Thrills: Vol.2

by Jason A. Joseph

  "Good to meet you, too, Captain Cavenough. I can't wait to get started." She forced a smile. He bought it.

  "Let me call your new partner up here." He gestured that she should sit down before he stuck his head out the door and yelled, "Stevens!" Isabelle chose not to sit, so she had to step to the side a few minutes later when a tall man with black hair and blue eyes came into the Captain's small office. The first thing he did was give her the once over. She noticed that his eyes paused on her chest for longer than they should. What a pig. What did she expect from someone who worked at a place known as the Barn? The man's gaze returned to her face and he gave her an angry scowl filled with hatred. Isabelle was taken aback. No one had ever taken an instant dislike to her and she was offended.

  "Stevens, this is Isabelle MacIntosh. She's going to be your new partner." As the words left the captain's lips, the man's face lost more and more color. The man gave a curt nod and turned on his heel.

  "Welcome to the force." Isabelle barely heard the words, she was already following her new partner. He made a bee line out of the Barn.

  "Hey! Wait a minute! Where are you going? Don't you need to bring me up to speed on our cases? Tell me what's going on? Give me some information? I don't even know your first name!" He didn't even slow down as he got into his car and started it up. He drove up in front of her and rolled down the passenger side window.

  "Elliot." Then he slammed his foot down on the gas. The car shot forward even as Isabelle reached her hand out to open the door. He'd left her! She was his partner and he'd left her! What an insolent, arrogant, completely man thing to do.

  She wanted to kick something across the parking lot, but that would be a very juvenile thing to do. Something she would not allow herself to do at the age of twenty-five. She let out an inhuman growl and bared her teeth in the general direction of her vanished partner. She cautiously glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had seen her moment of childish weakness. Nope, no one around. She regained composure and made her way back to the Barn. No one could see anything wrong with her, even though everyone's eyes were glued to her as she entered.

  Isabelle combed her fingers through her bangs. Her waist length blonde hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her sparkling blue eyes had the hard edge of ice. But no one would know that unless they knew her personally. She decided she would make a decent effort at moving into her new desk. She walked slowly and carefully to the one empty desk at the farthest end of the Barn.

  It was a nice desk, not new by any means, but it was clean and no one had gauged their name into the smooth surface. She grudgingly gave the inhabitants of the Barn a little respect. The computer that had been set up for her was brand new and she quickly switched it on so that she could at least set up her desktop and organize all of her information.

  Four hours later, she snapped her head up from the computer screen as the front door of the Barn opened. Her partner walked in.

  He began to make his way in her direction. "Good," she thought. "Maybe that rude son of a bitch has come to apologize. He better make it a good one!" She sat back and waited smugly. Her jaw dropped opened when he continued on to the desk next to hers without even casting a glance her way. She did her best to calm herself down before she went to the desk next to her and gently tapped her partner on the shoulder. His answer was an indiscernible grunt.

  "Excuse me, but we need to talk. Now. I want to talk to you about this morning." He held up his hand to silence her. It only added to her fury. "Maybe you didn't hear me correctly, Elliot. I said I need to talk to you. Now means right this second. Get UP!"

  Her voice was now startlingly low and acid dripped from every word. Shock registered on his face, apparently no one had ever spoken to him like that before. Especially not a girl that was younger than him. Elliot was thirty-two. He stood up abruptly and grabbed her upper arm. He propelled her out of the Barn as quickly as he was able to. No one noticed. Once they were outside, the claws came out.

  "Don't ever presume to order me around, Bells. You have no authority in the Barn as of yet, and you have no authority over me. Ever. Is that clear?"

  His voice was low and dangerous and sent a shiver down her spine. It took Isabelle a moment or two to recover.

  "Don't call me Bells. My name is Isabelle. If you wouldn't ignore me and act as if you don't have a partner, I wouldn't be in this position."

  They stared each other down for a long moment. Then Elliot artfully spun on his heel and walked gracefully back into the Barn. Isabelle had to stay behind and gather herself before she could follow suit. When she arrived back at her desk, Elliot was already picking up his notebook and camera. He glanced at her and seemed to be making up his mind about something. Finally he sighed and tossed a disposable camera at her. She deftly caught it and moved to follow him, a curious expression on her face.

  "Come on, let's go. We have a case." The words were said with absolute indifference. She fought the temptation to grin hysterically. She schooled her expression into a serious look and grabbed her notebook from her desk before following her partner out to the parking lot. When she got there, her partner was already in the car and had it pulled up in front with her door open already.

  She scrambled into the car. She couldn't help grinning as Elliot stepped hard on the gas and they shot forward into the stream of traffic.

  "What happened?" Isabelle asked. She whipped out her little notebook and began scribbling furiously.

  "Homicide. Don't know the details quite yet." He was beginning to warm up to working with her. He just had to get used to it first. He'd tried to be crass with her so he would convince her to try to switch departments; he didn't want another partner to be killed on his account. Memories crept into his head at night when he was trying to sleep, and for some reason that he couldn’t explain, no amount of psychotropic drugs could get him to stop dreaming about that night every time his eyes closed. Unfortunately, he was drawn to her and he couldn't get rid of her.

  He looked over at her, and her face morphed into that of another young woman, new on the force, and his first partner. He shook himself mentally and tried to clamp his mind shut like a metal trap, but it didn’t work. The events of that night came crashing over him.

  They were on a stakeout, and other than a lot of terrible jokes and some small talk that was just as bad, nothing had happened in over ten hours. Jessica had sat in that passenger seat long enough to have a mold of her butt permanently imprinted on it. There were stains on the seat from her low fat caramel macchiatos that she loved so much. There was movement at the brownstone across the street that they’d been watching.

  “There he is. It seems like he has something sticking out of the back of his waistband.” He looked closer at the drug lord’s backside and saw that it was a gun.

  “That’s a weapon. Come on, let’s go. That’s a definite violation of his parole.” The two of them had scrambled out of the car like it was on fire and took off after the man. He’d identified himself as police, and ran around the opposite corner to head him off. The suspect had seen him coming and tried to turn and run back the way he’d come. Unfortunately, Jessica was now blocking the way he’d come from. A man desperate for escape, he’d pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans and pulled the trigger twice before running past Jessica’s fallen body and earning his freedom. Elliot had let him go because he was too busy cradling Jessica’s head in his lap and trying to staunch the flow of blood that was leaking from her chest in a steady stream…

  The car came to a violent stop in a circle of cars and police caution tape. He might have braked a little harder than absolutely necessary, with the memories fresh on his mind. Elliot shook himself mentally and forced himself to pull it together.

  He couldn’t let his new partner see him as being vulnerable. Both parties exited the vehicle and began to make their way to the tarp in the left top quadrant of the circle. Isabelle moved straight over to the body, while Elliot began talking to witnesses.
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  Isabelle gently pulled away the tarp that covered the body. She gasped. It was a very young woman, and she looked like she had died a horrible death. She pulled out her little tape recorder to take her own notes.

  "Victim is female. Red, waist length hair. Blue eyes. About five foot six in height. Weight is approximately one hundred twenty-five pounds. Bruising around both sides of the neck. Possibly strangled. Victim is dressed in an evening gown. Dark green in color. Long sleeved...oh dear God."

  Jacob unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped wearily into the entrance hall. It had been a long day for him. First, he'd had his normal day at Bella's School of Music and Dance. After that, he'd given two private piano lessons. Then, he'd indulged in his hobby...just a little. The one thing about Jacob Benner was that the piano was his life. No one could play better than he could. He trained as many girls as he could on the piano. Quite frankly, he didn't want talent leaving the world just because he had to die one day. He hoped one day, if the girls could play, they would teach their offspring and talent would blanket the world.

  He was one of those people that followed up on the things he wanted done. He would follow the lives of his former students to see if they continued on with his teachings in the piano world. If they decided not to use the gift he gave them, then he would take it away again...and he would make sure they could never disgrace the world of piano again. He would cut off their fingers and various other body parts. That was his hobby. Of course, there were other things he would do to the girls before he killed them. After all, what else would he do with young, beautiful, vulnerable women? A man has needs, right?

  Jacob smiled. He played the scene over in his mind. Her name was Melanie Carver. A very good student of his in her younger days. She had the talent. She really did. Now, however, she was shacked up with that loser boyfriend who was taking up all of her precious time. All that time that she could be playing. No, it simply would not do.

  He remembered just how easy it was to lure her into his Honda. He'd asked for her help giving a lesson. She'd readily agreed. He'd taken her to a back alley and knocked her unconscious. He'd dragged her slight body behind the trash dumpster before beginning. All he had to imagine was her smooth, long, elegant fingers gently sliding over the keys of a piano forte and he was excited. He'd made quick work of her because it had been a while since he'd felt a woman's touch. Then he began with the mutilation.

  Normally he would take her to his "workshop" and use his special "tools". This time he couldn't wait. He'd wanted her for too long. He took out his hunting knife and used the serrated edge to cut through all the fingers on one hand before cutting off her whole foot. He'd dressed her then, in a beautiful recital gown, before leaving her to bleed out from her wounds.

  If she didn't die, and an ambulance got her to a hospital on time the way he'd cut her would make it mandatory for any doctor to have to amputate both arm and leg. That was the best part, he thought. Aside from the punishment part, of course. No, it was the chance that a good Samaritan would come along to try to save her.

  Even if they should succeed, she would need more cut off to survive. She'd begun to wake up after he'd finished with the fingers. Luckily, she'd passed out from the shock of losing her fingers. That made it easier for him to work on her leg. She never woke up. Jacob went home with a smile on his face. Dinner would be extra sweet tonight. The taste of revenge made even the blandest food a flavor feast.

  ***

  Weeks went by, and Jacob followed up on another former student of his. He didn't like what he could see of her so far. However, Jacob was a kind man. He'd give her a window of opportunity to begin playing again before he took her life. There was always a chance at redemption; albeit a very slight one. He grinned. He would have to clean his workshop for this one. Jacob got in his car and drove to his favorite workshop. It was hidden up in the tree line of one of the mountain peaks that overlooked the beautiful countryside. He took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air and began the short hike to his shack. It was something he had built with his own two hands and he had to admit that he was very proud of it. Jacob had never really been the handyman type, but he got some sheet metal, a little insulation, and some long nails, and he was good to go. He stood in front of it now, beaming with pride like he always did when he saw it, and caught his breath. One day soon, he knew he would be too old to make that hike across uneven terrain. That saddened him like nothing else in life did. Pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket, Jacob unlocked the door and flicked the switch on the wall next to him. An old, dust covered light bulb flickered to life and dowsed the room in a pale yellow hue. Jacob shook his head. The workshop was a disgrace.

  The butcher table in the middle of the room was stainless steel, but it was far from clean. Brown, russet colored streaks smudged the tabletop, and made him think back to the girl that had left them behind. She’d been young, blonde, and just too stupid to know what was going on. Jacob had no pleasure from her whatsoever. It actually hurt his own brain when he tried to dumb himself down to her level so she could understand him. He shook himself. Ugh, that would never happen again. Only smart girls, yes, he would teach only smart girls.

  There was a meat cleaver lying near the edge of the table, and it too was covered in the brown flaky blood of his last victim. Walking over to the table, he saw his bloody apron hanging on the peg behind the door. He must have forgotten to wash it the last time…now he would have to buy a new one and burn this one. He didn’t want any trace evidence to be there to incriminate him, should someone ever find this place. He reached the table and grabbed the handle of the meat cooler that was built in. Opening it caused some dry ice to filter up and dissipate before he could see down into it and make sure his trophies were well taken care of. He could see the pieces of each girl that he’d kept, lovingly laid out on the floor of the meat cooler, preserved for his viewing pleasure. Soon he would have to get a shelf for the drawer. He didn’t have much room left for more. Noon came and went as Jacob spent the morning cleaning up every trace of himself that he could have left behind. By the time he finished, every metal surface gleamed, the utensils were shimmering in the dull yellow light, and the apron had been removed and replaced with a crisp fresh white one that still had the creases in it from where it had been folded. Jacob smiled. Yes he was getting older, yes he would have to stop eventually, but damn it this just felt good.

  Leaning against the table in the middle of the room and sweeping his eyes back and forth, he had to say that it looked almost like everything there was brand new. He was happy with it. The air was thick with the combined smells of different cleaners he’d used. Jacob packed up everything that he’d pulled out to clean, and made sure the room was ready for use at a moment’s notice before he let himself out and locked the door behind him.

  He was a little tired already, and the prospect of the hike over the rugged terrain that separated him from his car was far from looking pleasant.

  He took several deep breaths and steeled himself for the uneven ground he was about to face. He knew he was getting too old for this, but he would be damned if he quit his hobby before age and his body forced him to.

  Jacob checked the time when he turned on his car. It was two in the afternoon. He didn’t have any lessons today, and no plans, but if he hurried he could make it to the Salty Dog to watch his next victim eat lunch. It was something he could set his watch by…if he wore a watch.

  Wonderful. He would be able to get some decent food where the grease ran off the meat in rivulets, and do a little research on the next girl at the same time. Two birds with one stone as they called it. Jacob smiled and hit the gas.

  ***

  He’d been at his booth for about fifteen minutes before she walked in. He’d smiled into his coffee mug when he’d seen her, but it quickly turned into a frown when he saw that she was holding the hand of a young man who came in behind her.

  He looked lost, like a little puppy that was being led around on his leash.
If Jacob didn’t have his own code to stick to, he might even enjoy watching that eager light go out in the boy’s eyes. The boy didn’t know just how lucky he was.

  “Would you like anything else, sir?” The waitress had arrived to take his lunch order. Jacob had been so busy watching his next target that he’d failed to pay attention to anything else. That was wrong. A serial killer had to watch all his surroundings, all the time. That was the first rule. Why had he not done it then?

  “Yes, ma’am. Could I please have the country fried ham with green beans and mashed potatoes? Extra butter on those please.” The waitress wrote it down but gave him a look that he knew all too well. It said ‘are you sure you don’t want to watch your cholesterol?’ Jacob hated the woman before she even had a chance to walk away. Just because he was a little older than he used to be, didn’t mean that he had to stop eating real food and switch to mush and prune juice.

  He still had a lot of years to go, thank you very much, and he wasn’t going to let the younger generation bully him around into all that crazy health stuff that was supposed to add ten years to his life. Besides, all that stuff left places for him to slip up. He didn’t want to take a chance and leave his DNA where someone could find it.

  He went back to watching the young woman three booths down. She had her back to him, and her hair up. He could see the nape of her beautiful neck. Jacob was just picturing where he would cut when the waitress returned with his order…minus the extra butter. She was already turning away when he snapped at her. “Can I get some extra butter? I said it once, but I guess you didn’t write it down.” The young woman turned to him with a shocked expression on her face. For someone that looked so much like a kindly old grandpa, the venom spitting from his voice was a complete shock.

  “Sure. I’ll get some right now. I must have forgotten to write it down, sir. I apologize.” She stammered out her words and disappeared back into the kitchen. Jacob didn’t care. He was already back to watching his target. Although, if it took too long for him to assess her situation, maybe he could go after the young waitress while he waited.