Devil's Nightmare: Premonitions (Devil's Nightmare, Book 2)

by Robert Pruneda

  “No, ma’am, it’s not. His name is Sergeant Scott Henderson. He wants to ask Peter a few more questions about… Yes, ma’am… I understand. I’ll tell him… You have a great day, too, Mrs. Slavic.” She replaced the receiver back on the cradle and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but she will not allow you to speak with her son.”

  Sergeant Henderson sighed. “Legally, you know we don’t need a parent present to question him. He’s not under investigation. We just want to see if he has some information about—”

  “I know the law, Mr. Henderson, but if I allow you to interrogate Peter then—”

  “It’s simple questioning, not an interrogation.”

  “Regardless, if I allow it, then I have to answer to his mother. I’m sorry, but if you wish to speak with him, you’ll have to do it off school property.”

  “Principal Newman, please, I simply want to…” Sergeant Henderson’s phone chimed. He checked the screen and read the brief text message from Aaron, which requested Henderson to call him ASAP. He stood and held his hand out to the principal. “I appreciate your time, Mrs. Newman. I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Sergeant.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Henderson said, as he stepped out the door and called Aaron back.

  †

  Aaron stood outside Daniel Corbin’s apartment with his phone to his ear. Three Lost Maples County Sheriff’s Department patrol vehicles pulled into the parking lot of Hillcrest Apartments with emergency lights flashing. A news satellite van arrived within a minute after the deputies had stepped out of their cruisers.

  “I just talked to the Sheriff. He should be here in a few minutes.” Aaron focused on the interior of Daniel’s apartment and explained the scene to Sergeant Henderson. The television hanging on the wall had a shattered screen with a large kitchen knife stuck into the drywall next to it. Blood splatter covered the walls, television, and furniture. There was a large bloodstain on the carpet in the middle of the living room. “I think it’s a safe assumption that we can scratch Daniel Corbin off our list of suspects.”

  Dilbecky and another deputy marked off the crime scene perimeter with yellow police tape, while Deputy Copeland managed the crowd of onlookers beginning to congregate. A reporter and her cameraman approached Aaron, but Deputy Copeland blocked them, ordering them to stand back. The reporter asked him for details about the police activity, but he continued to guide her and the camera operator further back, while the other two deputies finished marking off the crime scene.

  “You didn’t find a body?” Sergeant Henderson asked.

  “Well, not exactly,” Aaron said, as he peered down at a severed hand, the fingers wrapped around a smartphone. The phone beeped periodically, a small blue light flashing at the top of the bezel. “But fingerprinting the vic shouldn’t be a problem.”

  †

  Sheriff Donovan spoke with the reporters, while Aaron, Sergeant Henderson, and Deputy Copeland processed the crime scene. The coroner dropped the severed hand—minus the phone—in a black plastic bag, then sealed and labeled it. “I’ll call you when we have confirmation on the prints,” the coroner informed Aaron. “I also bagged the phone for you. It’s on the coffee table.”

  Aaron thanked the coroner as he removed a black cloth fiber from a shard of glass on the television. He held the tweezers in front of his face and examined the fiber.

  “Find something?” Henderson asked, while he dusted the knife protruding from the wall next to the television. The blade had dry smears of blood on it.

  “Looks like some type of fabric.”

  “Probably came from Corbin’s tee shirt or something.”

  “Yeah, or something. Like our perp’s clothing.” Aaron dropped the fiber into a small evidence bag. “Looks too thick to be off a tee shirt.”

  “The guys at the lab will be able to let us know.”

  “Having a body would have made that process a hell of a lot easier.”

  “I’m not getting any prints off this knife.” Sergeant Henderson stopped dusting. “Did you check the dumpster?”

  “For prints?”

  “No, for a body.”

  “Yeah, that’s the first place I looked.” Aaron labeled the evidence bag. “I also searched the—”

  “Bingo,” Henderson said, leaning closer to the knife blade. “I think I’ve got a hair. And it’s too light of a shade to be Corbin’s.”

  Aaron stepped over to examine the blade. The small hair was stuck in dried blood on the edge of the knife blade. “Good job. If that belongs to our perp, then CODIS should let us know.”

  “If the FBI has the DNA on file.”

  “Well, let’s just hope we have ourselves a repeat offender.”

  “Lieutenant Sanders,” a female voice called from the front entrance. Aaron and Sergeant Henderson turned around. It was Deputy Dilbecky. “We just got a call from Dispatch about another one-eight-seven.”

  “Where?” Aaron asked.

  “The truck stop on Eighty-Three.”

  †

  “What the heck are we dealing with?” Henderson held open the lid of an ice bag freezer with a latex-gloved hand, outside of Hahn’s Gas ‘N Go on Highway 83.

  “I don’t know, man. I wish I had a clear answer for you.” Aaron took several photographs of Daniel Corbin’s severed head nestled inside an opened bag of crushed ice. “I can tell you this much, though… This is turning into some kind of sick game.”

  “How do you figure?”

  Using a pair of long tweezers, Aaron reached into Corbin’s mouth and extracted a small plastic bag tied with a little red bow. He set the bag next to the severed head and snapped another photograph before pulling on the ribbon. Aaron’s eyebrows turned downward. “Just a bunch of marijuana buds.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron said, and nibbled on the inside of his lower lip. “Oh, wait a second.” He leaned forward. “What do we have here?”

  “What?”

  Aaron guided the tweezers into the small bag and moved some of the buds around. He latched onto a small piece of plastic and pulled it out. It had a computer manufacturer’s name stamped on it and a tiny metal loop at the end of it. “What the hell is this?”

  “Let me see that.” After examining the plastic, Sergeant Henderson pulled on the edges, removing a cap and revealing a universal serial bus computer connection. “Oh, okay. It’s one of those low profile USB drives.”

  “Wow. That’s got to be the tiniest flash drive I’ve ever seen,” Aaron said, as Henderson handed him the small device. He replaced the lid and placed it in a separate evidence bag. “I’m going to head over to Tech and find out what’s on this drive. Do me a favor and babysit the headsicle until the coroner shows up. And check the store’s surveillance.”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Henderson said, mocking a stiff salute.

  “Don’t be a smart ass, Scott. We’ve got a serious problem here.”

  Henderson glanced at the severed head and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it was stupid. I just—”

  “Don’t worry about it, man.” Aaron squeezed Henderson’s shoulder. “I know.”

  †

  The flash drive had a single file on it. Aaron waited patiently for the technician’s software program to figure out the encryption key, which only took a matter of minutes.

  “That was quick,” the technician stated. “Whoever encrypted this file only used six characters.”

  Aaron peered over the tech’s shoulder. The last password on the list of attempts flashed at the bottom of the computer screen: Gen222.

  The technician ran a quick scan for viruses on the file, and then exported it to a secure drive. It took several minutes for the program to export the near eight hundred megabyte file. He poised the cursor over a small thumbnail image. “Looks like we have a video.”

  “Play it,” Aaron said, and kneeled next to the tech.

  “Showtime.” The tech double-clicked on the
image.

  A media player loaded on screen, and within a few seconds, the video played. The image bobbed up and down as the person taking the video walked across a dimly lit parking lot. Aaron recognized a green pickup truck. A black leather-gloved hand ran across the fender. The person was wearing a black cloth jacket. There was also a reflection off the driver’s side window.

  “Wait, go back,” Aaron ordered.

  The tech rewound the video and played back the segment in slow motion.

  “Right there,” Aaron pointed at the reflection. “It looks like he’s wearing a hoodie. Can you brighten up the picture? See if we can make out a face?”

  The technician adjusted a few settings in the image and applied some filters to it. It revealed that the person in the reflection wore a dark-colored hoodie, but the face remained hidden in the shadows. They continued watching the hooded person approach Daniel Corbin’s living room window. Inside, Daniel had opened a beer and was sitting on his couch. The television was on, showing an episode of Breaking Bad. How appropriate, Aaron thought. The mystery person knocked on the front door, but there was no sound. A moment later the door opened. Tall Daniel Corbin looked down at the camera and said something.

  Aaron read his lips: “What are you doing here?” Then he shook his head. “Forget it. No.”

  “It doesn’t look like he knows he’s being recorded,” the tech observed.

  “I noticed that, too.” Aaron motioned his hand over his chest. “It must be a hidden surveillance camera.”

  “You think this may be a cop?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Do we even have anything like that in our inventory? That’d be some pretty expensive high-tech shit for Lost Maples County.”

  The tech nodded. “Don’t even get me started. This county is still living in the ‘nineties.”

  “What about those…” Aaron moved both hands over to the side of his head and mimed putting on a pair of glasses. “…video eyepiece things. What do you call them?”

  “Google Glass, but that would stand out like a sore thumb.” The tech continued to watch the video, as Daniel nervously poked his head outside, checking the surroundings before letting the mystery person inside his apartment. “I wouldn’t count it out, though.”

  Daniel pointed to the visitor, his lips forming the words: “Stay right there.” Then he disappeared down the hallway. While he was out of the room, the video image turned towards the end table next to the couch, where a set of keys with a Houston Astros key chain subsequently disappeared into a black leather-gloved hand. Daniel returned a few minutes later with a small plastic bag in his hands. “Take it all,” his lips said, as he tossed the bag. “Now get out of here!”

  The person behind the camera caught the bag of marijuana buds and examined them. Daniel then yelled something and pointed at the door. As Daniel moved towards the camera, a one-hundred dollar bill appeared in the gloved hand and fell onto the coffee table.

  The screen blacked out for a few seconds, and then showed Daniel Corbin lying on the living room floor covered in blood, but he was still alive. There was also sound in the video. The hum of an air conditioner blended with the sounds of Daniel’s weak cough. He spit up blood, which trickled down his chin. The gloved hand wiped tears away from the young man’s frightened eyes.

  “Say it, Daniel,” a deep, distorted voice said from behind the camera. Daniel wept.“Say it!” the voice yelled.

  He gulped and coughed. Another tear dropped from his left eye as he gazed into the camera. “I’m a sinner,” he said through choked sobs, and glanced upwards. “And I need redemption.”

  The hand grabbed Daniel’s hair and tilted his head sideways a few inches off the carpeted floor. “You are redeemed,” said the faceless voice. Then a large kitchen knife slid across his throat.

  Daniel’s eyelids blinked rapidly, and his eyes rolled back as blood spilled from his neck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Zero Tolerance

  Aaron leaned back in his office chair with his feet propped up on his desk. He held Sergeant Henderson’s Bible in front of him, the pages opened to the Book of Genesis. Henderson stepped into his office and set something on his desk. Aaron poked his eyes over the Bible and focused on a VHS cassette tape resting next to his phone. “Is that the surveillance tape?”

  “Yeah, but it’s useless. The video is all distorted.” Henderson sat in the chair on the other side of Aaron’s desk. He nodded his head at the Bible. “Have a change of heart about the whole church thing?”

  Aaron set the Bible next to the surveillance tape. He left the book open. “I have absolutely no interest in organized religion. I’m just checking on something.” He pointed to the second verse in the twenty-second chapter of Genesis. “Our mystery killer encrypted a video with a password referencing this scripture.”

  Henderson leaned over the Bible and read the scripture. “This is about God’s commandment to Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac as a burnt offering.”

  “Yeah, I know the story. God stops Abraham just as he’s about to kill his son.”

  “Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his only son to the Lord demonstrated his faith and obedience. God provided him with a ram as a burnt offering in place of his son Isaac.” Henderson closed the Bible and lowered his brow. “It was this specific scripture that our killer left us this time? But why?”

  Aaron took a deep breath. “I don’t know, but I’m getting tired of this creep’s games.”

  “So, what was on the flash drive?”

  “Son of a bitch recorded his encounter with Daniel Corbin, all horror snuff film style.” Aaron tapped his computer mouse, bringing the monitor out of sleep mode. “I’ve got the video right here. It doesn’t have any audio until the end.”

  Henderson stepped around the desk and watched the video. “Has Richard seen it yet?”

  “Yeah, he saw it. Didn’t have much to say, though. He’s at City Hall right now, meeting with the Mayor.”

  “They’ve both got challengers in the upcoming election next month,” Henderson recalled. “All these deaths can’t be good for the polls. If we don’t catch this guy before then—”

  “And that’s the priority, of course… making sure the incumbents get re-elected.” Aaron shook his head. “God, I hate politics.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to paint the Sheriff in that light. He cares about this community, so try not to judge him. Mayor Hollingsworth on the other hand… Well, let’s just say I won’t be shedding any tears if he loses.”

  Aaron closed the video and leaned back in his chair. “What do you think of this whole thing with Peter Slavic? Think he knows anything?”

  “Hard to say. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. His mother has the school principal wrapped around her finger. If we’re going to get any more information out of that kid, it’ll have to be at his house after school lets out.” Scott narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think he killed anybody, do you?”

  Aaron sighed and stretched, resting his hands behind his head. “I really don’t know, Scott. He’s a big kid, and it wouldn’t be the first time a teenager went psycho and killed people, but… I don’t know. My gut is telling me that he’s nothing more than a typical bully. All brawn, no brains.”

  Henderson cracked a smile at that statement and nodded. He grabbed the Bible and thumbed through it. “All we have are scripture references that the killer is leaving behind. That doesn’t tell us much about who our killer is.”

  “We’ve also got that whole redemption angle.”

  “And that.” Henderson sat back in his chair. “What do you think he’s trying to tell us with the whole ‘I am redeemed’ thing?”

  “I’m guessing it’s some kind of twisted cult bullshit.”

  “Well, to gain redemption, you would have had to have something to be redeemed of.” Henderson held the Bible out to Aaron. “Maybe our answer is in here.”

  Aaron gave him a sideways glare and crooked lips. “Doubtful. He’s just
trying to mess with our heads with the scriptures and redemption crap. Our killer is a sadistic bastard that gets off on killing people, acting as if he’s redeeming them of their sins. A narcissist dabbling in the occult and using Christian references as more of a mockery than anything. That’s what I’m seeing.”

  “That may be true, but it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out who this person is or why he’s chosen his victims.” Henderson set the Bible back on the desk and leaned forward. “Why butcher a thirteen-year-old kid and stuff him in a barrel at the park? What was that kid’s sin that required redemption in the eyes of this perp? And why kill Daniel Corbin?”

  “He was a dealer, and likely selling drugs to kids.”

  “Okay, so we have his sin, but a death sentence is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  Aaron tilted his head and shrugged. “Just depends on who he may have pissed off. Corbin knew the person that killed him. And we can assume they’ve known each other for some time.”

  “Peter Slavic?” Henderson leaned back in his chair. “He’s the only one we know for certain has connections with him. I could check to see if Corbin has any known accomplices.”

  “While you’re doing that, I’ll have another chat with his probation officer.”

  Aaron’s office phone rang. Henderson got up and grabbed his Bible. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, and see if we can get the lab to expedite the results on the hair and cloth samples we sent them.”

  Henderson gave him a thumbs up, and stepped out of the office while the phone continued ringing.

  “Sheriff’s Office, Lieutenant Sanders,” Aaron answered. After a moment of listening, he shot up from his chair. “He did what?”

  †

  Aaron parked a few car lengths behind an ambulance at Lee Hauser Middle School. Paramedics shut the back doors as Aaron got out of his cruiser. He approached one of them and asked about the condition of the boy in the ambulance.