“If you turn to page two, you can see the similarities in damage inflicted by the killer. However, as I studied multiple case files from other jurisdictions, I noticed a pattern in the way that he was killing his victims. While at first the killings seem random, I was able to see that several different patterns actually appeared. First, the killer has no regard for the sex of his victim, and he always picks large people because he needs them to have some girth and body fat, so he can keep them alive while he inflicts pain. His victims are still large when he’s done with them, so he cuts them up for ease of disposal. He also picks indigent homeless people that won’t be missed.” “That’s not a news flash, John, that’s in the case file. “Yes sir. What isn’t in the case file is why he picks these people.” Jim piped up and said, “He picks them because even if someone does miss them, the cops are not going to give an indigent the same attention as someone with a nine-to-five, a wife, or a kid!” John’s smile never left his face, “Yes sir, but that’s not the only reason. He sees them not as humans but as animals.” There was silence in the room. “What?” asked Steve. “There’s one thing that’s not noted in the case file but can be seen in the photos of the victims. They’re all clean when we find the bodies.” There were blank stares around the room. “They’re covered in blood and dirt when we find them,” said Carl. “No…they’re not. Look at yesterday’s victims again.” They all reviewed the photo log, but it was Carl who caught the connection first. “You’re right. The blood is only on the ends of the amputations; the bodies are clean.” “And if we look closer so are their clothes. They are left neatly folded near the bodies.” Again, stunned silence. “Are you saying that this guy is washing the victims and their clothes before he kills them?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Jim stood in the corner and said, “That makes no sense!”
John went on, “It actually makes perfect sense if we look at our killer from a global perspective. He takes what he perceives to be the equivalent of Swine off the street then cleans and tortures them. After the rush subsides, he cuts them up and cleans them, folds their clean clothes, and dumps the bodies.” “So, the killer has some sick sense that he is cleaning up the streets?” John shook his head, “No…this guy has a God complex. He gets a rush from the begging and pleading; he also feeds his sexual fantasies by cleaning their nude bodies.” “But there has never been any sign of sexual assault to any of his victims,” came a statement from the group. “You don’t have to touch what you see in order to live out a fantasy; this killer sees his victims as filthy Swine and would never degrade himself by touching them. That would be revolting. He gets his rocks off by looking at their nude bodies as he cleans them.” “And what, pray tell, does he use to clean them without touching them?” asked Steve. “Oh, that’s easy…a high powered hose. Probably a fire hose. It serves two purposes: one literally sprays the dirt off their flesh, while inflicting non-lethal pain at th pen down, walked over next to Steve, and let the rest of the staff take it all in. Jim looked over at John and said, “Man…I don’t want to play in your brain.” There was a laugh. Steve told them that they were tabling the Basin case for now to focus on Janet’s case. He thanked John for the information and asked him for his cell phone number as the session broke up for the evening. It was six p.m., and John told the folks in the room that he had a date and excused himself. Jim followed Steve back to his office, and the two men stood looking at each other in stunned silence.
John got back to his truck and called his lady friend and told her he would have to beg off dinner due to police work. When he walked into his condo, he could hear the faint murmurs of Billy in the trunk in his guest room. He walked into the now dark room and said, “Billy… Billy…Billy…man, have you been a bad boy.” He grabbed his gym bag and put some clothing in it with his laptop. He filled a syringe with more liquid and opened the trunk. Billy was covered in sweat and was dazed as he looked up at John staring down at him. “Billy, what did you do last night?” His eyes were glazed over. “I think the more appropriate question is who did you rape last night?” Billy’s eyes grew wide as the needle struck. He screamed through the duct tape as the needle pierced the same injection spot again. As he was slipping into unconsciousness, he heard John speaking, “Well, what to do with you? Your DNA is most certainly in the databases, so they are going to make you by morning. I certainly can’t keep you here. I guess I will take you over to Francis’ house. He has a great torture chamber, and you’ll make a great companion for him as I decide what I’m going to do with you.” He looked down at Billy’s sleepy eyes, “Oh, don’t you worry about these things. I’ll take care of the details. You get some sleep.” John took a small knife out of his pocket and laid it on Billy’s cheek. He could feel John pulling down his pants and underwear; he tried to resist and felt a hand grab his penis. John showed him the knife. “I see that you have never been circumcised; we’ll have to fix that.” Billy felt a sharp pain in his penis and passed out. John pulled back the bloody knife and pulled Billy’s pants back up. “That’s going to hurt like hell when you wake up.”
He closed and locked the lid to the trunk. He placed it in its leather cover, then he loaded it onto a dolly and threw the gym bag on top. He wheeled everything to the elevator. Two of his neighbors stepped off as he was stepping in and asked how he was doing. He smiled at the male couple as one of them said, “You know, John… you don’t have to take your leather gear out of the building if you want to play! Gary and I play all the time. I’m sure you’ve heard a whipping or two in our unit.” He threw a limp wrist towards John. “Okay guys. You always make the same joke. You know this is my workout gear; I’m not into the lifestyle that you two are.” They smiled at him, Gary hugging his partner. “Why do the handsome studs always have to be straight?” Neil frowned. “That’s no way to speak in front of Neil, besides he is a very handsome man. Now you two get along. It was nice seeing you. I have a workout and then a date, so I must bid you good night.” Something thumped inside the box. The men stepped back looking shocked. John laughed, “Haven’t you ever heard a dumbbell shift in a box before?” There was nervous laughter as he pushed the button for P3. They all waved as the door closed, the smile never leaving John’s face.
Chapter Fourteen
‘He had been let in on a secret, a
very dark secret, one that would
not allow sleep to come as he lay
in the darkness listening to the soft
breath of the women he loved.’
Jim’s phone buzzed on his hip as he was having a beer at Santiago’s. He looked at the caller ID. Unidentified. “Fuck ‘em.” He called out to Valente, asking for another beer. It was only his second, and the night was young. He heard Javier sound out a greeting as Steve came walking in the door. Jim asked Valente to set them up with an ice bucket and six beers. He moved over to an open table, and Steve joined him. “So how the hell are you doing, Steve?” He flopped down in the chair across from Jim and said, “You won’t believe this, but twenty four hours ago I was getting ready to have sex with Molly and her best friend Gail.” A huge smile grew across Jim’s face. “No fuckin’ shit? So… did you?” Steve got a shy smile on his face as he grabbed a beer. He cracked it open and said, “You’re goddamn right I did!” They clinked bottles in a toast to what had been a great night.
Jim asked if he had told Molly about Janet. Steve shook his head, “Molly and Janet had only met a few times, but Moll really liked her, and they talked quite a bit by phone. I don’t want to upset her while Gail’s in town.” Jim took a swig of his beer and yelled out to Javier, asking if he could smoke. Javier didn’t even respond; he just waved a dismissive hand in Jim’s direction, so Jim simply clenched the unlit smoke between his teeth. The phone in his pocket buzzed, and Steve heard it. “What’s that?” “That, my friend, is a message left by an unknown caller.” Steve took a swig of his beer and put his arms behind his head. “Shit Jim…what the fuck is happening to the world? I have an a
ffinity for all of my agents, even though I do everything I can to disassociate my feelings for them.” “It can’t be done, my friend; we are too close in our working relationships. We spend more time with our teams than our own families.” Steve nodded, drinking his beer. “So what brings you here tonight if you had a threesome last night? I would think you could have another tonight.” Steve just shook his head. “No. That was a one-time thing. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to face Gail’s husband, Bob, the next time I see him.” Jim started laughing. “You don’t think he knows? Believe me he knows, and it’s quid pro quo, my friend. Either Molly and Gail have already done him, or they are going to do him the next time they’re all together. My advice to you is to just take it as a good thing and don’t ask any questions.” “Don’t ask any questions? Are you saying my wife is planning to cheat on me?” Jim laughed despite the smoke clenched between his teeth. “You’re kidding, right? You fucked your wife’s best friend… with your wife…that’s not cheating. That’s a fantasy. You’ve obviously made comments to Molly about Gail, so they threw you a little party. What did Molly say when it was over?” “Happy Birthday.” “I rest my case.”
“How does that prove a case for you to rest?” “Man…you really need to lighten up. You’re going to have a stroke. It means that your wife loves you enough and trusts you enough to throw you a piece of tail nearly twenty years younger than you for fun. Gail lives in New Jersey. You two aren’t going to run off together…” There was a thoughtful look on Jim’s face. “Are you?” Looking disgusted, Steve said, “NO!” “I had to check. Then it’s all good. You lived out the fantasy, which you’ve confessed to me a million times through the years. So… was she good?” Steve got a huge smile on his face, and Jim raised his beer bottle again in a toast. “So leave it be. If Molly reciprocates with Gail and Bob, or already has, it’s not your business. You both got some of the same pussy. How many young guys want an older woman?” Steve knew he was right.
“So, that was one hell of a speech that John gave today. What do you make of this kid.” Steve shook his head, “I’m about ready to make him an offer to come work for me.” “I was thinking the very same thing; the kid would make a hell of an agent.” Steve nodded. “Have you heard back on the DNA on Janet?” Steve said no. Jim took another drink of his beer and said, “I think the perp will be in the database. You have to admit that was damn ballsy of John to offer up his DNA.” Steve took a drink of his beer, “Yes and no…he knew he had nothing to do with her death, so he had nothing to worry about.” “That’s true. But still, to be that open in a homicide investigation? I wouldn’t have done it.” “Seriously? Even if you knew that you had nothing to do with it, you wouldn’t volunteer if asked?” “Fuck no. You and I both know that the ninety nine point nine percent accuracy claim about DNA is bullshit. Damn, man, you’re an FBI profiler and a DNA expert; you don’t remember the Troyer tests in Arizona? Shit, Kathryn Troyer, the medical examiner in Arizona blew that theory out of the water years ago. There’s no way I would offer up my DNA for testing unless it was ordered by a court, my friend. It ain’t as accurate as we claim, and you know it!” Steve nodded. “All you need is some moron who doesn’t handle the DNA sample correctly and contaminates the specimen, and you have every investigator from your scene matching the DNA… or did you forget about the Dallas crime lab scandal. Nope, John may have known he had nothing to do with it, but he doesn’t know how lucky he was that you blinded the sample. Shit…you send that sample over with his name on it and someone in the lab has a hard on for him, and the next thing you know he’s sitting in jail or prison until an independent lab can do a report to exonerate him, and even then it depends on just how badly that specimen has been tainted. He could have gone to prison for life because someone didn’t like him.” Steve didn’t say a word.
The two men sat drinking their beers when Jim remembered the message on his cell. He picked it up off the table and called his voicemail. He had it on speaker, and a female voice came on the line. “Hi Jim, this is Barbara. Can you give me a call when you get this? I need to ask you a question? Thank you so much. I look forward to hearing from you.” Jim closed the phone and took a drink of his beer. “Well,” Steve asked, “are you going to call her?” “Yea…I just need to get my head straight. I haven’t spoken to her since Jill’s funeral.” “Did you know her well?” “You could say that.” Steve reached for another beer and as he cracked the cap he asked, “So are you still paying her alimony?” Jim flicked the top of the bottle he was drinking from, “That’s a story for another day, my friend.”
The gate creaked open on Parson’s Trail as The Eagle pulled his truck into the driveway and closed the gate behind him. He walked over to the storage container, opened the doors, and clicked on the light. He removed Billy’s unconscious body from the trunk, stripped him, and placed him in the restraints on the wall. It was just after nine p.m. when he stepped out of the container briefly and went into Francis’ house to change into a pair of white coveralls. Billy hung on the wall directly across from Francis who was also unconscious. The Eagle grabbed a couple of smelling salts that Francis had in his little bag of tricks and cracked one open under Billy’s nose. He thrashed against the restraints, his feet hitting the wall of the container. “Time to wake up, Billy…you and I need to have a talk. His eyes opened, and, for a few seconds, they were blurry. The Eagle passed the salts under Billy’s nose again, and as he thrashed his eyes began to water. “You need to wake up Billy.”
Billy’s vision began to clear, and he saw a figure on the wall across from him. At first he thought it was a mannequin, but quickly realized that mannequins are not anatomically correct, and he could see a penis that looked more like a piece of raw meat. The man was completely nude with a piece of metal in his mouth holding his jaws open. He was bloody and bruised and Billy started yelling at the sight of him. The man didn’t move, and Billy was sure he was dead. Suddenly, The Eagle got in his face, “Shut up, Billy. I will introduce you to Francis in a little while, but first we need to talk.” Billy kept yelling, and The Eagle struck him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. “Much better.” He walked over to the tool table and picked up a pair of surgical cutting scissors. For the first time since coming to, Billy realized that he was nude, and his penis was really aching. The foreskin of his penis was slit halfway up his shaft, and he had dried blood on his thigh. The Eagle took the scissors and cut away the rest of the foreskin. Billy was screaming bloody murder, and The Eagle duct-taped his mouth once more. It barely lowered the decibel level of Billy’s screams.
“I bet that hurts like hell, Billy.” The Eagle grabbed a baggie from his gym bag and took a handful of white powder from it. He then took out a bottle of water and asked Billy if he was thirsty. He nodded, so The Eagle removed the duct tape and placed the bottle to his lips. “Not all of it. I need some for another part of your anatomy. He replaced the tape over Billy’s mouth and reached down and grabbed his skinless penis. In an instant, he had poured the water and the white powder on the open wound. The scream from Billy, even through the tape, was deafening. The powder wasn’t powder after all; it was salt. The Eagle laughed and said, “It gives a whole new meaning to rubbing salt in an open wound, huh?”
Francis began to rustle across from Billy. His head had been down, but he slowly raised it to see The Eagle stepping away from Billy’s wound and screams. Francis’ face was bruised and swollen; he couldn’t speak very well. He mustered what little strength he could and said, “I don’t know who you are kid, but I can tell you that you and I are in the hands of ‘Justice,’ or as he is known in the newspapers, The Iron Eagle. Start doing what I’ve been doing for the past three days…pray to die!” His head slumped down onto his chest. “Francis, you are such a drama queen,” said The Eagle as he struck his genitals with a piece of his own barbed wire. He flinched but was too weak to do much else. Billy screamed even louder as The Eagle walked back toward him.
“Okay, Billy, here’s how it’s going to be. You’re going to tell me about all of the women and girls you’ve raped and killed. Got it?” Billy started to cry. “Oh Billy, ‘Billy the Kid,’ the tough crip. You’re nothing but a lowlife rapist.” The Eagle pulled the tape from his mouth. “You a cop…ya supposta protect people. Not hurt ‘em.” “Billy, I’m not a cop right now. Right now, I’m justice, and where you end up is going to hinge on how you answer my questions.” He reared back and struck Billy hard across the thighs with the barbed wire; he moved in close and whispered into Billy’s ear, “You’re going to tell me everything, Billy. All of your deepest, darkest secrets. You’re going to confession, Billy, and you know what they say about confession… It’s good for the soul.” Billy slammed his head back against the container wall, tears running down his face, nodding his head as The Eagle pulled the wire slowly and deliberately against the grain of his flesh. “Yes, Billy, confession is good for the soul, especially when the flesh is weak.”
Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1) Page 14