by Donald Wells
Jessica closed her file on the case only a moment after her husband had finished perusing his own. She looked over at him.
“What do you think?”
He smiled at Juliet.
“I see now why you sought out a second opinion; she’s not your average serial killer, is she?”
Juliet leaned forward. She was a very attractive brunette with light green eyes and a slim figure.
“You see it too? And what about you, Jessica?”
“It’s the child; the killer is a child, this Samantha Ryan. The little girl said to have been present when two of the murders took place; she also lives in close proximity to the other three murders.”
Juliet fell back in her seat and sighed.
“Thank you, both of you. When I told Rob, I mean Agent Stevens and the chief of Police that I thought the little girl was the killer they both looked at me as if I were insane, but all the evidence fits, especially the odd upward angle of the shots.”
“Is she really only six-years-old?” Jessica said.
“Yes, but where does a six-year-old gain access to a weapon, there are none registered to her parents, and why is she killing these people? I don’t blame the FBI for not believing me, I barely believe it myself, but the evidence fits.”
The conference room door opened and in stepped the FBI agent in charge, Rob Stevens. Stevens was forty, with sandy-colored hair and a muscular build. He looked about the table and cocked his head.
“Dr. White, what’s your take on all this?”
“I agree with Dr. Hamden. The little girl is your prime suspect.”
Stevens pulled a chair out and sat next to Juliet.
“This is not good. Do you realize what this means? I have to convince a judge to issue warrants on a six-year-old girl who’s cuter than a puppy. We have to collect DNA samples, hair, fiber, confiscate her wardrobe and test it all for the victims’ blood, and worse of all, I have to interrogate her. Are you two absolutely certain that it’s the little girl? Couldn’t there be a homicidal midget on the loose?”
“I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, Rob,” Juliet said. “But the evidence fits, both forensically and also given the eyewitness statements. Mrs. Cromwell, she’s says she was just about to open her front door to greet the mailman when she heard him say...” Juliet reached for the file and read. “Hi there, sweetie; what are you doing hiding in the bushes?’ Then, an instant later he was shot from below and when Mrs. Cromwell opened her door, she saw Samantha Ryan running away.”
Rob Stevens rubbed a hand over his face.
“She’s six, if she’s doing this, then she must be insane, right?”
“Yes,” said Juliet, as Jessica said, “No.”
Stevens threw his hands in the air.
“Great, my two experts disagree. Now listen, regardless of why she’s doing it... I believe you, it’s her, but, I’m not ready to bring the hammer down on her just yet. I’ve spoken to her parents and arranged for you two to interview her under the guise of helping her to cope with the trauma of being present while two murders took place.”
“When is she coming in?”
“Tomorrow morning, and when you talk to her, do not be accusatory in any way. I just want us to get a feel for her before we make a decision, because once we charge a small child with being a serial killer, well, you can bet that it’ll make the national news.”
Stevens’ phone rang and he looked at it.
“I’ve got to take this. I’ll speak to you all before you leave.”
As Stevens walked out of the room while answering his phone, Jessica grinned at Juliet.
“I see you call Agent Stevens, Rob, now,”
“Yes, we’ve gotten close.”
“Good for you, is it serious?”
“Very,” Juliet said, as she turned her left hand over to reveal an engagement ring.
Jessica jumped up from her seat and rushed over to hug Juliet.
“Oh, honey I’m so happy for you, and we’re going to take you two out to dinner tonight to celebrate.”
“It was a whirlwind courtship; he really did sweep me off my feet.”
“I’ll say. You two first met when we consulted together on the Johansson case, am I right?”
“Yes, and I know it’s only been a few weeks, but what can I say, when it’s right, it’s right.”
“Have you set a date?”
“Not yet, but soon, and oh, we’re relocating to your area; Rob has been able to get a permanent assignment to a field office there, and I can write my textbooks from anywhere. Now, what about you two? The last time we spoke Jessica, you were saying how much you wanted to start a family.”
Jessica smiled, as she retook her seat. “We have one at home now.”
“What? But we only spoke a short time ago.”
Jessica pulled up a photo on her phone and then slid it across the table to Juliet.
“That’s our baby,”
Juliet laughed as she looked at a picture of the pit bull.
“Oh, he’s adorable, what’s his name?”
“Stitches,” he answered. “The first time I met him he caused me to need some.”
Juliet laughed. “That’s a cute name, but what about children?”
Jessica leaned over and kissed him.
“We’re working on it.”
***
Jessica had just ended the call as he came out of the shower in their hotel room.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Gabby says that the dog misses us and to tell you hi.”
“It was nice of her to look after him.”
Jessica stared at him.
“You’ve been unusually quiet lately, what’s wrong? Is it the things we learned from your mother?”
He lay atop the bed in his robe.
“She’s not my mother, not really, and I learned that I have a sister, but not really, and my real mother and father can’t be found, not even by Carly, and, Jeffrey Mitchell, serial killer Jeffrey Mitchell was my brother. Let’s just say it’s been an interesting year so far.”
Jessica lay alongside him, slid a hand under his robe, and began rubbing his chest.
“You haven’t changed your mind have you, about wanting children?”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind; if anything I want them even more.”
“Why’s that?”
“My father, Billy Gant, he’s said to come from a long line of murderers and rapists, and it’s true, you’ve read the family tree that Carly made for us. She traced the family back to the early 1800’s and everyone she found had a run-in with the law for one reason or another. Jeffrey Mitchell was carrying on the family tradition.”
“But you’re not, you’ve triumphed over your impulses, you’re not like them and you never will be.”
“No, I won’t be, and neither will our children, we’ll see to that, we’ll see to it that their decent human beings and end the Gant family... predisposition? Curse? Whatever you want to call it, it ends with me.”
“Your mother’s history was a shock. If she’s the Amanda Powers we think she is, then she just vanished into thin air about the time she left you with your mother. Do you think she’s still alive?”
“I hope so.”
“What happens when you find her?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t know.”
Jessica kissed him as her hand slid lower beneath the robe.
“Enough of the past, let’s work on our future, let’s make a baby,”
He reached over, turned out the light and in the darkness, found comfort.
***
Little Samantha walked into the police station the following morning with her mother and father at her side.
She was dressed in a pink dress with white ribbons that matched the ribbons in her honey-blond hair, and as she walked along, her big blue eyes took in everything.
When she spotted him standing beside Jessica, she stopped walking and stared at him, and as he
stared back at her, she nodded to him almost imperceptibly, before following along with her parents.
Both Jessica and Juliet smiled down at Samantha as they greeted her parents, and within a few minutes, they were seated across from her in the police station’s break room.
Juliet slid coins into a machine.
“Would you like a soda, honey?”
“No, thank you,” Samantha said, while eyeing them both closely.
“How about a candy bar?” Jessica said.
“Why am I here?” Samantha said.
Jessica smiled at her, as Juliet sat beside her with a can of soda.
“We just want to make sure that you’re alright. It must have been scary for you when you heard those gunshots.”
“I didn’t see anything though; I don’t know who killed the mailman or Mrs. Perkins.”
“Have you ever seen a gun, Samantha?”
“Only on TV, but the shots were really loud.”
“What about Mr. Timmons, the mailman, and Mrs. Perkins,” Juliet said. “Did you like them?”
Samantha shrugged.
“I didn’t know them.”
“Wasn’t Mr. Timmons your mailman?” Jessica said.
“Mommy gets the mail. Who was that man you were talking to in the hall?”
Jessica sat back in her seat, as the question caught her off guard.
“That man is my husband, why?”
“He’s good at games, isn’t he?”
“Well, yes, in fact, he’s created a few of the ones that people play on their phones.”
Samantha smiled.
“I could tell. I always know when someone’s good at games. Can I go home now?”
“In a little while, honey, if you don’t mind?” Juliet said. “We just want to talk with you for a few more minutes.”
“Why?”
“We just want to make sure that you’re okay?” Juliet said.
Samantha grinned at her.
“You’re not very good at games, are you?”
“Maybe not,”
“I am. I’m very good at games, and I’m going to win this one too.”
“What game, honey?”
“You know,” Samantha said, and then she jumped out of her seat and ran outside into the hall.
When Jessica and Juliet followed, they found her hugging her mother, while crying real tears.
Samantha’s mother screamed at them.
“What did you say that upset her so?”
“We, we... nothing, “Juliet stuttered out.
A few moments later, and Samantha was leaving in her father’s arms, right before the door closed, she looked up and sent the two psychiatrists a bright smile.
“That little psychopath,” Juliet whispered, as Rob Stevens walked over to them, with Jessica’s husband at his side.
“Well?” Stevens said.
“It’s her,” Jessica said. “I’d bet my reputation on it.”
Stevens nodded.
“I’m going to do just that, Jessica, along with my own and Juliet’s. As soon as I can find a judge to okay it, we’ll go in her house with search warrants and get the evidence we need.”
***
Samantha rang the doorbell of her next-door neighbor. When the door opened, she smiled.
“Hi, Mrs. McCray, can I play with Amber?”
“Sure honey, Amber’s in her room, but does your mommy know that you’re here?”
“Uh-huh,”
“Well, okay then, and let me know if you get hungry.”
“I will,” Samantha said, as she climbed the stairs.
After playing all day with Amber, Samantha returned home and asked her mother a question.
“Mommy, can I sleep over at Amber’s tonight? Mrs. McCray says it’s okay with her.”
“She did? We’ll okay then, but let me call Amber’s mommy and make sure it’s still alright.”
***
2:06 a.m.
Samantha slipped quietly out of Amber’s room and made her way silently out the back door in the kitchen.
She entered her home through the window she left unlocked in the dining room, after climbing atop the central air unit to reach it.
The candle and the matches were right where she left them, hidden behind the armoire and when she entered the living room, she found what she hoped to find.
The coffee table was littered with beer bottles, along with an empty pizza box, and in the ashtray, there were the remains of the strange cigarettes her parents smoked whenever she wasn’t around.
Good, they would sleep right through it.
Samantha crept up the stairs slowly and placed the candle atop the landing. After two tries, she had the candle lit and turned to walk back downstairs.
Three steps down, she turned, and sent a little wave toward her parents’ bedroom door, before continuing down and into the kitchen.
The gas jets on the stovetop were all hissing loudly as she left the house the same way she came in. She returned to the McCray home and snuggled in next to Amber, secure in the knowledge that she had won yet another game.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
***
When the blast occurred, it was more powerful than Samantha could have imagined, and she awoke on the floor amid rubble, to find a fiery hole in the wall of Amber’s bedroom.
As Amber clung to her while shaking and crying, Mr. McCray entered the room and scooped the two girls up in his arms to carry them outside, where they sat in the McCray’s SUV and watched the smoke and flames rise from the crater that was once Samantha’s home.
***
An hour later, Jessica stood down the block from what was left of the Ryan home and watched along with her husband, Juliet, and Rob Stevens, as the fire department battled the blaze.
Stevens sighed.
“Any hope we had of finding evidence is gone, along with her parents. Is it really possible that she’s this damn sick, I mean, to do this, she’d... she’d have to be pure evil.”
“Did you ever get warrants?” Juliet asked.
“No, despite the opinions of both you and Jessica, I couldn’t find a judge who would sign them, and now, with what’s happened here, well hell, I can barely believe it myself. I mean for God’s sakes, the kid is six-years-old.”
“She did it,” Jessica said. “She did all of it, the murders, this arson, killing her parents, it’s all her and we’ll never prove it.”
Juliet looked over at the two of them with a sad expression.
“So, you two still want to have kids?”
The words were intended as a joke, but they cut deeper than she would ever know.
***
Crying had always been easy for Samantha to fake, as were most human reactions, and she cried much in the following days.
The court had placed her in the care of her grandparents and the older couple dotted on her as if she were a princess, and, in fact, had even bought her a pony.
The servants were all kind as well and everyone was determined to see that she had everything she wanted, given the tragic circumstances that she had recently suffered.
Her grandparents were wealthy, and as fate would have it, she was their only heir.
Samantha smiled as she rode her pony about the grounds of the estate, because, as everyone knows, all the really fun games are played with money, and someday, someday when she was older, when she was finally an adult, she would play the grown-up games, and she had no doubt that she would win them all.
TAKEN! 17 - STILETTO
Oscar Kisiel sat in his cell inside a Maximum Security prison in Florida.
While acting as the serial killer, Stiletto, Oscar Kisiel had murdered twenty-seven people, two of which were police officers.
Although six different states had wanted to try him for murders committed within their borders, it was Florida that was given the responsibility and Oscar had sat on death row ever since.
However, time was running out for Oscar. After numerous appeals
, he had finally reached the end of his legal rope and was days away from being put to death by lethal injection.
His life since his arrest had been just short of hell.
Kisiel spent twenty-three hours a day inside a six-foot by eight-foot cell that had no windows, but just a sink, toilet, and a bed with a thin mattress. The hour of the day that was left over was spent in a gray-walled courtyard hardly bigger than his cell, however if he looked up, he could see the sky.
There were no bars on his cell. He was kept locked away by a thick metal door that operated electronically. His meals arrived at the same time every day and were delivered through a slot in the door. The guards never talked to him while they delivered and picked up his tray, and he answered their silence with his own.
He had always lived in a fantasy world, and it was the acting out of those fantasies that led him to murder in the first place. He fantasized still, the same fantasy, which he had run through his mind for well over a decade.
His fantasy was to kill Dr. James White and Dr. White’s son-in-law. They were the two men he blamed for his capture, and their deaths were all he ever thought about.
There were actually two slots built into the cell door. The one in the middle was for meals, but the small one, the one at the top was for gawking.
The top slot slid to the left with a harsh, grating sound that Kisiel had come to detest, and the face of a guard stared in at him. Kisiel rose from the bed and stood with his hands presented behind his back.
“Open number three!” the guard shouted, and a moment later, the cell door slid open and the guard walked in and placed a set of manacles on Kiesiel’s wrists, in preparation for transport to the exercise yard.
Five minutes later, he was in the courtyard and staring up at the sky.
Somewhere overhead was a plane and the sound of the metal bird broke Oscar’s heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to be on a plane, a plane headed far away from Florida.
The plane drew closer and the sound of its engines morphed into a high-pitched wail, as it approached the prison and blocked out the sun. A moment later, the engine sound was deafening, as the tip of a wing smashed into the east guard tower and killed everyone inside, right before the jet slammed nose first into the main prison yard.