifted his head to look at her. “The Brute guy. Do you think they’ll be able to track him down?” he asked again.

  Brielle was quiet for a moment. “A couple days ago they had nothing. Now they have a web user name. If things keep up the way they are then… maybe,” she said finally, fighting the desperate hope churning in her.

  Randall rolled slowly up into a sitting position. “What are the chances it’s someone we know? I mean,” he said, shaking his head, “how could any normal person do something like that without us knowing he’s a bit, you know, crazy?”

  Brielle combed her fingers through her hair, feeling the greasy, tangled strands cling to her hand. She made a note to use extra shampoo next time she showered. “After everything I’ve heard and seen this week, I don’t know if I could be totally confident in anyone’s innocence. No one seems to have a shortage of skeletons in their closet,” she said in a low voice.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Randall said. Abruptly, he rolled over and pointed to her open laptop on the coffee table. “Hey, can I use your computer?”

  “What?” Brielle asked distractedly. “Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

  Randall reached over and pulled the sleek computer onto his lap, clicking away on the keyboard. “Thanks. Mine is getting repaired. Something with the battery.”

  For a few moments, they said nothing, the quiet air broken only by the gentle taps of the computer keys. Finally, Randall closed the laptop and slid it back onto the table. “So, hey.” He sounded a little uncomfortable. After a moment’s hesitation, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “You and Eric. You weren’t… having any issues or—or anything?”

  “No, why?” she answered, looking perplexedly at him. He opened his mouth slowly and then shut it, avoiding her gaze. Then it clicked. “You think I hurt Eric?” she exclaimed, her jaw dropping.

  “It’s not that I thought you did!” he replied hastily, staring at her glare of shock mingled with anger and deep hurt. “I just—well, we agree that no one is above suspicion in this. And I just want justice for Eric, that’s all. Of course, you wouldn’t do something I like this. I shouldn’t have suggested….” Randall trailed off, a look of miserable discomfort etched in features.

  Finally, Brielle found her voice. “No, it’s… it’s okay. You’re right. No one is above suspicion. You would be right to question everyone, even me. I should be thanking you for caring enough about him to ask the hard questions,” she said kindly, smiling up at him. A look of relief washed over Randall’s face. “Things between Eric and I were as perfect as I can imagine them. I wanted to marry him, Randall,” she finished earnestly, and the blistering wave of heartbreak crashed over her again. For what felt like the millionth time in the past week, Brielle covered her face as hot, thick tears trickled down her face.

  Randall looked around the room as if the right words to say would be hiding behind the sofa or in a cabinet. Finally, he simply murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

  Sniffling, Brielle wiped her cheeks, embarrassed at her overflow of emotions. “I’ll be okay,” she said, attempting a feeble laugh. “Your turn. Any secret hidden hatred for Eric that I need to know about? No voodoo dolls with his head on them or anything?” she joked weakly.

  Randall gave a soft snort of laughter. “Hey, I may still be a little bitter about when he didn’t come and save me on Call of Duty, but other than that, things were pretty good,” he laughed. Brielle chuckled. And for just a split second, they were just two friends who hadn’t lost everything. But we have, Brielle thought glumly to herself. Whoever did this did lasting damage to more lives than just Eric’s.

  After a few minutes of miserable silence, Randall sighed and stood up. “Should we see if there’s any news or updates?” he said, nodding at the television set.

  Brielle shrugged gloomily. “We might as well. It can’t make us any more depressed than we already are,” she answered.

  With a wry smile, Randall turned on the screen and flipped quickly through the channels, a dazzling array of bright images flashing rapidly across the screen. Finally, Randall released his trigger finger as a white-haired, gentile-looking man with a square jaw filled the screen. His dark green suit jacket underscored the occasional dark grey streaks in his thick locks and highlighted the forest hazel in his grave eyes.

  The reporter spoke carefully in a deep, fluid voice. “—heard a deep growling immediately before the leopard swiped its paw through the bars. The victim is currently being treated at the Raleigh Central Hospital, and the park specialists have opened an investigation into the occurrence to determine the fate of the leopard enclosure. Meanwhile, in Durham, home to the University of North Carolina, college senior Claire Kunis has been found dead. Kunis was found at Falls Lake, having apparently drowned after a slippery fall into the water that rendered her unconscious.”

  “Oh, no!” Brielle rolled to her knees, lifting herself up to stare unhappily at the TV. First Eric, now this girl. She looked at Randall. A dark shadow had fallen over his face, and his jaw was tight. Eyes swiveling around to meet Brielle’s gaze, Randall murmured in a despondent voice, “That’s horrible. Another person dead. This place has some bad juju right now.”

  “Really. But guess what? Corey mentioned to me that the recent bout of stolen personal information had been connected back to her. Her account had accessed all of the files that were reported as violated. She worked at the registrar’s office, that’s how she got access, from what I understand,” Brielle recalled.

  “Wow,” Randall said softly, taken aback. “And to think I was feeling bad for her. You get what’s coming to you, I guess. Not that death is a fair sentence for identity theft,” he added quickly.

  Brielle didn’t answer. As the face of Claire Kunis appeared on the screen, a heart-shaped smile framed by hair that reminded Brielle of a fall sunset, she blinked rapidly, fighting back another wave of tears that threatened to overflow onto her cheeks. Had Claire passed out so quickly that she never realized she was dying, or had she been aware, even for just a moment, that she might be taking her last breath? Brielle wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. That woman smiling up at her had been someone’s daughter. Brielle had seen her parents’ pain-stricken faces at the police station. Somewhere out there, Brielle knew they were crushed, wondering why something so terrible had to happen to their daughter. And who else was pining for their lost loved one? Maybe a sister or brother. Maybe a friend. Maybe even a significant other. In one moment, they had all lost someone precious. Just like Brielle.

  “Do you think he knew?”

  Randall looked around, confused. “Who knew what?”

  Brielle’s lip quivered, and she bit down in an attempt to keep it still. “Eric. Do you think he knew he was going to die? In that moment?”

  Randall exhaled slowly and looked up at the ceiling. “It probably happened so fast, he didn’t have time to think. Walters came at him out of nowhere, right?” he said.

  Brielle nodded. Then, with a heart-wrenching sob, she whispered the question that she hadn’t been able to ignore. “Do you think his last thought would have been of me? If he had time?”

  She could feel Randall’s eyes as they bore into her head, too embarrassed to look up and meet his eyes. After a pregnant pause, she heard him reply fervently, “I know he would have. You were everything to him.” There was a pause. “I’m not sure if he ever told you, but he was looking at rings. To propose to you. He had chosen out a few he liked best,” Randall said, and Brielle’s head flew up in surprise, lines of mascara beginning to stripe down her cheeks. Randall nodded. “He was
sure about you two.”

  Brielle’s heart felt like it was going to explode, a beautiful and terrible mixture of deep love and terrible hurt brewing, bubbling over. In her mind’s eye, she could see her dream of walking down the aisle to Eric more clearly than ever before.

  “Whoever did this took everything from me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

  “I know.” Randall’s eyes turned suddenly grave, flickering with anger. “And we’ll make them pay for it. We’re going to nail them.”

  23

  Mason’s armchair squeaked as he dropped heavily into its cozy warmth. Even with the soft, fluffy fabric that engulfed him, however, Mason could not shake off the heavy chill that had hung around him since Brielle’s hasty exit the day before. As he numbly turned on the TV and leaned back, Mason remembered the terrified look of horror that had crossed Brielle’s face as she listened to that menacing voicemail. Mason frowned deeply. Was that the face she would give him if she found out where he had been that night? For the thousandth time in the past week, Mason cursed inwardly at himself. He had thought it would have been so harmless. He knew exactly what they would say about him. Now nothing that came to light would look harmless at all.

  He frowned, stroking a bald spot directly in the middle of his chin. Mason had never been able to grow a full beard. Any attempt to do so resulted in a scraggly bush of weedy hair that resembled his grandfather’s old comb over. His father had always mocked his inability to grow facial hair cleanly. He maintained that it was a prime example of how Mason couldn’t fulfill the measure of a man.

  Mason’s scowl deepened. His measure of a man was the number of bruises he left on his wife and son, he thought bitterly. Mason closed his eyes, trying to block out the shouts that echoed out from the prison of memories that so often held him captive.