Wolves of Haven: Lone

by Danae Ayusso

  Pierre huffed under his breath, stealing Akia’s attention.

  “Did you have something to add?” she asked.

  He shook his head, biting his tongue.

  Paquette ran interference for him with the American as usual. “Because a rich American was killed it’s suddenly worthy of American cops, and favors being called in which could cause the evidence to be inadmissible in court due to family ties to the facility and specialists that are altering the existing profile in a means that fit you. Is this nothing but a means for you, another Silent Ripper case to whore yourself and career in front of the cameras for?” he sneered.

  Akia gave him a look. “Your dedication to your Inspector is admirable, though I feel as if I should warn you that it will only lead towards career suicide.” She turned to those gathered and ignored the seething Officer. “I do not work for the Haven Police Department. I do not work for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I do not work for the FBI, nor am I on loan from them. At this moment I do not even work for the Boston PD. I do not work for the Winterfelds, their attorneys, their money, or their reputations and status in society. I solely work for the victims, and I will not stop until they have found their closure by us apprehending the person doing this. They are who I work for,” she said, motioning towards the board with pictures of the five victims, “and I strongly advise that you don’t forget it.”

  Those gathered looked at her in stunned silence; never had they heard anyone speak with such conviction before. The outsider to the force wasn’t simply there for another closed case in her impressive resume, or to add another captured serial killer to the ever growing list that she apparently had. Her sole reason for being in Haven was for the victims. As much as they wanted to be irritated at the Boston Officer for being made the Lead in the case, for pushing their Inspector out, for the most part, for completely rewriting the profile that they were working with—which wasn’t much—and the apparent means she was able to go through and utilize in order to stop the killing and give a voice and closure to the victims, they couldn’t. She was doing what none of them had ever been shown how to do, and weren’t expected to do.

  Leclair raised his hand, and she motioned for him to speak. “Shouldn’t we give a statement to the papers?” he asked. “That would bring awareness to the public, something to help keep them protected, no?”

  Akia shook her head; this was the part of the profile and plan that she knew she would get the most pushback from. “I will be the first to admit that this case is worthy of media attention, especially after the first body, however thankfully the Inspector didn’t notify the media, and the only release given to the local paper was of a drowning victim that washed up on shore, which then fed the local wolf population,” she reminded everyone. “That was smart thinking by your Inspector,” she said.

  “It was?” Pierre asked, dumbfounded.

  She nodded. “Yes. When dealing with a serial killer, especially one that is as remorseless as the one using Haven as a dumping ground, the media attention, more often than not, only fuels their killing spree instead of helping to apprehend him. The more attention, the shorter the high, but it’s temporarily replaced by the high of attention, of being noted in the history books of law enforcement with a media derived pet name that will follow him as if it’s a legacy. That’s why we will only refer to him as the perp and not the Wolf Beach Killer as you originally were.”

  Instead of groans, the Officers that had coined the term sulked down in their chairs.

  “There are reasons why we have purposely kept the killings from getting national attention,” she continued, “and I agree with the Inspector about keeping this tightlipped, however that is no longer an option. Thankfully the Winterfeld family has agreed to not speak with the media, because they don’t want it to encourage the monster that took their daughter from them, but that will only last so long before the story breaks and your small town is flooded with every media outlet in the world.”

  “If anyone speaks of the case to anyone not on the case, or even with a family member, you will be fired,” de Rue said, giving the group a warning look.

  “Thank you, Sir. Since we have a lot to do, I’ll quickly go over the psychology of the crimes. What we know is this,” Akia said, fingering the pendant from Damian—it made her feel as if he was there with her giving the briefing—and turned her attention to the board of pictures, “the perp is evolving. The first was most likely accidental. One cut, clean and efficient, body dumped in seawater, which was an effective counter forensic measure. The length of time between the first body and the second was nearly a month. Think of that as a cooling down period; the high of the kill finally dissipated and the guilt was replaced by curiosity.”

  de Rue raised his hand this time. “What do you mean?” he asked, truly in awe and impressed, and that didn’t happen often to the seasoned officer of the law with more than thirty years of experience on the force.

  Akia licked her lips, trying to find the easiest way to explain it that wouldn’t be lost in translation. “It’s an endorphin rush. The endorphins are produced during exercise, excitement, pain, sexual activity, just to name a few, and they resemble, and in this case can be comparable to, opiates in their abilities to produce analgesia and a high. The first kill reflected guilt; that’s why the body was hastily dumped and fully clothed. When days, weeks even, had passed and there was no one knocking on his door wearing a badge, the realization that he apparently got away with murder caused an endorphin high. But then as quick as it came, it was gone again.

  “The second was the confirmation phase, to see if killing truly was that easy, and if the high he felt the first time would return. It did. But that high didn’t last as long, that’s why the time between the second and third victim was only weeks apart. The third was the discovery phase: how long could he torture the victim before they bled out or succumbed to their injuries? It was all in an attempt at keeping the high longer. He learned a lot and refined his art form. Once he knew exactly how much the body could take, he used a non-homicidal skill set and surprising knowledge that the first three victims didn’t hint that the perp possessed, to prolong the fun, and that was when he introduced synthetic adrenaline into his arsenal for the fourth victim.”

  de Rue opened his mouth to ask.

  “Adrenaline was used to revive his toy when they lost consciousness,” she explained, answering what he was about to ask. “In one aspect it gave the perp a God complex; no longer was he merely Death, now he could give life by reviving them. The introduction of adrenaline changes the profile some.”

  “Support your argument,” Connell said, absently flipping through the file his sister put together when Pierre opened his mouth.

  Akia fought the urge to growl at him, but she understood he was running interference for her. “Initially it appeared as if the perp was inept, possibly impotent due to the lack of sexual assaults and the savagery of the crimes. The second victim, seeking confirmation, only reiterated that the perp was inept and lacked conviction, guidance even. With the third he let his balls drop, in a matter of speaking, and took control of the situation and need for his next fix. He was still infantile in nature, and his skill lacked any resemblance of finesse. The fourth he apparently matured greatly in his newly honed craft, and patience was learned.”

  Connell looked up at her. “Is there more than one?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “No physical evidence, or lack of evidence, points towards there being two, but we can’t rule that out either. The evidence we do have suggests that the fourth victim was held captive for days since there were signs of healing and varying degrees of bruising, which gives us a timeline of approximately five to six days of captivity before they succumbed to their injuries.”

  Leclair raised his hand. “The fifth was reported missing only hours before the body was discovered. What changed?” he asked.

  Akia sighed; this one she wished would have never been discovered.
“The fifth had a heart condition; before the perp could play with his new toy, the stress of the situation caused cardiac arrest, and that was what killed her. Remorse caused him to panic; he tried using the adrenaline to revive her, even tried to resuscitate her, fracturing her ribs in the process. Hopefully, there will be DNA left from the mouth to mouth resuscitation I believe he gave her. We’ll know more when the samples are back from the lab. The fifth victim has provided evidence,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “that the others did not, and that was solely due to the fact that the toy died before he could play with it. The mutilation to the body was done postmortem. It was violent, reckless…almost animalistic. He lost control, for just a moment, but in that moment he left pieces of himself behind, and now we have to put those pieces together.

  “It is time that we get on the defensive. The Inspector will issue a statement to the local media outlets asking for the community to keep an eye out, or report, someone exhibiting strange behavior or lurking, anything that might have stood out as unusual, even from those they know. Remember, the perp is most likely part of this very community. Also, we need to ask the locals not to shoot at any wolves or any other carnivores that roam the woods. The Island is protected land; anyone found hunting for anything not in season will be prosecuted. The last thing we need is a witch hunt.”

  Again, those gathered grumbled their disagreement.

  “When the public tries to take things in their own hands,” Akia reminded them, choosing her words so they couldn’t read into them more than she’d like, and to redirect their attention as Beowulf taught her, “innocent people get hurt, and that will solely be the responsibly of the police force. Sadly, because his hunting grounds, since you all are so very fond of using the wolf simile that the perp has wanted you to correlate to him and his crimes, I will humor you as unprofessional as it may be, are very broad and encompass more than can be searched by ground, or air due to the dense vegetation, we will need to focus our search efforts towards the people of the Island. Door to door interviews, I will prepare some qualifying questions, and if you need it, I will be available to answer any questions or give a beginners course in identifying a homicidal killer. Instead of focusing on victims three, four and five, we need to start at the beginning: victim one and two. Leclair will follow the paper trail for the truck driver, so we can establish a timeline for that victim. Knowing where he had been and where he was going will help us know at what point in-between he crossed the perp. Paquette will go through the second victim’s residence again looking for anything we might have missed.”

  His eyes widened before they narrowed.

  “He will also work with animal control and the wildlife conservationists; get a listing of all licensed pets big enough to inflict some type of damage on a human, follow up on all reports of large animal sightings, dogs on the loose, and so forth. If that proves useless, track dog food and large butcher purchases; if there is a wolf or two that have been trained to kill, they will need to be fed. And since you are confident that the wolf and animal aspect shouldn’t be ignored, you have the honor of following up on that line of thinking, and if I’m wrong, and it was wolves, and you can prove it, I’ll buy you beer. If there is nothing else,” she said, leaving it hanging.

  de Rue nodded then took command of the room. “We’ll work with the neighboring districts and process the Island in grid format. I’ll reach out to Chief Superintendent Bolton on the mainland and coordinate with his Officers to follow suit. If there is nothing else,” he said, cocking a warning eyebrow.

  “No, Sir,” the gathered Officers said then hurried to busy themselves.

  “de Wolfe, a moment,” he said, motioning towards the Inspector’s office in the back.

  Akia joined him and smirked when he slammed the door in Pierre’s face. “Sir?” she asked.

  “The person of interest that Inspector Dumbass keeps bringing up, are they legitimate or is he grasping?” he asked pointblank.

  “In my professional opinion,” she said, “he’s grasping. The perp might have purposely dumped the body outside of Verulfr Manor simply because the master of the estate has wolf in his name.”

  de Rue nodded; that was what he was thinking as well. “Any idea what his fascination with wolves is?” he asked.

  “I’m not psychologist, Sir,” Akia reminded him. “In my non-professional opinion, I’d say that it’s a means to compensate. Taking on the persona of a wolf, an alpha creature of the forest in essence, is a way to masculinize himself. Most likely he’s in an emasculated state, and this is his way of compensating. Again, that is just one woman’s opinion. If you like, I can reach out to a contact at the Boston PD that has done in-depth research into the psychology of serial killers and is the foremost forensic psychologist in my precinct. He taught me nearly everything I know.”

  He smirked. “I thought I was working with Boston’s best,” he said.

  Akia simply shrugged; compliments she never bothered to justify. “When he’s out of his glass-walled office, he’s unstoppable,” she said. “What I do know is that this killer is what they call hedonistic, which is one of the hardest, in my experience, to find. Thrill killers derive pleasure from the kill. They see people, all people not just those they kill, as expendable means to get that pleasure. Forensic psychologists have identified three subtypes of the hedonistic killer: lust, thrill and comfort. Sadly, this one is the embodiment of all three, and that makes him extremely dangerous.”

  de Rue nodded. “He didn’t get his fix, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t. Because he has no set type, we can’t warn the public. And if he is local, he’ll blend in effortlessly.”

  “So we need all the help we can get,” he whispered, and Akia simply nodded her agreement.

  “Did you want me to carry her to bed?” Varg asked. He hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Akia in the week she’s been home, and it was starting to piss him off. He wasn’t sure if she was purposely staying at the precinct late in order to not have to see him at home, and that she showed up back to the estate when he was on patrol or following up on something for Beowulf was purely coincidental, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t.

  Beowulf shook his head, his attention on the sleeping woman using her plate as a pillow. “Akia is mentally and physically exhausted. She needs to run, but she won’t.”

  He snorted under his breath. “It’s far too dangerous for anyone to run. The woods are filled with assholes with guns salivating to kill anything that moves. Kid needs to be put on house arrest before he gets himself killed.”

  Louvel sighed, shaking his head. “I will talk to him again. He is young, and he longs to follow the lunar calendar. You cannot blame him for hearing her call,” he said longingly, looking out the window towards the sliver of a moon that hung low in the sky; one more night before the black moon, and his skin already tingled with anticipation.

  Gunshots in the distance echoed through the night air, stealing their attention.

  Beowulf sighed. “Son, check on the others, do a head count, then check the perimeter. Stay within the fence and take a lantern with you so there are no misunderstandings.”

  Varg softly growled under his breath, his attention staying on Akia, hoping that the gunshot would have woken her up so he could finally talk to her, but she continued to snore in her plate. “Yes, Sir,” he said then left the room.

  “Lou, tomorrow can you and the boys make sure that the amenities in the cellar are ready?” he asked, his attention on his daughter as her eyes darted back and forth behind her closed eyelids.

  Louvel nodded. “Of course. Does she still require such drastic means?” he asked, surprised.

  Beowulf shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. But she’s stubborn, so that leads me to believe that she still fights with her. I pray that I live to see the day that she can embrace Eve instead of fight her.”

  Connell chuckled, joining them from the kitchen with an apple in hand. “Don’t count on it. Those two are lik
e two pissed off tomcats in a bag,” he said before pressing the back of his hand against Akia’s cheek. “She’s warmer than she should be; this is kicking her ass in every way, shape and form. Last night she pulled an all-nighter at the office. I was there to keep an eye on her, took a nap in the hole next to the third victim in the meat locker before she caught me, hence the lovely bruising on the side of my face from her right hook. Akia’s been going non-stop for a week. I don’t know if she’s trying to stay away from the annoying Viking or if this is how she works a case, either way it’s kicking her ass.”

  They nodded their understanding.

  “I’m going to take her up to bed,” he said. “We’ll sleep in my room tonight.”

  “Son,” Beowulf said, motioning for him to sit, “what is going on with her? She keeps popping pills. Why?”

  Connell licked his lips, fighting with what he knows to be the right thing to do in the family and what his oath says he has to do. “It’s not my place to say, Dad,” he said. “Akia is fine and is more balanced than she has been in years. She’s finally learned how to balance the two, Dad. I can’t tell you the specifics because the oath I took prevents me from doing so, and before you ask, yes I’ve seen her over the years.”

  Louvel’s eyes widened, but Beowulf was already well aware of that.

  “Akia doesn’t trust people, so having a doctor in the family, as awkward as it was at times for the both of us, helped to get her to where she is now. Every three to six months, depending on how she’s feeling, or if she’s had any unexpected visits from you know who, we meet up, and I do the needful as a doctor and adjust her medications and make sure that her hormone levels are where they should be. She’s a woman, Dad, and that’s completely uncharted territory. Okay?”

  Beowulf nodded his understanding, so Connell pulled Akia into his arms and carried her from the dining room and up the stairs to his room.

  “Trying to get pregnant or keep her from getting pregnant?” Louvel whispered.