No Remorse No Regret

by Ian Worrall

  “Am I really your first?” she asks.

  “Yeah. I bring these to be prepared.”

  “You’re a true Boy Scout.”

  He pulls out a condom. As he tries to open the condom package, it rips along with the condom, making it useless. He takes out a second condom and, in his frustration, rips that one too.

  When he takes the third one out, Melissa rescues it from his hand. “Here, rookie, let me show you how.”

  She easily opens the package. With barely a need for preamble, she slides the condom onto the ready boy. Lying on her back, she spreads her legs, and makes a pulling motion with her hands.

  “Now give it to me, kiddo.”

  “OK then.”

  He gets down on top of her, lays a kiss on her lips as he enters her, running his hands through her hair then over her skin. This is so much better than I thought it would be. The excitement travels through his groin and up his back and chest. This is so amazing. A hot chick, with a well-banked fire, and she let me have her.

  Melissa tilts her head back, closes her eyes, and lets out groan after groan that comes deep from inside of her body. Not as large as Danil, but the kid’s not bad for his first time. He’s a little on the skinny side as she runs her hands over his back and arms. That’s not such a bad thing, though. Muscle heads all think they’re God’s gift to women. Most don’t even come close. That reminds me, I got to get back on track for my Hail Mary prayers.

  “Oh,” she exclaims, “that is so great!”

  “I’m really good?” the kid asks as he kisses her.

  “Oh yeah, oh yeah, kid. You’re awesome.”

  The kid starts pumping harder as Melissa continues boosting his ego.

  * * *

  Colton leaves the dungeon, closing and securing the door behind him. “I’ll be back later,” he promises his conquests. He turns and leaves carrying two pairs of panties, his trophies.

  Inside the room, both women are naked, their clothes torn and strewn around the room.

  “How long before he kills us?” Sara asks despondently.

  “Don’t think like that,” Michelle insists.

  “We’re in the home of a serial killer. What other way is there to think?”

  “Next time he comes in, we try and fight him as best we can,” Michelle says.

  Sara looks up at the ceiling as tears flow down her cheeks.

  Chapter 47

  T he next day, Mitchell, Jackie, and Zach are going though files from ten years ago. “Anything from the parole officers yet?” Zach asks.

  “They’ll be getting a hold of their cases and bringing them in,” Jackie says.

  From Mitchell’s computer comes the sound of an email received. He checks it out and then pumps his hands. “Yes.”

  “Good news?” Jackie asks.

  “My hunch paid off.”

  “What’s that?” Zach asks.

  “Celine Charlebois. The girl stayed in a motel in Chicago at around the same time that Mike Blauer was killed,” Mitchell says.

  “So, our vigilante was up there?” Jackie says.

  Mitchell nods. “This might be the first mistake she’s made.”

  “Great, we can nail her and possibly close The Drowner case,” Zach says. “Or at least get closer to him.”

  Mitchell dials the Chicago Police Department and speaks to the detective investigating the case. He gives him the details that he knows about the motel and asks for any notes and motel surveillance camera footage.

  After hanging up the phone, Mitchell smiles at the other two.

  “We’re going to close eighty murders and soon close a serial killer case.”

  “We have only circumstantial evidence on the Blauer murder, and shaky at best,” Jackie says.

  “A good interviewer can get people to confess with this much or less.”

  Zach puts down a file he was reading. “Where are we on interviewing Torres’s staff?”

  “I almost forgot,” Mitchell says.

  Jackie dials the number for the Organized Crime Unit. “Looking for Torres.”

  The other two watch as she hangs up the phone. She looks up at them from her chair.

  “He’s out of the office until Wednesday checking up on some informants.”

  “Have your doubts?” Mitchell asks.

  Jackie shrugs. “What’s next?”

  “We get a report from the ones checking on Arlene tomorrow. If it was her, we’ve got her.” Mitchell says.

  * * *

  Sitting down at his computer, Colton turns it on. The keyboard is stained with dirt and the screen has a layer of dust on it. I’ll reward myself with a new computer after I dump these two.

  As the computer boots up, he opens his word processing program. He starts dictating a new letter to himself as he types, “Dear Detective Burnlee:”

  “Got two like I said I would. They’re both little sweeties. I’m going to have a lot of fun with them. They won’t be missed for several days. I made sure of that. By the time you find them, it will be as all the others have been, in gear bags and water. Of course, I can always change where I dump them, just to throw you off. One of them is quite the little spitfire. Really feisty, certainly a different experience. But I can make her compliant.”

  As he tries to save the letter, the computer freezes, “What’s going on? Where the hell’s the fucking curser?” He hits the printer as he turns it on and has to catch it from falling off the desk.

  The computer then unfreezes, so he clicks save and then print. From a box, he pulls out a pair of latex gloves, puts them on, and takes the print job, folding it like a business letter. He takes out an envelope and puts the letter inside. He seals the envelope, pre-addressed to the police, with a dab and seal moistener.

  He learned from the mistake of the Happy Face Killer, who used his own handwriting, not to leave DNA on correspondence with the cops.

  Colton picks up the phone and calls in to work. “Hey, I’m calling in sick.”

  * * *

  Melissa places the two hundred thousand dollars in her safe. Stiffing me on the remaining money, Danil. At least I can strike back like I did last night. For his first time, the kid did pretty good. I will have to keep ordering from that shop.

  She turns around and Danil is standing there. He grabs her with one hand around her neck and lifts her off the floor until her face is even with his. She grabs his forearm and tries to shake free as he carries her to the back of her locker and pins her against the wall. With his other hand, he punches her in the stomach. Melissa shakes her head around trying to loosen Danil’s grip around her throat and gasp for air.

  “I thought I trained you better than that. You never checked the car. And you have the nerve to sleep with another man without my permission? The crew will take care of him soon. But as for you,” He grabs her KA-Bar knife off the wall and slides it down the side of her face. He then rips her shirt at the shoulder where she was stabbed ten years ago.

  “It was right here, wasn’t it?” Danil spends ten seconds to drive the knife into Melissa’s scar all the way to the hilt, twisting the knife as it goes in.

  Melissa bolts up awake. The pizza delivery kid wakes as she sits up.

  “Want me to do you again?”

  “Not yet,” Melissa says.

  She jumps out of the bed still naked. Grabbing the kid’s shirt, she puts it on. “Stay here and hide in the closet.”

  “What for?” he asks.

  “Just do it. Don’t ask why.”

  “OK. You’re married,” he guesses.

  “Not quite,” Melissa says.

  The kid goes into the closet and closes the door behind him. Melissa opens her bedside drawer and takes out her hand gun. She has the gun pointed in front of her and leaves the bedroom. She does her room by room search like she did last night.

  Everything is clear when she gets into the garage. She’s holding her SUV and Cobalt keys and clicks the button to open all the doors, including the back. She first ch
ecks under the vehicles. Nothing. She opens the trunk of the Cobalt and it is empty. She can see into the car, but the SUV has tinted windows. There is nothing inside the Tahoe.

  Melissa presses her head into the window of the Tahoe and breathes out heavily. Thank God, he doesn’t know I slept with someone else or that I’m even back.

  As she starts to close the back of the SUV, she sees the pizza delivery kid in the doorway. She puts the gun in the vehicle. “I told you to stay in the closet.”

  “You did.”

  “So, what are you doing?”

  “Wasn’t about to let a girl face danger alone,” he says.

  Melissa smiles. This kid’s a real man. It would be great to have one of those.

  The kid walks to her and kisses her on the top of her head as she rests her face on his chest.

  “You’re going to be a great husband to a lucky woman one day.”

  He kisses her again as he puts his arms all the way around her. “It’s all right, miss. Whatever the problem is, I’ll do what I can to help.”

  She looks up at him. How great it would be to have a man who truly cared. “I’ve endangered you. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t ask. You should leave, while you still can.”

  “Not another go?”

  “Another time maybe, if I can,” she says.

  “OK.”

  * * *

  In the far corner of an Internet cafe, a figure in dark clothes with his hat pulled as far down as it can go and his jacket collar straight up is checking out the online bank account for Jessica King. The account is showing that the overdraft is almost maxed. Her credit cards in her bank account are also showing them to be maxed.

  Another file is showing that an email money transfer has taken place. The person clicks on accept and seventy-five hundred dollars is deposited in the account. A message in the transfer reads, “Keep doing as we ask and there’s more where that came from.”

  * * *

  Jessica wakes up to the first rays of sunlight through the cracks in her blinds. She stretches out her arms and sits up in bed.

  Two days off is going to be great. The war between the Russians and The Black Roses over the past few weeks and the failed busts…what stress that was. But with the two brothers killed, a peace deal might happen between them. Maybe I should have entered the office pool as to who was going to win the war. The door opens and is Darren his name? walks in, her companion last night. One of the best nights of sex she ever had. Was it the amazing sex that has her feeling so rested? Maybe he was that good that it was better than any prescription meds she’s ever taken.

  “Where were you?” she asks him as he takes the comforter off her and gets back on top of her, kissing her on the lips.

  “Ordering some breakfast to be delivered, but another round first.”

  “You got that right.”

  They wrap their arms around each other and start kissing. Great stress relief better than any medicine she thinks as the man gets her hot and sweaty again.

  * * *

  Dressed in her cut-off shorts and white tank top, Melissa is sitting alone in her living room. The pizza delivery kid has been gone for over an hour. The TV is off and she is drinking cheap rum from the bottle. Staring at the blank TV screen, she taps on her knee with her free hand. Why don’t I feel anything about the pro bono job I did? I should be feeling good. Men who hurt women deserve everything they get from me.

  One more day without Danil, spend this day blotto. That kid’s arms felt like…felt like…it was when Eddie was holding me. He’s half the size of Danil, but twice the man. To have loving and protective arms holding you tight like you’re the most important thing to them. Out of the question for me.

  If only I had watched my drink that night I . . . what am I doing? Blaming myself for what happened to me? No woman who’s ever been raped did anything wrong. And what of the men I killed? Of course, they did something wrong. They were all criminals. Wait, I almost forgot.

  She opens her bag and pulls out the statue of Jesus and puts it on her table. Kneeling, she performs three Hail Mary prayers. Sitting back on her couch she takes a five second drag from the bottle and turns on the TV.

  She could get drunk to Star Trek or Law & Order reruns. Or maybe true crime shows. How ironic that would be?

  She chooses one of the true crime series. This episode is about a business man, Tom McFarland, who had ties to organized crime. The announcer who started the show says that McFarland has been missing for ten years and is presumed to have been murdered by a biker gang.

  “Not who did it,” Melissa yells at the TV.

  What a great night that was, the start of a lucrative partnership. That’s what he said as he was carrying me to his bunk. And like a true gentleman, he stopped the bleeding and bandaged the wound before he had sex with her. Then later in the hospital, Detective Burnlee asking us what happened. “It was kids playing with a bow and arrow set; an accident, officer,” Danil had said to him. He didn’t look like he believed him, especially after looking at her.

  If only I could have told him what really happened then. No, you couldn’t have. You’d be in jail for murder. If only the hospital staff hadn’t reported their suspicions to police.

  She takes another five-second drag from the bottle, emptying it.

  If I die now I can be free of everything. Die on my own terms and not with a needle in my arm. Or at the hands of my creator, whichever one, Danil or The Drowner, that might be.

  * * *

  With his letter ready to be mailed to the police, Colton is surfing websites for the type of computer he wants to buy. It would be new toy to reward himself once he’s gotten rid of the toys in the dungeon and the other used toys Melissa and Haley. This one with two terabytes of RAM looks good.

  He gets up from his chair. Still wearing his latex gloves, he has the letter and his hands in his jacket pockets. There might be morning joggers out there who like to stick their nose into other people’s business. Closing the door behind him, he walks to the community mailboxes.

  Is it bad to mail from a box so close to home? Nah just do three more letters sent from other places. That will keep the cops guessing, running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

  As he nears the mailbox, he walks toward a young woman walking her dog, a little West Highland Terrier. The dog starts barking at him.

  “Guess your dog doesn’t like me,” he says.

  “Sorry, sir. Maybe he thinks you’re The Drowner and he’s trying to protect me.”

  “Would an overgrown rat like that really be able to protect you?”

  The woman’s mouth drops open.

  “You’d need a Rottweiler to defend you.” He turns his back on her sticking the letter in the box.

  “And how would you know?” she asks.

  He turns back as he puts his hand back in his pocket. “A twenty-pound dog against a grown man? Just sayin’.”

  Colton crosses the street away from her and walks home.

  Chapter 48

  S itting in his office, Torres is scanning through the old cases. Being the boss, there’s nothing unusual about him being the first one in. When he was an up-and-comer, everyone passed it off as being eager to impress. As of yet, he has found nothing that could link Danil Burlomov to anything, crafty bastard. He’s insulated himself very well. But everyone makes mistakes. There’s got to be one thing in here somewhere.

  He looks at the picture of his girlfriend on his desk. How could I have done that woman up in Revoun? But, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  Leaning back in the chair, he sips his coffee and looks at the files of the subordinate whose life he’s about to have ruined. Self-preservation mode. It was necessary.

  How to get free of these Russian pricks? Organize busts against his establishments disguised to the police commissioner as retaliation for corrupting cops. They know that appearances must be made, that the police must appea
r to be at least trying to do their job of fighting crime.

  He takes out a pen and starts writing on a legal pad:

  Drug trafficking

  Weapons trafficking

  Counterfeit products

  Gambling

  So called massage parlors

  There’s got to be something under RICO to nail him with. The three from the Serial Killer Task Force will be here in a day, so hopefully there will be something to go after him for under the guise of finding the girl they think he rescued. Best place to go might be a massage parlor, he thinks, as Jessica King walks into the office.

  She puts her jacket on the back of her chair and locks her purse in her desk. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she heads over to Torres’s office and knocks on the door.

  “Hey,” Torres says. “How was the weekend off?”

  Of course, he knows what has happened. One of the Russian crew spent the night at her place. The two had an amazing night together.

  “Great, really great.”

  “I can imagine.”

  She sits down at his desk as she takes a drink of coffee.

  “Something on your mind?” Torres asks, feigning concern.

  “Yeah. These interviews with homicide.”

  “It’s probably nothing to be concerned about. As long as you’re clean.”

  “Well, I did shower this morning,” she says.

  “Good to know. They’re not today though. Later in the week, so shower every day.”

  “I’m a lady, so I do that anyway.” She takes another sip of coffee. “What would The Drowner task force want with the Organized Crime Task Force?”

  Torres tells her about how a name was taken off The Drowner’s victim list.

  “And what does that have to do with us?” she asks.

  “They believe she’s possibly the contract killer for the Russians, specifically Danil Burlomov.”

  “Well whoever it is she’s good,” she says, “How many of his enemies have been expertly killed with no trace? You were there at the shootout when three of The Black Roses were killed.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did she manage to kill three and not get seen or caught?” she asks.