Deadly Obsession

by Jack Parker

  "We know you are hiding something! What is it!" Eric asked loudly.

  "I can't! You don't understand!"

  "The only way we'll understand is if you tell us. If Taylor is in trouble, are you really going to leave him hanging out to dry to protect a serial killer?"

  "Dan is the one I'm trying to protect here!" Vickers pleaded, finally able to spit out a full sentence. "I can't tell you any more. But if you can find this serial killer and stop him before its too late, maybe everything will solve itself."

  "If you can't tell us about how Taylor is involved in this, can you tell us anything you might know about the Vigilante Killer?" I asked.

  "I-uh… well, there really isn't much to say." he replied, looking straight at me. "He called one day and told me about how what had happened to a close friend of mine, Fred Stanby, was a tragedy and he wanted to set things straight. I told him who our lead suspect was and explained a lot of the details about the case that weren't necessarily in the police file. And he hung up. That was it. A few days later as I suspected, he made the guy his 5th victim."

  "And that was all he asked for?" I wondered.

  "Actually, no. He wanted me to describe in detail the events of the crime. So I told him about how a guy tried to rob a convenient store, on his way out Fred just happened to be entering the store and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then one stab to the chest and it was all over. He bled out before the ambulance could get to him."

  "Thanks."

  We left his house, Eric was a little angry because the guy knew something and he wouldn't tell us. But we just didn't have the leverage to get him to talk. I was kind of feeling down after hearing his strange reaction to me telling him about Taylor. I didn't know what to make of it. Was he in trouble? And if he was trying to protect his friend, why couldn't he tell us what made him leave Denver all those years ago?

  "I'm sorry." Eric said.

  "There was nothing you could've done to make him tell us what he knew. You don't need to apologize." I told him.

  "I wasn't apologizing about that, but because I know it must be hard to hear that a good friend of yours got himself caught up in something bad." he explained.

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Did you hear Vickers' reaction when you told him that the Vigilante Killer was in the same city where Taylor happened to work?" he asked. "Do you know if he has a phone at his house?"

  "Yeah, why does that matter though?"

  "How old is it? Does it have an answering machine?"

  "Pretty old, it's the type that records to a cassette ta-" I interrupted myself, realizing what he was getting at.

  "Here's what I think happened. Taylor woke up one morning to find a message on his answering machine and playing the message revealed that the Vigilante had called. You mentioned that he used a cassette tape at the station and matched the voice on the tape to audio they had of the Vigilante. That answering machine tape was what he had with him." he explained. "Taylor is going to be the 9th victim. He must've done something to put himself on the Vigilante's radar and as soon as he confirmed who it was, he took off so that the Vigilante couldn't get to him."

  Considering everything I had just heard, that theory was really the only one that made sense. But there were a few details that just didn't match up. The one that bothered me the most was why the Vigilante decided to call Taylor and warn him that he was on to him? He had never called any of his other victims before killing them. And the warning Taylor got gave him the chance to get away. But the other thing bothered me was why Taylor bothered confirming who's voice was on the tape. If someone called claiming to know about his past that sounded like the Vigilante Killer, would he really bother taking the time to confirm it?

  But despite those inconsistencies, Vickers' reaction suggested Taylor had done something, and now the Vigilante was involved. So the natural conclusion was that Taylor had made a mistake and done… something bad. I couldn't even say the words. It was hard to think it would be possible, but what other theories fit? Part of me held out hope that I had missed something that would explain everything, but it wasn't looking good.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  And just like that we were back in Houston. After a couple of days following leads that eventually led us to retired Agent Vickers, there was nothing left for us in Denver so we caught the next plane home. It was Eric's idea for us to get a good nights sleep and meet the next day at Baker Street Pub at 10am for an early lunch to see what our next move would be. It was a nice day out, so we decided to grab one of the outdoor tables. It seemed like only moments later we were enjoying the food we had ordered.

  "There isn't really much else to do." Eric said. "I could search all the case files back then and see if maybe someone died under suspicious circumstances, but if the Denver Police Department wasn't able to put everything together I don't really like our chances of doing it."

  "Maybe Vickers was a lead investigator and he helped cover it up." I pointed out. "And if that's the case then we're probably out of luck unless we find another person that knows something."

  "Yeah."

  "Maybe we should just take his suggestion. Solve the Vigilante end of things. It's obvious now that this is all connected somehow."

  "Yeah, solve a case and catch a guy that has eluded the FBI for over two years now." Eric sarcastically said. "I'm actually way ahead of you there. I accessed the FBI's file on the Vigilante. Not much new information has been added in the past week, but I can give you a copy if you want to take a look at it."

  "Thanks." I said. It wasn't much, but it was something.

  "You know. I'm glad you came to me with this job. You don't know how long it's been since I've done something exciting." Eric said as he took a sip of his drink. "Usually its spouses that think their significant others are having an affair. Every so often I'm asked to tail someone. But it's nothing like what happens when I'm working with you. Remember when we first met? You were framed and we had to find out who was behind it, so you had me tailing a guy who was following you."

  "And you lost the guy if I remember correctly." I said, pulling his a leg a bit.

  "That's not the point." he laughed. "The point is I got to bust out the ear wigs… some two-way radios. We got to sit in a surveillance booth. And we were trying to catch a murderer! It just doesn't get any better than that. And now I end up involved in catching a serial killer that the FBI is after? I'm telling you, if you change your mind about joining me I'm sure eventually we'd gain enough respect and maybe get asked to help on police cases like you've been doing."

  "I'll think about it, but I'm probably not going to change my mind."

  "Well you have my number if you do."

  We continued the conversation for a little while longer, but soon my phone rang and I excused myself from my seat so I could answer it. I wanted to get out of hearing range before I pushed the talk button. I didn't like talking on the phone with other people around. It sounds paranoid, but I've always been like that. I eventually found a place by the entrance of the restaurant that was devoid of other people.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey Mike, its Kari!" she said in her usual cheerful tone.

  "Oh, hey. What's going on?" I asked.

  "Well, I called to see if you had any plans made later. Are you ready for Kamloft?" she asked.

  "Am I ready for what?" I wondered.

  "KAMLOFT: Kari and Mike, lots of fun time!" she said as if I was supposed to have already heard of it.

  "Yeah. I guess I am." I said in between laughs. "How long did it take you to think of that one?"

  "Only a few minutes. Anyways, pick me up at 7." she said, hanging up soon after. I guess she was still busy preparing to move.

  I clicked off the phone on my end and I have to admit, the call kind of brought me down to earth once again. Getting a call from Kari once again reminded me of her new job and that she was about to leave. And of course, remembering that led me to think about Taylor leaving and all of the co
mmotion that came along with that. I had to put it all out of my mind.

  I looked around out of habit, I guess to make sure no one had listened in on my phone conversation. Not that there was much to listen to. Behind me there were only a few people sitting at the bar, and they seemed to all be more interested in some game playing on TV in front of them. Turning back around I could see Eric at our table outside. He was turned around and couldn't see me. There were about ten other tables outside and maybe half of them were occupied with different sized groups all probably having completely different conversations.

  I looked past those tables to the other side of the two lane street to the restaurant on the opposite side of the street. They also had a few tables right outside of the restaurant. I automatically glanced at all of the patrons that were visible from my vantage point. My eyes passed over someone staring right back at me that looked familiar that I instantly recognized. A second later I realized who I thought I saw: the Vigilante Killer. Could it really be him?

  I fought to look back and confirm it was who I thought it was. If he was watching me, making any sudden move to look in his direction might tip him off that I knew who he was. He probably still thought that it was safe to be out in public like this without anyone recognizing him. He probably thought if I knew what he looked like, I would've told the FBI about it right? Or at least Eric. I was glad for once my shyness came in handy. Because I bet Taylor or Kari or Eric would've tried to convince Foster what they knew, even though there was no way of explaining how they knew. And because of the decision I made not to tell anyone, I now had him sitting down only yards away from me.

  Eventually I tried to naturally look back and confirm that it was indeed the Vigilante I had seen. I had to come up with a plan. This might be my only chance to put and end to this. Obviously confronting him was out of the question. He would see me coming for sure. There had to be a way to use the fact that he was here to get information that could help us. And I racked my brain for a few more moments before I came up with a great plan. But first, I needed the check for the meal Eric and I had just eaten.

  "Hey, Miss." I said, referring to the waitress behind the bar. "We're the table outside, I was wondering if you had our check ready. I have my card here."

  "Is anything wrong?" she asked, giving me a funny look. I guess it was odd for someone to come to the bar and ask for the check.

  "Nothing is wrong, just thought I would save you the trouble." I explained. She either bought the explanation or didn't care because she found our check, swiped my card and gave me everything I needed.

  As soon as she turned around, instead of heading toward our table I headed to the back of the restaurant and found an empty seat. Because this was somewhat of a fancy restaurant, the paper check was planted inside of a black bill folder with a pen inside for the people that paid with a credit card so that they could add a tip and sign the receipt. From visiting this restaurant more than a few times I knew that there was also a customer copy that was supposed to be ours. Usually people just threw it away but I took the pen and wrote a few things down on the back of the receipt, then folded it a little before putting it back inside the bill folder.

  "Hey, Eric." I said, trying to act as naturally as possible.

  "Must've been a long phone call." he remarked as I sat down.

  "I got the check also. I told her to split it obviously, so your half is in there whenever you want to pay for it." I said.

  Of course, I had decided to pay for the whole thing to make things easier, but I needed him to open the bill folder. And when he did, he paused for a moment while looking at the receipt. I knew what he was doing. He was reading the note I had left for him. See, I strongly suspected that the Vigilante could somehow hear the conversations Eric and I had. When he called me a few days ago, he made the comment about how he had ears everywhere. Maybe he couldn't hear what we were saying, but just in case he could, the safest way to get a message across to him would be a note.

  I had folded over part of the receipt so that he would see that part of the note first and written "Don't react to seeing this! Don't say anything! Act naturally! Flip this over!" because the most important part of the plan was for him to not react to seeing a message on the back of the receipt in a way that the Vigilante, who was watching us, would figure out something is going on.

  When he flipped the receipt over the rest of the note was as follows: 'On the other side of street over there is a man watching us. It's the Vigilante Killer. Don't ask me how I know it's him. I'm pretty sure he's been following me this since we got back. What I want you to do is get in your car, and tail him as he tails me. Maybe once I get to my house, he'll eventually lead you somewhere.' After a few moments he finished reading the note, pretended to sign a receipt even though there was nothing in there for him to sign. Then looked up at me and smiled.

  "You going?" he asked.

  "Yeah." I told him. "Call me if you find anything."

  "I plan on it."

  The next few hours were excruciating. I made it home, and the car the Vigilante had been driving just went right past my house. Eric followed behind him, hoping to be led to wherever he was going next. My part of the plan had been executed perfectly. I got the message across what was going on to Eric without the Vigilante catching on. But now I had to count on Eric not being found out by the Vigilante.

  I hadn't played video games in a long time, so I dusted off my controller and put in the latest first person shooter. As soon as it connected me to the internet, I was bombarded with voice chat requests from the guys I usually play games with: DarthSmallz, his brother Toothpick and RedArrow. They hadn't seen me log on in over two weeks and thought I'd quit playing or something.

  Soon we all got decided to queue for a team game. And when the game started, we all got into our normal roles. I raced for the sniper rifle and then ran to my normal position while everyone else went to get their favorite guns and got set up in the same spots they always did when we played this level with these rules. This wasn't a capture the flag game or anything with special rules, the only rule was the first team to score fifty kills won.

  When we played a game like that, the plan usually was to get set up in specific parts of the map so that we all could see something. We would all be facing in different directions but it was also set up so that no one could be easily taken by surprise. For example, I was stationed in the corner with my sniper and in my field of vision I would be able to take out anyone trying to get behind RedArrow or Toothpick. Darth was stationed on a platform a little ways above and he would be able to tell me if someone was getting close before they could get the jump on me. RedArrow and Toothpick were down on the bottom floor facing opposite directions on the main part of the level where a lot of the confrontations usually took place.

  "Gramps, someones comin' up da ramp. Best get movin'." Darth told me.

  "I see him… aiming… and he's dead." I replied.

  "Red! Behind you!" Tooth yelled out moments later.

  "I'm on it!" RedArrow said as he turned around and a few shots later the situation had been taken care of.

  "One of these days I'll actually get over there to help you before you kill them." Tooth commented sarcastically.

  It obviously wasn't a foolproof plan, but with enough communication we were usually able to figure out where a guy was and get maybe one or two people on him before he could determine our location. With all of the movement taking place, it was possible that someone would get surprise attacked if they were focused on someone else, but usually our set-up was enough to give us the advantage we needed. We kept playing for a few hours, taking a break every now and then. I had actually for a moment forgotten about the case, but as soon as I got a phone call from Eric everything came back.

  "Mike, I found something." he said as soon as I picked up the phone.

  "Really?" I asked, trying to hold back my excitement. Could it be true? Is it really over?

  "You are going to want to see this
for yourself." he said.

  Before he hung up he gave me an address and told me the place was on the west side of town. I was out the door what seemed like seconds later with directions to this place which I assumed was the Vigilante's hide out. I raced down the streets as fast as I could safely go, and I made it to the destination within 30 minutes. It was just a normal house in a normal neighborhood. Eric was already inside when I arrived, so I just let myself in.

  I don't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this. There was a kitchen and two other rooms that were empty. Only the living room had furniture; a few desks and a cot that looked like it doubled as a place to sit. There were piles upon piles of papers in neat stacks covering the desks, and a few dozen file folders. A computer was sitting on top of one of the desks.

  The rest of the room had electronics placed around in seemingly random spots. I couldn't tell what everything was, but was able to identify some recording equipment, both sound and video. There were also these square boxes with a speaker and something that looked like a flash drive attached to the back and they all had labels on them. One was labeled 'station main' and another 'SUV1' for example.

  "He must've placed bugs all over the place, and all of the sound data he was recording through these boxes." Eric pointed out.

  "There are dozens of these boxes in the room. That's a lot of audio to go through. How does he go through it all?" I wondered.

  "Well, I know the first thing I would've done was set it up so that it only records when the sounds go above a certain threshold. This box that says "SUV1" would record all of the conversations held in that car, but if the car was empty it wouldn't record. But also, you can further cut down on bad data by programming these machines to only record when certain people are part of the conversation."

  "That's possible?" I asked.

  "Yes. Everyone's voice is distinct. And when you break it down it's just a certain frequency with some kind of pattern. The machines would still record, but the program would later come back and get rid of all of the conversations that don't contain a specific person's voice so that you don't have to sift through recordings that you know are useless. For example, take the SUV bug again and imagine a scenario where the guy is alone in his car but has the radio on. You don't want to have to sift through an hour of a guy listening to his radio on the off chance that something is useful there. So you would only keep the data if it was his voice talking and not just the radio."