The TAKEN! Series - Books 13-16 (Taken! Box Set Book 4)

by Remington Kane

  “I know what it’s like to be teased by other kids because you’re different, but to have that drive you to kill seems extreme.”

  “It is extreme, but there are other factors as well, and he likely comes from a dysfunctional home, in fact, I’m certain that he is verbally abused on a regular basis by his mother or some other authoritarian female in his life. By killing these young women, he’s also symbolically killing the woman who abuses him, and whoever she is, she is at great risk.”

  “You think the perpetrator will kill his own mother?” Haskins asked.

  Jessica’s husband spoke up.

  “Someday the surrogates won’t be enough, and he’ll be driven to kill the real thing.”

  Haskins sighed.

  “This bastard is going to kill again soon, isn’t he?”

  “He is,” Jessica said. “Unless I’m wrong about his age and the man you have locked up is the right man.”

  “I don’t think you’re wrong,” Haskins said.

  “When can we meet Hobbs?” Mr. White asked.

  Haskins stood.

  “Whenever you and your wife are ready.”

  Jessica and her husband left their seats, and Haskins led the way to Michael Hobbs.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Times Square Stalker was an eighteen-year-old named Edward Frankel.

  Frankel was the only son of Deanna DeMornay, and a product of her fourth and final marriage. Edward’s father had been Simon Frankel, a famous playwright.

  Simon Frankel had been days away from finalizing his divorce from Deanna DeMornay, when he died in a train accident. He had neglected to change his will and Deanna DeMornay inherited his property, including his intellectual property.

  When four of Frankel’s early plays were made into successful films, Deanna became a wealthy woman, and she still lived in her late husband’s Park Avenue apartment.

  DeMornay was the star of several B horror movies in the 1980’s and was known on screen and off for the revealing outfits she wore.

  Tens of thousands of posters displaying Deanna DeMornay naked were sold to adolescent boys in 1983. Although naked, DeMornay’s breasts and pubic area were obscured by the huge python wrapped around her.

  The poster promoted a movie titled, “Snakesssss.”

  The movie went on to spawn “Snakesssss 2”, “Snakesssss 3”, and “Snakesssss 4.” Snakesssss 4 was released recently and was the only one of the four films not to star Deanna DeMornay. DeMornay excoriated the producers in the press for not offering her the lead.

  By the time “Snakesssss 4” was being filmed, DeMornay was fifty, overweight, and had a face lined and wrinkled by excess of both drugs and alcohol.

  The part was given to a young woman of nineteen who looked even better in a miniskirt than DeMornay had in her prime.

  When the producers offered DeMornay a chance to play the young woman’s mother, she answered them by leaving a phone message that went viral on the web.

  The message also played for days on celebrity news shows, despite the fact that nearly every other word had been bleeped-out by the television censors.

  Although he had no designs to be an actor, Deanna’s son, Edward Frankel, loved films, and in particular, movies about serial killers.

  Since he was a young boy, he’d spent hours watching slasher flicks, while always cheering for the killer.

  Most of the movies showed young women being stalked by the killer, and Edward loved seeing the look of fear on the girls’ faces.

  The only expressions that he had ever seen on the faces of the girls in his high school were looks of derision, dismissal, disgust, and on rare occasions, pity. Those were the expressions he saw, when in truth, most of the girls in his school simply ignored him.

  Edward took their indifference for disdain, and had come to believe that all women hated him, but that was all right, because he hated them too.

  Edward was average in every respect but one. Like Assistant DA Haskins, Edward had a birthmark on his face, and yet, unlike Haskins, Edwards’s birthmark was hardly noticeable. It was a simple brown splotch the size of a dime that sat beneath his left eye, however, his mother, Deanna, had always called it, “his ugly spot.”

  She often made a joke that it was the only bit of ugly she ever had inside her, and that Edward had taken it out of her when he was born. Unfortunately, that was one of her kinder remarks towards Edward, who was a lookalike for her father, a man she detested.

  Despite being an adult, Edward still lived with his mother. He had no desire to ever leave the comforts of his room inside the Park Avenue apartment and the thought of getting a job and earning his own way never entered his mind.

  With the explosion of independent filmmakers, combined with increased distribution of foreign films, Edward stayed quite busy watching all the new slasher films made each year. When he wasn’t watching films, he discussed them on message boards dedicated to the genre’s fans.

  However, things would be changing soon, because Deanna had decided that she wanted to live alone. She had told Edward since he was a toddler that she would kick him to the curb when he turned eighteen. Edward had reached that milestone a month earlier, and Deanna had informed him that it was time to pack his things and go.

  She wasn’t tossing him to the curb as she had often threatened. Instead, she told Edward that she would continue to support him, just not in her apartment.

  Edward’s room was more than a home to him, it was a haven from the world, and so he had ignored Deanna. Still, the stress of the threatened change was the final brick in Edward’s wall of insanity, and was the trigger that had caused him to kill his first victim.

  Edward jammed an ice pick into the throat of a nineteen-year-old woman named Shea Shannon. Shannon had been an aspiring actress, and Edward had hidden inside the stall of a ladies room at a Chinese restaurant in Midtown Manhattan.

  He had been dressed like a girl at the time, while wearing his mother’s makeup. He was fulfilling a fantasy that he had harbored for years, and was ready to kill his first victim.

  When Shea Shannon had looked at him with stark terror showing on her face, Edward had giggled with pleasure, right before he jammed the ice pick into her throat.

  When the terror was replaced by a look of agony, Edward sneered at Shea, and for the first time in his life, he felt powerful.

  Although severely wounded and unable to breathe, Shea turned to run, as a grunt escaped her lips. A grunt was all she could manage from her damaged voice box.

  Edward had grabbed a fistful of her long blond hair and jammed the ice pick into the base of her skull. Shea collapsed to the floor after that, and lay dying.

  Edward took the time to peel off his victim’s underwear before leaving the scene, and he had been lucky, as the restaurant’s only camera was aimed at the cash register, and no one had noticed him as he left.

  Edward had killed three more times since murdering Shea Shannon.

  He saw himself as a modern-day Jack the Ripper, and although he was intelligent enough to know that he couldn’t keep killing forever, Edward was having the time of his life.

  ***

  Edward had managed to avoid his mother for the most part since she had threatened to kick him out, but on the previous night, things came to a head when he told her that he refused to leave.

  Deanna had been drunk, but rather than falling asleep on the sofa as she usually did, she roamed about the apartment.

  After hearing the sound of screams coming from behind Edward’s bedroom door, Deanna banged on it until he opened up.

  “What the hell is going on in there?”

  Edward looked at her in confusion, as the screams continued. The screaming was coming from the flat screen television mounted on the wall across from Edward’s bed.

  It was a movie about a serial killer who liked to torture his victims. The special effects were masterful, if grotesque, and the images upon the screen were disturbing.

  Deanna made a face as she po
inted at the TV, where a young woman was being sliced open with a long blade.

  “What are you watching? Oh God, look what he’s doing to that poor girl.”

  “It’s a movie, Mother. It’s called ‘Eviscerated 2.0’, it’s not as good as the first one, but the effects are cool. Still, they should have used more blood. It’s amazing how much blood can come out of a girl.”

  Deanna found the remote and shut off the TV. Afterward, she looked around the room.

  There were floor to ceiling shelves on two walls, and they were jammed tight with video cassettes, DVD’s, and Blu-rays. Along with the movies, there were action figures and toys, while on the ceiling were posters of classic horror flicks.

  “You haven’t packed a thing yet, have you?”

  “No, because I’m not leaving; this is my home and I’m going to stay here.”

  “It’s my home, you weirdo, and you’re old enough to get your own place. Hell, I’m the one who will be paying for it, so what do you care?”

  “I don’t want an apartment; I want to stay in my room, and besides, I’ve got too much stuff to move anyway.”

  Deanna stepped closer to her son and used the TV remote to jab at his chest.

  “You’re moving. Deal with it, and if you keep pissing me off, you won’t get a dime from me.”

  Edward ripped the remote from his mother’s hand as he screamed in her face.

  “I’m staying you fat old bitch, now get the hell out of my room!”

  After his outburst, Deanna stared at him in shock, as Edward stared back at her with an equal amount of surprise showing on his face.

  It was the only time he had ever spoken to his mother that way. Edward liked the way it made him feel.

  Deanna took a step backwards and pointed at him.

  “This is the thanks I get for raising you? All right, we’ll see who wins this battle, but I’ll tell you this. If you were smart you’d get down on your knees and beg my forgiveness.”

  “Get out of my room!”

  Deanna left without another word, but there had been a wicked little smile on her lips.

  CHAPTER 8

  Michael Hobbs resembled Jeffrey Mitchell in a superficial way, but had the demeanor of a man who had grown up on the city streets.

  Hobbs was tall, but was still shorter than Jessica’s husband, and as he was escorted into an interview room to speak with them, he smiled.

  “In case you’re wondering, I didn’t do it.”

  The officer who had brought Michael Hobbs into the room handcuffed him to the metal table before leaving.

  Once the door closed, Jessica smiled back at Hobbs.

  “I believe you’re innocent, and we’re helping the police find whoever is out there committing the murders.”

  Hobbs nodded as he took in Jessica, and then he stared over at her husband.

  “So you could be my brother, hmm?”

  “It’s possible, and I’ve read your story, but I’d like to hear it in your own words. How is it that you don’t know where you came from?”

  Hobbs clenched and unclenched his hands inside the wrists restraints.

  “Man, I wish I had a cigarette.”

  “We were told that you had something else besides cigarettes on you when you were arrested,” Jessica said. “Why were you carrying an ice pick?”

  “I found the damn thing on my way to work that morning, and it wasn’t an ice pick. The news got that wrong; it was a screwdriver, not an ice pick, and what the cops thought was blood turned out to be rust. That screwdriver was just lying out in the open and so I picked it up and put it in my jacket pocket. I cut through the parking lot of a bar on my way to catch the subway to work and find all kinds of stuff there. I even found a wallet once. Drunks aren’t good at holding onto things.”

  “The police picked you up at the rear of a restaurant at six a.m. What were you doing there?” Jessica said.

  “I explained that. I heard what I thought was a baby crying and went to check it out. When I got back there, I saw a cat in heat. The cat was making the noise. After the cat ran off, I was coming out of the alley when the cops grabbed me.”

  Jessica stared at Hobbs, and it was plain to see by the look on her face that she knew he was lying.

  “That restaurant was where the first victim was murdered.”

  “I know that now,” Hobbs said. “But I didn’t kill anybody, and even if I had, why the hell would I go back there?”

  “The police think you were there to relive the crime, but as I said before, I believe you when you say that you’re innocent.”

  Jessica’s husband stared at Michael Hobbs.

  “Tell us about your childhood.”

  Hobbs strained at the wrists restraints for a moment and then spoke.

  “I don’t remember much, I know that there was an angry man and a scared woman that I guess were my mother and father. I think I had at least one brother, because I do remember there being another boy around, maybe two. One day the angry man shot off a gun, and there was another man with him. I was so young that I don’t remember any more details than that.”

  “Was your brother with you when the shot was fired?” Jessica asked.

  Hobbs shook his head.

  “I don’t know. I just remember the woman, who might have been my mother, telling me to run, and I ran, after that, I remember getting on a train, where I fell asleep. When I woke up, I walked around and then got on another train. A conductor became curious and called a cop. All I knew was that my name was Michael. They say that I told them I had a brother and gave them his name, but I didn’t know my parents’ names, just that they were Mommy and Daddy.”

  “And the Hobbs family adopted you?” Jessica asked.

  “Yeah, and this all happened in Ohio, but we moved to New York State a few years later.”

  “You said you remembered your brother’s name, what was it?” Mr. White asked.

  “Jeffrey,” Michael Hobbs said. “His name was Jeffrey.”

  ***

  Michael Hobbs was denied bail later that day and Jessica told him that, in the end, he might be glad that he was. She believed that the Times Square Stalker would kill again, and soon.

  While they were in court, they met Hobbs’ wife, Bev, and she looked worried for her husband, while also proclaiming his innocence.

  “Mikey is a lot of things, but a killer isn’t one of them,” Bev said.

  Bev Hobbs was a good-looking woman in her early thirties with long dark hair and gray eyes. She worked as a receptionist in a dental practice, and Jessica could see by her bloodshot eyes that her husband’s problems were taking a toll on her.

  Once they left the courtroom, they had coffee with Bev in a nearby deli, and she opened up to them.

  “I hope you are his brother. He could use someone like you to talk some sense into him.”

  He studied her.

  “Do you know why he was really behind that restaurant so early in the morning?”

  Bev nodded, wiped away a tear, and then grew angry.

  “He admitted to me that he was casing one of the businesses there so that he could go back another time and break-in. It was a jewelry store. The dumb bastard, he’s done crap like that before, when he was younger, but he promised me he wouldn’t do it again. He’s just desperate these days because he lost money in some multi-level marketing thing he was doing on the side. It was a real business, and he sold some product, but Mikey isn’t a salesman.”

  Jessica spoke in a low voice.

  “You’re having money problems?”

  Bev looked away as she spoke.

  “We get by, you know, but that’s because we’re both working. I just found out I’m pregnant, and I think it’s made Mikey desperate to get his hands on more cash. Then, yesterday I get a call from Mikey’s boss telling him not to bother coming in to work if the cops release him. The asshole actually said it would be bad for business to have Mikey around. Mikey works a crane inside a junkyard. Who’s gonna complain,
the rats?”

  A recent new mother herself, Jessica understood how anxious Bev must feel. She reached across, took her hand, and congratulated her on her pregnancy.

  Bev lit up in a smile.

  “Thank you. Even with all the trouble we’re having I’m still so damn happy I could burst, and we’ll make it, you know, but Mikey has to keep clean. If he goes back to his old ways the cops will catch him, I know they will.”

  Jessica gave Bev’s hand a quick squeeze and then released it.

  “I believe the killer will go after another victim sooner rather than later, and once that happens, your husband will be released.”

  Bev placed a hand over her stomach.

  “Things will work out, they just have to.”

  ***

  At that moment, inside a Midtown Manhattan movie theater, Edward Frankel, the Times Square Stalker, was eyeing a pair of teen girls. The two lovely young ladies had just entered the theater and taken seats six rows in front of where Edward sat in the back of the theater.

  It was late afternoon on a work day, and the audience consisted of only a handful of patrons.

  One of the girls was wearing a short blue skirt and had long blond hair. She also resembled Edward’s mother, Deanna DeMornay, although, Edward was oblivious to that fact, as he had been with all his victims.

  He smiled as he watched the girl. He had just found Victim Number 5.

  CHAPTER 9

  Summer welcomed Dr. Marsha Taylor with a smile, as the doctor took a seat across from her inside a chain restaurant that was known for its exceptional steaks.

  Marsha Taylor was a tall athletic-looking woman in her forties with straight dark hair that fell to her shoulders. The doctor wore a pair of glasses with stylish metal frames and was dressed casually.

  After introducing herself, Dr. Taylor smiled apologetically at Summer.

  “I’m sorry that I’m a little late, but I had trouble breaking free from a patient. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

  Summer lied and said that she understood, while the truth was that she had never had a patient, her credentials as a psychologist were there to lend her status, and their validity was suspect at best.