No Remorse No Regret

by Ian Worrall

  “The three murders were done by the same person,” Mitchell finishes her sentence.

  “Yeah. Two guys, miles apart, died by cyanide poisoning, no coincidence there. And two dead bodies at the same hotel? I think you’re right. These are all somehow connected.”

  Stepping into the elevator, Mitchell’s cell phone rings. “Detective Burnlee.”

  He grabs Jackie’s hand to stop her from pressing the elevator button to their floor.

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  Ending the phone call, he puts the phone back in his pocket.

  “Problem?” Jackie asks.

  Mitchell nods. “You could say that.”

  Jackie’s smile fades. “Your wife and kids, something happened?”

  “No, not that. A body of a young woman was found in a sports gear bag.”

  Jackie grimaces as she presses the button for the parking garage. “You think he’s back?”

  “I hope not.”

  * * *

  Sitting in his office, Torres observes Jessica put her purse in the drawer of her desk and then slam it shut. When her eyes meet his, he motions for her to come to his office.

  “Someone played us,” she says as she closes the door behind her.

  “Yeah? Who are you thinking?”

  “I would like to think it was them.”

  “The Russians played you? How so?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Deliberately gave false information in an area they knew was bugged. To throw us off. Make us look like fools.”

  Torres leans back in his chair. “It doesn’t look good on you, detective. Two missed busts in six days.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who’s been made to look like a fool. And what about you? Will those higher than you start to look at your ability to lead?”

  “Most of our busts have been successful. It’s only against the Russians that we’ve missed a lot.”

  Chapter 8

  W alking into the workout room, Danil is dressed in a tank top and shorts, and Melissa in a sports bra and tight shorts. A hard-core home workout gym, there are two squat racks, two bench presses, and two barbells in addition to the ones on the squat and bench press stations. A dumbbell rack with weights ranging from fifteen up to one hundred pounds, and kettle bells and club bells line the walls. They also have training sandbags and a pull-up bar.

  Melissa sets up one of the barbells with two hundred and fifty pounds. Danil sets his bar to four hundred. They proceed to do a five-rep set of deadlifts.

  They set the bars back on the floor and reduce the weight by twenty-five and forty pounds, respectively, and then repeat the exercise for five reps. They set the bars down again and Danil bends over kissing Melissa.

  “Few things are better to cure a hangover than a good hard workout,” he says.

  “Yeah, almost got to three times my weight.” She proceeds to reduce the weight on the bar to one hundred and fifty pounds while Danil reduces his to two hundred and fifty.

  Simultaneously, they lift their bars with one hand and perform a side press exercise for five reps. They switch arms and do the exercise again. Once done, they each reduce the weight by ten percent and do the side press exercise with each arm again. As before, they do a five-rep set.

  After they put the weights back on their station, they set up on the squat racks. Melissa with three-hundred pounds, Danil with six-hundred. Again, they do five-rep sets, reduce the weight by ten percent, then do another five-rep set. Once finished, they put the weight plates back and go to the pull-up bar.

  Melissa jumps up and grabs the bar, performing twenty wide-grip pull-ups. She puts on a weightlifting belt, attaches a twenty-five-pound plate, and does another fifteen pull-ups.

  As she lets go of the bar and lands on the floor, Danil, now protected by the padding of a training suit, rushes at Melissa with a stick before she has a chance to remove the weight plate. She does a side step and an elbow strike to the side of his head. Danil goes down.

  “Good one there, my love.”

  She gets the weight plate off her as Danil again moves toward her. “You’ve come a long way.”

  Danil attempts to lunge in to grab her over his shoulder. Instead, she shoots her legs back with her forearms on his shoulders blocking the move. From there she puts her hands on his head forcing it down to the floor with the rest of his body following. She then does an arm lock, pinning him on the ground.

  “Good one,” he grins as she lets him go and climbs on his back.

  As she lies down on him, she says, “Kind of tired now. Can we take a break?”

  “You can. I could use a little endurance training.” He starts doing push-ups with her on his back and completes a set of fifty reps.

  As she gets off his back and sits opposite him, he removes the red man suit. “That was fun,” she says.

  “You’re not done yet.”

  “Really?” she says, still breathing hard then taking a drink of water.

  “Yeah. You had a break. Now your endurance training.”

  “Great.”

  He lies down on his back as Melissa stands up. She walks over to him and turns him over on his stomach then squats down and grabs him under his shoulders pulling him up to his feet. Again, she squats down, pulling on his arm as he falls over her shoulder. She stands up holding him over her shoulder. With Melissa being so small his feet and hands are almost touching the floor as she carries him up and down five lengths of the room.

  She puts him down, inhales for five seconds then exhales. She does this five times before taking a long drag off her water bottle. “Who’s my next job?”

  “Marcus Taylor, Gary’s brother. But, my love, be patient. That’s one thing I’ve learned from you.”

  Melissa gives him her devilish smile as Danil puts his arms around her and lifts her up so her face is even with his. They hold a kiss for thirty seconds.

  “There was a time when I would have followed my father’s lead and wiped out that little cocksucker’s family and crew within a week,” Danil said.

  They kiss for ten seconds more as Danil carries her around the workout room.

  “Yes. But being a flamboyant criminal puts you on the police radar a lot quicker. Fly under the radar and you can continue a lot longer. Hands off the cops and no collateral damage when you whack your enemies.”

  “Those criminology and social work degrees I paid for are helpful.” A wise little woman and she’s mine.

  The debt she owes him for rescuing her from a watery grave gets paid in sex when he wants it and half price what he used to pay others for murder. And, to his surprise, she turned out to be better at killing his enemies than anyone else he had ever hired. To date she’s whacked more than twenty of his enemies.

  One benefit to being a female assassin when you get a male target is you know that the best way to get a man alone is a promise of sex. Men are like clay, easy to manipulate. All men, at least the heteros all think the same thing when they see a hot piece of ass. They want to put her in the bed and give it to her. None of these targets ever expected or thought a night of sex would be their last night alive.

  She had always made sure to be disguised, but mostly people had not noticed her in areas where a murder happened. In a day where people seem glued to their technology, most people didn’t notice a woman walking with a purpose. Seeming to hook up with someone didn’t register on anyone’s radar.

  The app she created that interfered with CCTV cameras helped her disappear in any place where she could pick up a man who had raped a woman. The rapists she took her time with. Being a victim herself, she knew what a woman who had been raped went through—the fear that she’d never see her family again, the pain when the rape was done with an implement that a particularly sadistic rapist can think of to use. And the feeling of betrayal when it was someone she knew and thought she could trust.

  Take them all down, as many as I can. Any man who would hurt a woman that way deserves a
horrible death. And that’s what I deliver.

  By now, Danil has carried her out of the workout room and all the way to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed. Will I ever be free of men? It would be great. But for now, I am on a mission.

  Chapter 9

  W alking down to the shore, Jackie and Mitchell see the six teenagers sitting by their belongings. Two uniformed police officers are taking their statements. A third cop stands by the body.

  “So, what’s the story?” Mitchell asks the cop guarding the body.

  “Those kids there,” he points to the teens, “were here to swim laps from one end of the place to the other. One of the girls found the bag suspended in the water tied to a cinder block.”

  Mitchell sees the bridge that connects an island to the mainland. He judges the height of the bridge from the water, about fifty feet or less, not quite high enough to cause instant death upon hitting the water, so the poor girl suffered while dying. The island and the beach are both popular locations for local youth to swim, going out to the bridge and back to shore.

  Jackie’s phone rings. “Detective Cruze. OK, get here now.”

  “Ident Team?” Mitchell asks.

  “They got lost.”

  The two detectives kneel to get a close look at the victim’s face.

  “Does it match?” Jackie asks.

  “He wasn’t specific about the hair color, just body size. And she does match the size.”

  “You two think you know who did this?” the uniformed cop asks.

  Standing up, Mitchell says, “Yeah. A serial killer from ten years ago, The Drowner.”

  “Great. Just what we need,” the cop says as the Identification Team van pulls up.

  “You got a letter back at the office before we went to the ME, didn’t you?” Jackie says.

  Mitchell closes his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

  Chapter 10

  F our blocks from her intended destination of apartment building 1238 on 21st Street, Melissa parks her car. Closing the door, she pulls on the handle three times to make sure it’s locked. Dressed in an overcoat and high heels, she carries her purse along with a gym bag that holds a change of clothes. She glances in each parked car and takes a cursory look onto each front porch. She is wearing a blonde wig.

  In the lobby of the apartment building, she scans the list of tenants and finds her target. Mark Nelson. She buzzes the apartment number and over the intercom comes a reply.

  “Turn to face the camera.”

  Like many apartment buildings, this place gives tenants the ability to see who is ringing them through their cable TV. She still has her sunglasses on so she does as instructed.

  “Take off your coat too.”

  She takes off the overcoat revealing a little red dress that barely covers anything. She then spins around and does her model posing so the man can see every angle of her.

  “Great. You’re just what I ordered. Come on up.”

  The buzzer sounds, unlocking the front door. Melissa enters smiling. Her research into Mark Nelson gave her the perfect ruse. The man is a regular user of escort services. So her way of getting to him was to make a fake flyer promoting a fake escort agency. She put it in his mail slot and not two hours later she was getting called on a burner phone for her services. Three hours after that she was on her way to take out another of her favorite kind to kill.

  In the elevator, she selects the eleventh floor. Upon arrival, she holds the elevator door open while sticking her mirror tool out the door to make sure no one is there. So far in her murder career she has been lucky with that. No witnesses. Danil’s training on that helped. That, along with the fact that all her victims were men, meant that those who saw her in the area at the time wouldn’t figure that a small female could overpower a man. The CCTV blocked app gave her an added level of security, defense in depth.

  Melissa continues with her active surveillance as she knocks on the door to the apartment. Mark Nelson, age forty-eight, five feet ten and one hundred eighty-five pounds with sandy blonde hair, unshaven and dressed in sweats, opens the door, “Exactly as I wanted. You look even better in person than you do on camera.”

  “Is that any way to greet a lady?” Melissa asks.

  “Of course not. Sorry for my manners,” he says.

  Mark puts his hands under her shoulders and lifts her off her feet to his height, kissing her on the lips. The stench of beer on his breath almost gives her a buzz from the fumes. She stifles the gag reflex, tilts her head back and says, “That feels good.”

  “That better?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “But?”

  “But you should offer a lady a drink.”

  “Right you are.”

  He kisses her again and puts her down. Taking her hand, he leads her into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator and takes out two beers.

  “Beer good or do you prefer wine?”

  “Beer.”

  “Good. Now get that coat off you.”

  Mark opens the beer bottles and puts them on the counter next to six empty bottles. He then takes Melissa’s purse from her and sets it next to the beer as she sets her gym bag on the floor. He removes her coat, letting it fall to the floor, running his hands all over her body, cupping her breasts and then kissing her on the forehead, cheek and lips.

  Making his way down her neck, Melissa tilts her head back again closing her eyes.

  “That feels good.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  As he starts to lift her, he tries untying the back of her dress. Melissa runs her hands through his hair.

  “Before we go any further, can I catch a view of the harbor from your balcony?”

  “Sure, I guess. Don’t know why you’d want to see that.”

  “You’re not paying me by the hour. You’ve got me all night, to do whatever you want. I’d just like to see the view while we have a beer.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He puts her down and takes the beer off the counter. Melissa follows Mark to the balcony.

  Stepping up to the railing, he takes a sip of beer and hands Melissa hers as he puts his arm around her shoulder and kisses her on the top of her head.

  “Wonderful view, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is,” Melissa replies. She sets her beer down on the seat of a deck chair.

  Turning back to her target, she slams her knee into the side of Mark’s thigh making his leg go dead. As he falls, he tries to brace himself on the railing of the deck.

  “What was that for?” he screams in pain while holding his leg. How can such a tiny little woman hit with so much power? His stomach tightens and he starts shaking when he sees the look in her eyes. Ten seconds ago, she was hot to trot, now she looks like a predator moving in for the kill. How am I going to get out of this?

  The now stone-faced killer puts his arm in a hammer lock and forces him over the edge. His fingers lose their grip on the first post he grabbed and he waves wildly at the second one, managing to hang on preventing a fall. As his hand slides down the railing post, he grabs another post with the other arm. He looks down. The view is not so great now.

  Crying, he asks, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doris.”

  “Doris?”

  “Oh, yeah I forgot. Back when you knew her, she was Amy. Do you remember her now?”

  Mark’s face goes as pale as the knuckles gripping the posts. “Can’t we just talk about this?”

  “Nothing to talk about.”

  She dumps the beer on him as he hangs on for his life then she kicks out one of the wooden posts.

  “Oh no! Please!” Mark cries out.

  His grip slips, sending him plummeting towards the concrete screaming all the way down. He hits with a sickening thud, smashing his skull and most of the bones in his body, dying instantly. Blood splatters all over the ground.

  Melissa puts the chair down on its side and wipes the beer bottles. She leaves the sliding door to the balcony open. Fro
m her gym bag, she puts a small sheet of plastic on the floor and stands on it before removing the high heels. She removes her wig and changes from her dress into jeans and a T-shirt and running shoes. Repacking her dress, high heels, and plastic sheet, she grabs her coat and purse, and leaves the apartment.

  Outside the building, a crowd has gathered around the body. People are on their mobile phones calling 911. Melissa can hear sirens getting closer as she drives off. Like always, no one takes notice of her.

  But as she drives off, she finds her escape route blocked with emergency response vehicles. To her right, she sees a church and as she tries to turn in to the parking lot, a police officer puts his hand out motioning for her to stop. Melissa does as instructed, wanting to keep it cool. She lowers her window as the cop approaches her.

  “Do you know anything about what happened here?”

  Melissa shakes her head, “No, officer I don’t. Did something bad happen?” The name tag on his uniform says Hanson, but no flirting with the officer this time. The shorter time frame a murderer talks with the police, the better.

  “Someone fell off his balcony to his death.”

  She puts her hands to her mouth and starts to cry, “Oh no, that’s just terrible. Terrible news.” The tears start flowing down her cheek to evoke the softer side of the man.

  “Where were you headed, miss?”

  Melissa points to the church. “I haven’t done my confessional in some time.” Not totally a lie. Wasn’t much point in doing any prayers to get forgiveness. “I want to get back to being a good Catholic. I think my boyfriend is about to ask me to marry him.”

  The cop waves her to pass. “Go ahead then.”

  Got out of that pretty easy. She turns into the church parking lot and stops her car. Luckily. she has a different license plate on the car than the one that is registered to her.

  She gets out of her car and starts walking toward the front door of the church.

  Ten people are praying in the pews as she enters the Holy Redeemer Roman Catholic Church. How have I not burst into flames? It’s been ten years, since she’s been in a Catholic Church, at least for a service or confessional. She had renounced God after the attack. What kind of God would create monsters like The Drowner? Or even Danil who forced her at gunpoint to take a man’s life. Surely God could forgive this, if He even exists. After all, the ones I killed, they were all bad men.