Tainted Rattle

Paula Nevins

Phoenix Voices Publishing

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my husband Thomas, who sat through me reading it over and over to him for months on end. My daughter Megan, who encouraged me to get back into my writing. My daughter Shirley who reads and gives me ideas for new and exciting chapters. My grandchildren, who put up with me constantly telling them, not now I am writing, and to my late son Paul, who always encouraged me to follow my dreams and showed me how to live every day like it was my last.

Copyright © 2025 by Paula Nevins

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Phoenix Voices Publishing, 7901 4th St. N, St. Petersburg, FL, 33702, 727-222-0090.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Paula Nevins asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Paula Nevins has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

Note to Readers

Trigger Warnings: This book contains themes that may be disturbing to some. Such themes include Murder, Violence, Abuse (of various kinds), and obscene language.

Introduction

Kasey

I’ve been a cop for what seems like forever…

Forty years old, single, with nothing to keep me warm at night except my badge and gun… I would get a pet. But hell, I hardly remember to feed myself.

I try to think back to what I was before, but it all seems to be so far back I can’t remember. It’s kind of sad not to remember who you used to be… hell, I don’t even know who I am now. I have always excelled at my job. I worked as a beat cop for about five years. Everybody must do their time. I later worked in Vice. That was a hoot! I got to dress like a hooker and hang out with drug addicts. Who wouldn’t have fun doing that?

Now, here I am, a homicide detective after only fifteen years on the force. For a woman, that’s not a very long wait. I went through all the hazing and gags from my fellow dicks. It was rough, but I survived, and now I am just one of the guys.

I am a petite person, barely five foot four, black hair, green eyes. I’m guessing, easy on the eyes because I get hit on a lot.

Oh yeah, my name is Kasey King.

Redeemer

There will always be that one asshole…

You know the one I’m talking about. The one that will do whatever it takes to fuck up your entire day. That’s me. I am that asshole.

People always assume that I do what I do because I was abused, molested, neglected, or just had an awful childhood. Quite the opposite, actually. No one ever touched me in a bad way or in a ”bad place.” I don’t think. I had the most wonderful mother. My parents taught me about love and values. Most people will only fantasize about having such a life.

I do what I do because people have forgotten what love is and no longer have values. They have forgotten to embrace the gifts God offers and not to destroy or give them away…. It’s really not that difficult.

Chapter One

Kasey

So, it’s a decent-sized town, Carriage Falls, New Jersey. We don’t have a very high homicide rate, primarily domestic cases or home invasions by stupid teenagers looking for a thrill. Most cases are closed pretty quickly. The population is only about three thousand. The population may seem large, but it's relatively small compared to most other cities.

Some days, we sit around the pen and drink coffee and eat donuts. Go ahead, laugh; we are cliche. They dole the homicide department out to whatever unit needs help until it’s our time to rock and roll.

It’s horrible, but some days I sit and hope for some shit to go down just to have something to do. Well, at least it’s almost spring; something should give soon. Spring and summer months have the highest crime rates. I guess punk asses are afraid to get wet or freeze, so they wait till the warmer weather hits to do shit.

I was on loan to Robbery, helping with a home invasion, when the call came in. Camp Stoneridge was working hard, getting ready for the tourist season (not that we get many tourists, we are more of a layover to better, more exciting places), when one landscaper was cleaning up behind cabin three, and low-and-behold, finds a body. Let me tell you, I dropped that home invasion like it was a hooker’s dirty thong.

I called my partner, Woody. Woody is about five feet ten inches tall, has blond hair, hazel eyes, and is nice to look at. His name is Oscar Bennings. He did well at earning his nickname by fucking everything within reach and then some. Try as he may; he will never get me in the sack. The reason being I don’t know where his dick has been. It would be far easier to figure out where it hasn’t been.

Camp Stoneridge is on the outskirts of town, about thirty minutes from my current crime scene. I told Woody I would meet him there. It made no sense for me to go back to the pen when I was closer to the camp. One good thing about a small town is that fewer people means less traffic. I made it to the crime scene in fourteen minutes. Woody arrived twenty minutes later. Everyone was in shock. There hadn’t been a murder in Carriage Falls in almost thirty years.

The last homicide, thirty years ago, the doer was a drifter. He was just passing through town and robbed the local convenience store, raping and killing the clerk. Her name was Ronette Olson. The poor girl was only seventeen years old. He left town right after committing the crime. The case went cold for over two years. Then, believe it or not, the moron came back and was apprehended in the commission of the same crime at the same store!

Talk about an asshole…

Luckily, it rarely rains in Carriage Falls. Whatever evidence the perp left behind should be viable for testing. As soon as I step foot onto the crime scene, it begins to rain. The wind picked up, and we quickly gathered what we could before the rain came down in sheets. Woody covered the body with a tarp he had in the trunk of his new BMW. At least the medical examiner was able to salvage some of the evidence on the body. We recovered a wallet and a baby rattle some poor kid lost. There wasn’t much else. It was definitely a body dump. There was no blood, no sign of struggle.

Just as Jason Moore approached the scene, Woody hollered for me.

“Hey, I found something,” he yelled.

I walked over and saw Woody standing over a pile of vomit.

“Maybe the killer felt remorse for killing and dumping our vic,” he said.

I replied, “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

We hollered at the crime scene tech to come gather a sample of the vomit.

The body was in such a horrific state, with extensive injuries from a brutal beating, deep cuts, and widespread bruising, that a determination of the victim's gender was nearly impossible. At a quick glance, it didn’t even look human. Only when Moore got close enough to examine the body did he confirm it was a female. There were so many bruises and cuts, the cause of death would be difficult to determine, even for an expert like Moore.

Jason Moore, medical examiner extraordinaire, was on loan to us from the city of Paterson. Again, small town, no ME. Moore was the best there was. They often used him in surrounding states to help close tough cases. His specialty was finding evidence on bodies that most medical examiners missed. He would often be called in to do a second autopsy to determine the cause of death and collect evidence others didn’t catch or deem important.

A bit later, a cop (who was a peculiar shade of green) walked over and apologized for puking at the crime scene. He had never seen anything like this before. He scrambled to get away from the scene before he blew but did not make it. It’s amazing no one else lost the last few meals they had ingested. So, of course, it’s not the perps. Why the hell would it be? That would make it too easy, wouldn’t it?

Moore stated that the body was female. The victim appears to be roughly 20-25 years old, and based on liver temperature and lividity, the body was likely left here within the past four hours. Our perp must be very familiar with the campsite, having not been seen by the dozens of workers. We continued to look for anything that would lead to the original crime scene. We would have to wait for the DNA results and fingerprints to identify this poor child.

I was desperate to find more evidence and gather as much information as I could. It’s an awful feeling to go to a family without some kind of information on how their loved one’s journey came to an end.

“Let’s get this done,” Woody said with a grin. “I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

Chapter Two

Redeemer

There’s a little coffee shop across the way from the clinic. I guess I should tell you a bit about the clinic and why I hang around the café. Tom’s River Family Planning Clinic helps young people who find themselves in a certain way. The reason I come around the café is because all these young girls will stop in here for coffee. They usually sit with a friend and discuss their current situation and what they intend to do about it.

It kills me that they can sit in a crowded, public place and talk about how they have decided to kill their babies. That’s why I’m here, to find these wrongdoers and redeem these babies!

Some women assume when they get pregnant, it’s because they weren’t careful. Or because they missed a pill or there was a hole in the condom. This is not so! They get pregnant because it is the will of the Lord, and the child they are to bear might be someone great. They could be the reason for world peace or the cure for a fatal disease. It is not our decision whether or not that child lives or dies.

Regarding surrogacy, if a woman is infertile, there is a reason for her inability to conceive. If the good Lord wanted her to procreate, she wouldn’t need someone else to do it for her. However, there are rare cases in which the woman should be able to and can’t.

This Carla person, she was a surrogate for a couple of real assholes. These people didn’t want a child. They desired a trophy for showing off. They wanted to be with the ‘in crowd,’ and right now, that meant having a child. They tried adoption but couldn’t pass the psychiatric evaluation. So, they posted on a college board offering to pay good money for someone to use their body to produce a child for them.

This Carla person, who seemed to be a good egg, offered to bear their child for free. Out of the goodness of her heart. Heaven knows with her parents, she didn’t need the money. I can’t believe they agreed to this crap. They didn’t even check out the couple. They surely would have disagreed and talked Carla out of doing it had they met the Tates. Awful people, those Tates.

Chapter Three

Kasey

Finding these young ones brings back all sorts of memories. None good. Living on the streets after running away from foster home after foster home. I talk little about my past, mainly because I remember very little of it. I do, however, remember that broken grandfather clock. It ticked but never tocked. I hated that sound. I guess Mom thought Dad would fix that ugly old thing one day, but he never did.

My doctors believe I subconsciously repressed the trauma... It’s an involuntary safety mechanism in the human brain, and it is perfectly normal. They also said I shouldn’t be shocked, especially in my line of work, if some of these awful memories come flooding back.

My first dealing with loss was the death of my mother. It is normal to lose a parent. However, not the way I lost my mother. It was at the hands of my drunken, degenerate father. I was eight years old when I witnessed my ‘father’ kill my mother.

We were always running every time that bastard got drunk. She would always stand between the old man and me. She never let him put a hand on me, even a loving one. My mother had lost all trust in him. The last time we ran, he found us, dragged us home, and beat the life out of my mother. Then we both just sat and stared. Me, waiting for her to get up, but I was too afraid of him to go to her. He sat looking confused, as if he didn’t know what had happened.

The next thing I remembered was the police coming and taking him to jail and me to the hospital. I didn’t know where they took Mama.

My father lived in a bottle of bourbon. I never saw him without a drink. The piece of shit is serving a life sentence upstate. He sobered up and, with the help of the trial, came to know what he did to his wife, my mother. Now, he must live out his life knowing he took the life of the best person to have ever lived.

The funeral was surreal. I’m still unsure if it was actually my mother in that casket. The person in the coffin looked vaguely like Mama. The old man had brutalized her; the amount of makeup it took to put her face back together was unbelievable. I remember people commenting on ‘how natural she looked’ and ‘what a good job they did getting her ready for the viewing.’ The body in the casket looked nothing like my beautiful mama. I could not understand why these comments were made. I guess they didn’t know what else to say.

I guess the main reason I became a cop was to keep pieces of shit like the old man off the streets. Hopefully, to get there in time to save some poor woman from this type of torture. Mostly to see that these assholes get what they deserve. My choice would be to end them, but my job was to see them prosecuted.

I also remember finding a kitten when I left the last foster home. I think I called him Chance. Like either of us had a chance living on the streets, he would follow me to school and back every day. I would save some of my free school lunch to share with him. Every night I would hear that damn clock tick, tick, tick before falling asleep in the little alcove Chance and I were calling home. I woke up one morning, and Chance was dead. Someone had beaten him... I never heard a thing.

I went to see the old man once, about ten years ago. I just needed to know that his life was as miserable and lonely as mine had been. It is his fault I don’t let anyone get close to me.

It pleased me to see him in that tiny cell; the lack of privacy, the awful food, being forced to shit in front of whoever was there, and even the hour of sunlight he received daily (far more than he deserved) all brought me satisfaction. He didn’t look as scary to me as he did to a child of eight. He instead looked small, frail, and completely broken. Yeah, that was satisfying.

I also remember running from several foster homes until they finally stopped chasing me down at age sixteen. I continued to go to school because education was so important to Mama. I was a top student throughout my academic career, earning scholarships and achieving academic excellence in college. I joined the academy straight out of college. Again, graduated in the top five out of five hundred candidates. My mother's delight and pride would have been immeasurable.

I didn’t have any real friends growing up. I preferred to be alone. No close friends meant no feelings. No feelings meant no loss. No loss meant no pain. So, I kept everyone at arm’s length. However, try as you may, someone will chip away at the wall brick by brick. Before you know it, you are having unwanted feelings, and there is not a damn thing you can do about it.

Chapter Four

Redeemer

Damn it! I didn’t think that the campsite would open so soon! I didn’t think they would find Carla’s body so quickly. Damn landscapers! Who the hell hangs out behind the cabins? No one, that’s who! Oh well, they would have been looking for her soon, anyway. Not like she was an orphan, like me. No one would bother to look for me. No one would even realize I was missing…

Because my mother died and I was raised in foster care, the state gives me a monthly allowance. It’s not much, but I get by. I pay minimal rent and get food stamps. Although, soon, I will have to get a paying job because of the cost of living going up and my check not so much. I’m gonna have to look for work soon…

I can’t believe how busy this clinic is! It needs a revolving door! At least some of these women are here for prenatal care, but there are still too many here for the other reason.

Chapter Five

Kasey

Imade my way to the coroner’s office to see if Moore had any news. Thankfully, there was something. I called Woody to meet me there. Since the ME was in the basement of our building, it didn’t take long for him to get here.

“Well, what do we got?” asked Woody.

Moore replied, “Her prints came back, so we can put a name to what’s left of her face.”

"Spill it," I demanded, "or are we playing twenty questions?" “Her name is Carla Davis. She is twenty-seven years old and has recently had an abortion.” Moore said.

I thought Woody was going to pass out cold. His face was ghost white.

“Carla Davis? Are you sure?” he asked weakly.

“As sure as we are standing here,” Moore answered.

I could not fathom how Woody knew her and why he was so shaken by her death. I mean, she was a local, and Lord knows he has been with his share of the female population in Carriage Falls.

Was Carla his hot date for tonight? Had he been sleeping with her? Did he know she was pregnant? Was he the father? Did he know she had an abortion? If so, how did he feel about it? I had so many questions. How could I ask my partner, my best friend, any of them?

I asked, “Woody, how long have you known Carla? When did you see her last? Moore, can you tell how far along the pregnancy had been or how long ago she aborted?”

Woody took a minute to pull himself together and then sputtered, “We’ve been seeing each other for about four months. We had not discussed being exclusive, but I didn’t think she was seeing anyone else.”

He hadn’t known about the pregnancy. He thought they had been careful in that department. He wanted to know if he was the father and why she hadn’t told him about the baby. Woody then said, “I would have supported her decision and been with her through whichever option she had chosen.” He suddenly looked ten years older and completely devastated.

Moore said, “If the abortion was within the last month, there may still be viable tissue for testing. I will do my best for you, my friend. I will, however, need a swab from you for comparison.”

“Not a problem, is now good?” Woody asked.

“No, unnecessary until I know if there is any tissue left. I will call you when I’m ready,” said Moore.

Then Woody remembered, “Carla had gone on a family vacation a week and a half ago. She had gone up to Toms River. At least that’s where she said she was going. Maybe she went to have the abortion. But why wouldn’t she have told me she was pregnant? Maybe if she had, she would be alive. I need to get some air.”

I couldn’t help thinking this was not his child. That would be a good reason not to tell him. From the look on Moore’s face, he was thinking the same thing. I felt terrible for my partner. I didn’t know if I should follow him, then decided he needed to be alone to deal with what he just learned. If I followed him, what the hell would I say that wouldn’t make things worse? All I knew for sure was that I was going to catch whoever did this and rip them apart.

I finally finished with the ME and found my partner back at the pen. I was surprised to see him there. Charlene brought us both a cup of coffee. Woody looked broken. I told him it would take at least a week to get DNA on the baby if there was any to get. He just stared into space. I don’t think he even registered that I was there, never mind hearing what I was saying. Then he stood and said, “I’m going home. I need to think.” I agreed and told him to call if he needed me.

After he had gone, I went into Chief Jacksits office to fill him in on the events of the day. Chief Warren Jacksits looks like a jolly old fellow. However, don’t let looks fool you, he can be a Rottweiler. Once he gets his teeth into something, there is absolutely no letting go. At least not until he has a satisfactory answer or outcome.

Having served for a period of around thirty-five years, the chief has a long and distinguished history with the department. He started out as a beat cop, like we all do. Well, except Woody… He really is a good guy. He yells, or should I say bellows, a lot, but that’s only because he cares and wants results. Warren is not like other chiefs who basically sit around barking orders. He gets into every case hands-on. I think he deeply misses the excitement of being out there in the field, making things happen. At his advanced age and being slightly overweight, it is no longer an option.

Chapter Six

Redeemer

Wow! I had no idea that Carla chick was that cop’s girl! Damn, they are gonna work hard to find me. They will probably just kill me rather than arrest me. He probably thinks it was his kid! I’m sure they will find out the truth. Then he will realize she lied to him and won’t be so mad at me.

But I can’t let this stop me. I have work to do. I can’t allow this to go on. There are too many innocent lives at stake. Once the cops see why I do what I do, they will commend me on a job well done.

I have been in this coffee hut all damn day. I guess it’s time to call it quits for now. My stomach is starting to rumble. They have excellent coffee here but crap food. I may hit up the burger joint on the way out of Toms River. I’ve heard they have great food!

Just as I got up to leave, Annalyn Holmes, another privileged brat who wound up impregnated. She was with her boyfriend, and they were both crying. He was talking so low I almost couldn’t hear him. I moved to a closer table and sat down and ordered another cup of coffee.

“I know it’s hard, but we are so young. We are supposed to finish school before we get married and start a family,” he said.

Annalyn, still crying, replied, “I just don’t know what to do. My parents are gonna be so mad. Maybe the abortion is the right thing to do.”

The boyfriend just looked at her for a minute, a long minute, and finally replied, ‘I think so too, but let’s sleep on it and talk in the morning.”

The couple got up to leave. They didn’t look more than sixteen or seventeen. However, they were here without parents, so they had to be at least eighteen. I watched them leave and headed out the door behind them. Never did get that last cup of coffee.

They walked arm in arm towards the Motor Lodge. Guess I’ll be staying there tonight, too. I needed to know what decision they’d come to by morning. I lucked out and got the room below theirs.

I could hear muffled voices; I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They sure were pacing back and forth a lot. None of us got much sleep. I needed to be awake to see if they went back to the clinic or home in the morning.

Sadly, they returned to the clinic at seven a.m. I was so hoping they would go home. They left the clinic a few hours later and then headed back to Carriage Falls. They were so wrapped up in the happenings of the day I could have been in the back seat, and they wouldn’t have noticed. I needn't worry about following them... I needed to see where Annalyn lived. Work was expecting me, and there was much to be done to prepare for what would come next.

Chapter Seven

Kasey

Partnering with Woody had been, for lack of better terminology, a real chore at the beginning. Unlike me, he had been raised in a loving family with a lot of money. He behaved like an entitled brat. Always had to have a new car, new woman, or a new toy. He was, however, a damn good cop. He was on the job because he wanted to be. He by no means needed to work. His family was filthy rich and left everything to him.

In the beginning of our work relationship, he would constantly say we should hook up. He said, “We should at least fuck once to relieve the tension and get it out of our systems.” I laughed and told him my system was broken and that I didn’t eat off of community plates. That didn’t stop him; he just laughed and said, ”No worries, it’ll happen one day, I can wait.” Then he had the audacity to ask if I was a lesbian! Apparently, I’m the first to say no…

For the record, I like men. Hell, I might even like women, don’t really know cause I have never been with one. I have not been with many men and never the same one twice. I have not only a fear of attachment, I am also kind of rough. I have never hurt a man emotionally; however, I am very physical in bed and have caused a few minor injuries. So, like a bad actor, I never get a call-back.

In a small town, if you have money, you get what you want. At 27, Woody's already got his gold shield. It's not that he's undeserving, but shouldn't he have earned it like the rest of us? He did the whole college thing, joined the academy, but bypassed everything else. He took the detective exam right out of the academy. Never walked a beat, never worked in Vice, nope, straight to the pen. However, being me, I don’t hold it against him. I love having him as a partner, and as long as we have each other’s backs, I am good as gold.

Woody is as good as they come. He puts all that he is into every case he works. Whether it be a kid stealing a candy bar, a home invasion, or murder, he does not stop until he solves the crime and the punishment is delivered. It kinda scares me with this case…

I know he shouldn’t work this case, but there is no one else but me. And I need my partner. As the chief says, it’s my job to keep him straight and out of trouble. I don’t believe this is going to be a simple task.

On the norm, the punishment would fit the crime. If a kid steals a candy bar, they not only apologize and pay for the candy, but they will pay penance and work for free after school for a determined amount of time. The harder the crime, the harder the punishment.

Of course, with his baby-boy looks and personality, women crawled all over my partner. He had his pick of any woman in town, even the married ones, if he so chose.

Though Woody would not cross that line. He could have a different woman every night. So, if he had been with Carla for nearly four months, it was serious. He never dated; just one or two dates and off to the next.

I needed answers, but he needed a little time…

Seeing that I wasn’t getting anywhere and the fact that I was starving (I had forgotten to eat once again), I packed up my files and the ME report and told the chief I was headed out. I stopped at the only pizza parlor in town and got a large cheese pizza, a calzone, and a salad. Then stopped off for a six-pack and headed home. I had a hellacious appetite and thankfully, a very high metabolism. Tomorrow would be soon enough to see Carla’s parents. I wanted to give them at least one more peaceful night’s sleep before I gave them news that would bring their world crashing down. I, myself, hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the death of my mother. I would shower, eat, and go over everything again. As well as think about how I would approach the Davis’s tomorrow.

I'm typically not a very emotional person. But tonight, I stayed in the shower longer than usual. Tonight, I not only mourned the loss of my mother, I mourned Woody’s loss of what could have been and Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s loss of their young daughter.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and dressed in my shabby nightshirt. I heated the food and dove into it and the files. Sleeping was out of the question tonight. I needed to find whoever did this. I rarely sleep over four hours a night. The dreams… the ticking…

I pulled the report on the wallet found at the crime scene. There were no prints on the outside. They found one thumbprint on the inside of the billfold. It belonged to George Stenton, a sixty-five-year-old mugging victim. Someone mugged him fourteen months earlier, about three miles from the campgrounds. The mugger must have tossed the wallet.

Carla suffered more than 200 stab wounds across her torso and abdomen. She suffered internal bleeding from a blow to the lower abdomen. The official cause of death was exsanguination. All the stab wounds were shallow and superficial and were used to inflict pain. This poor child was alive and felt everything. She suffered terribly for twenty to thirty minutes before succumbing to her injuries. What could this poor girl have done to deserve such torture? This perp was cold and cruel.

Moore sent the physical evidence to a lab in Jersey City. They were not as busy as Paterson, and the results would be back sooner. There were two different hair samples, and some grass and dirt that might lead to the kill site. According to Moore, there was no evidence of sexual assault. Thank God the poor girl didn’t have to endure that as well.

Chapter Eight

Redeemer

Iwatched Annalyn for a few days to learn her routine. It’s amazing how people adapt to a schedule. She stuck to her routine the whole three days I watched. Annalyn woke and turned on the light at six-fifteen, gathered her clothing, and took a shower. Once dressed, she was off to the kitchen, I assumed.

At six-forty-five, her boyfriend picked her up and drove her to the community college where they both studied. It didn’t take them long to resume everyday living after what they had done. Both of them disgusted me, but her body, her choice. She was going to do what she wanted, no matter how he felt.

At two-twenty, the couple walked back to the car. Annalyn was crying. Good. I hope she felt like shit for doing what she did. She deserved to hurt like hell and take a permanent trip there. And soon, she would. I would see to it, personally.

I will visit her very soon. Right now, I needed to know what else those pesky cops found out. I had to know if it was safe to continue my work. Or should I say my calling? This is what I was put on Earth to do. To help the good Lord rectify wrongs.

I know the cops figured out how she died, but not where. I wish them luck finding the kill site. Who would think to check a funeral home? It is the perfect place to rid the body of blood and leave no trace. I have to say, this was one of my better plans. Especially since the old man hardly ever goes there anymore. Ever since Simson opened his fancy parlor, everyone has used that one.

I’m sure I didn’t leave anything that will lead them to me. I am, if nothing else, extremely careful and meticulous when it comes to my work. I don’t leave prints or DNA. I have to be this way to accomplish the goals set for me. I cannot disappoint my boss.

Chapter Nine

Kasey

Well, morning reared its ugly head. It was time to get dressed and head over to the Davis home. This was going to be rough. Woody wasn’t coming in today, so I was flying solo. It was actually a good thing. Woody was not ready to see the Davis’. This was not a notification he could get through. It was going to be hard to tell these people that fingerprints were the only means of identifying their child because this monster rendered her unrecognizable.

The Davis home was like a fairytale. It probably cost more than I made since joining the force. There was a lot of hustling and bustling in the yard—landscapers and what looked like a party planner running back and forth, measuring this and that. Getting closer, I could see the pool people getting the pool ready for use. I wonder what celebration I was about to destroy. I saw two small boys running amongst the workers. Please don’t let it be a birthday.

This was gonna be harder than I first thought. I knocked on the door. Mrs. Davis opened it and greeted me with the sweetest smile. Mrs. Davis was a petite blonde with blue eyes and the face of an angel. I wondered if Carla favored her.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

I introduced myself, and she invited me to come inside. The house was amazing. The foyer was marble and granite, and the sitting room was the most beautiful room I’d ever seen. This home was all her.

“Is your husband home? I need to speak with both of you,” I asked.

“Yes, he is.” Then she said to her son, “Connor, go and get your father, please.”

“Would you like some coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot,” she said nervously.

She apparently wasn’t used to law enforcement paying a visit.

Mr. Davis entered the room, introduced himself, and shook my hand. I told him who I was, and we sat down. Mr. Davis told the boys to go play outside. They obeyed without question. This is a good family. Why do these things always happen to good people?

Mr. Davis was a tall man, at least six foot three. He had dark blond hair and was very distinguished. A handsome man. It was breaking me to have to give these people this kind of news. Ruining someone’s afternoon was one thing; destroying their lives was another. I wish Woody were here to help me, although, in my heart, I knew this was the last place he needed to be.

Positioned in the far corner of the room, there was a large grandfather clock. It was very distracting. The harder I tried to ignore it, the worse it was. I could hear the ticking; it was getting louder.

Mr. Davis asked. “What is this about?”

I told them it had to do with Carla.

Mrs. Davis asked, “What about my daughter? Is she in trouble? Is she hurt? She is due home from Toms River this evening. There hasn’t been an accident, has there?

“Carla is such a good girl; I can’t imagine her having trouble with the police. She goes to school and works for a charity in her spare time. So, what could it be?”

“She is in Toms River with her friend Angie. They went to visit Angie’s parents before school started up again,” Mr. Davis added.

They both had such looks of desperation. I just wanted to say I had made a mistake and get the hell out of there. But that was not an option.

I had to break the awful news: they found Carla's body yesterday at Camp Stoneridge.

“She was severely beaten,” I said.

I barely got the words out when Mrs. Davis, with the face of an angel, got up, walked over to me slowly, and punched me square in the face. I was so shocked I nearly fell out of the chair. Mr. Davis rushed over to his wife, grabbed her, and held her close. He didn’t really grasp what I said. She began yelling at me, saying I should be ashamed of myself for telling such lies to complete strangers.

“Is this how you get your kicks, you sick son of a bitch!” she screamed at me.

Then, within seconds, she collapsed to the floor. She screamed for her daughter. The two boys came running. You could tell she scared the hell out of them. I’d bet they never heard her raise her voice. I wanted to bolt out the door, but I couldn’t. I had to see this through.

I told her husband to call their doctor; I was afraid Mrs. Davis would suffer a stroke or a heart attack. Thankfully, they lived in an upscale neighborhood, and a doctor lived down the block. Mr. Davis, still in shock himself, told the doctor what happened, and he agreed she needed sedation to get her blood pressure down.

While she slept, I went over the details we had with Mr. Davis. He told me that Carla had a new beau. His name was Oscar Benning, and he was also a police officer. I explained we were partners. I also explained that he was in no shape to come with me today. He understood and asked Oscar to come see them when he could. I told him I would let him know and asked if there was anything else I could do for them. He thanked me, and I gave him my card.

“Please find the monster that took my baby girl,” he asked sadly.

“I will,” I told him. “Whatever it takes.”

But all I could focus on at this point was that damn clock.

Chapter Ten

Redeemer

Iwatched that cop come out of the Davis House. She was holding her jaw. That’s the funniest shit ever. One of the Davis’ popped her! I think I could like these people. This is just too funny!

I followed the detective for a bit. I have to be careful; they are trained to know when they are being tailed. Listen to me; I sound like a ‘70s cop show.

I know they haven’t figured too much out. This cop looks lost. I am way too smart for them. I plan for success, and they will never catch me. I am too good.

Now that I’m sure they have nothing substantial, I can move on to more important things. I have a job that needs to be done, times a wastin’.

I decided this Monday would be the day. I know their routine like the back of my hand. I know when she is not with the boyfriend, so I know when I can grab her without being seen. The boyfriend (I should really find out his name) has a ten-forty a.m. class, and Annalyn is free at that time. She has been hanging around under a tree by the side of the A building. There’s never anyone else around.

So, I got everything ready. I was ready. Things should go smoothly. I got to the school at nine-forty-five, just to be sure I wouldn’t miss her or run into anyone on the way. I couldn’t afford to be seen, don’t want my description out there. I would simply walk up and ask her where the library building was. I would tell her I was a new faculty member and still a little confused about where everything was located. My hope was that she would offer to walk with me.

Of course, I already knew that from where she sat, it was a short walk away, and there was never anyone else using the pathway. This would be so easy. She was too nice a girl to not help a professor find their way around.

Like clockwork, here she came. She spread out her sweater and sat down. I gave her a few minutes to get comfortable and then I walked over. I introduced myself as a new faculty member and asked how to get to the library. In her sweet, innocent voice, she began to explain; I tried to look perplexed so that she would offer to walk me there. It took a few minutes, and she finally said, “Here, let me show you.” She stood up, brushed herself off, picked up her sweater, shook it out, and said, “Come on, it’s not far.” We walked for a minute. I pretended to trip and almost fall. She caught my arm to steady me, and I reached out and injected her. She went down like a stone.

I parked my SUV behind the library. It took only minutes to get her into the back, and off we went. Within half an hour, we were at Baldwin's Funeral Home. Relief washed over me as the unlocked basement door creaked open, allowing me to take her inside.

Once she was on the slab, I went to work. Everything had to be perfect. I had that pattern down pat. I knew where every incision went. It had to be identical to Carla’s wounds. This pattern was significant. Eventually, that cop would figure it out; she would see the relevance. It wasn’t a problem; the pattern was ingrained in my mind.

There would be a total of two hundred and three cuts. And a severe blow to the gut. Every cut would be meticulously placed. It had to be perfect, or it meant nothing. This time, I can’t let my temper get in the way. I can’t mess up her face like I did with Carla. She needs to be recognizable. People need to know who she is at a glance. They need to know who she is and what she did. Otherwise, it’s all for nothing. It’s just that sometimes, they push me to the edge, and I can quickly lose control. I need to get a grip on that.

Chapter Eleven

Kasey

This investigation was taking its toll on our small department. Woody was still walking around like a zombie. I still can’t believe that he was getting serious with this girl and never mentioned it to me. We talked about everything, or at least I thought we did. Why was he keeping this secret from me, his closest friend?

After three weeks of impetuous waiting, the DNA results on the results finally came back. The child was not Woody’s. I watched my partner’s face twist with agony once more. This poor guy. He was shattered; his silence hung heavy in the air, and the quiet desperation in his eyes told me there was nothing I could do. Carly had been with another man; he could not understand why. Was she not happy with him? Did she get attacked? If so, why wouldn’t she come to him for help? She seemed happy with him. She told him she loved him. So how could she have done this? Why did she? He needed to know who she was with. He may be the perp. Woody had to know.

Luckily, I still have friends in high places. I had an FBI buddy run the DNA through the Federal DNA database. As luck would have it, in a few hours, we had a match. The man we were looking for was a forty-year-old business owner named Josh Tate. I located him at his office around eleven o'clock a.m. I talked with him in his office. To prevent an unexpected meeting with Woody at the pen, I took precautions. I needed to know about the relationship before I included my partner.

“Mr. Tate, my name is King. I’m a homicide detective with CFPD. I need to talk to you about your relationship with Carla Davis,” I said.

“Carla, wait, you’re a homicide detective? Has something happened to Carla, the baby? What’s going on?” he asked anxiously.

“Mr. Tate, please answer the question. How do you know Carla Davis?” I asked again, becoming impatient.

“She was our surrogate. My wife and I have been trying to conceive a child for years, unsuccessfully. We placed an ad at the local college. They have a board for these things. Carla answered the ad. We took to her immediately. She was beautiful, smart, and talented. She was perfect. That was a year ago. Then finally, a few months ago, we were thrilled to find the embryo took, and we were finally going to fulfill our dream. Please, has something happened? I need to call my wife.”

Wow, not at all how I expected this to play out! I figured a one-night stand or an affair she was now ending to be with Woody, but this? This really threw me for a loop!

“I am sorry to have to inform you, but Carla’s body was found three weeks ago at the campgrounds,” I responded.

“What do you mean? Her body? What happened? How did it happen?” He seemed baffled. It was like he didn’t understand what I was telling him.

I told him, “Carla was beaten to death, Mr. Tate. When did you see her last? What did you speak about?”

He answered distantly, “About a month ago, she came by to tell me and Doris that she had met someone. That it was getting serious, and she wasn’t sure she could go through with the pregnancy. She was worried that it would ruin the relationship, and she didn’t know what to do. We begged her to bring him to the house and we could all explain the situation. We begged her to talk with him…. Wait, do you think maybe he was not happy with it? Have you spoken to him? Do you think maybe he…?”

“I highly doubt he knew. He was very surprised to find out she had an abortion,” I said.

“She what? How could she do that? We had a contract!” he screamed.

“Well, none of that matters much now, does it?” I asked. “I do, however, need to know where you and the wife were on the 11th of April, around six in the morning.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I will have my secretary copy the entire month for you. My wife will surely do the same,” he responded. “Can I go now? I need to speak with my wife. This is going to be very difficult news. It will devastate her.”

“Of course, just stay available in case I have more questions. I appreciate your time.” I knew the conversation would be rough since I had to have the same one with my partner.

But before I could speak with Woody, I needed to see Carla’s parents again. I needed to see what they knew about this surrogacy crap.

Mr. and Mrs. Davis, though inconsolable, agreed to speak with me. They had not thought Carla becoming a surrogate was a good idea at first. They feared it would break her to carry a child for all that time and then give it to someone else to raise. Even though the egg and sperm were the Tates’, a bond would form between Carla and the child.

But the more Carla spoke, the more agreeable they became. She convinced them she could do this, that helping the Tates fulfill their dream would enrich her life. And, one day, she would find someone with whom she wanted that dream. They also told me Carla did this without compensation. This was solely from her heart.

In a later conversation, Carla told her parents she feared this pregnancy would destroy her relationship with her newfound love. She did not want the pregnancy to come between her and Woody, and she was unsure of what to do. She went to Toms River to clear her head. During this time, she obviously decided to end the pregnancy.

Did the Tates find out about the decision to abort the baby? Did they kill her as payback? I would need to get them in the box separately and see what I could find out.

Now to fill the chief in and find my heartbroken partner.

Chapter Twelve

Redeemer

Those Tates’ are such assholes! They are pissed that she aborted ‘their baby.’ This is their concern? For God’s sake, the girl is freaking dead! Murdered! All they can think is their trophy is gone! I should have killed them…

I mean, Carla was selfish to abort the baby because she wanted a relationship with that cop. But these fuck heads! They are unbelievable! Pissed off at a dead girl because she ‘broke their contract’.” I seriously don’t think the baby would have survived with the way she died, so how are you gonna be pissed at her? As much as I don’t condone taking a child’s life, I’m pretty sure I would have killed her anyway if she had chosen to have this baby for them; they don’t deserve a child. But none of that matters now, does it? It’s done, and there is no going back, so they need to move on.

My hope is that when these young, stupid girls realize that having an abortion is a death sentence, they will be more cautious about having premarital sex and not using protection. Although there are many, many ways to avoid getting pregnant these days. Abstinence is always the foolproof method.

I'm exhausted, mentally and physically. I need to get some sleep, and there is much more work for me. I need to get up early and head out to the café. Tomorrow is Saturday, a very busy day at the clinic. Lots of people to meet, or should I say see and eavesdrop on. Maybe there won’t be anyone tomorrow. It would be nice to see people happy to be with child. But sadly, I doubt it. I am sure there will be plenty of work to do.

Chapter Thirteen

Kasey

The chief was just as shocked as I was. Surrogacy never entered our minds. He suspected an affair or one-night stand, just as I had. Even rape was an option, but surrogacy? No, never would have guessed.

“At least we don’t have to tell Woody that she was sleeping with someone else,” the chief said. “Not that it will make it any better. I have never seen him look so messed up.”

“I know, it’s breaking my heart; I don’t know how to help him,” I uttered.

The chief replied, “All we can do is be here and support him. Not much else. Bring in the Tates; I’ll take him; she’s all yours.”

“On it, chief,” I said.

“Once we finish with them, we will speak with Woody. Maybe we will have some answers,” the chief said as I walked out of the office.

The Tates were reluctant to come in, so I offered to get a warrant to compel them. I also recommended that an attorney be present.

“I don’t understand why you dragged us in here. My husband already told you everything at the office,” Mrs. Tate grumbled. “Have you any idea how it makes us look? What the neighbors must think, or my husband’s staff?”

“Is that seriously your main concern? Carla is dead; she was murdered. Do you even know what the monster did to her? She needed to be identified through fingerprinting. There was not enough left of her face to ID,” I retorted. “And your only worry is what people will think of you?”

“We have an image to maintain; someone like you wouldn’t understand,” she replied snottily.

“This is not making you look good, Mrs. Tate. I’m starting to think you have something to hide,” I countered.

“That’s ridiculous,” she spat.

I replied, “You should really keep that temper in check.” I was starting to think she could be capable of killing to get what she wanted. “So, tell me, what is your version of the last time you and your husband spoke to Carla?”

Mrs. Tate’s face softened.

She started, “She was such a sweet, generous girl. She was going to have our baby for free! Can you believe that? She was a dream come true. Then she met a man! Now, she no longer wants to have my baby! She was going to kill my child! Who does that?”

“What kind of a person murders a young girl? What kind of a person tortures and beats a child until the only way to identify them is through fingerprints and DNA? What kind of a person deserves to have children when they can do this to a young girl? Well, Mrs. Tate?” I demanded.

“What are you saying? I didn’t kill her! She was having my baby! What would I gain from her death?” she rebutted.

I told her, “No, Mrs. Tate, Carla was no longer pregnant when she was murdered. She had already terminated the pregnancy.”

“What kind of person kills a murderer is more likely the question, wouldn’t you say, detective?” Mrs. Tate asked sorrowfully.

I had to get away from this woman. I wanted to strangle her. Self-centered bitch! I left her in the box to stew. A couple of hours in solitary may change that shitty attitude a bit. I decided to see how the chief was making out with the Mr. He wasn’t doing much better. Mr. Tate wasn’t quite as belligerent as his dear wife, but these two would never be ‘Parent (or even human) of the year material.’

Mr. Tate was still insistent that the last conversation with Carla left them believing she would discuss the pregnancy with Woody before she decided.

“I have been anxiously waiting for her call. She should have called weeks ago. At least now I know why she hasn’t,” he uttered.

“So, you and your wife still haven’t given solid alibis for the 11th of April. Are you ready to tell us where you were?" asked the chief, his patience wearing thin. I could see his pressure rising. These two were unbelievable.

Tate said, “We were actually out of town that whole week. We were in Tom’s River on a business trip.”

My heart almost came up and out of my mouth! Tom’s River? Could these people really have done this? I mean, they are total assholes, but murderers? I had to get back to the Mrs. She needed to stew just a bit more. She didn’t look quite done. So, I let her sit.

About an hour went by when I heard screaming and banging on the door. She was ready now. I went back into the box, and she practically attacked me.

“It’s about time, you bitch. I can’t believe you left me in this dirty, disgusting room all day!” Mrs. Tate bellowed.

“Calm down; it has only been an hour. I had to verify some information your husband gave the chief,” I responded.

“What information? What the hell is he saying in there? I need to speak with him,” she continued yelling.

Once the Mrs. got her shit together, I started asking questions. I asked her why she was in Toms River the week of the 11th. She told me it was a business trip. I got the hotel information and once again left her alone while I went to verify all of what she said.

Once I checked on the hotel accommodations for the Tates, I checked to see if Carla stayed there as well. She did. They stayed at the same hotel at the same time. How could they not have seen Carla at all? A whole week, and not once did they run into one another. Guess it’s possible, but unlikely.

Now, it was time to call the district attorney. We needed warrants to search the Tate’s property, cars, and businesses. Probably wouldn’t find anything, but it would definitely ruin their day.

As I thought, the search turned up nothing, these two were major pains in the ass, but they weren’t stupid. If they did kill Carla, they would clean up their mess. Reluctantly, we had to turn them loose. I would have loved to lock them up overnight, but I couldn’t find a legit reason.

Like I said, these two are the worst excuses for human beings I have ever met, but I still didn’t see them as killers. However, it is too coincidental that they were in Toms River at the same time as Carla. It was satisfying to rip through their possessions with the neighborhood watching. I still needed to go to the college and speak with Carla’s friends and classmates, but that would keep until the search was done and the Tates were off the hook or arrested.

The story breaks on the six o’clock news tonight. That always drags out the crazies and, once in a blue moon, an actual witness. Hoping for the latter. At least Jensen Reid, the news anchor, usually sticks to the facts. All news people embellish a bit to keep their numbers up. However, Reid is the most honest news person I’ve met to date.

Chapter Fourteen

Redeemer

Surrogacy! What a load of crap! If you were meant to bear children, God would not have left you barren! The news makes all these people look like victims. They are nothing but criminals! Yet, who are the cops looking for? Me! Un-fucken-believable. I correct this mistake they are about to make, and they want to punish me! What kind of a world are we living in?

I really need to get rid of that damn clock. The ticking is driving me insane!

And the way that reporter, Reid, spun the tale that this girl was a saint. He goes on and on about her working for charities, and how she was giving this baby to the Tates without compensation. Sure, her family has more money than Bill Gates, but she didn’t need the money. Her only compensation was seeing these two unworthy jackhammers happy. I should really kill the Tate woman, too. Oh, to see her on the news, making this whole thing all about her! And how all this bad media is making them look. I mean, what about her poor parents or the cop she was fucking? Don’t they matter at all?

It's funny watching those cops scramble around trying to figure out who killed that girl and why. There is absolutely no evidence of the weapon or the murder site. Well, I will tell you why these things are lacking. There are more shows, videos, websites, and blogs showing how to commit the perfect murder and so many ways to get rid of the evidence; it’s sickening. There are probably fucking YouTube ‘how-to-kill and get away with it’ tutorials. I’ll have to research and verify that. Would be funny, though. What a bunch of fucking morons!

The only reason the Tates want a child is to boost their social status. They are the only people in the cul-de-sac who do not have children. Can’t have the Joneses one up them. For Christ’s sake, they threatened to sue the dead girl’s parents for breach of contract when they found out about the abortion. Contract? What contract? She was doing it for free.

Shouldn’t they be mourning their loss rather than seeking monetary gain?

I know murder is a mortal sin, but so is playing God. I should probably burn in hell for what I have done and the things I will continue to do, but I won’t. My reasons are rock solid and valid. I will hold my rightful place at the foot of my savior.

People have no clue how much work there is in committing the perfect murder. It’s not like I wake up in the morning, go for a stroll, someone ignores my gracious hello, and I lose my shit and kill them. It has to be the right person for the right reason. There are rules:

You need to choose the right victim.

There must be a valid reason. You don’t just go willy-nilly and kill.

You need to determine the best method of execution.

You need the perfect weapon.

It must be the right time.

It must be the right place.

And, of course, the perfect place to display your work.

There is so much more to murder than simply taking a life… geez any amateur can do that.

It took a great deal of time and thought to recreate a thirty-year-old crime, especially since there are no clear photos and not a lot of information available. Everything needed to be exact, from the cuts and bruises to the blunt—what the hell did they call it? Blunt force something or another. Duplicating the weapon was difficult but doable. The cutting was the most time-consuming and messiest. The hardest part was disposing of the blood.

It took some thinking, but I came up with the perfect place. Who would look down the drains in a mortuary? No one, that’s who! It was a breeze getting in; it's usually empty, and a side door was unlocked. Who would break into a funeral parlor anyway? Apparently, I would.

But, seriously, look at that Davis chick; here she is, creating a baby just to give it away! Who does shit like that? Didn’t she stop to think God had intended these assholes to procreate? He would not have made them sterile. There are reasons both of them were incapable of reproducing. It is the Lord’s decision on who can and cannot have children, and his reasons are as valid as mine. I only intervene if God shows an error in judgment. He is a busy guy, and sometimes he overlooks these things.

It would take some time, but eventually, people will come to realize that I am doing what needs to be done—correcting the creator’s oversights. How could one blame him? He has so much on his plate and so much to do. Everyone needs a hand now and again.

Chapter Fifteen

Kasey

August is the hottest month of the year. Four months have passed since Carla's murder. Things have come to a standstill on her case. Not much else has been happening here. Woody is almost back to his old self. It’s good to see him able to smile and joke around a bit. I had missed my partner. Last night, he went on a date for the first time since the murder. I’m glad he isn’t continuing to wallow. I know he cared about Carla, but he has to live his life.

We interviewed all the workers at the camp, all of Carla’s classmates, and every professor who knew her. Then we interviewed all of Tate’s neighbors and employees, and still, we were nowhere. Something needs to break soon, or her case will go cold.

It’s hotter than bull’s balls in the pen; the air is out again. No one seems capable of fixing the damn system. The tech companies get worse and worse as the techs they hire get younger and younger. Other than the awful grinding from the air conditioner, it is dead quiet in here. I was so startled by the chief's booming call for Woody and me that I fell right out of my chair.

“We got a body,” he said as we walked into the office. “At the campground. A camper and her kids were hiking the trail and nearly tripped over her. You two hit the trail and see what’s what.”

“Probably an amateur hiker got lost and died of heat exhaustion,” Woody said.

“We’ll check it out and call you with what we find, chief,” I said.

“Yeah, do that.” he retorted.

Took about twenty minutes to get to the campgrounds. Seemed like a lot longer. At this rate, I know I won’t be camping here anytime soon. Gonna be hell with the locals and out-of-towners that are covering the grounds. After all, ’tis the season. Travelers stop here overnight to avoid the high prices of renting a hotel room. The camp does a decent business. I am thinking maybe a couple of campers got into it, and things went south.

In fact, neither option proved to be correct when we arrived. This was like a sequel or a remake of the Davis case. The color drained from my partner’s face. It was like déjà vu. I didn’t know if he could do this again. But he remained professional and searched the scene.

“Looks to be a female, beaten pretty badly. Anything else will have to wait for Moore to get here. Anyone call him?” Woody muttered.

“I just got off the phone with him. He is on his way. About ten minutes out,” I replied softly. “If you want to sit this one out, I totally understand.”

Woody said, “No way! I’m gonna get this son of a bitch if I never do anything else in my lifetime. But, what the hell, Kasey, no murders in three decades and now two in less than six months?”

“I don’t know, partner, I just don’t know,” I uttered.

We created a perimeter to keep the looky-loos out. Lord knows that enough of this crime scene has been trampled and contaminated already. We gathered whatever didn’t come naturally to the area around the body. There were cigarette butts, gum wrappers, chewed-up gum, candy wrappers, and a few condoms. I’m sure that most of, if not all, this junk is from campers and hikers. But maybe we will get lucky.

The ME showed up soon after we sectioned the area and forced the onlookers back from the scene. He walked around the scene, taking it all in, mumbling about this being too close to the Davis scene to be another killer. Then, he started to examine the body.

“Female, early twenties, beaten pretty badly. Not much else here, I’m sure. Let’s get her back to the hole and see what we can see,” Moore dictated. “Can’t do much more than a liver temp, too many people hanging around, let’s get her wrapped.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “See you there in a bit. I want to scout around here a little more.”

We found more ‘evidence’ that we could carry. However, like I said earlier, it’s probably mostly crap from campers. But we will check it all out anyway. What other ways could we squander precious non-existent state funds and time? It could be avoided if these nasty ass tourists would use the trash receptacles now and then. Well, hopefully, something will pop. Just as I was walking away, I saw something. I’ll be damned; it was a baby rattle. What were the odds?

This whole scene was doing a number on Woody. He looked horrible.

I doubted we would find anything useful. It looked like another body dump. There was no sign of struggle or blood spatter. Not even a drop of blood, which was odd. Where had her blood gone? With the beating she took and the number of cuts, there should be a little blood. We finished up and headed to the hole to see what Moore had come up with.

Moore looked ragged. This case was starting to wear him down… Second murder in four months, and no evidence. It made no sense. Again, young girl, such a waste of life. There was no rhyme or reason for this shit.

“Just waiting for the prints to come back. So far, the similarities in the two cases lead me to believe it’s the same perp,” Moore said as I walked in. “I don’t have much else to share at this time.”

“Okay, I will head back to the pen and go over the Davis case again and see what we have to compare,” I said. “Call me when you get the ID.”

I thanked him and left.

I was so into the case; I almost missed a call from Moore. I dug my phone out of my jacket pocket and called him back.

“The ID on our vic just came back,” he said. “Her name is Annalyn Holmes. She is a twenty-four-year-old college student. Bloodwork also came in from the lab in Jersey City. Our vic was pregnant.”

So, the pregnancies and the rattles were the only similarities between the girls. Why kill pregnant girls? Because they were unwed? Why?

Again, I thanked him and hung up. I needed to find out what I could about Annalyn Holmes. Where she went to school, who her friends were, who the father of her baby was, and what kind of home life she had. It took a few minutes to get her home address, phone number, and parents’ names.

I hated this part of the job. Notifications never went well. Last time, I took a left to the face. I would gladly let Woody take the lead on this one. Now that I had Annalyn’s information, I checked for any connection between her and Carla Davis. They went to different schools and had different friends. Carla lived in an upper-class neighborhood, and Annalyn in a middle-class neighborhood. The only commonality I could find was that they were both pregnant. I needed to find out if Annalyn was also a surrogate. That would at least give us a start.

I waited another hour and tried Woody again. No answer. Where the hell was he? I needed to see the Holmes family; they needed to know about their daughter. I tried again; still no answer. I decided to go back to the hole and see what else Moore had come up with.

“I was just about to call you,” Moore said. “I have some interesting findings for you. Where’s your partner?”

“I wish I knew,” I answered.

“I have compared the findings three times to be sure,” he continued.

I asked, “Well, what do you have for me, Jason?”

He proceeded to tell me what he had found. “The two victims had the same pattern of injuries, not similar, but exact. Whoever had done this had taken their time. To get it this close, he would have had to have a fucking diagram or something. In my eighteen years of practice, I've never seen anything like it.”

Looking at the photos Moore had laid out on the desk blew my mind. I have seen similarities before, but nothing like this. This perp duplicated the first murder with precision; each cut had the same distance from the last. This was beyond anything I had ever even heard of. We were looking for a murderer with a severe case of OCD. If this guy took this much time and patience to copy the act with such perfection, it stands to reason there would be no evidence.

I needed to find a connection between these two girls, and it had to be before this asshole struck again.

I had seen this pattern before. But where and when? I tried to remember. Why is this clock so loud today? My head is pounding. I had to catch this guy fast.

I tried calling Woody again, and this time he answered. I told him we got the ID and needed to notify the family. He was in no shape to go anywhere. He was slurring his words. I didn’t know if he was drunk or just waking up. In either case, I was alone once more. I started to relate what Moore had said but decided against it given his state. I would tell him later.

So, I went to the Holmes residence alone. You can bet your sweet ass I had my guard up this time. I’ll be looking out for slow-moving mothers with flying fists.

All the way to the Holmes’, I went over and over the information from Moore and what I had found. Still trying to figure out where I had seen this MO before. I hated to tell these poor people they would never hold their child again. This was all starting to get to me. I never had a case like this one. I was exhausted and hadn’t really slept since the case opened. Well, if you can call what I did before sleep, it really hasn’t changed much, except the nightmare was live and followed me day and night.

I realized I hadn’t eaten all day or the night before, for that matter. I had to eat something; the last thing these people needed was me passing out in their kitchen. I stopped at the only deli in town and ordered an Italian hero, coleslaw, and a coffee. The meal was large, and it would take a minute to eat. I pulled into the parking lot under a tree, put on some music, and ate my lunch. I was stalling for time; I didn’t want to tell the Holmes family that their daughter was dead.

After an hour had passed, I realized I had to go do this. I went to visit the Holmes. I pulled up to the Holmes residence about one thirty in the afternoon. The house was nice, smaller, and homier than that of Davis’.

I knocked, and Mr. Holmes answered the door within seconds. I showed him my ID and introduced myself. I told him I needed to speak with him and his wife together. She was at the market and should be home soon. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked quietly.

I would have liked a good, stiff drink right about then, but politely refused and thanked him for the offer. I looked around at all the photos of the Holmes. Most of them were Annalyn over the years, and the rest were of the three of them. No other children. This would be harder than I thought.

Mrs. Holmes came in about five minutes later; it seemed like so much longer. We helped her with the groceries, and I introduced myself to her and suggested a drink before we began. This was the worst news they would ever receive.

They asked the normal questions.

”Are you sure it’s her? How? Where? Why? Who would do this? She was such a good girl.”

As always, doing notifications sucked ass. But at least I didn’t get hit this time. The Holmes, of course, were distraught but also cooperative. They allowed me to look through Annalyn’s belongings to see if there was any indication of who could have hated her so much. As far as her electronics, Mr. Holmes packed them up for me to take to cyber to be gone through. I promised to return them in the same condition when we were done.

According to the Holmes, Annalyn stayed pretty much to herself. She had a few close friends, but they were out of state for school. She loved music, old romantic movies, and her cat, Blue. She had no real hobbies and couldn’t be bothered with after-school clubs, sports, or cheerleading. Her only interests were her studies and her on-and-off boyfriend, Nolan Brandon. I got his contact information and said my goodbyes.

I was headed for the door when Mrs. Holmes asked if she could see Annalyn one last time. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't budge. I called Moore to prepare Annalyn as best he could so they could view her body and give her a formal ID. He promised she would be presentable. It would still be awful for them, but how do you deny parents one last chance to see their child? They graciously accepted, and we went.

I called my partner again; this time, he was more with it, and he was at McCarthy’s diner eating lunch. I told him I would pick him up in ten minutes. We needed to go back to the Holmes and see if they knew about the pregnancy, then to see the on-again, off-again boyfriend.

Chapter Sixteen

Redeemer

Thought I was gonna luck out and get some me time, but no…

So here I am at the grocery store, trying to decide what to have for dinner… I haven’t eaten in a while. Then, there’s this little boy, maybe four years old, if that. He wanted a piece of candy or something, and of course, bitch mom said no. So, naturally, he began to cry, who wouldn’t? You can rest assured she had her cigarettes and wine and gelato, but he can’t have a lousy piece of chocolate! Now he asks again and says please. What does bitch mom do? She cracks the tot right in the mouth, right there in front of everyone!

What gets my goat is that she smacks him and says, ‘There, now you have something to cry about.’ That had to be the most asinine thing I have ever heard! Obviously, the boy already had his own reason to cry, fucken’ dumbass!

So, I decided to follow her around the store, but by now, I had forgotten all about dinner. She heads over to the pharmacy department. Wait… what the hell did she just put in her cart? No, it can’t be! A pregnancy test! Who the hell would fuck her twice? Well, that ain’t happening, sister; you already got one you don’t deserve! I need to get my ears checked. What the hell is that ticking?

Oh well, guess I’m working tonight….

Chapter Seventeen

Kasey

The Holmes were shocked to hear that Annalyn was pregnant. They had no idea and couldn’t understand why she hadn’t come to them. I informed them that it was early in the pregnancy and that she probably didn’t have a chance to talk to them. We needed to see what the Brandon kid knew. We left the Holmes to mourn not only their only child but also their only grandbaby as well.

It was very difficult to watch these parents say goodbye to their only child. These were good people; they didn’t deserve this.

Nolan Brandon was not as forthcoming as we would have hoped. At first, he denied being involved with Annalyn, and then he finally broke when it sunk in that she was gone forever this time. There would be no chance at reconciliation ever. He admitted he was the father of Annalyn’s baby, and they were going to sit with both sets of parents over the weekend.

Through tears, he told us they had talked about abortion; they had even contacted the clinic in Toms River. In the end, they realized being Catholic, they could not go through with it. They would take their chances telling their parents about the pregnancy and that the baby would be put up for adoption. They were young and not ready to raise a baby. At least adoption would give the child a chance at a decent life.

Nolan then asked if we were done. He needed to speak with his parents before they saw it on the nightly news. Of course, we let him go and told him to stick around in case we needed to talk to him again.

So now we have some similarities between the vics. Both are young, single girls. Both are pregnant, both in contact with the abortion clinic in Toms River, one abortion, one going for adoption. Neither lady keeping their babies. Could this be the killer's trigger? We still had a lot of work to do.

The first stop in the morning would be the clinic. Toms River, here we come again.

“At least we get to have more of that amazing coffee!” Woody announced.

I replied, “Almost makes the trip worthwhile.”

“I guess we should call it a day. Tomorrow will be here before we know it,” Woody said. “Wanna grab a quick bite and a beer?”

I figured, what the hell, and we went to the diner.

Chapter Eighteen

Redeemer

Itook my time on this one. She needed to suffer for what she had done to her child and for what she would do to the one she thought she would have! The way she treated that poor boy! If she popped him in public for wanting a lousy piece of candy… imagine what she does behind closed doors!

I tortured that witch for hours. I told her every single thing I was gonna do as I did it. I described each cut, where I was gonna put it, how deep each one would be, and how many there would be. Gave her a little something to look forward to while I worked. She tried to scream, but with no tongue, all she did was gurgle. She did cry, though, a lot.

I know I feel so much better now. I showered and had some soup. Thanks to that bitch, I still haven’t food shopped. At this rate, I will starve to death. Gonna need to get to the store soon. Gonna need a job soon, too. Maybe I’ll try to get a job at the clinic.

Again, I made sure each cut was precise. They had to be. Eventually, that cop bitch would get it. I mean, how dense can she be? Not like she hasn’t seen this pattern before, not that it was a pattern then.

What was that? The news said Annalyn was pregnant! Not possible! I saw her go into the clinic. She was there for two hours. She had an abortion! How the hell can they say she was still pregnant? Did she change her mind at the last minute? Oh, my God! What have I done?

Oh well, I can’t change what happened. Why dwell? I seriously need to get some food in this house and find out where that damn ticking is coming from…

Chapter Nineteen

Kasey

Itossed and turned all night. This case is driving me insane. I know I have seen this MO before, but where? As for the rattle, at first, I thought some poor kid lost it while hiking with their mom. Now, we find one at the second dump site! This is a scary signature if that’s what it is. How are we supposed to protect every pregnant woman in the city?

Of course, just as I finally close my eyes, my cell starts going off.

I answered, “King.”

“Hey, wakey wakey partner, we got another,” replied Woody.

“Oh, for cripe’s sake, I just laid down,” I bitched.

My partner said, “Oh well, I will pick you up in fifteen, get your shit together, this one’s a doozy.”

I got up, threw on the same clothes I had just taken off, grabbed a cup of java, and headed outside to wait for Woody.

This one wasn’t left at the campsite. The city park's central display featured her as a work of art. Thank God it’s night; anyone could have been here with their families. The vic was cut up, just like the other two. The MO is not wavering at all. Dammit to hell! There’s a rattle here! Son of a bitch! This is not good.

The only difference was the placement of the rattle. Moore found it lodged halfway down her throat.

“So, do we know where she was grabbed?” I asked my partner.

His response was, “Hell, we don’t even know who she is yet, King.”

Well, when Woody said it was a doozy, he wasn’t kidding. The site looked like a stage. I half expected to see chairs set up out front. There were family photos hanging as if to tell a story. The vic seems to have a husband and a child. This is different from the other victims.

They were young, single women in their twenties. This vic is at least thirty with a family. The demographics have shifted. I wondered why.

“So, the crime scene, the setup, the age, and the family status have changed. But the MO remains the same, including the rattle,” said Moore as he walked up to the scene. ‘I wonder why the change in age?”

“Exactly what I was just thinking myself. What did she do to become his victim?” I asked.

“Well, I really can’t say much more till I get her on the slab. I’ll finish up here, bring her back, and call you later,” Moore answered.

“Thanks, I’ll be waiting,” I replied.

Woody and I continued to work the scene. The body was a mess. It looked almost identical to the last two victims. I wish I could understand why this all seemed so familiar. It was driving me crazy. I spoke with my partner about it, and he didn’t remember ever seeing anything quite like these massacres. They were truly horrific.

We talked a bit about what we should do next while we waited for Moore to call. It was taking way too long. Then the phone rang. The call was from a frantic man who could not find his wife. There were signs of struggle in his home, and his four-year-old was home alone when he got in from work. He was a mess. Screaming and crying one minute and totally silent the next. It was as if he was waiting for us to say we found her and we're gonna bring her home.

It’s all so familiar to me, I can’t for the life of me figure out why. The look of the body, the placement of each, each cut…. Where the hell had I seen this before? Why can’t I remember? If I could only figure that out, I may have a chance at solving this without any more fatalities.

Woody got the address of the frantic phone guy, and I sent a couple of uniforms over to find out what was going on. I couldn’t leave the scene; I needed to find something. There has to be something here that we are missing. We moved the crowd out, and Woody and I combed the area again—still nothing but the damn rattle.

A few minutes after we finished going back over the scene, my phone rang. I was hoping it was Moore. It wasn’t. It was one of the patrolmen we sent to check on the frantic phone guy. He said we needed to get over there right away.

We arrived at the home of Mr. Baldwin at about eight fifteen in the evening. Mr. Balwin was beside himself. His wife had been out shopping for dinner and never came home. He had gotten home and found his four-year-old son all alone.

“Sue Ann would never leave Cory alone; something is very wrong here,” he cried.

The house was a bit of a mess, but nothing too crazy, just lived-in messy.

“I know what you’re thinking, detective,” Mr. Baldwin said. “My wife has OCD; this house is what she would consider a disaster. She actually would have referred to it as a crime scene.”

“Mr. Baldwin, my name is Detective King, and this is my partner, Woody. I know this is difficult for you. Can you tell us a little about your wife, Sue Ann, and do you have a recent photo? It will help in the search,” I replied.

Mr. Baldwin handed me a picture and started to describe her. When I looked at the photo, I saw she was our latest victim. Lord, this day keeps getting better and better. Now we have to tell this guy his wife was murdered.

This was the first time a victim was attacked in her home. The others were grabbed on the street. They were single, and Sue Ann was married. What compelled the perp to kill her? We needed to get Baldwin and his kid out of the house so we could search and collect evidence. Maybe we will get lucky, hard not to leave something behind in an enclosed structure.

“Mr. Balwin,” Woody piped in, “do you and your son have somewhere to stay tonight? It would be much easier to collect important evidence.”

“Of course, I understand; I will pack a bag and take Cory to my mother’s house.” Mr. Baldwin wept.

“Before you go,” I said, “We need to talk.”

Mr. Baldwin sobbed as I explained that his wife had been found. He couldn’t understand who or why someone would want to hurt Sue Ann. He then took his son and went outside to wait for his mother to come pick them up.

We got back to the pen about eleven-thirty. It was a long, exhausting day. So many hours wasted, there was nothing but the body and the rattle at the scene. Not a print, finger, or foot. We needed something to go on, and soon.

Chapter Twenty

Redeemer

Ican’t believe it! I got an interview on Wednesday at the Toms River Family Planning Clinic! I mean, that’s literally my dream job! Thank God for the internet; I was able to print out certificates and put my name on them. These people believed my credentials, and I think I will get the job as a counselor. I am so excited! Now, I can help these girls to make the right decision about their pregnancies! I still can’t believe how many kids in this small ass town get into this kind of situation!

I guess I’ll go through the closet and see what I have. I need to impress them at this interview. I really, really want this job. If I can land this job, I can definitely lower my coffee bill. Between that café and buying rattles on Amazon, I’m going broke! All joking aside, this job would help me in so many ways. I could have solid conversations with these girls and get paid to prep for my other work.

My work is so important. Once they know what it is all about, they will want to help me, I’m sure of it. People using this method for birth control are sick; it should not be allowed! I will not allow it! I mean, come on, oops! I made a mistake. Oh well, we will just kill it and try to be more careful the next time, and the next time, and the next… It will never end if I don’t do something. That is why my work must continue.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kasey

Ifeel like I keep hitting my head against a brick wall. There are absolutely no clues as to why, never mind who is brutally murdering these women. We do know it has to do with pregnancy and abortions. This is assuming that is the significance of the victims, and the baby rattles found at all three scenes.

I need to find the actual kill sites of the first two victims. I need evidence. Maybe something is there that will point to our killer. But I’m not sure where to even start. I have never been so frustrated or stuck on a case. I was going over everything in my head when my cell rang… Harris, the lab tech, had some news.

“This is very odd,” he said. “I found formaldehyde on the heels of your vic’s feet.”

“Formaldehyde?” I asked, “Are you sure?”

Harris replied, “I ran it twice to be sure. I can run it once more if you like. But it is definitely formaldehyde.”

“Well, it’s something. It is more than we have had,” I said. “Thanks.”

I hung up and began looking for any companies besides funeral homes that would use this chemical. Shockingly enough, cosmetic companies use it; this shit is even in our shampoos and other hair care products. However, we will start with the obvious—Burton’s Funeral Home on West Main Street.

Although it was a decent lead, I highly doubted that eighty-seven-year-old Mr. Burton, known to all in town as Mr. B., had anything to do with the murders. It would be a hell of a way to drum up business, though…

Thankfully, Mr. B. was available to meet us at the parlor. He assured us no one had been in since the cleaners. That was well over a month ago when Mrs. Comely passed.

Once again, we needed to borrow help from Paterson. We do not have a forensics team. Thinking about it, we don’t have much of anything. Maybe it’s time for the chief to beef up our facilities a bit.

Woody and I poked around, careful not to contaminate any possible evidence that may be here, while we waited for the team to arrive. They got there about forty minutes later. The place looked spotless, but hopefully, they would find something, anything that would help. Once they got set up, Woody suggested lunch since we would only be in the way here.

We finally decided on Thai food. I had never had it, and there was a new place that opened on 3rd Ave. He loved it; me, on the other hand, will stick with Chinese. He spent an hour laughing at the faces I made whenever I took a bite. Glad I could make his day brighter.

Forensics worked the room for six solid hours. They did find blood in the drain and possible skin cells on the bottom end of the work slab. I never realized how much work went into collecting evidence since we basically scanned the scene before these guys showed up and do the real work. Hopefully, they found something we could use.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Redeemer

Icannot believe I let this bitch get to me! I was so angry with her that I went to her house to grab her. That was also because she had a kid, and I knew his dad would be home shortly after I left. I didn’t want the kid to be lost or hurt. That’s why I had to get rid of that bitch. She treated him like shit! She had the nerve to think she could have another baby! Un-fuckin-believable! Well, at least I took care of that!

Don’t these people understand? Children are a gift! Not something to be treated like shit. You are supposed to love your children unconditionally! There is no room for mistakes like this bitch made! Then she thought she would do it all over again. No way, José!

Unreal, these so-called cops are at Burton’s. How the hell did they figure that out? Do they know it’s me? Are they following me? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Maybe it’s got nothing to do with the case. Maybe somebody they know died. I need to stop worrying so much.

Talk about working up an appetite! I really need to food shop. There is nothing in this place to eat! I guess it’s gonna be pizza once again… Then maybe I can grab a nap, get dressed, and go to my interview. All this pro bono work ain’t gonna pay the bills.

So… My new job is a hoot! Yeah, me, I am the new counselor at the abortion clinic in Toms River. This is perfect! I can help fix the broken a lot quicker in this position. Of course, it’s only part-time on the weekends for now, but that gives so much time to answer my calling. I haven’t been this excited in forever. I really needed this job; I’m almost out of rattles!

I will have to play it cool at the beginning. I don’t want anyone to become suspicious. Can’t have bodies turning up the first week or so…

My first official day of work is Friday. I convinced them to let me shadow, unpaid for the beginning of the week. I told them that I would feel much more comfortable having been there a few days before I actually start work.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kasey

It’s pretty quiet in Carriage Falls. Thankfully, no new bodies have turned up this week or last week, for that matter. This, however, is good and bad. Good because there are no new dead bodies, bad because there are no new clues. I don’t think we have ever been this stumped on a case before. In retrospect, we haven’t had any murders here in thirty years, so….

Not much to do but go over the case files once again. We need to be sure we haven’t missed anything important. Woody and I spend most of our time re-interviewing family members and combing the still-closed-off crime scenes. There has to be something we aren’t seeing. But what? This perp must be some kind of law enforcement enthusiast, or is it someone who works in the field? There hasn’t been one speck of DNA, no prints, no hair, no nothing. Whoever this is, is one smart cookie.

“Hey, Kasey,” Woody mumbled. “What do you say we hit up that clinic in Toms River again?”

“Sure, I could go for a steaming cup of coffee right about now. Just let me fill the chief in on what we are doing,” I replied.

At this point, we were just grasping at straws, but something had to give somewhere sometime soon. It’s horrible to think that we need another vic in order to find something that will lead us to the perp.

“Ordinarily, I would say it was a waste of time, and you were just going for the coffee. However, there is nothing new here, so I guess you can bring me back a cup,” said the chief.

So, off we went. The ride wasn’t bad; traffic was light, and the weather was mild. We stopped and got a quick cup of coffee and headed to the clinic. We would re-interview the nurses, the doctor, as well as the counselors who were working at the time of the murders.

We have been told that the counselors don’t stay long. The turnover is every six months or so. I would imagine it couldn’t be an easy job to have. I could never sit and listen to people rationalize murdering their child. I would be depressed all the time. I would much rather do what I do. Me, personally, can’t think of a good enough reason to choose abortion. But that’s me and my opinion. Most would not agree, but that is how I feel.

The clinic was pretty quiet. I guess Wednesday isn’t one of their busiest days, which the receptionist at the front desk confirmed. She said the weekend was their busiest time. I did want to return on Friday or Saturday to see if any of the patients knew any of the victims.

We spoke with the doctor first; he only had a few minutes until his next patient. We also spoke with two of the nurses who worked when each of the vics came in. No one had anything new to say. Only that the victims were nice girls whose lives were going in a direction where becoming a mother would not fit in.

Before heading back to the pen, we stopped and got the chief’s coffee and of course, another cup each. After all, we wouldn’t get another decent cup of coffee until Friday, when we came back to interview some of the clients. Who knew if they would even talk to us. Well, it’s worth a try.

“You weren’t kidding! This is the best damn cup of java I have had in years!” exclaimed the chief. “They should open one of those shops here. So now, fill me in. Anything new with the case?”

“Not really, no,” I replied. “Going back out on Friday to talk to a few of the clinic’s clients to see if any of them knew either of the victims. Also, to interview the counselors.”

We spent the remainder of the week going through the files, talking to Moore, and re-interviewing family members and friends of the dead girls. The hardest part was watching Woody’s face while talking to the Davis’. As for me, I really wish they would get rid of that damn clock. Tick, tick, tick. It was driving me insane. Why does it bother me so much?

Around seven-thirty, I called it quits. Went home and tore off my clothes, and hopped in the shower. God, it felt wonderful to wash away the grime and frustrations of the day. Now, what to eat? Still haven’t food-shopped. Who has time? Guess it’s pizza again…

Chapter Twenty-Four

Redeemer

Well, it’s finally Friday! I have to dress to impress. What should I wear? Ah yes, my green suit! I will look professional and friendly. I will be the best goddamned counselor they ever met! I’m pretty, I am dressed to kill, and most people I meet like me right away, at least until they don’t. I will have to leave early; there may be traffic. Don’t want to be late on my first day. That wouldn’t be good at all.

I spent most of the week at the clinic, shadowing the counselor I was replacing. I did meet a few of the newer clients that came in. I sat in on the interviews, talking to the girls about how they reached the decision to end their pregnancies. I advised a few to go home and think about it some more. I told them to come in and see me on the weekend and we would see if they reached the right decision.

There was one girl who had been raped by her own father! Can you even believe that shit? What kind of a piece of shit would do that to their own kid? I may have to do something about this asshole. I agree that she should not have to raise that child of sin; however, there are other options besides abortion. I will talk with her and hopefully talk her into having the child and putting it up for adoption. But what if there is something wrong with the child? I’ve heard stories about babies of incest being deformed or even worse. Maybe she should have an abortion.

This is so confusing….

Well, I have six girls to counsel this evening. The incest girl will be here at seven-fifteen. I still don’t know what to think. How can I advise her to keep her child? Even going to term and putting the baby up for adoption, the poor thing would not have a day without the memory of how this child came to be. If she does abort, I really can’t fault her for it. This is all her so-called father’s fault! He will be the one who has to pay! Not her! She did nothing wrong! I will also need to know where her mother has been while this has been going on.

My first appointment arrived at five o’clock. I had seen Kerri Ann Dobson earlier in the week. She is a nineteen-year-old barmaid who slept with the wrong customer. She told him she was pregnant; he said he would be there no matter what she chose to do, then he was gone. Men really suck sometimes. Though she is scared to death to have a baby, after thinking things through, as I advised, Kerri Ann decided she would have the baby. Kerri Ann realized that she could never go through with an abortion and live her life knowing she had killed her baby. Good girl! This is going pretty well, l thought. Onto the next…

The second appointment went the same. After taking some extra time to think it over, Donna Sue Reynolds decided she would like to keep her baby. It would be hard being a single mother, but there are resources available to help her. I gave her a few numbers to call, and she went home feeling a lot better about herself and her life.

My next appointment, however, didn't go as well. This ignorant little bitch! She didn’t even know who the daddy was! Tramp! Slut! She is going to have the procedure no matter what I say. But it’s all good; I haven’t worked in a while. Besides, my case of rattles should be in by Tuesday. Jessica Bleu, I will see you again. First, I have to take care of the other girl’s asshole father. But I will see you soon enough, Jessica Bleu.

After the last appointment with Ms. Bleu, I had had enough. I told my supervisor it was a bit much for one day. She said she totally understood and told me to go home, have a drink, and she would see me tomorrow. Then I remembered Savannah was coming in at seven-fifteen. I told my boss I was good for one more.

Savannah Jacobs was a sweet sixteen-year-old. She should not have to go through this. The more we spoke, the more I wanted to see her pain go away. Apparently, her ‘father’ had been raping her for at least six years! That meant she was nine, maybe ten, when it started.

I said, “I’m sorry, I need to ask, where was your mother all this time?”

“My mom died when I was three. I never really knew her. My Aunt Rachel, that’s what daddy said to call her, lived with us until I was nine,” she said.

“So, it started after your ‘Aunt Rachel’ left?” I asked.

She nodded and began to cry. I held her until she stopped sobbing and told her that I agreed that abortion was the right move for her. It killed me to say those words, but it truly was the best option in her case. I walked her to the front desk to make her appointment with the doctor and then to the door. I asked if I could do anything for her, and she replied that I already had. It was the first time she told anyone what was going on, and she felt better having talked about it to someone who seemed to care. I really have to go now…

“Will you reschedule the other appointments?” I asked my boss. She told me she would ask them to come tomorrow. It was a light day, if not, she would counsel them herself. I thanked her and headed home. I had work to prepare for. I got home and had that drink. Then, I changed from my work outfit into comfortable sweats. That’s when I went and sat outside the pedophile’s house. The incestuous bastard!

I finished my weekend shifts and took notes on who to go see. It will be a busy month. Then I started watching Mr. Jacobs. I studied his routine for three days. Then I started planning…

On Thursday afternoon, my boss called to see if I could come in for an emergency counseling session. Savannah had called looking for me. She was in a state, according to Ms. Belle. Naturally, I said I would be there as soon as I could. I dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. After all, it was not a normal workday.

I arrived at the clinic forty-five minutes later, and Savannah was already in the conference room, waiting. I apologized for not getting there sooner.

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry for dragging you down here on your day off,” she said.

“No worries, I told you anything, anytime,” I responded. “So, what has happened since I last saw you?”

“I won’t be able to have the procedure. My dad found out about the baby. If I try to get rid of it, he said he would kill me,” she cried.

I was enraged! Just who the fuck does this sack of ball cheese think he is?

I assured her that was not going to happen. I asked her if she had told anyone else of her situation or if she called the police. She responded no to both. I told her it would work itself out and that she should go ahead with the procedure if that was her final decision.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kasey

Carriage Falls, New Jersey. If one didn’t live here or know someone who did, it would seem like we didn’t exist. The only thing this town would be known for would be Stoneridge. But the campgrounds are so close to the edge of town that people think the town is called Stoneridge.

I just never thought in a million years that a serial killer would put us on the map. I would rather remain unknown to the world. As soon as the sickos out there hear that we have a serial killer, they will be coming out of the woodwork. I wasn’t ready for that. I miss my quiet town. Like they say, be careful what you wish for.

There still weren’t any new leads in the case. I really didn’t know where to go from here. I knew if we didn’t get anything soon and this was classified as a serial killer case, we would have to deal with the state police and possibly the FBI. None of us wanted either. It would just become a giant clusterfuck.

“Hey, Kasey,” Woody said. “Did they ever get back to us with the evidence packet from the funeral parlor?”

“I thought you had it,” I said. “Shit, hey Charlene, did the evidence packet come back from Jersey City yet?”

Charlene Danners, a short, round woman with gray hair, was the glue that held this place together, the one person without whom everything would surely crumble. She did almost everything here at the pen. She manned the phones, typed reports, kept the place as clean as it could be, and, most importantly, she kept us well stocked in coffee and donuts.

“We haven’t received anything from them yet, no worries. I’m on it. We will have it within the hour,” she replied.

“Thank you, Charlene. You are a Godsend. What would we do without you?” said Woody.

Charlene blushed, as she always did when Woody complimented her. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Woody; give me twenty minutes, and I’ll have the report.”

As promised, the report was in our hands less than half an hour later. I can’t believe they had it ready for two weeks and never forwarded it. I mean, Jesus Christmas, this is a murder case, not a dead-beat daddy DNA case.

“I’ll be damned, they got an actual print! I can’t believe they sat on this all that time! I will have the chief run it through AFIS,” I said. AFIS, being the Automated Fingerprint Identification System we used to get print matches from surrounding counties.

Charlene barked, “No need, hand it here; I can get it done quicker than that old dog.”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that, Char,” Chief Jacksits hollered, smiling.

I think Charlene has been here as long as the chief. She knows all the right buttons to push to get things done quickly and efficiently. I truly don’t know what we would do if she ever left. I dread the day she finally decides to retire.

It didn’t take too long to get an answer from AFIS. It was a good print; they just didn’t have a match in the system. As much as I’d like to have the whole world printed, it’s virtually impossible, and legally, people can’t be forced to get printed. Many feel that the police would use the prints to frame them. I’m sure there are some cops out there that would do that, so even though it would make our lives easier, it would never happen.

I’m assuming our perp doesn’t have a job. These days, to clean toilets, you have to be fingerprinted. It could be some dude doing random handyman work off the books. These days, there are a lot of them around. Work when they need cash. I will have to check with the victims’ families to see if they use or used one in the past. It could also be a homeless guy…

I have to admit, using the funeral parlor as a place to kill your victims is pretty smart. If the equipment had been cleaned properly, we never would have thought to check there. Fortunately, Mr. Burton is getting up in age and hasn’t had enough business to warrant hiring help. The last cleaner he used must have missed some of the formaldehyde on the worktable, and it transferred to the bottom of Mrs. Baldwin’s feet. As far as the blood, no one would have known it wasn’t residue from a previous client. There’s no point in keeping an eye on the parlor. Our killer is too smart to go back there. By now, the perp knew we were here. Although, I will check in every few days to be sure.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Redeemer

Off the see the pedster! This asshole is gonna suffer hard! I will show him why you do not treat your children that way. This is going to take some time, a lot of time. I’m gonna enjoy every minute! Although, I’m sure he will not.

He should be coming out of his office in a minute or two. Once he is in the garage, I can grab him. I learned early on to have the ketamine shot ready, not dosing him like I normally would. I want him awake and alert when I’m ready to start. I want him to feel everything…

There he is. If he sees me, I will just turn on the charm; yes, believe it or not, I can turn on the charm. I am a very pretty woman, and most people give me a second look. Son of a bitch, just as I got close enough…

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he said. “Something I can do for you?”

In my head, ”Yeah, die asshole.”

But I simply replied, “Can you help me? I twisted my ankle, and I am having trouble getting to my van.”

Of course, he had no problem helping me. This was actually better; I don’t have to drag him to the van. As we got closer, I brought my arm around and gave him the injection in his lower side. It took a minute for it to register, then he tried to fight me off. But it was too late; ketamine is fast-acting; he started to go down, and I helped him to the floor of the van.

Now that I can’t use Burton’s anymore, I kind of renovated my van. I can work here for now. It’s an older van, so it’s roomy. I had a tank installed, and the blood drains into it, and all I have to do is empty it when I’m finished. I also installed a sink with running water! Of course, I have to fill the reservoir. It holds about eight gallons; I figure that should be enough for a quick cleanup. No more sneaking around. This should work perfectly.

Alrighty, time to start.

“So, dickhead, do you know why you’re here? You should, you piece of shit, incestual pedophile,” I asked the asshole.

“Mmmggghhffff,” he replied. Of course, the shitfuck is gagged. I removed the gag. I honestly have no idea why I was interested in hearing from him.

Again, I asked him if he knew why he was here.

“I have no idea; you must think I’m someone else. This is a mistake. Let me go. I have to get home to my little girl,” he cried.

“She is why you’re here, butt wad,” I retorted. “Just because you can’t keep a woman doesn’t give you the right to bang your own kid!”

“What? I didn’t. What are you…” he moaned. I shoved the gag back in.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kasey

Looking at the crime scene photos, once again, I have a feeling of déjà vu. I know I’ve seen this MO before; the pattern is so familiar. But where? This is the first real murder case that I’ve worked on. You know, since no one ever gets killed around here. So where is this feeling of knowing coming from? Something from my earlier years? Something I may have blocked out and don’t want to remember?

I had no time for this; I needed to remember. If the feeling is real, it has to be real. It’s so strong. Maybe I’ll call Woody, and if he isn’t busy, he can come over. We can knock back a few beers and toss this shit around. Maybe it’ll help me remember something.

Well, I guess I’m on my own. Woody has a date. He was walking out the door as I called. He asked if we could do it tomorrow. He expects he will be out late tonight, or at least he hopes…

Ever since I was a kid on the streets, I have always felt like I was being watched. This is probably one of the reasons I became a cop. Having a gun eased that paranoia somewhat. Recently, that feeling has returned. I don’t know; maybe the case is just getting to me. Who would be following me?

I should take a page out of Woody’s book and take the night off, forget about the case for a while. Maybe I’ll head down to Shaunessy’s and get a beer or two. Maybe shoot some pool; that should help. Shaunessy’s is a quaint little spot and the only spot in town. Hopefully, it won't be too crowded tonight. Just a couple of beers and some quiet time. That’s all I need right now.

Shaunessy's was quiet when I arrived, but the evening crowd soon filled the place. I wasn’t going to stick around and shoot pool; there were too many people in here. Just as I got up to leave, a fight broke out. Being a cop, even though I was Homicide, it was my duty to break it up. As soon as I pulled out my badge, one of the guys pulled a knife. I don’t know what the fight was about, but I knew I had to end it before it got worse. I pulled out my weapon and told the guy to drop the knife and leave. He laughed.

So much for a quiet night. After wrestling the knife out of the drunk guy’s hand, the cuffs went on, and we were off to the pen. I got the guy processed and tossed into the tank. He would sleep it off and be free by morning. He would probably spend part of his day trying to figure out why he got brought in. He was pretty messed up. Well, I’m not sticking around to tell him what he’d done, let him figure it out himself. I’m going home to bed, should’ve stayed there to begin with.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Redeemer

As I promised, the schmuck was awake and aware until the end. He continued to claim I was wrong. That he wasn’t the guy I was looking for. However, according to his license, he was exactly who I was needing to kill. He kept insisting he loved Savannah and would never hurt her. She and the baby were his whole world. The more he talked, the more I wanted to make him hurt for a long, long time. I had listened to his crap long enough; I don’t know why I took the gag out, but I shoved it back in and got to work.

As I said with the last one, every cut had to be precise. I pretty much have the pattern of the wounds embedded in my memory. I should; it is my design, my pattern. There was no blood at the original crime scene, so there can’t be any at these. I still don’t understand how that cop doesn’t see. How has she not figured this shit out yet? Doesn’t she remember what happened? Doesn’t she remember me?

Oh well, back to work. I teased Jacobs with the knife. I dragged the blade from his throat to his groin. Can you believe this son –of –a bitch? He has a hard-on! This sick, twisted individual is about to die, and he gets hard. Who does that?

“Well, let’s get to it. I have better things to be doing. Well, not really, but I am sick of looking at you,” I said to Jacobs.

He groaned and tried to wiggle out of the restraints. I just laughed. No one gets out of those. I made my first cut right under his collarbone. He tried to cry out but couldn't muster a sound. It just made me laugh again. I think by cut forty-two, he passed out. I tried to be patient and wait for him to wake up, but my anxiety got the best of me, and I used the smelling salts.

As soon as he was back with me, I continued. At cut seventy, he was out again. I let him be long enough to eat my sandwich and drink a RedBull. I needed the energy; now that I am working, I don’t get many naps. I woke him again and finished up the cutting. The cuts were not random; each cluster was shaped like a bushel of baby breath. The pattern of the cuts was deliberate; each cluster shaped like baby's breath. How could she not see that?

What I love most is not having to load him. Working in the van is the shit! Now, I know this is bold; I am going to drop him off right outside the police station. They need to find him now. This way, they will go see Savannah. She can tell them what he has been doing to her all these years… and wait! What if they think she had something to do with this? She has been through enough. First, all the abuse, then the abortion appointment. No, I have to think.

After mulling it over, they will know it wasn’t her. If it was, then she would have had to commit the other murders as well. They would see by the pattern that it was me, well, not that they know who I am yet. But they wouldn’t blame Savannah. I dropped him in the lot across from the station and went home. I showered, had a snack, and went to bed. I was exhausted.

“Don’t worry, Jessica Blue, I haven’t forgotten about you!” I said as I closed my eyes.

Chapter Tweny-Nine

Kasey

Iwas so tired; I didn’t hear the alarm. I woke to Woody banging on my door. He was pounding on it. I dragged myself out of bed.

“Alright, I’m coming! Hold on and stop that banging! You are gonna wake the dead!” I yelled.

“Funny you should say that,” he replied. “Just found a body in the vacant lot across the street.”

“What? Across what street? Is it another one? Jesus Christmas! We can’t get a break,” I moaned. Still exhausted from last night.

Woody answered, “Across from the pen. It’s a male vic, can’t be the same doer.”

I dressed while he talked. Despite the cheap, flimsy cup and the obviously weak brew, I happily accepted the coffee he grabbed. It was better than the coffee at work but not as good as the coffee from the café in Toms River. And we were off.

Jason Moore, the ME from Paterson, was already at the scene when we arrived. He has been staying at the motor lodge on Main Street since the second murder. It was a hell of a lot easier than driving sixty miles a day.

“Male victim, approximately forty years of age. Same doer, or we have a hell of a copycat,” Moore stated.

“Same doer? Are you sure? Because I am almost positive the vic isn’t pregnant and hasn’t had an abortion,” said Woody.

“This time, we have an ID; the vic’s wallet was in his pocket. His name is Jacobs, and he lives here in town,” Moore said.

I said, “Ok, we will run him, get a little background, and head over to the house, that is, if you don’t need us here.”

Moore said, with a sly smile, “Kasey, I always need you. I couldn’t live without you in my life.”

I must have turned some shade of red because Moore and Woody were looking at me and laughing hard.

We walked across to the pen, gave Charlene the vic’s name, and asked her to find out what she could before we headed over. She was back in ten minutes.

“Your vic is forty-three years old, a widower, and has a sixteen-year-old daughter. The address is in your phone,” she said.

“Thanks,” Woody and I said in unison. And we were on our way. The Jacobs lived about a half mile away from the station.

I was leery, knocking on the door. How do you tell a sixteen-year-old she is an orphan? This was going to be awful. Woody saw the look on my face and said,“Hey, Kasey, let me take the lead on this one. I really haven’t been holding up my end of this partnership lately. I owe you at least this much.”

“And so much more,” I mumbled, remembering the left to my jaw at the Davis’.

Woody knocked on the door. They didn’t hear anything. Maybe the girl was at school. As we turned to go back to the car, the door opened. The girl who answered looked nervous. We introduced ourselves, and I asked, “Are you ok?”

She responded in a small voice, “I don’t want to make too much noise and wake my father. Can I help you?”

I asked if we could come in. She looked even more nervous and asked what it was about and that she should wake her dad. This poor child thinks her dad is here. She also looked terrified that she would have to wake him.

I explained that what we needed to talk to her about was very important and asked once again if we could come in. She begged us to keep it down so we wouldn’t wake Mr. Jacobs, or he would be angry.

“I know he got in late last night; I was up until half past eleven, and he still wasn’t home from work,” she said.

“I promise not to be loud,” I said, and she let us in.

We kept our voices low as she led us into the kitchen. She asked if she could get us anything. Woody said a glass of water would be fine. She got it for him, he thanked her, and we all sat at the table.

“When was the last time you saw your dad?” I asked.

She replied, “Yesterday morning before he left for work. I usually leave for school before he leaves, but I have not been feeling well and stayed home yesterday and today.”

I thought, great, this girl is sick, and now I have to tell her that her father is dead. Again, reading my mind, Woody took the lead.

“Savannah, I am so sorry to have to tell you, but we found your father this morning,” Woody said.

“What are you talking about? He is in his room sleeping.” She cried as she ran to her father’s room. “Dad, Dad, where are you? Are you in the restroom? Dad, answer me.”

I stood at the door, waiting for her to check every inch of the room as if she would find him hiding in the corner or under the bed. Then I went in and held her while she cried. She cried, but not a sobbing, aching cry like one would expect. I am almost sure she seemed relieved. I would give her a few minutes, then I had some questions.

Once she calmed down, we started to talk. Her story broke me. I knew she didn’t kill her father, but I was kinda glad someone did. This poor child has been through the worst kind of hell for the past six-plus years. It’s no wonder she is relieved. I’m sure in time, what happened will sink in, and there will be mixed feelings. Her suffering is finally over. She told us she planned to abort the baby.

This worried us. Girls who abort or try to abort have been dying terrible deaths. We asked if anyone else knew of her situation. She said the only person other than us and her dad was the counselor at the Toms River Family Planning Clinic. We asked her counselor’s name and if she was going to be ok. She said she would be fine; she would call her Aunt Rachel when we left. She was sure she would come right over. I gave her my card with all my numbers and told her to call anytime she needed anything.

Chapter Thirty

Redeemer

Thank God I am off from the clinic today. I told them to call if anyone needs me. I said I was available all day, although I am exhausted. That man drained me. It wasn’t even the work; it was his constant whining and complaining. And the lying, that really pisses me off. You know you did what you did and that you were going to die, so why not repent? Admit what you have done. No, he went to Hell, denying everything.

At least Savannah can relax a little now. That poor thing is a bundle of nerves. As I told her, I will be there for her no matter the choice she makes. What is happening to me? When did I start to care? That is so not me! This is not good at all. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but all I want to do is help her. At least I got that asshole out of her life!“Now for you, Jessica Bleu…” I murmured.

So, I start planning how I will grab Jessica Bleu, and I happen to notice I broke a nail! I knew I should have cut them, dammit; I hope it’s in the van, or I am screwed! Maybe not; my DNA is not on file, should be ok… Back to Jessica Bleu.

Getting to Jessica Bleu will be tricky, but I like a good challenge. She is very rarely alone, a popular girl. It’s no wonder she doesn’t know who the father is; she can’t even commit to the same ride to school every day! I will just have to be vigilant and ready when the opportunity comes up. It’s still too soon after Jacobs, anyway.

I was just about to leave the house when the phone rang. Call me old-fashioned, but I still have a landline. I don’t believe in cell phones; they can track you too easily. It was Savannah on the phone. She sounded strange. I guess they notified her about the asshole. She wanted to see me at the clinic. I convinced her to go to the diner. That drive was the last thing I wanted to do right now.

I got to the diner and picked a table out of the way. That way, we could talk in private. I ordered coffee. After about twenty minutes, I got up to leave. I figured she changed her mind. As I got to the door, I saw Savannah come walking toward the diner. She took an Uber. I guess that’s what took so long. I went and sat back down with my coffee as if I had been waiting all along. She looked over, and I waved to her. She half smiled and headed toward the table. I offered to get her something, but she politely refused.

“What’s wrong? You look distressed. Did something happen since we last met?” I asked innocently.

She replied that she had been woken up by two detectives this morning, and they told her that her father, whom she thought was asleep, had been found murdered this morning.

“His body was in a vacant lot across the street from the police station,” she moaned. “I don’t understand who would kill my dad,” she said through tears.

Twice, I struggled to understand her faint voice. I know the man was her father, but after all he had done to her, I don’t understand why she was this upset. He can’t hurt her anymore. She should be happy or, at the very least, relieved.

“I have to ask, and I’m sorry if this upsets you more,” I said, “but after everything he put you through, aren’t you glad he is gone and can’t hurt you anymore?”

“Even though he hurt me, I loved him. He was my dad,” she cried. “Now, I am all alone, there is no one. I will have to go into foster care, and they will probably make me keep the baby.”

“Ok, first of all, you are not alone; you have me. Second of all, your appointment is tomorrow. This can be done and over before Family Services gets a call,” I told her. “Even if they place you in the system, you are almost seventeen, you won’t be in for long. And I will be there to make sure you are alright.”

She cried again and then got up and hugged me tight.

“Will you be there tomorrow?” she sobbed.

“Of course, I will be with you the whole time,” I replied. What was it about this girl? Why did I want to take her home with me and care for her like she was my own? These feelings are so confusing. Oh well, Jessica Bleu, you're off the hook for now. Something super important came up, can't take you out this week. But I will, rest assured.

Chapter Thirty-One

Kasey

Istill couldn’t get that poor girl off my mind. What did she say the counselor’s name was? I will have to check my notes when I get back to the pen. I also needed to call Moore to see what he found.

Moore hadn’t found much, but he did find a nail clipping. Well, more like a broken fingernail. The vic’s nails were cleanly manicured, so with any luck, it will belong to the perp. Then maybe we can get DNA and pray it’s in the system. But the way things have been going, it probably won’t be.

Moore said it was definitely the same killer. Every cut was perfectly placed, so there was no chance it was a copycat. I need to find that counselor, and she wasn’t at the clinic today. They say she will be back on Friday. It’s only Tuesday; so much can happen in three days. I got Moore and put him on speaker.

“What about the fact that there was no rattle?” Woody asked.

I said, “Probably because there was no pregnancy.”

Moore murmured, “I’ll get back to you if I find anything else.”

We thanked him again, and we were off.

“Woody, we need to go see Savannah again,” I said. “We need to be sure that no one else was aware of her situation.”

“Ok, you’re the boss. Let’s go.” He laughed.

I guess we should have called first; she was not at home. She may be with her Aunt Rachel.

“Let’s give it a few more minutes,” I told Woody.

“As if we have anything else to do right now,” he replied.

“Wow, what is your problem? I asked.

“I don’t know. I guess this case is really getting to me. I don’t like not knowing when the next body will turn up,” he said gravely.

“Maybe we should go see the other vic’s families again and see if they remember anything new,” I suggested.

He shrugged and said, “It’ll probably just be a waste of time.”

I felt so bad for Woody, although he is dating again. I know he isn’t really over Carla’s death. That’s something that you don’t get past quickly. He never talks about her unless it pertains to the case, and it’s usually in reference to her parents. He has yet to go see them. I guess he will in his own time.

There wasn’t much else going on in town other than the bar fight the other night. It’s been really quiet. Not that I am complaining; there is enough happening with this case.

We wound up heading back to the pen; Woody was right. How many times can we question the families? The sight of us only added to their agony; our presence was a fresh wound. When we got to the station, Jensen Reid was there waiting for us. He needed to know what information he could release on the news tonight.

“I have heard rumors that we may have a serial killer in our quaint little town,” Reed stated. “Although, you know I won’t say that if you say it’s too soon to let that information out. But you’ve gotta give me something.”

“Well, there have been four murders in the past six months. The MO is the same in all four. You can put that out there, just don’t use the words ‘serial killer.’ We don’t want to start a panic,” I told him.

“So, you’re saying all the murders are by the same doer? However, you have no idea who it could be,” Reed asked. “Even Jacobs? But why? He doesn’t match the demographics. I mean, he’s a male.”

“We really can’t get into specifics regarding Jacobs; just take our word for it. It was the same perp,” Woody told him. “As soon as we have more information and the chief clears it, I will call you myself.”

We really needed to talk to Savannah again. I will call and schedule a time to meet her. Something about the whole situation doesn’t sit right with me. How does this abuse go on for six years, and no one has a clue? There had to be signs. We also needed to speak with Balwin. He was too distraught to speak to us before. He should be a little better now.

Enough for one day; I am shot! Going home and taking a shower, then to bed. Tomorrow will be a better day. I know something will turn up, it has to.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Redeemer

Ihave been watching this Jessica Bleu for two weeks straight. She went to the clinic today and had the procedure done. She brought three of her giddy girlfriends with her. It was like a party after it was over. They went to the coffee shop and talked and laughed for hours. My list could get a lot longer if I were so inclined. But I am not. They did nothing but go with her. That was not a punishable offense. She was the one who needed to be punished.

Normally, today, Thursday, would have been the only day that I could get to her. She usually has some downtime and is alone for over an hour on Thursdays. I will have to be patient for a bit longer. I’m certain the week will fly.

In the meantime, I still have the clinic on the weekends. There is always Savannah. I spend whatever time with her that I can. Her procedure went smoothly. Physically, she is good, but mentally, not so much. Dealing with the death of her father and now the death of her child is taking its toll on the poor girl. She spends a good deal of time sleeping. She also talks in her sleep. Doesn’t make too much sense. Once in a while, she will cry out that she is sorry, Daddy. This was all her fault, she didn’t mean for him to be hurt or killed. I don’t know why she blames herself.

“Why do you feel guilty about your father’s death?” I asked her when she awoke.

She replied, “I don’t know what you mean. Why do you ask that?”

“Never mind, you were talking in your sleep. You kept apologizing for what happened to him,” I said. “It's probably just stress-related.”

“I guess,” she said softly.

I had to get to the clinic; had a few appointments today. I said my goodbyes and was off. I couldn’t stop thinking something was off with Savannah, something she wasn’t telling me. Oh well, I will talk with her about it over the weekend.

The clinic was slow tonight. I guess more people are using protection these days. At least, that’s what I am hoping. I hate to think they are traveling to another clinic, believing that the murders are connected to this one.

Will you look at that? Here comes Jessica Bleu. I wonder what she is doing back here. Surprisingly, she walked straight into my office. She was here for her aftercare, and that included a counseling session with me. What luck! I had no idea that was part of the planning. I figured once the procedure was done, that was it. I should pay better attention. This is awesome; if she drove herself, she wouldn’t be making it home for dinner tonight.

I asked her if she was feeling ok. She said she was awesome. An odd response for someone who just killed her baby. She also said she was in a hurry; she was meeting friends on the other side of town when she was finished here.

“So, getting here wasn’t a problem?” I asked. Trying to find out if she was alone.

“Not at all. I figured I was coming to Tom’s River anyway, so I would get this stupid session out of the way. Not that talking to you is stupid. It’s just that I’m fine, physically and mentally. This was not necessary,” she said.

“You drove here alone? What if something had happened? What if you got light-headed or started bleeding? Both are very common after an abortion,” I said, trying to sound concerned.

“I told you, I’m fine. Can you just sign this so I can get out of here?” she pleaded.

This was perfect! It couldn’t be any better; she won’t be meeting her friends tonight. Or any other night, for that matter. I couldn’t have planned this. I would make her talk for a bit, really piss me off and then sign off and follow her out to her car.

“Are you sure you are ok with everything?” I asked. “It doesn’t always hit right away that you ended your child’s life.”

“I told you I was fine. I never wanted a baby, I may never want a baby. It’s just not for me. I wouldn’t be a good mother. I am wrapped up in myself and my friends. A baby would just get in the way, and I would end up resenting or hating the child. How would that be fair?” she asked.

“I do understand now. I didn’t before. Maybe you did the right thing after all,” I replied. “I am so happy we had this talk. Let’s just take a little more care so we don’t wind up here again.”

I can’t believe that I am starting to understand and agree with some of these girls. Jessica Bleu did the right thing. She knew she wouldn’t have the love and care needed to raise her child. I need to let her go. I need to let her live. I wouldn’t want her child to be raised the way I was.

I do have another appointment this evening. At least now I won’t have to cancel. I cannot keep doing that, or I will lose this job, and right now, I need the money.

Jenelle Hartford seemed to be a nice girl at first. She was polite and sweet; however, this was her third abortion in as many years! What the fuck? What is wrong with people? There are so many ways to prevent pregnancy, and most are free right here at the clinic. She could have gotten it at any time. There is no good excuse for this one. She probably won’t get out of this garage tonight—not alone anyway.

“Why don’t you use birth control, Jenelle?” Do you know how dangerous it is to have multiple abortions?” I asked. Really curious to see what her answer would be.

She told me, “I don’t need a lecture; I just need to take care of this problem and get on with my life. Whether or not I use birth control is not your concern. Just sign the paper saying that I am capable of making my own decision, so I can make the appointment.”

Oh, I signed the paper with a smile on my face. She had no idea that once the abortion was done, she was done as well. I went to the front desk, gave them my assessment, and helped her make an appointment. The next available was the following afternoon at two p.m. Since today was Sunday, I didn’t work tomorrow, so I would have to wait in the garage and hope she was alone.

“Do you have someone to drive you tomorrow?” I asked.

She replied, “I will be driving myself.”

“You will have to be here until at least seven o’clock after having the procedure at two. They will not allow you to leave until then without a driver,” I told her.

She replied that she knew the drill and left without saying goodbye. Bitch!

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kasey

Jensen Reid is a fair guy, that’s why I don’t mind giving him information. He never releases anything without an ok from us. I told him he could release background on the victims. Who knows, maybe it will trigger something with a witness or family member.

Reed’s first report was on Carla Davis. He had spoken with her parents as well. They said they would be happy to give him the information, that it may bring someone forward who knew something. They hoped it would lead to an arrest; they needed to know who did this (so did Woody), and hopefully, it would bring some closure.

He led the story with Carla being a surrogate for the Tates’ who, by the way, declined to be interviewed. He told of her generosity and how she was having this baby for them and not accepting compensation. He went on to explain that she had met someone and decided to end the pregnancy because she was getting serious with her beau and didn’t want anything to come between them. He went on to describe the horrific way she died and that if anyone had any information, to please come forward.

Then he moved on to Annalyn Holmes. Her parents declined to be interviewed; they said it was too soon. He explained how she and her boyfriend, Nolan Brandon, had gone to the Tom’s River Family Planning Clinic to arrange for an abortion. Then, in the end, being Catholic, I decided against it. The plan was to have the baby and possibly put it up for adoption instead. Annalyn had been fourteen weeks along at the time of her death. Neither set of parents knew of the pregnancy until after Annalyn had been murdered. The Holmes and the Brandon families are distraught over this devastating loss. Annalyn Holmes, age sixteen, was the only child of Anna and Lyndon Holmes.

Sue Ann Baldwin was married to Alex Baldwin, and they had a four-year-old son, Cory. Sue was in her early forties and was six weeks pregnant. She never contacted the clinic and had no known plans of ending the pregnancy. In fact, she had only found out via a pregnancy test earlier on the day she was killed that she was indeed pregnant. Why she was targeted is still under investigation. We will update as soon as more information becomes available.

Unlike the first three victims, Arthur Jacobs, a widower with a sixteen-year-old daughter named Savannah, was discovered dead in the empty lot next to the police station. According to the medical examiner, Dr. Jason Moore, the MO is the same as in the other murders. It is still a mystery as to why he was killed. He had no ties to the clinic or any of the other victims.

And thankfully, he never mentioned the rattles.

Reid then went on with some local news. He did a great job getting the information out there. Never once did he use the term ‘serial killer,’ which is why I give him tips. He is the only newscaster I have ever met that I could trust. He holds back whatever we ask him to until we are ready to release it to the public, even when he comes across the information himself.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Redeemer

So glad this day is over! It has been hell! This Jenelle Hartford is a piece of shit. How can you be so nonchalant about ending a life? Oh well, I will deal with her in a day or two. I need a break.

“I’m gonna get something to eat and watch a bit of television,” she said to no one.

Heated up some day-old pizza and turned on the local news. They should be talking by now…

They talked about the cop’s girlfriend first; he can’t be too broken up about it. I saw him at Shaughnessy's with some other bimbo. I did feel a little bad for the parents, but if they raised her better, she would still be alive. Then they got to the Holmes girl…

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! I saw her go into the clinic. She was in there long enough to have the procedure done and recoup enough to go home. She was crying on the way out. They must be wrong; she wasn’t still pregnant. I wouldn’t, no, couldn’t make that kind of mistake. Well, it’s too late to dwell on it. What’s done is done. I will just have to check records from here on in to be sure.

They were really confused with the Baldwin bitch, and totally baffled by Jacobs. At least Baldwin had been pregnant. Jacobs, there was no way they could tie him in with anything. They would never figure out why I killed him. If they don’t catch me, they will never know.

The cops will be all over the clinic soon. I tossed around the idea of quitting, but I enjoy the job and the access I have. I wonder if Kasey will recognize me. Probably not right away. I may just look familiar at first, like she had seen me around. Or maybe knew me from another life, which she did. I don’t see a reason for them to talk much to me. I wasn’t working there for all the murders. It’s all good if they do; I’m good, and they will never suspect me.

There is so much to get ready for. Jenelle is just fifth in a long line of wrongdoers. People will soon see that they cannot make the decision of life or death, and the choice is not theirs. They do not have that right. What if their parents had done that? That was a stupid question. These morons wouldn’t be here if their parents thought the way they did. So, who are they to think they can? How did abortion even become a thing? Who was the brainiac that came up with the idea of using sharp instruments in such an invasive way to end a pregnancy? I know I read somewhere that the Egyptians discovered that certain herbs would induce early labor, causing a miscarriage. How and when it evolved into this vulgar way of ending a pregnancy is beyond comprehension.

Well, I’m gonna need a good night’s sleep if I want tomorrow to go as planned. I was gonna wait a few days, but then what would this news guy have to talk about tomorrow night? I will give him something to talk about.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Kasey

We were running out of time; too many people were dying. We needed something now. I decided to run the print and the DNA again. Maybe something would pop. In the meantime, Woody and I would go back to the clinic and re-canvas the dump sites. At this point, what else could we do?

It was only Thursday, and most of the counselors weren’t in until Friday evening. They generally worked Friday through Sunday. However, they could be called in to be interviewed; those who refused would be brought into the pen for a conversation. We called ahead and asked the office manager to make some calls.

Three of the seven counselors came in to speak with us. The other four were working their regular jobs and would make the time to come into the station to answer questions. We spoke with Carla’s counselor first. She said Carla was torn at first. She really wanted to make the Tates happy and fulfill their dream, then she met a man. She said she really thought he was the one. She was head over heels. But she feared he wouldn’t understand the situation.

“I would have understood and supported her with her decision, no matter what it was,” Woody said.

The counselor, Brandy, was unaware that Woody was the man Carla was in love with. She felt awkward continuing the conversation. She told him how sorry she was for his loss and that Carla seemed like a lovely girl and didn’t deserve what happened to her. He thanked her for that, and we moved on to the next counselor.

The second counselor we interviewed was Josey. She explained that she did counsel Annalyn along with a trainee. The trainee was Josey’s replacement. Even though Josey no longer worked at the clinic, she would still accept calls from clients who needed her. The second session with Annalyn was with the trainee. The third session, although unusual, was with Josey the day the procedure was scheduled. The session was via telephone.

Josey explained that after speaking with the new counselor, Annalyn decided to have the baby and put it up for adoption. She tried to call Claire, but she was not available, so the clinic called me. I tried to call Claire to let her know that Annalyn had changed her mind. She would have been thrilled to hear, but I couldn’t reach her either.

I asked a few questions about this Claire. How long had she been counseling here? What were her credentials? Josey said, as far as she knew, Claire was a seasoned counselor and her credentials were impeccable. Almost too good, and she laughed.

“Why would you say that?” I asked.

“Well, because no other counselor I know can show that much education, experience, and references that she has. I have never seen it, and I have been counseling young girls as well as reformed drug addicts, etc., for nearly forty years, and I can’t come close to hers,” she replied.

We thanked her for her help and let her get back to her retirement. It sounded as if she deserved it. We moved on to the next. The next counselor was male, seemed odd, a male counselor at an abortion clinic.

“Quite the contrary, as a male, I can also counsel the fathers that come in as well. They feel a bit more comfortable speaking with me than a woman, given the situation they find themselves in,” Milton said.

“I guess I can understand that. I just never thought about the fathers coming in,” I said.

Woody chimed in, “I guess I would feel more comfortable, too, in that respect. It would be difficult to say how I really felt to a woman if I were in this spot.”

Again, we thanked all the counselors who took the time to come in for their help. We gave our cards and told them to call anytime if they thought of anything else.

Woody said, “Even something small that may seem irrelevant, please call. The smallest thing could be what helps break this case. Thank you all again.”

With that, we went over to the café to get some of that delicious coffee and a quick sandwich. It was well past lunch, and neither of us had eaten since yesterday. As we ate, we talked through the conversations with the counselors. I was anxious to talk to this ‘Claire’.” She was almost too good to be true. I had a hunch that something was going on.

“I wanna stop back at the clinic before we head home. I would like to get a list of clients this ‘Claire’ has seen,” I told Woody.

He agreed it wasn’t a bad idea and perhaps the clients could give us a bit more insight into her. This way, hopefully, we would be a little more prepared when she finally came in to talk. We both had the feeling she wouldn’t show. At least we had her name and address in case she didn’t.

Speaking to the clients didn’t help much at all. Most just knew her name was Claire, and she was kind of nice and listened to them, then tried to talk them out of having an abortion. “She is big into pro-life,” One of the girls said. “She was not too keen on adoption because someone who doesn’t deserve a child could just pay for one, and it wouldn’t be a good thing for the baby. But if it was the only way we would carry full term…”

More and more, I knew we had to find this ‘Claire’ and see what she was all about. When we called the number, all we got was an answering machine—not voicemail, an honest-to-God answering machine. Who used those anymore? There was no personal message on the machine, just the original robot voice telling us no one was around to get our call at the moment and to leave a message. I did. She probably screened her calls.

We decided to take a ride to the address the clinic gave us. At first, it looked like no one was home. Then we heard a small voice ask us to give her a minute. The door opened, and there was Claire, or so we thought. She had a familiar look to her, but many people do. I couldn’t think why she looked so familiar to me. Oh well, it would come to me.

We introduced ourselves and showed our credentials. We told her we needed to talk to her about some of the clients at the clinic. She had a perplexed look on her face and stated that she had no idea what we were talking about. Yes, her name was Claire, and she was a counselor. However, she never worked at the Tom’s River Family Planning Clinic. She was a drug and alcohol counselor at the West End D&A Center on East Main Street here in town.

“I am pro-life; I could never counsel girls of any age on abortion. I am devout Catholic; I do not believe in either birth control or abortion,” she stated firmly. “As far as the clinic, I have never even been there.”

We thanked her for her time and left.

“It’s apparent someone has stolen her name and credentials. Why didn’t you tell her that?” Woody asked.

I replied, “I didn’t see you jumping and telling her either. It’s better we don’t bring it up. If she starts a case, our perp may run.”

He shrugged and said, “You’ve got a point; we will leave it alone for now.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Redeemer

It’s Friday, I should go to work. Not sure, though. I know those cops are nosing around. Not quite ready to run into them yet. Still have much to do. Jenelle needs to be dealt with. I did ask her to come in again today to talk. Maybe her attitude is better now that she has had a few days to think things through. I'm pretty sure it hasn’t, though. I may call and have her meet me at the café so no one at the clinic sees us together. They don’t know about this appointment, and I would like to keep it that way.

I called Jenelle before I left the house. She agreed to meet with me, but at McDonald’s, not the café. She was hungry, and the café food sucked. Not a problem for me, and I could go for a burger, so sick of pizza. I need to get groceries.

It was the same girl, same attitude. She told me to mind my business, that it was her choice, and I had no right getting this involved. She was so angry; I knew I had to take care of this now, or she would complain to the clinic, and then I’d be screwed. I apologized, told her she was one hundred percent right, and I would leave her to her decision. She got up to leave. Again, not saying goodbye. What kind of parents raise such a rude child?

She never made it to her car; I had parked the van right next to her Lexus. Spoiled brat! I had put the ketamine in her Coke. She never knew. Halfway to the parking lot, she started weaving back and forth. I caught her with the help of a gentleman who had just gotten out of his vehicle just before she collapsed.

“She was fine a second ago,” I said, sounding as worried as I could. “Must have been something she ate.”

He helped me get her into the van, and I laughed as he went back to his car instead of into McDonald’s for lunch. The rest was as easy as the apple pie I had with my coffee. I would have to clean the van and empty the canister after I was done with Jenelle. I would need to bleach it out. I hadn’t realized how bad old blood smelled. I was still dumping the blood at Burton’s, in and out, in five minutes at random times. No one noticed.

Again, I waited for Jenelle to come out from under before I began. I know she hasn’t aborted the baby yet, but I couldn’t chance her talking, and I knew for sure she wouldn’t change her mind. I went to work.

I planned to start with the most painful cuts, but I stayed true to the pattern. I couldn’t take a chance on making any errors. It had to be perfect. It would still not be very pleasurable for the girl. I was careful not to cut with force into her abdomen. I didn’t want to harm the baby. I just wanted this brat to suffer for a long time.

It took ages to get each wound just right. They had to be the exact pattern, with each wound having the same depth. Again, taking my time so I don’t cut the baby. For some reason, her blood drained slowly, and the process took forever. When she was finally drained, I sat for a while, trying to decide where to leave her. I also couldn’t decide where to leave the rattle. The news hadn’t even mentioned the rattles…

I had to go to three different stores for the rattle, fucken’ Amazon; packages are never here on time. But it’s easier to buy in bulk. Never know when the stores will run out.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Kasey

“Hey, King,” the chief yelled. “Moore called while you were out. He needs you in the pit, says there is something you need to see.”

I answered, “On my way, thanks, chief.”

I got down to the pit in about two minutes. What did he have to show me that he couldn’t just tell me on the phone? Why didn’t he call my cell? Obviously, because I would have hounded him until he spilled.

“So, what’s so important that I have to see it rather than you just telling me?” I asked crankily.

“Well, I finished the autopsy, concentrating on the torso and abdomen because that’s where all the evidence generally is in these cases,” Moore said.

“And?” still irritated that I had to come down here. Not my favorite place.

“We rolled him to bag and looky what I found?” Moore said, amused.

Holy shit! The killer did leave a rattle at the scene. We just couldn’t find it. They had shoved it up Jacob’s ass! Not that we would have willingly looked there for it if we thought about it. This definitely confirms Moore’s belief that it is the same killer. Should have known, he is rarely wrong. That’s why he is the most sought-after ME in the tri-state area.

The rattle is always the same size, color, and manufacturer. Where is the perp getting access to all these rattles? Then, it dawned on me. The son –of –a bitch has a landline and an ancient answering machine but orders from Amazon. No other way to be sure the rattles would all be the same. I searched Amazon for the rattle. You can only buy them in packs of 50! How many more people is this perp planning on killing? Do they intend to use all of the rattles? I needed to call Woody.

Woody contacted the customer service department at Amazon. They said they would be happy to give them a list of customers who have purchased the items if we had a warrant. This could take days unless Woody could charm a judge. Lord knows I couldn’t.

Woody continued to explain that this was a murder case, and the killer was using items purchased from Amazon as a calling card. The girl said she had heard about the murders, and she was sorry, but it was corporate policy to protect the privacy of their customers. They would need a warrant if they wanted her help.

“I will get the warrant for you.” Charlene’s voice came out of nowhere.

“How do you hear everything we say from the other side of the building?” Woody asked her.

She just laughed and said, “Some detectives don't even know when you been bugged.”

We all laughed—even the chief. And we did need that laugh; I don’t think any of us even smiled a real smile in at least six months. We have all been eating, drinking, and living this case. We needed to catch this perp and put an end to the carnage. We missed our quiet little town.

It took a few hours, but Charlene came through as always. We had our warrant. Charlene had already faxed a copy signed by Judge Stallard to Amazon, and Woody was on the phone. He gave the girl the fax number, and she said she would send the list. We were shocked to see how many people ordered these rattles. There were eight hundred names on the list she sent. We went through and crossed out stores, shops, and people who ordered out of state. That left us with twenty-seven possibilities. One of them had to be our guy.

It took several hours of phone work and three days of legwork to get through the list. There were three buyers we could not get a hold of. We left messages for those three. The last one, I recognized the number and remembered the answering machine. We would have Charlene work her magic once more. I’m pretty sure when we crack this, it will be because of her. We had her trace the landline to an address. The address was just around the corner. This place was close enough to walk to, which we chose to do. It was a nice day, and we didn’t want her to see the car pull up.

It took longer for this one to get to the door than it did for us to walk there. Probably should have brought the car. If it turns out she is the perp, we will have to parade her up the street and around the corner. Well, sucks for her. She looked semi-normal; never would think something was off if I saw her on the street. But that doesn’t mean anything. Most serial killers look pretty normal. I mean, look at Bundy, Gacy, and Dahmer. People never saw it coming. If they could all look like Manson, this case would have closed on day one.

She was nice and polite. She invited us in, offered coffee, and we sat down. We declined the offer. Police Academy 101: Never accept anything to eat or drink from a possible perpetrator.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Redeemer

So here we are. Just me and these two cops. I know what they are thinking, but can they prove it? That’s the question of the year. I am being sweet and polite. I know that’s killing Kasey. I can’t believe she still doesn’t recognize me. It has been thirty-three years since she last saw me, but I still must seem a little familiar. If she sees it, she is good at masking her curiosity.

I offered coffee, I figured it was the friendly thing to do, but they declined. What do they think I’m gonna do? Poison them? I’m not an idiot. I’m not stupid enough to kill a couple of cops. I guess now we just get through this. I still have to drop Jenelle off somewhere.

“So, what’s this all about?” I asked.

Kasey replied, “We wanted to ask you about a few of the clients at the clinic in Toms River.”

I asked again, “What is this in reference to? What clinic are you talking about? I work at two different clinics in Tom’s River.”

“That’s odd,” Woody said. “Your name isn’t on file for having ever worked anywhere.”

“What do you mean? Of course, it is. I work for the Tom’s River Family Planning Clinic, as well as the West End D&A Center. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday at the center, and Thursday and Friday at the clinic.”

Woody interrupted, “There is no ‘Claire James’ working at the clinic; however, we have met the Claire James, who is currently a counselor at the West End Center.”

“Of course, my given name is Josette Claire James, maybe that’s why you didn’t find a record for me at either. I go by Claire at the clinic; I really don’t like my first name much, makes me sound like a little gray-haired lady,” she laughed. “At West End, however, I go by Josette because there is another Claire James working there. I am sorry it has been so confusing for you both, but if you will excuse me, I need to get ready for work.”

“We still have more questions for you,” Kasey said. “If you don’t have time now, you will have to make time after work to stop by the station to answer them.”

They rose to leave, and Kasey asked, “Have we met before? I’m sure I know you from somewhere.”

“I get that a lot,” I told her. Ha, there it was! She is starting to see. Pretty soon, she will remember who I am, and it will bring back many memories for her. None good, I’m sure.

After I was sure they were gone, I headed for my van. It’s parked in a garage about five blocks from here. It isn’t registered, so it will need to be cleaned extra carefully, just in case they find it. I just need to get rid of Jenelle; that will keep them busy for a while. I was sure no one followed me to the garage. I was going to have to be super careful in the next few days. I hoped they believed the crock of crap I handed them about my name. By the time they catch on, I'll be far, far away.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Kasey

Ican’t dwell on where I have seen this woman before. It had to have been years ago, I was pretty sure. I need to concentrate on the case. Although maybe remembering her will tie in somehow. Woody and I were almost positive she was the doer. It is odd, though; women usually don’t kill so violently other than in a crime of passion. Still, we were almost a hundred percent sure that she was our perp.

Back at the pen, we (meaning Charlene) ran the name. Naturally, Josette Claire James did not exist. Did she really think we wouldn’t find out? Was she that far behind the times that she thought it would take longer than ten minutes? Of course, by the time we got back around the corner, she was gone. She did say she had to get to work. I would give her half an hour and call the clinic to see if she showed up. By now, she must know that we figured her out. Would she be bold enough to go to work?

About forty minutes later, I called the clinic. Nope, she wasn't there and wasn't expected until six. She said she needed to get ready for work (it was only two!), but she just wanted to ditch us so she could get rid of any evidence.

Although we are a small precinct, we do have a few officers. I had one sitting on the house, one at the clinic, and one of Tom’s River’s guys watching the West End D&A Center. Those are the only three places we know she is connected to. Maybe we will get lucky. One could hope. Even if she went to work, all we could do was watch. We had no hard evidence, just a gut feeling.

I remembered, with Charlene’s help, that we were still waiting for the results on the print and DNA we sent in from Jacob’s case. Hopefully, it will match the one on the spoon I lifted at ‘Claire’s’ house earlier. Although the spoon can’t be used as evidence, it will show that we are pointed in the right direction.

I figured I would call about the print and DNA; Charlene had enough to do keeping this hole together. The print was back, still not in the system, but I went ahead and emailed them the print from the spoon for comparison. It was a good, clear, full print. Should be easy enough. The DNA wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. Complaining was futile; they were already pushing other cases aside to do this. When I asked if they could get it any faster, we were on body number five. The response was, ”Do you know how many murders we have here? Have you ever been to Jersey City?” I apologized for trying to rush them and thanked them again for their help. What else could I do?

It took a few hours before the tech called back from Jersey City Lab with the results of the fingerprint analysis. It was a nine-point match. Since they used the twelve-point method, this meant they were ninety-nine percent sure it was a match. I couldn’t wait to tell Woody that we were right; we had our doer! Now, we just had to find physical evidence to prove it.

I would move into the dump site if I thought it would help find something we missed. For now, I will settle for just going over them again. We needed to go back to Burton’s as well. There has to be something there. Once we have something, we can bring her in and get her prints and, hopefully, DNA.

“I think we should hit Burton’s first,” Woody said as I got my jacket on.

“Definitely,” I agreed without hesitation. And off we went once more, hoping beyond hope to find something, anything, we could use to bring her in.

Dragging the tech team out again was a chore. It was a two-hour trip from Paterson, with traffic, at this time of day. Once they arrived, we met with Mr. B., and he let us into the facility. This time, we began outside and worked our way in. There has to be something, somewhere. No one is that perfect.

Inside the funeral home, the techs went over the work area again. They found blood in the drain again. How the hell does she keep getting past us and into the workroom? The preliminary testing showed two different blood types, AB negative and O positive. They just happen to be the same as our last two vics.

As soon as they got back to the lab, they would separate the samples they found and run for comparison. I already knew they would match. But there was nothing else there, so this isn’t the kill site. She just came to dump the blood. Where the hell was she killing now? This was the original crime scene, and somehow, she knew that we knew, so she changed sites. Where the hell did she go?

Chapter Forty

Redeemer

Ican’t believe these cops! They are back at Burton’s. Why? What did they figure out? I hope I cleaned up well enough after dumping the blood. What if I didn’t? Well, they still can’t tie it to me. They have nothing on me. But where am I gonna get rid of this blood? I guess I can pour it down a sewer drain, but that would pollute something, wouldn’t it?

I still don’t know where to dump Jenelle. I should put her in her own front yard. That would be a kick in the pants. It’s a shame I won’t be able to stick around and watch their faces. I think maybe tonight I will bring her home. I am not too concerned with what they find. They cannot match it to anything, and I am not on file anywhere. The paperwork I downloaded online had a fingerprint card included, so I didn’t have to go for that. A simple phone call and the DMV declared I was cleared to work.

I dropped the van off in the garage, not worrying about Jenelle. It was too soon for her to start stinking, so I would be ok a few more hours. I had a change of clothes in the van. I got ready and went to work. It was just another day. I didn’t have too many appointments tonight, thankfully, it had been a slow week.

Everything looked normal at the clinic, and I didn’t see any of the cops hanging around. I knew all of the Carriage Falls cops. None of them were here. I think all was ok. My first appointment went fast. Darlene Kennedy was here for counseling, not because she was looking to get an abortion. But she was scared to death of being pregnant and alone. We talked for a time, and she felt a little better when I told her to call me or come in any time. She didn’t have to know I wouldn’t be around.

I also needed to go see Savannah. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to her. She is the only person I have truly cared about in many years. I feel for her the way I used to feel about Kasey. I’m sure that, as with Kasey, those feelings will fade with time. But for now, I needed to see her. I would stop by her house in the morning once I finished with Jenelle and cleaned myself up.

Just in case anyone was hanging around the clinic. I went to the garage where my car was parked. But rather than taking my car, I had the attendant call me an Uber. This way, I was sure no one saw me leave. I took the Uber to the garage where the van was parked. The garage was located in between two apartment houses. I got out in front of the second one. After I tipped the driver, he left, and I turned back and walked into the garage. There was no one on the street as I pulled the van out. I headed toward Jenelle’s house. All was dark, and the garage was closed. I coasted into the driveway, carried Jenelle from the van, and placed her on the porch swing. Anyone passing would think she was just out getting some air. I shoved the rattle in her mouth, climbed into the van, and left.

It was only midnight when I got home. Still time to clean up, eat leftover pizza, and get some shut-eye. In the morning, I would go see Savannah. I still worried about her even though her ”Aunt Rachel” was staying with her to keep her out of the foster care system. I was sure she would take custody and care for the girl until she was of age. Savannah, because of the advice I gave her, told ‘Aunt Rachel’ about the abuse and the pregnancy. Rachel was horrified that Arthur could do something like that. She was so sorry she ever left Savannah with him. She knew something was off with him but never thought he was capable of that behavior.

I got up early the next morning and headed over to see my girl. She was alone when I got there; ‘Aunt Rachel’ was at work. I was glad; I wanted to see Savannah alone. The thought of leaving her behind was unbearable; I really wanted to take her with me.

Chapter Forty-One

Kasey

Iguess the lab in Jersey City grew tired of hearing from me. There was a message on my desk this morning. The results were in. I called and got the lab tech on the phone. I dropped the phone when the tech told me what they found. The chief, who was just coming out to check on things, saw. He came over to me, asked if I was alright, and grabbed the phone. After listening for a moment, he looked just as shocked and perplexed as I was.

Apparently, they found a genetic match for the DNA. Whoever this girl was, she was related to me! They are telling me this serial killer is most definitely my sister! They couldn’t be more wrong! I am an only child, or I was before Mom died and Dad went to jail. At least, I think I was an only child. I still, after all these years, have very few, vague memories.

This is so surreal. Could that be why I thought she was familiar? I need to remember, and I need to know where she was all these years. Why didn’t she ever contact me? No, this is all bullshit, they need to rerun the DNA. Somebody fucked up. This can’t be real.

While I sat here trying to figure out what the hell was happening, the chief had called Woody and told him to get his ass down here now. He explained a little of what was happening, and Woody was here in minutes. He could see that I was distraught and having a very difficult time with this news.

“Hey partner, how ya doing?” he asked gingerly, as if he spoke louder, I might crack.

I responded, “I’m fucking dandy. How do you think I’m doing? This is total bullshit, Charlene… please call the lab and have them rerun the DNA; somebody mixed up the samples or something. This shit can’t be for real!

Charlene came and put her arm around me. She knew she was the only person I would never push away.

“Baby girl,” she said softly, “I had them rerun it already. I am so sorry, but this person, this killer, she is your biological sister. I thought maybe your father had another family no one knew about, but she is your mother’s child. They ran Mitochondrial DNA; she has your mom’s genes.”

“We have to find her,” I cried. “I need to know where she has been and why she is doing all these horrific things. How could someone like that be my sister?”

“Do you need to take the day?” the chief asked gingerly. “One more day can’t make too much of a difference…”

Just then, the phone rang. I thought to myself, sure, one more day wouldn’t make a difference, my ass. It was the same beat cop that called from the Baldwin residence. He was at the Hartford residence. This boy could find trouble anywhere. Apparently, the parents were leaving the house this morning to attend a charity brunch and found their daughter, Jenelle, on the porch.

“At first, they thought she fell asleep out there reading; she had done that from time to time. They called to her, but she didn’t respond. They then thought she had overdosed; she also had issues with drugs in the past. But then, they noticed all the cuts, but there wasn't any blood. I knew I needed to call you right away,” the officer babbled.

He was such a mess, and he couldn’t stop talking. I hung up. By then, Charlene had already sent the address to Woody’s phone, and he was headed out the door.

“Whoa, hold on partner, I’m going with you,” I stated.

He started to protest, then thought the better of it and waited by the door for me to grab my gun and shield. We didn’t speak on the way there. I know he was thinking he couldn’t say anything because, after all, my sister killed the love of his life. How could he even stand to be in the car with me? Would I lose him as a partner? I hoped not. I hoped he didn’t blame me. But why should he? I didn’t even know she existed until today. But, still, every time he looked at me, he would know my sister had ruined his life.

“You don’t need to be here,” Woody said as we pulled up to the house.

I replied, “Yes, I do. More than anything, I need to be the one to stop her.”

I wondered, was she older than me? What was her real name? Had she lost her mind instead of her memories when Mama died? Is there any way that I could help her? I needed these answers before I lost what was left of my mind.

We needed her picture plastered across every news channel, terrifying the public into a frenzy of calls with legitimate information that could lead us to her location. I would call Reid when we were done here. He would have carte blanche to air any information he had as well. We needed to stop… my sister.

Chapter Forty-Two

Redeemer

As I sat with Savannah, having coffee and toast, I couldn’t help but wonder if they had found Jenelle yet. I can’t ask to put on the news; Savannah might get to thinking. After all, I was the only one who knew of her situation. She is slowly getting back to normal and, soon enough, will put two and two together when asked the right questions. I know that cop, my sister, isn’t through with her yet. I swear that girl is like a dog with a bone. She won’t stop till she catches me.

I finished my coffee and told Savannah I would call her soon. She was sad that I had to leave but understood that I had ‘family’ obligations. She didn’t need to know I was running from family. We hugged, and I hurried off. I needed to get home to see the news. I needed to know if they found Jenelle. I got home about fifteen minutes later, changed into sweats, and made a cup of tea. I’m starting to get sick of coffee, and I settled on the big chair to watch the local news.

Here comes Reid; I liked him. He didn’t stray from the truth. He just told it like it was. Apparently, Jenelle’s parents found her on the porch earlier today. I was kind of surprised since they never get up before noon. Reid said they woke early to attend a charity brunch when they found Jenelle. She looked to be asleep but was non-responsive. They then called the police.

The police arrived within minutes. It’s a small town; you can get anywhere in minutes. They say that to make the cops look good. The scene was like the other five: there was no blood, no evidence, nothing. Kasey was looking out of sorts; I didn’t think it had to do with the case. Had she remembered something, did she find something? She had the same look she would get when I broke one of her toys: a mix of anger and sadness.

When the ME showed up at the scene, the camera followed the detectives to the car and filmed them leaving. They swung back to the scene. The ME completed a preliminary exam, they ushered the parents into the house, and bagged the body. I remember them making Kasey and me leave the room when it came time to bag Mama, but I stood in the door crack and watched. It was weird, yet it didn’t bother me.

There was no autopsy done on Mama, they saw that it was just the husband and two young girls, made their assumptions, took Dad away, and shipped us into foster care. Case closed. But was it…?

These were things I always wanted to sit and talk with her about. But now, she’s a cop. How can I tell her any of this? I don’t want to live my last days in a jail cell like my father. I want to continue righting these wrongs and helping people change their lives by bringing bundles of joy into the world. I can’t do that if I am in a cage. Of course, I can make her understand why I do these things, and then it will be ok. We could be a family again. That would be nice.

I need to get Kasey alone. I know I can get her to see. I know she will listen. After all, she is my baby sister. What baby sister doesn’t look up to her big sister? I need to speak to her alone, but how?

I can grab her tonight and give her a small dose, just to get her alone. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to talk. Her routine is pretty straightforward. She leaves work, grabs something from the Italian place, and heads home. Once she eats and heads off to bed, I’ll go in.

She eats an awful lot of takeout, apparently; she doesn’t food shop either. See, something we have in common.

Chapter Forty-Three

Kasey

Istill can’t wrap my head around this shit. How the hell could sisters be so different? I need to get it together; this is just a case, and she is just another perp. I guess I’ll be taking the files home again tonight. Now that we know more about her, maybe something will pop. I guess a calzone sounds good for dinner; I’ll stop at Angelo’s on the way home.

As I pulled into the parking lot at Angelo’s, I thought about Savannah. She told me that her counselor checked in on her all the time. I need to go see her. Dinner will have to wait once again. I headed to the Jacobs’ home. The lights were still on, so I went to the door. It took a minute, and Rachel answered. She said Savannah wasn’t feeling well and was lying down. I explained that it was imperative that I speak with her now. It couldn’t wait.

Savannah came downstairs a few minutes later.

“What can I do for you now, detective?” she asked. She sounded short.

“I needed to know the last time you saw your counselor,” I said.

“You mean Claire. She is more than just my counselor; she cares about me and what I have been through,” she responded.

I asked again, “When did you see her last? It’s important, please.”

She said, ”Claire” had stopped to say goodbye this morning. She said she had to leave due to a family thing. I went on to explain that Claire was not her real name and that she was very dangerous. Savannah didn’t believe me.

Rachel told her, “We didn’t think your father was capable of the horrific things he did to you, either. You need to listen to the detective. It is strange that she is here all the time. She hardly knows you.”

I explained that we had DNA proof that this woman was the killer. And that she was responsible for the death of Savannah’s dad. Rachel was beyond shocked, and Savannah seemed indifferent.

“If she did kill all of those people, why didn’t she kill me?” Savannah asked.

I replied, “I don’t know for sure, maybe because you didn’t abort the baby. And she seems to have become attached to you.”

“If she is killing people for getting abortions, why did she tell me to do it? She even made an appointment for me. I just couldn’t go through with it once I got there,” she said.

“Does she know you didn’t take her advice?” I asked.

Savannah shook her head no and said, “I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t tell her.”

“You will need to call me if she gets in touch with you again. We need to find her before someone else gets hurt or worse,” I told her.

She promised she would. I didn’t know if I believed her, though I knew Rachel would call. As for me, I was exhausted, more mentally than physically. I was going to skip dinner once again and try to get some sleep. I said goodbye, once again thanked them for their help, and implored Savannah to call me if she heard from ‘Claire’.” I wish I knew her real name…

Chapter Forty-Four

Redeemer

Ithought Kasey was just going to get some dinner and go home. Why did she go to see Savannah? Had they called her? Did she think Savannah had some information about me she could use? Well, no matter, this will end tonight. I will tell Kasey everything she thinks she wants to know.

I took the opportunity to freshen Kasey’s coffee while she was talking with Savannah and Rachel. Hopefully, she will just sip it or wait til she gets home. I wouldn’t want her to have an accident. That would ruin everything.

I waited outside for what seemed like forever. The last light finally went off. I waited a few more minutes and went in. For a cop, she wasn’t too careful. Her house was so easy to get into. I’d been here a few times before. You would think she would know better.

I called her name softly, no answer. Good, it was time. I walked toward the side of the bed she was on, and all of a sudden, Kasey jumped out of bed. She hadn’t drunk the coffee, but I was ready. I had a syringe ready. She grabbed at me, and I stuck her in the neck. She continued to struggle until she couldn’t any longer. I couldn’t believe how long she was able to fight. I know I gave her a lower dose, but it still should have been enough to knock her out quickly. Dammit, the bedroom was a mess, I hope no one comes here looking for her. I hope to have her back here by morning. I will just dose her again, and maybe she will wake up at home and think it was all a dream.

I took her car; I had hidden mine. If anyone came looking, they would think she was out. I drove her out to the garage where I kept my van. No one would know to look there if they chose to look. The van would be the perfect place to talk. I think she would be impressed with the setup. I sat back and waited for her to wake up.

There was so much to talk about. I wanted to tell Kasey everything that has happened over the last three-plus decades. I also wanted to know all about her life. Was she ever married? In a serious relationship? Did she want kids? I, myself, thanks to our loving Father, could not have children. I guess the Lord thought that kids would get in the way of the work that needed to be done.

Kasey woke after about thirty minutes. That was good. It gave me plenty of time to secure her. I couldn’t have her attack me or try to get away. We had so much catching up to do. I was excited, happy, excited for the first time I can remember! I waited until she was mostly alert and able to focus. I didn’t want her to miss any of this.

“Hello, Kasey. Or should I say, little sister?” I said.

She just looked at me nervously. Obviously, by now, she realized I held all the cards. She couldn’t move, and I hadn’t removed the gag, so she couldn’t speak. I would remove it, but not just yet. I didn’t need her screaming and yelling while I was trying to talk. I needed her to hear me.

“There is much I need to tell you. I have been waiting a long time for this reunion,” I told her. “A very long time.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Kasey

What the hell was going on here? Where was I? I feel so strange. Did I get drugged? I must have been. I’m having a lot of trouble focusing. I shook my head to try and clear it. As things started to clear, I saw her. Oh my God! Is she going to kill me? I have to get out of here. I can’t move. Shit, she tied me up, and I’m gagged! Jesus Christmas, how am I going to get out of this mess?

She just sat there, staring at me! What the hell does she want? This is bad, so bad. How long have I been here? I wish she would say something. Don’t just stare; all of this is creeping me out.

I wonder what time it is. If it’s morning, Woody will be looking for me soon. At least, I hoped so. If I don’t show at the pen, they may just think I took the day off, like the chief suggested yesterday. No, he knows me better than that. I hope. I’m sure he will at least stop by to check on me, see my car, and start looking when I don’t answer. Yes! When I don’t answer the phone! That’s when he will really get concerned. I always answer the phone. Even in the shower, I'll still answer. Yes, he will be looking for me soon.

“I can see that so many things are going through your mind right now,” she said. “Let me put you at ease. I have already texted Woody that you were going to take the chief’s advice and take the day off. We took your car here, so all would assume you decided to disappear for the day. And I put your phone on Do Not Disturb. I have taken care of everything, sis; no worries.”

Oh, good Lord, what the hell is wrong with her? This is insane! Almost as insane as me being related to her. She is acting like this is a normal family reunion, as if we are here to share stories of our lives and memories of our past. I am feeling scared for the first time since I was a kid on the streets, very scared.

I am trying so hard to remember her. The doctor said I may never remember because, as a child of eight, the trauma had been too much to handle. So, my tiny mind blocked it all out. Maybe she can help me to remember.

I wish she would at least take the gag out. I have so many questions. As if she were reading my mind, she said,

“I know you have questions, and I hope to answer all of them. But I don’t want to be interrupted. The quicker I can do this, the quicker you can get home. I don’t want to hurt you; I just need you to understand why I did what I did. Once I finish, you will know that I did what was needed, what the Lord intended.”

She is truly psychotic! She is out of her fucking mind! I have to get the hell out of here now! But I am guessing that’s not an option until she says what she needs to say. So, I will remain calm and listen—like I have a choice.

Chapter Forty-Six

Redeemer

“First of all, my real name is Daria, Daria King. Recognize it? No? It will come back to you. You will see,” she said.

“I hope to answer all the questions you have before you have to ask. I will certainly do my best,” she continued. “You were only eight when Mama died. I was thirteen. She died protecting you. Our father was not a good father. He wasn’t even a good person. He hurt me for years, and when I got too old, he tried to move on to you. Mama wouldn’t let him. Though she never tried to stop him from hurting me. That fateful day, Dad did push Mama, and she fell, hitting her head. She was already dead when I got to her. At first, I tried to wake her, but I couldn’t. Then, my anger took over, and before I knew it, I had the knife. I stabbed her over and over…” Daria paused as if to think about what to say next.

“For some reason, I counted each stab. I don’t know why, but I did. That’s why the pattern was a little familiar to you; you had seen it before. You just blocked out where. I stopped stabbing at two-hundred and six. Why? I think I just couldn’t stab her anymore. Since she was already dead, there was no blood. By the time the neighbors heard you screaming and called the cops, I had wiped my prints off the knife. That really didn’t matter. Once the cops showed up, they saw him, standing over Mama, holding the knife, and the rest you know.”

“Even though he didn’t mean to kill Mama, he still deserved to rot in jail. He was not a good man. Because of him, I will never have a child of my own. He damaged me. I was only six when it began. Mama was pregnant with you and wouldn’t let him touch her. She said he was ‘too rough’ and might have hurt you in utero. So, I guess I was the next best thing. And he was rough. There were times I missed school for over a week when he was done with me.” She stopped talking, taking time to think.

“I grew up in foster care, one after another, all claiming I was too hard to deal with. I was too broken,” Daria went on. “By the time I was seventeen and about ready to age out of the system, my last foster dad raped me. They have not found his body to this day. I may tell you where you can find him, maybe I won’t; who knows. I have never had sex for pleasure. Our parents and foster parents destroyed that part of me.” She got quiet once more.

“I always knew where you were; I just never had the courage to approach you. Well, I did once, by the way, sorry about your cat. By then, I had already done too much to explain. I was so proud of how well you always did in school. I was never very smart, book-wise. But you excelled at everything, and I didn’t think you would want to know a big sister who wasn’t as smart as you.” Daria paused again.

“Now, I need you to understand about the girls and Jacobs, I will explain why each had to die. Carla, your partner’s girl, she got pregnant using a stranger’s seed. She was going to give the baby to them, and I know you met the Tates; there is no way they should ever have a child. There was a reason God left that bitch barren. After meeting your buddy, she killed the baby! She had to die.

“Annalyn, there I made my first mistake. I was at the clinic the day of her procedure. No one ever said she changed her mind. She had been in there long enough to have had the abortion. I didn’t know until that Reid guy on Channel Six said she was still pregnant. For that, I am sorry.

“That Baldwin whore, she had one child she clearly abused, and in public! She thought she could have another with no consequence? No, not a chance.

“Jacobs, what he did to his own daughter! I could not let him live. And she needed to get the abortion. The baby would have been an abomination. She was me all over again. If Dad hadn’t knocked me up and then caused me to abort at five and a half months, I might have a family today.

“My last, Jenelle Hartford, was an ignorant bitch. This was to be her third abortion. This is not a method to be used as birth control. She was a mean and hateful girl. Even if she hadn’t wanted an abortion, she wasn’t fit to live on this earth. She was a piece of shit. Now I have said my piece, and I am ready to hear your response to what you have heard.” She was finally finished, thank God.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Woody

“Igot a strange text from Kasey,” Woody told the chief.

“Kasey doesn’t text,” the chief replied.

“Well, that’s why it was strange. She said she decided to take your advice and stay home today. And she isn’t answering her phone,” he said. “Something here doesn’t jive. I’m going to take a drive over and see what’s up.”

Charlene and the chief both thought that was a good idea.

“Let me know what’s happening!” the chief yelled out to me.

“Of course, first call,” I yelled back and ran to the parking lot.

I headed to Kasey’s house. There was no traffic, never really is, and I got there in under five minutes. Her car was gone. But the front door was partially open. I drew my weapon for the first time since the academy. I entered slowly and quietly. Everything seemed normal, nothing out of place. When I got to the bedroom, I could see there had been a struggle. The lamp was on the floor, along with all the bed covering. I called the chief.

“I am sending everyone out to you. I’ll have forensics there forth with. We will find her, Woody,” the chief said. “I will also have tech ping her phone. Maybe we will get lucky.”

I drove around aimlessly, looking for her car. It was nowhere in sight. Where the hell is she? Does that psycho have her? It is possible she was reacting to everything that she learned yesterday, threw some shit around and is just out working through it. That’s not like Kasey. She would never ignore her phone; what if another body turned up?

The chief called and said they had located Kasey’s phone. The address is 609 Everett Way in Tom’s River. What the hell was she doing out there? There isn’t even anything around there except garages and apartments. I don’t think she knows anyone out that way. I headed to Tom’s River.

I was stuck in heavy traffic and arrived over an hour later. It turned out to be a parking structure. I drove in and drove around, not seeing anything out of the norm. According to tech, Kasey’s phone was within fifty feet of where I sat. I drove around and up each level; her car was not here. The tech said I was moving further away. So, I worked my way back down on foot. I would worry about the car later; I needed to find Kasey.

I was back on ground level and spotted a door. It led to an underground level. There was Kasey’s car, parked next to a van.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Kasey

Isat here listening to the rantings of this crazy person for what seemed like forever. How was I going to get out of here? Maybe if she is done, she will take off this gag, and I will convince her to just let me go. She thinks what she did is okay. She genuinely believes she's acting on God's behalf. Talk about a fucking loon. When she removes the gag, I will have to convince her that I believe what she did was the right thing. It’s the only way I’m going to get out of here alive and unhurt.

I have one chance. Daria said that she had put my phone on Do Not Disturb, which means she didn’t turn it off! It can still be tracked! Oh God, Woody, I hope you are tracking it. He would never believe I sent the text; I don’t text, they all know that. Woody and the chief are always telling me to get with the times, ”everybody texts,” they would always say. I would tell them, ‘I’m not everybody.’ Get me out of here and I’ll text my ass off! You will all be telling me to stop!

Oh shit! She’s leaning closer, and with that knife. I closed my eyes, didn’t want to see it coming. She cut off the gag! I can breathe!

“Thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice normal. I didn’t want her to know I was afraid. Being tied up and unable to defend myself is a bit frightening when you’re facing a lunatic. Even if she is my ‘sister.’

Daria said, “You are very welcome.”

“Is it okay if I talk? I have a few more questions for you, if you don’t mind,” I asked.

“Of course, I was hoping I answered any you may have had, but go ahead, shoot,” Daria replied with a huge smile.

It’s like she thinks we are friends, as if we had a close relationship. That’s good; I can work with that. I just need to buy some time. I know help is coming; it has to be. I can’t end like this. Being in this situation has helped me realize that I do want to be married and have children someday. Although, I don’t think they need to know their aunt is a complete psycho.

“Why did you stay away all these years? Didn’t you care about me at all or enough to let me know you existed? I mean, I know that I must have known you did, but my mind….” I asked.

She looked at me and said, “Lord knows I wanted to, but something wouldn’t let me. I didn’t figure it out until recently. If you had been in my life, a part of my life, I could not have completed the work I needed to do. You would have been in the way; you would have tried to stop me.”

“So, why now?” I asked Daria.

“Because now the work is done, at least my part. There are others who have their part to do. As for me, I am, shall we say, retired?” Daria laughed.

Damn, she is nuts! “So now that your work is finished, we can get to know each other? We can actually be sisters?” I asked, trying to sound like I meant what I was saying.

“Would you really want to? That would be awesome! I have dreamt for years of having a big sis, little sis thing with you!” she cried happily.

“Of course, I always wanted a big sister. You coming here is the best…”

Just then, the van door busted open, and there was Woody, my hero. Daria, although startled, jumped toward me and held the knife at my throat.

“Daria, what are you doing? I’m your baby sister, don’t hurt me,” I pleaded.

She growled, “Make him go away! Make him leave, now! I don’t want him here! We need to finish this! We need our family time; this isn’t fair!”

“Woody, you are making my sister Daria very nervous. You need to back away and close the van door. This way, she can go back to her seat, and we can continue getting to know one another and bonding as sisters. If you leave, she can go back over to her seat so we can talk,” I told him, my eyes telling him what I really meant.

He backed away and closed the van door. After a few minutes, Daria relaxed and started to move back into her seat on the other side of the van. We couldn’t see where Woody actually went, and there were no windows in the back or on the sides of the van. I didn’t even know if Woody was alone or if the entire department was out there. Once Daria was comfortable, I said loudly enough for Woody to hear, ”There, now we can get back to it, Sis.” A shot rang out, I dove to the front of the van and saw Daria staring up at me blankly. Damn for someone who never pulls his gun, he got her right in the left temple without being able to see her.

My feelings were mixed; she was my sister. However, she was a serial killer. I guess I can’t get all that upset. I didn’t know her or that she even existed until yesterday. It would have been nice to have a sibling, just not a complete lunatic. Thankfully, I hadn’t broken my face when I threw myself forward. Woody untied my hands and pulled me into the biggest bear hug in history.

“I thought I lost you!” he said quietly.

“Not a chance, Woody, not a chance,” I answered even more quietly.

Epilogue

Itook a few days off at the entire department’s recommendation. I took some time to go to Daria’s home to look through her things. Maybe there was more there to explain why she was the way she was. I got there at ten in the morning, figuring I’d stay an hour or two, see what I could see, and be on my way to a little relaxation.

Next thing I knew, there was a knock on the door, and there stood Woody.

“I knew I’d find you here. Do you realize what time it is?” he said.

“I guess, noon. I pretty much just got here,” I answered.

“Kasey, it’s seven o’clock in the evening; you have been here all day. What have you been doing?” he asked worriedly.

‘I found her journals; I’ve been looking through them. You wouldn’t believe some of this shit!” I said.

Woody took my arm and helped me up. It was time to go. Woody said we would take the journals with us; he wanted to look through them too.

“I know a great place to get the best coffee…” I said.

Woody replied, “I hear they are opening one of their cafés in our little town…”

About the Author

Paula Nevins is an exciting new voice in murder mystery fiction, captivating readers with her debut novel’s intricate plots and unexpected twists. Drawing on her passion for crime fiction and a fascination with human psychology, Paula brings fresh energy and depth to the genre. When she’s not crafting her next mystery, she enjoys exploring true crime stories.