Killer Curriculum

by Douglas Alexander

  Six feet from the bottom, she ran out of pipe. This could be a problem. She thought, looking at the ground beneath her. With a sigh, she pushed off the wall with her legs and propelled into a backflip, sticking a perfect Olympic landing on the lawn.

  Triumphant, Kara even put her arms up in the air. She looked over at houses across the street. All the windows were dark. “Really? No one saw that?” For a moment, she felt disappointed that her mother was watching TV inside.

  Shrugging, Kara grabbed her backpack from where she had tossed it out the window and headed for her dad’s truck. Her ride was still in police custody and technically she was grounded, but luckily, she knew her dad had a spare key in a little magnetic box under the front wheel well. Silently shifting the truck into neutral, she let it roll out of the driveway before turning the engine over and heading down the street. Punching 236 River Street into her phone’s mapping app, Kara was on her way.

  The drive wasn’t long, and in less than ten minutes, Kara was pulling into an abandoned, gravel parking lot parallel to the Iroquois River. There was a nondescript blue sedan parked near the entrance. “Salazar,” she said out loud. “Figures he’d get here before me. Well, at least I have a chaperone.”

  The inside of the big building was dark, and Kara blinked as her eyes struggled to adjust from the lights on the front of the warehouse. “Detective?” she called into the darkness. “Detective Salazar? It’s Kara. Kara Allister? From the college?”

  Why didn’t he switch the lights on? Kara wondered. Didn’t he at least have a flashlight? She felt in her pocket, looking for her cellphone. The flashlight wasn’t much, but it would at least help her

  Suddenly, something slammed into Kara, knocking her to her knees. She gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of her. Her knees hurt from the concrete, she began to turn to see what had hit her, when agony spiked the back of her head. And everything went black.

  Chapter 21- Settling Accounts

  Honk! Car horns blared at Booker as his car flew through another red light. He had been on his way to the police station when he received a call from Kara’s mother.

  Kara had snuck out her window and was gone. Apparently, after getting off video chat with Max, she had begged them to let her leave because there was someplace she had to go. Her parents refused, since she had just been shot at the day before. The fact that she had snuck out didn’t surprise the professor. Kara was headstrong. What did concern him was she wasn’t answering her parents’ calls… or his. She might ignore her parents, but she always answered his calls or at least texted back.

  At first, Booker guessed that Kara wanted to be there for Timmy’s interrogation, and he told Mrs. Allister that Kara was likely at the police station, or at least on her way.

  But Kara’s mother disagreed. “No, I don’t think so, Professor,” she said. “Kara kept going on and on about algae? I don’t know what all that was about. She insisted she needed to go check it out.”

  With those words, Booker realized where she was headed. The warehouse by the river. Of course, Kara would want to see the killer’s space firsthand. “I’ll find her,” he promised and disconnected the call.

  Booker had immediately whipped the car around and headed toward that side of town, but traffic was thick this time of day, and he didn’t like Kara’s continued silence.

  At this thought, Booker’s phone rang again, and he hit the Bluetooth button. “Yes?”

  “It’s me. We can’t get Salazar to answer either.” Sarah was on the line. “I’m heading over with a patrol car as well.”

  Hoooonnnkk!

  “What was that?” Sarah asked,

  “Nothing. Just my third red light. I may need you to get me out of a few tickets when this is done.” Booker pushed down on the gas pedal even harder. “I’m probably five or ten minutes closer than you.”

  That was a lie. August’s car slid as he banked hard left and into the gravel parking lot. He stopped just short of slamming into two cars that were already parked there.

  “August, wait for us to get there. If Salazar’s not answering, something could be very wrong,” Sarah warned.

  “Of course, Detective. I wouldn’t go in without back-up.” Another lie. “See you in a few.” He hung up without hearing her response.

  ***

  Kara couldn’t move her arms or legs. That was the first thing she realized. A pang of fear went through her mind. Am I paralyzed? Oh my God! What will I do? After a few seconds, she could feel her fingers wiggle and her toes.

  Relieved, she opened her eyes. The warehouse was dimly lit, but at least there was light. She was on slab table and her wrists and ankles were bound to it. There was something cold and hard on the table next to her hip, but she couldn’t really turn her head that far.

  “Salazar!” she shouted. “You son of a bitch! Cut me loose!” Nothing but an echo answered her. She struggled to move, but found she was tied tight. As she tested how far she could move her head, something caught her eye on the floor about fifteen feet away.

  It was the lumpy form of the veteran detective. Except he wasn’t moving.

  Footsteps came from past her head, where she couldn’t see.

  “Wow, I thought you were supposed to be a shining star, but you thought that fat detective got the drop on you?” Kara recognized the voice and stopped twisting.

  “I’m not impressed, kid,” the voice spat the last word.

  The tall blonde stepped to the side of the table, so Kara could see her face to face. Rebecca Vance.

  “I don’t understand,” Kara murmured.

  “Listen it’s not personal, sweetie.” Rebecca stopped, and a wide sneer crossed her face. “Well, it wasn’t personal to begin with. But now, it seems like you are the one keeping me from having my partner back, and I can’t have that.”

  She slid the snub nose of a gun, probably Salazar’s, down the skin of Kara’s arm. “I had a plan. Do you know how much priming and preparation it took to mold Timmy O’Connell?”

  Kara didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head.

  “Of course, you don’t. I mean I could tell from the first time I came to the Lucky Roll a few months ago that he was damaged goods. I have seen enough sociopaths in my career to recognize them. All it took was a little push.”

  “Sociopaths usually recognize their own kind, don’t they Becky?” Booker’s voice resonated through the empty warehouse.

  Rebecca couldn’t see August, but she knew his voice. She snapped to attention and growled, “I thought I’d have more time.”

  Kara couldn’t turn her head enough to see Booker, but she too knew the voice of her teacher. She also knew one basic rule: if you act like a victim, you’ll be treated like one. “Time’s up, bitch,” she hissed up at her captor.

  The author popped Kara in the face with the butt of the revolver. Her head snapped back against the table she was tied to. “That’s enough out of you, child.”

  Spitting blood up at Rebecca Vance, Kara grinned through crimson teeth. “He came for me. That must piss you off. He’ll always come for me.

  “Shut up kid,” August cut her off.

  Kara could hear the thumping of his cane as he walked, and knew he was still quite a distance from them—likely still at the entrance to the warehouse. She looked up at Rebecca as she glared out towards the front door, straining to judge his location.

  “That’s far enough, August.” Rebecca set her hand with the pistol on the girl’s chest, so he could see it plainly. The noise of the cane moving halted.

  The professor pointed the end of the cane at the wilted form of Salazar. “Is he alive, or did you cross that line too, Becky?” There was no emotional range to his voice, but he was fighting to keep it just as monotone and calm as he could be.

  “Would have been a waste of bullets, to be honest. And I already wasted enough of those trying to hunt your little girlfriend here when she was poking around the high school.” Rebecca prodded Kara with the gun, and the younger girl
flinched, involuntarily.

  “I thought it would hurt you. Make you want to come back into the fold. But I always was a lousy marksman. Then I ran into this pile of shit,” Rebecca motioned to the detective, “I thought about shooting him as well, but then I thought… Why bother? I just needed him out of the way.”

  She smiled. “I heard you went after Timmy at the Lucky Roll. To be frank, August, it took you long enough to figure him out. I thought you were smarter than that. You’ve been out of the game for too long. You’re rusty.”

  “And I thought you were smart enough to be long gone by now.” Booker wasn’t going to allow Becky to goad him. “Why come back to the scene of the crime? Seems like a rookie mistake.”

  “As I said, I knew you were picking up Timmy. I had to make sure there was nothing left here to link me to him.” Rebecca sighed as if bored with the whole situation. “At first, Timmy was a worthy distraction. A way to get your attention. I knew the Puppet Master M.O. would do it.”

  Raising the gun to accent her point, Rebecca continued, “Then I had an epiphany. Making killers is more challenging and rewarding than chasing them. I mean, anyone can catch a killer, but to find the exact type of person who has the potential for greatness, and then to mold them into a work of art… masterful. You have to try it, August.”

  Kara could just see Rebecca’s face. She flinched for the second time as the older woman’s countenance took on a gleeful expression, like a child showing off their playdough artwork.

  Rebecca paused, scratching her head with the gun. “At least, it was masterful until Aimee came into the picture. If I’d known the extent of Timmy’s infatuation, I might have picked a different initial target. He went off the rails and broke the pattern. That wasn’t the plan.”

  “So, he said,” August murmured to himself. “But I never suspected…”

  He paused and then raised his voice so Rebecca could hear him again. “All this to pull me back in?” August questioned, trying to keep her talking until Sarah and her backup arrived. “Should I be flattered?”

  “I told you it wasn’t the same without you. I was bored in the Bureau. I was bored writing books. This can be a whole new chapter. A new challenge. For both of us. We could create masterpieces together. Killers they’ll talk about for centuries. Imagine how many profilers will work off the cases we create. Imagine how many college classes will study each of the cases, trying to piece them together. Imagine the books that will be written! The movies based on the books! We could have a legacy, you and I.”

  August tried not to vomit. He took half a step, leaning on the cane. “I told you. I’m done. I’m a teacher now. I don’t chase bad guys anymore. And I certainly don’t want to create bad guys for others to chase. I’ve seen too much depravity, Becky.”

  In the darkness, August shook his head. “I thought you knew me better than this. Did you really believe catching Timmy O’Connell,” he said the name like he was trying to spit it off his tongue, “was going to entice me back into law enforcement? Did you really believe that it would entice me to make another just like him?”

  “Just for the record, my profile was right Booker. Not just about Timmy, but I hit the nail on the friggin’ head with this psycho,” Kara called from the table.

  “Kara, stop talking,” Booker said shortly.

  “No August, let her speak. Your little pet-project. The cheerleader-protégé.” She traced her free hand down the side of Kara’s face.

  “I may have made a mistake, thinking that Timmy would be challenging enough to get you back into the hunt,” Rebecca said, looking down. “Now this one… she’s smart. And you have definitely taken a liking to her. I bet you would do about anything too—”

  Booker interrupted her, his voice harsh and filled with unexpected rage. “If you kill her, you won’t make it out of this building.”

  “Whoa! We hit a nerve Kara,” Rebecca giggled and raised the gun again. “I don’t think with that leg, you could beat me to it.”

  “I swear I’ll stop your god-damned heart with my bare hands,” The professor avowed.

  “No need,” Rebecca giggled again. “I wouldn’t do that, August. Ever since she and your detective Sarah slipped past me at the high school, I realized something. First, I don’t need to kill her. Just make her useless to you. Second, there are punishments worse than death.”

  Rebecca’s face went blank. In a swift motion, she dropped the gun and snatched up an instrument that had been hiding underneath the table, outside of Kara’s view. The high-pitched whine of a motor fired up, and she brought the speeding blade of the bandsaw down on the girl’s knee.

  Chapter 22-Retribution

  Blood sprayed. A deafening scream came from Kara.

  Booker hobbled across the twenty-five feet that separated him from his student faster than he thought he could move.

  After three steps, he flung the titanium cane at Rebecca. Whirling, it caught her in the shoulder with a crack. She fell, and the saw stuttered to a stop.

  Booker’s vision tunneled as the pain shooting up his thigh caused white spots to form around his line of sight. He pushed forward and caught hold of the wooden table.

  As he rounded the table, Rebecca teetered to her feet, clutching the injured shoulder. August Booker had never in his life struck a woman. He was against it, whether because of his chivalrous nature or calm demeanor, he had never even come close. But as Rebecca turned to face him, August lunged and punched her with all his strength. The full weight of his body hit her in a free fall.

  Rebecca slammed into the floor before he did and stayed there motionless. Grabbing the corner of the table, he hoisted himself up to help the girl.

  The saw was still in her leg. It had cut almost clean through, but there still might be a chance.

  “Kara! Are you with me kid? This is going to hurt.” August looked in her face, which had taken on an almost green pallor.

  Kara had passed out, hopefully from the pain and not the blood loss. Gingerly, Booker pulled the saw blade out of her mangled knee.

  Outside, he could hear sirens approaching. Thank God, he thought. We might save her.

  He threw the machine to the concrete floor. Stripping off his tie and waistcoat, he wrapped the open knee in the vest and used the tie as a tourniquet to restrict as much blood flow as he could.

  He tried to open the shackles pinning Kara to the wooden workbench. They had been bolted to the wood. August scanned the area for any tool he could use. His foot kicked his cane. He plucked it off the floor and slid it under part of the restraint. Using the cane as a lever, he pried upwards, forcing the shackle to pop off the bench.

  Satisfied, Booker quickly repeated the same procedure with the others. He thought about running for the police, who were now approaching the warehouse, but knew that if Rebecca woke up again, she’d finish the job… or worse. Not only that, with Kara’s mangled leg still bleeding, every second mattered.

  Moving as swiftly as he was able, August lifted the unconscious girl into his arms and headed for the door. He couldn’t hold the cane and her, so it had been sacrificed back on the table, but now going was slow and painful.

  Kara’s tiny body wasn’t heavy, but he could barely stand on his own. With each step, white streaks panned across his vision. Once, he began to fall, but he leaned on a support beam to give himself a small reprieve.

  Unwilling to stop because of the blood still flowing from the cheerleader’s leg, he pushed through the door. The cool night air was emblazed with blue and red flashes as two patrol cars and an ambulance slid to a gravelly halt. Sarah’s bike came flying up through the middle. Sergeant Blue rushed to Booker, offering to take his burden.

  “I’ve got her. Just get the EMTs over here now!” August bellowed through a torrent of sweat beading down his face.

  Two medics met Booker halfway to the Ambulance with a gurney. They helped him settle Kara’s limp body and loaded her into the ambulance. Booker climbed inside, still applying pressure to her l
eg.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked as she ran throwing her helmet at the bike she dumped in her urgency.

  “Get inside,” Booker shouted from the ambulance. “And take backup. Salazar is out cold. It’s Rebecca! She was behind everything. Even Timmy.”

  “Rebecca Vance?” Sarah looked stunned but ran into the warehouse, a group of officers following behind.

  The doors of the ambulance slammed shut.

  Chapter 23-Loss

  Hospital waiting rooms should be against the Geneva Convention. They smell like chemicals, group you together with other helpless people, and force you to watch either infomercials or daytime TV until all sense of time is sucked hopelessly away. Inhumane torture. There are rules against that, or at least August Booker was pretty sure there were.

  Still wrapped in an orange blanket reserved for people in shock, August leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. He stared at the floor, thousands of things rushing through his mind.

  How could I not see this? Were there clues that Becky was dangerous? Is Kara going to die? Her death is on my hands.

  He had placed half a dozen uncomfortable chairs in between himself and Kara’s parents. Her mom was sobbing quietly into her dad’s shoulder. Her father, a bearded man with a belly that hung over his belt and a “God Save the NRA” t-shirt, smelled questionably of cheap, dog-piss beer. Booker had called them from the ambulance, and they met him at the hospital. They seemed too grieved to blame him. It didn’t matter; he was taking care of that all by himself. He glanced at his phone. He had been here for over an hour.

  “You can stare at the floor all day. It ain’t going nowhere,” A gravel-filled voice broke in. Booker felt Ski sit next to him but didn’t look up. Tobacco and coffee permeated the air.

  “She might die, Ben,” Booker kept his voice to a whisper so the Allister’s wouldn’t hear.

  “Yeah,” was the only thing the old man could say. What could you say at a moment like this? Ski wanted desperately to say the right thing, but he didn’t know what that was.