By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
A filthy room, derelict and grimy. Used food containers and miscellaneous garbage is scattered on the floor. Plastic billows in the windows, the only relief from the oppressing heat. Plywood walls with graffiti from some local gang is splattered across the walls, randomly threatening some alternate gangs’ members. In the corner, a small 2 chair table set. On the table is a perfectly folded, clean set of clothing inside a thick clear plastic sack, zipped closed. On one of the chairs is a backpack. This corner of the room is so clean it sits there like an oasis in a desert of filth.
A large blue tarp covers most of the rooms floor. On it lays a woman, barely alive. Surgical cuts seemingly random all over her body. Blood is all around her, obvious smudges arc through it, evidence of her writhing. She is naked, her blonde hair matted with dirt and blood, surrounds her like a halo. Her face is perfect, she is beautiful and other than the smudge of black mascara under her eyes there isn’t a mark on her face.
She is too weak to fight any more as she struggles to hold on to consciousness, praying perhaps this last desperate attempt at anything just may free her.
He stands over her straddling her legs with his feet. He stares down and revels in his ‘art’ work. Pleased with himself. His hair slightly curled in that somehow nondescript color of brown. It hangs from his head and drips with his sweat. His dull grey track suit is covered in blood and bits of flesh. Some goo is new, and some is dried on from other adventures. He worked hard and the evidence is below him. In his right hand is a large knife, now dripping with her blood. He steps to her left side and kneels beside her. Terror in her large set eyes with hot tears that have already created lines down her face slowly fall, to rest beside her ears.
He gently strokes her hair with his left hand, somehow there is a look of love and adoration in his eyes. He turns to look at her stomach and strokes her skin with his knife. He curves his hand and points the tip just above her right hip, slowly dipping the blade into her flesh. He pulls the steel across her abdomen to the other hip. She moans trying to scream. Both cold and hot the blade slices through her. He turns his head and looks at her adoringly. He puts down the knife and dips his hand inside her, his fingers finding her intestines he gently pulls them out of the hole he just created. He loves the warm wet feel of them. Like uncooked sausages just slightly less firm. He pushes her organs back inside the hole. A last quiet moan escapes her lips. He knows she has only seconds left.
This event for him is sexual and as such, he feels the hardness of his cock in his pants. His brain is on fire with the knowledge of the release moments away. He stands, pulls down his pants and frees his flesh, gripping it in his blood-soaked hand. Somehow her cries register as pleasure in his mind. Each sound from her feels like a release. He is sure that all he has done to her is erotic and it is making her cum. He grunts while he pulls on himself. Admiring his work. It takes only seconds for his ejaculate to spurt out of his body. He sprays it on her face. He screams to the room; this one seems the best of them all. His body jerks and contorts while the orgasm shoots through him like lightning.
Panting, he quickly shoves his flesh back inside his worn sweat pants and kneels again beside her. She is gone. He smears both his ejaculate and some of her own blood across her face, leans forward and kisses her. He slips his tongue inside her mouth. He loves her and is proud of the pleasure he just gave her.
He stands, turns, and walks over to the backpack and from inside he removes a container of disinfecting wipes and puts them on the table. Then he opens the container and pulls out several sections out of it. He proceeds to clean his hands carefully and wipes the outside of the container. He then reaches back inside the backpack and finds a rectangular package wrapped in cloth.
He returns to her corpse with the package and the wipes. He clears a portion of the tarp with the cleaners and carefully opens his parcel and places this on the clean section of tarp. From around his neck hangs a key. He unwraps the package and inside this is a silver box, slightly larger than a pencil box. He takes off the necklace and with the key he opens the box. Found inside are several small urine sample containers. Some have a clear fluid in them while others also have some bits of flesh floating in the fluid inside of them. He removes the lid off an empty one and places this on the fabric next to the box.
He takes more wipes out of the container and turns to her again. He leans forward and carefully parts her legs and with the wipes he cleans her labia and inner flesh. He then disinfects the knife making sure that the blade and the handle are completely sanitized. He reaches down, parts her again and carefully slices her clitoris off. Taking his treasure and putting it inside the container of fluid, he smiles. Gazing lovingly at his prize, he replaces the lid and puts it inside the lock box, closes and locks it. This he wipes down again before rewrapping it. He rises and walks back to the chair, leans over, and puts it back inside his backpack along with the wipes.
He looks at his handiwork again, sighs and says, “Oh Sandra, what have we done?” Its time to clean up.
On the window sill is an old boom box, that continuously plays “Oh Sandy” from the movie Grease. Against the wall, under the window is a long counter. It has a top made of concrete that has a smooth shiny surface. Set into this is a large steel set of sinks with a side steel draining surface and hot and cold taps. The entire set up is made with 2 x 4’s and plywood. Under this sink, behind dirty curtains is a large cupboard with a locked door. Inside, on the shelves are bottles of chemicals including bleach and a large bottle of white vinegar. Boxes of large black garbage bags and multiple rolls of black duct tape. A box of 5 white disposable coveralls with 2 missing are also found here with a box of large surgical gloves, the box is opened and partially used. All of these are set on clean shelves and are organized with the labels facing outward. This organization is methodical and purposeful.
He leaves the room, taking his backpack with him. When he returns, he is showered and wearing only a surgical hair net and disposable booties. His stark white body has random black and gray nonsensical tattoos haphazardly drawn on a body that is slim and toned, devoid of all hair, he is now slick and clean. He puts on one of the hazmat suits, goggles, surgical gloves. He duct tapes these gloves to the sleeves of the hazmat suit. He then sits on the chair and from his backpack he takes out and puts on black socks and clean slip-on style black tennis shoes. The socks are taped to the legs of the suit. He wears a protective respirator. He’s ready to work. He reaches into a side pocket of the backpack and takes out a set of keys. He uses these keys to open the cupboard.
He starts humming to the music while he takes out the Vinegar pouring a large amount into a large bucket that is in the sink. To this he adds luke warm water and a generous squirt of Palmolive soap. He puts on dish gloves and swished the water. Puts a large sponge in the bucket.
He turns again, and starts to wrap the body in the tarp, taking care to make sure that there is no exposure anywhere. He uses the duct tape and seals the carcass inside. He takes the vinegar water soap mixture and starts to wash every surface in the room, even areas that were never exposed to his activities. He is careful to push aside all the garbage against the walls. He wipes the outside of the body sack, turns it over and cleans it more. The bucket is emptied in the sink. The entire endeavor takes over an hour. He pulls 2 extra-large 65-gallon heavy duty black plastic bags and brings it to the wrapped body. Putting the corpses bottom half into the bag. Good thing she was small. The bag fits around to the shoulders. He tapes it on and does the same in reverse. Head to knees. Tapes again. Now it looks like a discarded Christmas tree in a bag. He drags this outside about 10 feet from the door next to the woods and leaves it on the ground. This cabin is miles from anyone and only a bare track shows any evidence of a trail. He returns to the room. Now he pours a sudsing ammonia into the bucket half filled with hot water. He cleans the entire room once again. He then distributes and displays the garbage around the room, as if it were never disturbed. He drops the kitchen gloves and goggles on the counter by the sink.
Outside he takes a wheelbarrow and puts the ‘tree’ inside it and pushes it down a small hill. At the bottom of the hill is an old well. It hasn’t been used in a very long time, only 2 rows of bricks show above the ground and it is almost completely overtaken by vines and small shrubs. He takes the lid off the well and with effort drops the package down the well, closing it behind him. This area of Montana is thick with forest. Only those who know the area would even know of the existence of the well. He whistles while he trudges back up the hill to the cabin. He leans the wheelbarrow against the side of the building and goes back inside. He untapes his wrists and removes the surgical gloves, removes the tape on his ankles and puts all inside a new garbage bag.
Inside the makeshift kitchen he looks under the sink and takes out a bottle of orange soap, a nail brush, and a fresh sponge. Then from the table he grabs the clear plastic sack of clothing. He showers again making sure to scrub his entire body. From follicle to toenail he completely removes all loose skin and any possible debris. He steps onto a fresh disposable pad on the floor and dries himself off. Dresses and puts on disposable booties again. He takes all these things back to the room and puts it all away. Tucking the clear plastic zipper bag under the sink along with the remaining chemicals. The worn track suit that was jammed inside a plastic shopping bag is also stuffed under the sink. The cupboard is locked and then his towel is put inside the backpack. Sitting on the chair he puts on dress socks and shoes completing his look. A nice black suit, white shirt and red tie. He squirts some cologne and prepares to leave.
| Author Notes | This story starts out with the first known murder - it is very graphic. As the chapters continue it turns into the crime portion. |
By EILEEN LAW
It's a cool winter night, 2 women are sitting at a table in a darkly lit bar. At the Crystal bar, music thrums around them with colored lights flashing on random surfaces.
A few scattered couples are dancing on the floor, in the center of the room. The girls are wearing jeans with white men's dress shirts. Intentionally dressing the same for their night out. These shirts are collar up, sleeves are turned and pulled back and there is an elastic belt around their waists, a butterfly clasp holding the belts closed. The shirt is mildly draped over the belt, and it hang down past the waist of the skin tight jeans. Both women have back combed hair and blue eye shadow. Geometric neon earrings complete the look. The height of fashion in 1987.
They have carefully chosen the table. The bar is rectangular, and they sit at the far-left corner from the entrance. There are 2 fruity drinks in front of them and an overfull ashtray between them. Best friends since high school they chatter and giggle randomly behind their hands.
Across the bar in the opposite corner are 2 handsome young men. One seemingly either Hispanic or maybe even Indian. The other a light brunette. They wear jeans, t-shirts and suit jackets, the sleeves pulled back. One has a beer the other a dark liquid in a glass. Each randomly sipping on their drinks between comments.
"Do you see those guys over there?" Aliss whispers to Janice behind her hand.
Janice, the bolder of the two says, "Yup, the tanned one is so hot".
"I prefer the other one, he is so handsome and way out of my league. So, why bother."
"You shouldn't't be so down on yourself, you're pretty. You just lack confidence and all guys like confidence. I'll show you, let's go!"
She stands and grabs her friends hand pulling her up and away from the table.
Aliss was always the plainer one of the two. Average height, average looks. Blonde hair just passed her shoulders, bright blue eyes and just a few pounds past her goal weight. All those annoying pounds huddling between her breasts and thighs, creating a pear shape. Luckily her face, arms and calves always remained trim. She had a full mouth and there was something about her that took her looks from just past plain to almost pretty. She has had very little experience with romance and men. She is awkward and sometimes clumsy. How she got a friend like Janice always puzzled her.
Janice, a bolder brunette is classically beautiful with long brown hair, beautiful doe eyes and pouty lips. She is petite in every way except her personality. She is outspoken and opinionated, direct and confident. Men would follow her with their eyes every where she went and some even followed her, hoping to get to know her more. She is selective on those who get her attention.
She always felt like Aliss was a bit of a project. She loves her in an older sister kind of way. She knows Aliss is shy at first but once you get to know her, she opens up and is quite funny. She is a fiercely protective and dedicated friend. Non-judgmental. Lord knows Janice needs non-judgmental. She hasn't always made the right choices in life.
Aliss follows her friend, stumbling at first then carefully by her side. Aliss always makes sure that Janice is on the viewing side of any walk. Trying to use Janice as a shield of sorts. The two saunter past the men, pretending not to notice them. Their chosen course taking them to the ladies room on the opposite corner of the bar and their table. The two rush into the bathroom giggling.
"Aliss, he looked at you! He was checking you out!" Exclaimed Janice excitedly.
"No way, Jose he was totally looking at you! They always look at you."
"Jeez he totally was gawking at you. I saw him."
"Who? The brown guy or the other one?"
"The other one. Remember, the brown one is mine!"
"Really? What do I do now? Do I ignore him? Do I smile? Dare I walk past him again? Do we leave? Oh, let's leave. I can't, oh God, I don't know what to do!" Aliss, very nervous, washes her hands.
"Aliss, chill. We just walk back to our table, going the other way. Sit down and pretend we saw nothing. Guys want to chase girls, not the other way around." Janice takes a moment to reapply her lip gloss, accentuating her perfect mouth.
When they get back to the table there are 2 fresh drinks and a napkin with writing on it. Aliss sees it first. When she reaches for the note, Janice snatches it out of her hand.
"No! You're not supposed to notice it at first, it makes you look desperate." Janice turns and then starts to read the note.
"I thought you said not to notice it?" says Aliss a little perturbed.
"Too late now. OMG Aliss, its for you!" Janice has her and on her mouth with a look of astonishment on her face. She starts to jump up and down.
Janice chants, "Aliss has a hottie, Aliss has a hottie!"
Aliss loudly whispers, "Janice stop, please stop, they are looking at us." She then buries her face in her hands.
"Ok, Ok. But look!" She shoves the note towards her friend. Aliss nervously takes the wrinkled napkin and reads, 'The brunette is pretty, but I always preferred blondes, Mike.'
Shocked Aliss slowly looks up at her friend. Her hand shakes as she puts the note down. Sheepishly she looks past her friend and sees Mike smiling at her. Her heart drops into her stomach and she quickly closes her eyes, disbelieving what she sees.
Mike and his companion walk over to their table. Aliss doesn't notice as she is still sitting with her eyes closed and now has her hands on her face. The whole while Janice is going on and on with advice and excitement, talking non-stop.
Soon enough the 2 men are at the table, Janice with her back to them doesn't notice until a hand touches her on her right shoulder.
"Hello ladies, may we join you?" A sweet Hispanic accent melodically inquires.
Janice spins around, looks into the eyes of the man who spoke and quickly moves back to her seat to sit next to her friend.
"Please sit down, I'm Janice and this is my friend Aliss."
"I am pleased to meet you, mi querida, I am Manuel." He says, his hand on his heart slightly tilting his head with a small nod, without taking his eyes off of Janice.
Mike sits beside a flustered Aliss. Her face is very red and she seems unable to speak. Janice is occupied in conversation with Manuel.
Mike gently takes Aliss's hand in his and says, "don't worry, I won't bite."
She doesn't miss a beat and says, "shame" before realizing that her tongue got away with her. Impossible, but she got even redder.
This comment made Mike burst out in laughter beside her. Somehow this calmed her down enough to look at his face and into his eyes. Smiling at him she mumbles, "Sorry, I don't know what I said or why".
"Don't ever change that about you. I like it." Mike smiles, the sparkle in his blue eyes flash for a moment as if timed perfectly.
Mike is just over 6ft tall, light brown short hair, blue eyes and in good shape. Fitness is an important part of his day. He was raised in a middle-class neighborhood by white collar parents. Dad is a lawyer and mom an executive in an advertising agency. He met Manuel at school. He learned that Manuel was from Argentina and was awarded a medical school scholarship by some unknown benefactor. It wasn't easy for Manuel to get the student visa and therefore he is a couple of years older than Mike. They are both brilliant students, top of their classes. Manuel is only an inch shorter than Mike and also enjoys the gym, they are often working out together. Going to a bar was a rare event for them, with long study sessions consuming most of their nights. However, they had just completed mid-terms and were taking a break.
The couples exchange pleasantries, light conversations about where they grew up, what they did, and how they all knew each other. Janice reveals that she is a jazzercise instructor at a local fitness center, with dreams of being an actress or a singer, remarking how people often compare her to Chrystal Gale. Manuel and Mike are both medical students at Montana State University. Aliss is a bookkeeper for a construction company.
As the night moves on it becomes apparent that soon the bar will close and everyone will have to make their way outside and leave. Janice by this time has snuggled right up to Manuel. They converse looking at each other, inches from kissing. She fits perfectly under his arm and looks quite comfortable being there. It wouldn't surprise Aliss if they left together.
Aliss then realizes that Janice is her ride home. She mentally prepares to take a taxi, not wanting to disturb her friend and her obvious plans. Many years ago, Aliss stopped warning Janice about going home with strange men, it was fruitless as Janice kept assuring her, she could take care of herself.
The lights come up and the 4 head outside. Janice takes Aliss aside, "hey hun, the guys asked us back to their place to have another drink. Are you coming?"
"Oh no, I can't." She was terrified and just wanted to get away from it all. Mike was very nice, courteous, and respectful. But she didn't know what else to do. Distance was always her friend.
"Come on, take a chance, you might have some fun." Janice pleads. Deep inside she kind of hopes that Aliss says no so she can be alone with Manuel and at the same time genuinely wants her friend to risk it all and join them.
"Uhm, I don't think so, but thanks."
"Ok are you going to be okay getting home? Or do you want to take my car?" Janice offers.
"It's better you take your car, for when you need to leave. I'm ok with a taxi." Aliss as usual putting everyone else first before herself.
"I feel shitty leaving you here, making you take a taxi. I can go home with you, its ok." A look of disappointment is on her face.
"Don't worry about it. You go and have some fun." Aliss responds.
"Ok, but only if you're sure." Janice is happy again.
During this time Mike and Manuel were in another part of the parking lot retrieving Mike's car, a black 1984 Audi. They soon pull up to the girls. Janice approaches the car, "good news, I'm coming!"
Mike looks disappointed. He puts the car in park, gets out and stands in front of Aliss, "why won't you come with us? I promised not to bite, remember?"
"Uhm I, I'm ok with a taxi, really. I, I'm just tired, it's been a long day." She stammers looking at her feet.
Mike gently puts his finger under her chin and pulls it up. "Look at me" he whispers. Slowly she looks up and into his eyes. Her heart pounding in her chest, she is terrified, excited and nervous all at once. What is happening here?
"You are so beautiful to me. I see you completely." He leans down and places a gently kiss on her lips. He knows not to push her. He stands back slightly and says, "here is my number, you call me Monday, after 7. I'll be home from school then. Now get into that taxi and get home safely, ok?"
She can't move. Her legs wont work. She can't breathe, what did he say? In the background Janice whoops at her chanting, "Aliss got a hottie!" She barely registers the sound. Mike gently takes her hand and walks her over to the taxi, putting her inside.
He says to the driver, "make sure she gets home safely" he pays the driver and walks back to his car and leaves.
| Author Notes |
This will start the introduction of main characters in the story. Keep reading to see how it all ties together.
Enjoy! |
By EILEEN LAW
Chapter three
Its 1972 and on the news is a story about 16 survivors from plane crash that are rescued after practicing cannibalism. This fascinates him. Humans eating humans? 11 years old, should he be seeing this story? The maid rushes him out of the room to his bedroom.
His bedroom. Its all too familiar walls both comfort him and cage him. Although he has almost anything a young boy could need, he didn't have companionship or love. His parents ordering him to come home directly from school every day. He had to complete a series of chores and go to his room to do his homework. His parents were either entertaining or working late in their respective offices. After he completed his homework, he must bring it to his father. Knocking on his office door and wait for a response. Most of the time he would be told to open the door immediately, other times shuffling and banging would occur before the door is allowed to be opened. Once the homework is inspected, he would be sent to his room again, to read. Education at the centre of all activities. At precisely 5:30 dinner is ready and at 7:45 his mother would direct him to bathe and brush his teeth. Every day, including in the summer.
Most kids would enjoy summer camping, vacationing or visiting other family. Playing in the park with their families, parents and siblings sometimes with their parents' friends or colleagues. Not him. Summer was an opportunity to learn. Private tutors would be brought in. He was taught German and Italian the other 2 most prominent business languages of the time. He was encouraged to exercise. His parents had a glide-o-matic rudimentary tread mill, stationary bike and rowing machine. These were the best the time had to offer. They also had a private tennis instructor come twice a week to train with him. It was basically one of the only social engagements that he had outside of school.
His parents were best friends with Winne and Howard Dokken of the Dokken Nelson funeral home. These were prominent people, wealthy and a little eccentric. They often threw lavish parties that his parents would attend. Several times a year it would seem that they would try to compete with them and throw their own parties. These nights were the best for him. It would be the only time that his parents would show him off, brag about his accomplishments and give him perfunctory ruffles of his hair before sending him off to bed. But the days up to these parties would be hard. These days there was even less time for him. Often the maid would just bring him sandwiches in his room. Telling him to stay out from under foot. To him it was worth it, knowing the reward coming in the next few days.
Often, when done all his chores and schoolwork, he would tear apart and re-organize his room. He would create lists of things, he had and what he wanted. He took comfort in its organization and order. When he wasn't studying, it was something to do.
One day, his father summoned him to his office. When he arrived, he saw his mother and father together. Father sitting at his desk and his mother standing beside him, her hands on her husbands shoulder and on her hip. They were always extremely tidy and fashionable. The house also was always perfectly tidy and organized. Never a stray paper or book out of place anywhere. His father's office was no exception. He walked into the room and he was suddenly frightened.
"Sit down son" his father said. His father was never a man to waste words.
He sat down in the chair in front of his parents, hands folded in his lap and his eyes on his father. That was something his father demanded of him. Always look a speaker in the eye. It shows respect and that you are paying attention.
"You will be 12 soon. We thought it high time that you took a job." His father said with a matter-of-fact tone. "I got my first job with my father when I was only 9 years old. It taught me discipline and responsibility."
He sat there, excited and anxious. What would this mean? A possibility of a social life? Engaging with other people? Where would he go? What would he do? All of this he kept inside and patiently waited for his father to go on.
This time his mother spoke, "We have been talking to Mr. and Mrs. Dokken about you working at the funeral home. They have an adult daughter who is willing to train you."
A funeral home!? What?! With bodies and stuff! He couldn't take the look of shock from his face. His skin pale and grey, his eyes wide.
"Son, you will be upstairs in the offices. Helping and on occasion greeting people." His father said. "You do what they tell you to do."
"Father, may I ask a question?" He asks.
"No." This was final. This means just do it and don't attempt to disagree or start any argument. Like it or not, he was going to work....at a funeral home.
| Author Notes | Each chapter releases a bit of my imagination. There is an incredible amount of research in my story. All of the information provided are facts. |
By EILEEN LAW
She lifts the cold drink of water to her lips, her face full of anger.
'That bastard' she thinks. 'Misogynistic self-serving prick.' Another day at the station with her forced to spend her day on basic research and very little street work as a detective.
Terry, born Tangerine Rainbow Smythe is 5' 8" with curly brown shoulder length hair. Brown eyes and a square jaw with a small serious mouth. She is a responsible woman with critical thinking. She was always serious thinker, even as a child. She is the complete opposite of her free-spirited fun-loving parents.
As a family, they lived a simple life, grew their own food, made their own soaps and had a house full of worn secondhand furniture. They worked only enough to pay the bills. Both parents were like hippies who just didn't want to completely grow up. Her parents still loved each other like newlyweds, often showering each other and their children with affection. How she ended up this way made no sense but here she is. She frequently loses patience with her parents but also loves them deeply. One or the other often calls her to borrow money â?" lets be real â?" take money that she never gets back.
She has a sister, the only thing in her life that she has a soft spot for. Her sister Karma Sandrine, known to all as Katie girl has developmental disabilities. She is innocent and sweet. She lives with Terry some of the time, when not with their parents. Terry has created a little haven for her sister in her home. The room full of bright colors and soft fabrics. The rest of Terry's home is plain with grey and beige walls and furniture. Each piece of furniture purchased to fulfill its purpose not for flair or design. The refrigerator, however, is covered in rainbows and balloons that Katie girl drew for her sister.
There was only one career that suited Terry. Her degrees in criminology and psychology were interesting to her but not her end goal. After graduation she went straight into the police academy. She spent 30 weeks in San Jose, the only police academy with that long of a term. She did this to maximize her police academy training. She also completed over 150 hours on firearms despite the perfunctory 71 standard hours. She graduated with her control designated marksman certificate and then became a ballistics expert. Her education along with all of the training should have offered her a place in almost any police force. And it did. She spent 6 years on the force in San Jose and was promoted to detective in 5 years instead of 8. That was when the Bozeman Montana Police force offered her, her first position as detective, full time. So, she accepted immediately. She reasoned that her first job as detective in a more peaceful town would be a better way to start. She looked forward to her new position with the Bozeman SRT (Special Response Team).
She did her research, Bozeman's violent crime rate was 3.3 per 1000, considerably lower than most towns. The police departments moto 'The Bozeman Police Department is committed to serving our community with integrity, striving at all times to be transparent and accountable in our work.' Gave her the impression that she would be respected and valued. Boy was she wrong.
Sargent Hayes quickly made it clear he didn't believe that women should be on the force, let alone a detective. She expected to have to prove her capabilities but not by spending her days re-reading psychological profiles of long solved crimes. 'Just to make sure we didn't miss anything.' What a waste of her skills and time. She was often told to file and refile, organize and scan cases. Prepare applications for search warrants and file the necessary paperwork. When she was allowed out on the street, it was usually an early shift, the slowest ones of the day. Hardly any action. She was certain her only street time was given to her only to please the captain, who initially hired her. Sargent Hayes, her supervising officer, begrudgingly took her onto his team.
| Author Notes | This chapter is back into present day - the detective - how will she help solve the missing persons crimes? |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Another missing person. Its on the news, in the newspapers and talked about in every bar, coffee shop and beauty salon in the city. That's 3 known missing people in 6 months. The Bozeman Police department is declining to comment save to say, 'We are working hard on these cases and will update the public when we know more.' He smiles to himself. They won't figure it out as they have no clue. They have been searching in the wrong areas, talking to the wrong people. This makes him more self assured and bolder.
He has always been very careful who to pick. Better those that are alone, vulnerable. Those that give him the look. He was watching this one for a while. Making notes as to patterns. Where they walk and when. Destinations and times that they are alone. He even dared introduce himself once, when it was discovered, he was watching. They were both in the park.
"Good afternoon, sorry for staring but you were in my line of sight. See up in that tree? It's a Western Meadowlark. I've been looking for that one for a while. Tick! its now marked off in my book. What are you doing?"
A teen boy, around 14 is leaning against a tree. He is thin only just reaching puberty, stretching up in height but not yet filling out. He is a dark blonde with a dusting of baby hairs on his upper lip. He has on a T-shirt, jeans and runners. He has a black backpack sagging with schoolbooks. His cell phone in his hand and ear buds in his ears.
"Sorry?" He says, pulling on the wire to his ear buds.
"Oh, I thought you were looking at me and heard me. I was saying that I am bird watching and you were in my line of sight." He smiles at the boy. "You can call me Joe â?" what's your name?"
"My friends call me Buddy but its Alexander" He says, "Hey I gotta go, my parents are waiting for me at home." He turns and leaves. Joe watches him go.
| Author Notes | This chapter introduces our killer - or does it? |
By EILEEN LAW
A yawn, a stretch and an attempt to come to life. Saturday morning. It's the best and Aliss gets to stay in bed and watch TV for a while. That is before her cat demands breakfast. Her kitty, a beautiful orange tabby named Keanu. He is named after her favorite movie star. Currently he is laying on her chest while Aliss reclines in her bed stroking his soft fur. She knows the day is getting on and she should get it started.
Janice was picking her up in an hour and taking her shopping for new clothes. Aliss has a date. She squeals a little at the thought. A date. With Mike.
She called him the following Monday night, at exactly 7pm as instructed. The entire day in anticipation, trepidation. How is it possible to blush at a telephone. Her hands were shaking the first three attempts at dialing the phone. Mixing up the numbers in nervousness. Half of her was hoping he wouldn't answer.
"Hello. Right on time I see. Hi Aliss, how was your day?" Mike asks her.
She swallows so loud she is sure he hears her, "Uhm hi, its ok. Kinda boring. I just sit and add numbers all day long, write them in a book. Write a few cheques and repeat."
Her heart is pounding in her ears. She swallows over and over. Twiddling the phone cord.
"Aliss, I want to take you out. Let's go to dinner, just the 2 of us. I appreciate your best friend, but she overshadows you and I want to get to know you. The woman without the friend." Mike says.
"Uhm sure, I guess, ok." She trembles at the thought. She feels both sick and joyous at once. Janice has always been her buffer, always. How can she do this without her? What will she say, what will she do? Oh God.
"Saturday. Where can I pick you up?" he asks.
"Ah, if its ok, I'll meet you somewhere." Her father taught her stranger danger. Always maintain the upper hand. Amongst other tidbits of quotable wisdom.
"Good girl, I like that. Let's meet at 4B's restaurant on Main Street. I'll be there at 7 o'clock." He spoke in an instructional but friendly way.
"Ok. I guess I'll see you there. Saturday at 7." She looks at the ceiling, hoping that some answers to life were written up there.
"Perfect. And Aliss. I like you. Just you. And don't stress, ok. I'll be a perfect gentleman."
A few closing comments and they both hang up.
Aliss immediately called Janice, who shrieks and again in a litany of constant encouragement, advice and somewhat disbelief rambles on and on about what to do, what to wear and how to behave. Almost all of it Aliss doesn't hear. She is still filled with adrenaline and dopamine from that short conversation with Mike.
The days tick by so slowly. Like the hoursglass was filled with molasses instead of sand. The clock never seemed to move. For the next few nights, she would go to bed early hoping this would speed the week up. Most of the time she laid in her bed remembering his handsome face. His gentle hands and the one sweet kiss on her lips. Surprising she got any sleep at all. One day, two days, three. Will this week ever end? She felt like a 6-year-old waiting on her birthday party. Excitement and anticipation. Dum dum da dum....the wedding march in her brain. Dr and Mrs. who? She didn't know is last name. Geez Louise, stop! The date hasn't even happened yet. A virgin who has only been on a half a dozen dates. All as a double date with Janice. It seemed that these dates were a package deal kind of thing. No one ever asking for more time with her, and never any time alone. Her lack of experience keeps her nervous, afraid and frequently alone. Lonely at times. However, she is used to being alone and had set in her mind that was how life was going to be. Now this? What is happening in her life? Ok Ok Aliss get your stuff together.
Janice is coming over. Maybe she should do her hair too? Make up change? Excited and sick to her stomach. The date is coming.
Off to the Gallatin Mall. The intent is to find something pretty. Janice of course is all abuzz with fashion and skin showing. Aliss is demurer. Finally, they settled on a nice green dress that came just below the knee with a cowl neck that almost shows cleavage. Cute black low-heeled sandals (Janice wanted her to wear 4-inch heels â?" no way). She gets her hair done and attempts and new makeup.
When Aliss gets home, she takes it all off and goes back to her simple mascara and lip stick only. Its comfortable for her, not one to overdo it despite the fashion of the time.
| Author Notes |
The story continues - we set up the meeting of an important couple.
** picture courtesy of L. Tonin.*** |
By EILEEN LAW
Chapter seven
Day one. Dressed in his best suit, he is dropped at the funeral home. Unprepared but knowing that his father will expect the best from him. He straightens his spine and walks in the front door. The smell. Its like cleaning solutions mixed with cheap air freshener. And there also seems to be a undertone of new wood. This all is like a layer of scent designed to mask another unfamiliar chemical smell. This smell feels like its coming from under his feet.
The reception area has basic matte carpeting and clean white walls. Tasteful paintings and prints hang on the walls all along a wide corridor with multiple wood doors in it. The main area has a leather sofa on the right wall with 2 armchairs across from it. Between the chairs is a graceful bureau. Along the wall to the right at the back of the room, is a large grandfather clock and to the left, slightly on angle is a dark wooden desk. Table lamps light the room with the assistance of a large, graceful crystal chandelier that hangs from the middle of the room. All of this lighting is set low to create a comfortable light.
The double doors to both the left and the right lead to large viewing rooms, know as parlor rooms. Currently they have sets of chairs and a podium at each end. Each room including the reception area have beautiful vases of flowers spread throughout them. Even further to the ends of each parlor room are smaller rooms connected by doors. These are known as the family rooms. A place for grieving families to respite while the parlors fill up with funeral visitors. At the end of the reception area behind another set of double doors, these ones white, is another hallway leading to the business end of the building. Here are office doors and one room set aside with empty caskets for people to make their end-of-life choices with. On almost every surface is a small box of tissue, at the ready for anyone who may need them.
He looks about, exploring all the rooms. Taking note of where everything is. He has been here a while and no one has come seeking him out. Mind you, he hasn't called out either. When he reaches the 2 double wide white doors they open suddenly with a whoosh. Standing inside the doorway is a young woman. She doesn't look like she belongs here. She has short cropped black hair with large round brown eyes. She is wearing too much eyeliner and heavy dark shadow. In her ears are large yellow flower earrings and, on her lips, dark burgundy lip stick. She wears jeans covered in patches and flowers. Every one of her fingers bears a large gaudy ring. CC was a bit of an odd character; she would lose track of a subject and make sudden changes mid-sentence and occasionally come up with odd factoids at unusual times.
She is chewing gum. She looks at him and says, "Hey I'm CC, you the kid I'm supposed to train?"
"Uhm Yes ma'am I believe so" He looks up at her. He thinks she is beautiful.
"K, you gotta follow me, man" She whips around and leads him into the business end of the building. "What are you doing in a suit? That's kinda weird for housekeeping. We got spare clothes here. Let's get you into a shirt and pants for clean up."
After changing they spent the day going over his duties. These included cleaning up, sweeping, vacuuming, garbage. Making sure all the tissue boxes were full or a replacement is nearby. All fliers, and informational packaging is tidy and available for all visitors. Straightening chairs, checking flowers to make sure they will remain fresh, filling water where needed. Cleaning the bathrooms properly and making sure all the supplies are full. Any loose paperwork or notes are to be placed on the desk in the reception area. All the time that he was being shown his duties, he kept quiet. When they walked into one of the parlors the begin to straighten the chairs into neat rows. It was then he noticed neither parlor had any caskets in them.
"CC?" he inquired.
"What's up?" she replied. She would walk between the chairs and occasionally would twirl like a dancer for no apparent reason.
"Uhm, where do they keep the bodies? I don't see any here." He was nervous to get the answer but also intensely curious.
"Well, there aren't any funerals until tomorrow, so the keep them downstairs until they need to put them into the viewing caskets." She replied matter of factly. She didn't think he was ready to see one yet, but she loved to push boundaries. "Wanna see one?"
"No!" he exclaimed. "If we are done, can I go home now?"
"You're not scared, are you? They can't do anything but just lay there. Let's go downstairs and I'll show you where they do all the stuff."
She grabs his little hand and starts to drag him towards the back stairs. He digs in his heels and pulls his hand out of hers.
"I'm sorry little man. I didn't mean anything by it. We can save that for another day." Said CC. She clicks her tongue and points at him mimicking a gun trigger.
"CC. How come you work here? And what do you do?" he inquired.
"It's the family business and my mom is one of the funeral directors. But it's my uncle's funeral home. He owns a bunch of them. I drive the van and pick up the bodies and put them downstairs. Then my cousin takes over and gets them ready for the funeral. It was creepy at first, but I'm used to it now and it doesn't bother me."
He wasn't sure how to answer that, so you just said, "wow cool."
"How come you got stuck here?" CC asked. "You should be hanging out with your friends or something and not working here. Aren't you a little young for all of this?"
"Your uncle and my dad are friends. My dad said I have to work here. He said it would build character or something like that. He said its 'cause he got his first job working with his dad at 9."
"Sometimes the bodies burp or shit themselves, that took getting used to." CC added.
He looks up at her, face ashen, shocked. What can you say to that? She was so different to anyone he had ever met in his life. She was free and could speak her mind in every and any way. He loved this about her. He even loved her quirky behaviours. Twirling around the rooms, never ending energy and sudden bursts of odd comments and irregular times. This was a freedom he could never express himself. He admired it.
"So, little man â?" get yourself back into your suit and I'll take the van and drive you home. You can even ride on a gurney if you want to. But I promise not to shove you into a body bag!" to this she snickered out loud at his shocked face. She winked and did her click, finger gun point to him again, smiling.
| Author Notes | A lot of research goes into my story. All the details are factual only the characters and story line is made up. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Chapter Eight
His vehicle is full of supplies. In the trunk is rope, a potato sack, some duct tape, zap straps, some old clothes that are all packed into a garbage bag. He sits in his car, smiling. He checks the time, gets out and takes his notebook, a lunch bag, and his keys to the park bench. This part of the park is rarely used as it backs onto the trailer park where Buddy lives. Most people not liking to sit this close to 'those people.'
It's taken months for Buddy to trust him. Meeting him frequently at the park, just saying hello. Eventually it became a somewhat regular thing. They would have long conversations, most of which Joe hated but pretended to understand. Buddy was thinking that Joe was pretty cool for an old guy. He seemed to understand what it was like to be a confused teenage boy. Joe even once gave him a can of beer to drink with their sandwiches.
Today is different. Joe is ready to take things to the next level. Ready to show Buddy how the real-world works. Stupid kid. Fucking freak kid. Damn kid trying to tell him, he's a tranny. What the fuck. That is unnatural and he will show the kid the truth.
He sees Buddy in the park and walks up to him and invites him to share a snack with him. Buddy sits down on the bench next to Joe. The two of them start talking and Joe gives buddy a drink in a portable cup.
"Thanks, what's this?"
"Ah buddy that's a Monster drink, enjoy." Joe knows that Buddy's mom doesn't want him drinking energy drinks so this is a special treat. "When we are done, how about I take you for a ride and drop you at home later?"
"Where will we go?" Buddy asks taking a sip of his drink.
"I can take you to that clinic Bridercare that your mom won't take you to. That way you can ask all the questions that your mom won't let you ask. Maybe get some fliers or something."
"Oh, wow man, I ain't sure I'm ready for that. Is it private? I mean, like do I have to give my name and stuff?"
"Nope, I checked. You can walk in and just get the info that you need and just walk out. It's a free clinic." Joe can hardly hold his excitement. It looks like this is gonna work. Fucken kids gonna get exactly what he needs.
"Ah maybe next time". Buddy says nervously.
"C'mon Buddy. I won't tell anyone and I will even take the back roads so no one will see you." Joe pleads.
"Oh ok â?" fuck it. Lets go" Buddy downs the rest of his energy drink and follows Joe to his car.
"Joe, this energy drink is making me feel funny. I though it was supposed to hop me up but I feel kinda weird."
"It's your first one, just give it a couple of minutes and you'll be running circles around me."
They both get into Joe's car and soon after Buddy is asleep.
| Author Notes | Joe isn't really his friend. Bridercare is a real clinic. Most of my time is in research as was this chapter. Stay tuned for more! |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Chapter Nine
Lazily she clicks into her emails, checking out the events of the previous day. A few misdemeanors, a couple of transfers, the usual boring stuff. Whenever the Sargent wasn't around, she would look at the murder files, armed robberies, and missing persons. But lately she was sneaking a peek at all of the evidence that was being collected on missing persons. 3 so far and now they are saying there is a missing boy. 14 years old. She wonders if there is any connection. Probably not as there are no similarities between them that anyone can detect.
She is busy making her own notes practicing double duty. What do they know so far? Missing person # 1 Yvette A Turner, a middle-aged office manager last seen driving home from work. Missing since June of last year.
Missing person # 2 Young woman bartender Sandra Jean Jesperson, she disappeared in middle of a work shift last seen at work. Missing 9 months.
Missing person # 3 Olesia Strabynski a mother of 3, housewife grocery store charge on cc last evidence of location. Missing 4 months.
And now a teenage boy Buddy Stang - last seen when he left school at lunch.
No one seems to think these are connected but something in her gut tells her otherwise. The most unusual one is the boy. Three women and a boy, maybe he is just a runaway teenager and that's why he doesn't fit. Maybe. But again, her instincts are telling her to look a little harder. She decides to do a little investigating on her own. She heads over to the files and pulls out the first missing person file, Yvette Turner. Bringing it back to her desk she does a quick look to make sure no one was paying attention to her and that the Seargent isn't anywhere to be found.
She opens the file and grabs a notepad. Yvette Turner, 44. Husband, Frank Turner called in when his wife didn't come home after work. Her car, a 2010 Hyundai was later found at the end of Chester Lane, around 6 miles East outside of the town limits 1 week after she was reported missing. No other evidence was found at the scene. The car was towed to the impound lot and a thorough combing of the vehicle commenced. Nothing unusual appeared to be in or around the vehicle. No unknown prints were found on the vehicle. The keys were in the ignition and her purse was on the seat. Nothing missing. As if she just parked the car and walked away. An investigation of the scene was conducted and again nothing appeared unusual. There were tire tracks and impressions were made, however the tire tracks were a common tread and brand. Unlikely to find anything there. There was one farm far down the road from the entrance to the gravel road. An interview of the homeowners indicated that, other than seeing the abandoned car, they didn't see or know anything else. The brush and bushes were checked, and the mountain rangers did a complete combing of the surrounding forest. To this date no evidence of her whereabouts has been found.
There are notes from the interview with the farm owners, her fellow employees at the office, her husband, and her children. Although her children were adults and didn't live in the home with her husband.
Terry thought she would check out the area where the car was found, maybe re-interview the husband. Sometimes things come to your mind after the fact and she may be able to trigger some new leads. She looks at the photo of the woman. She sees nothing remarkable. Middle aged brunette with shoulder length hair. Brown eyes, glasses and in this photo, she is smiling. Beside her is assumed her husband. He is average height and build balding and slightly overweight. Terry takes out her cell phone and snaps a couple of photos of the contents of the file and carefully slips it back into the file cabinet. Now she has a start.
She waits until the end of her official shift and then climbs into her personal vehicle. She checks her notes and looks at the pictures in her phone. She will head out and re-interview the husband.
She pulls up to the double wide on private property. Knocks on the door and a woman answers. She has scraggly shoulder length hair and dark eyes with circles under them. She is wearing an oversized T-shirt and ripped jeans.
"Can I help you?" she says after taking a long drag on a half-smoked cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side.
"Hello, I am Detective Terry Smythe of the Bozeman Police department, is Frank Turner home?" she asks. She does a quick scan of what she can see of the inside of the trailer. It's dark with 70's wood paneling on the walls, garbage strewn over what she could see of the countertops. Evidence of drinking is also on the surface. The young woman at the door smelled of old alcohol. She surmised that this woman was probably an addict of some sort by the sunken cheeks and evidence of damaged teeth.
"Nah, he went to the liquor store. He should be back in about a half an hour. I'll tell him you were here."
Terry produces a card and tells her to have him call her on her cell. As Terry turns and starts to walk away a blue pickup truck comes into the gravel driveway, the owner cursing "Who parked in my spot!"
"Mr. Turner, I am detective Terry Smythe. Can you answer a couple of questions?"
"I already answered a bunch of questions before what new can I tell you?" He says squinting at the sunlight in his eyes.
"I understand Mr. Turner but this should only take a minute."
He trudges past her carrying a couple of cases of beer. He gestures to the woman at the door, passes her the beer. He points to the inside of the trailer and the woman disappears inside closing the door behind her.
"Ok then let's shoot. Waddaya wanna know?"
Terry is mentally taking note of the entire surroundings. It seemed that this used to be a well-kept trailer that had only recently seen harder times. Even the old blue pickup truck seemed to have more recent dents and bumps in it.
"Can you tell me about the last time you saw your wife?"
"What's to say. She got up for work as usual and left. Nothing new."
"Ok, I understand. How was her mood? Was she complacent or complaining about anything?"
"Nah, she usually complained about stupid things, but nothing seemed more than usual. She has this one co-worker that irritated her, but she didn't say anything in particular."
"Mr. Turner. No disrespect but what may seem like stupid things can sometimes lead to more important things. Can you tell me the name of the co-worker she had seemed to have problems with?"
"Uh yeah, it uhm some guy named Joe something or other. I'm not too sure but like a Russian or Polish name with a ski at the end. That's all I remember."
"Thank you, Mr. Turner. Now did your wife have a cell phone?"
"Yeah, but it was in the car, and it was taken by your office. But that was her work phone. Her personal cell phone is here. For some reason she forgot it that day."
"Mr. Turner, I am going to need that phone. Please go and get it for me." She waited for him to come back out of the trailer with the cell phone.
"Mr. Turner, who is the woman in your trailer?" She asks.
"Who? Her? She's no-one. Meaning, I met her after my wife disappeared. Long after."
His instance on not divulging more details was interesting and she decided to press it a little more.
"I just need her name for my records."
"Uh it's a Shannon...Shannon Beadle. B..E..A..D..L..E."
"Ok Mr. Turner, if anything else comes to mind, here is my card. Call anytime."
"Uhm Detective Smythe?" A look of intense pain crossed his face and made his blood shot eyes momentarily shine. "Do you think you will ever find her?"
"Mr. Turner, I can only promise you to do my best."
Terry left with the cell phone in her possession. Now she had something more to go on.
| Author Notes | Terry starts to uncover more that what the original detectives found. Or didn't find. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
"Fucking natural order of life!!! Order!! Order!! Everything in its place and everyone in theirs!! Raaaarrrr!!!" Each word was slammed into the corpse.
Meat, that's all that was left of what was once the head of a 14-year-old teenager. Bits of blood, brains and bone were splattered all over the room that made the blue tarp practically useless.
He was filled with rage, pure uncontrollable rage that flowed through his veins and to every nerve ending he had. He was panting, sweating, and trembling in anger. In his hand a 5-lb sledgehammer, covered in more of Buddy's bits. All around him on the floor were various very sharp knives and buckets filled with fluid. Some buckets were empty, some were filled with chunks of flesh.
His brain was firing like lightning, and he was fighting with the urge to swing some more and the urge to stop. His hair and face were covered in splatter and his clothes looked more like a mop up rag than something to wear.
The naked corpse lay below him, unrecognizable if not for what was left of the shape of the body. The hands bludgeoned as tools for self-gratification. No human should be allowed to exist that skirts the boundaries of the natural order. Destruction was the only cure. The boy's genitalia were the only things unscathed. They were cut so cleanly it was as if they were surgically removed and then placed into a bucket. All the while the boy screamed out to the room. Luckily, he bled to death before a sledgehammer connected with his mutilated skull.
He swings a few more times, making mincemeat from the rest of the remains and then collapses on the floor in the middle of all the mess. Slipping on the wet remains as he went down. It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath. Nothing about this one was pleasurable. This one was for mother nature. He felt a little like her ambassador, making sure that these creatures didn't exist to fuck up the planet.
After resting for a while his vision clears and the anger starts to dissipate to the corners of his consciousness. He was exhausted but he still knew there was a mess to clean up. He shakily gets to his feet, walks over to the table. He pulls out a disposable bed pad and puts it on the floor. Here he strips naked. He puts the remains of his sweat suit in a plastic shopping bag and ties it shut, tight. He reaches into the backpack and pulls out 2 pairs of disposable booties. One he puts on immediately and the other he holds in his hands.
Off to the shower for a quick rinse. Gotta get rid of this mess. When he returns with fresh booties on, he tracks his way over to the cupboard to get out his supplies.
After a few minutes, he is suited up and ready to get to cleaning up. Only now his brain registers that the dark twisted music playing wasn't the usual 'Oh Sandy' that he usually listened to. He silenced the noise and switched to Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1.
Now calm, he sees the carnage and the mess. Tsking to himself and thinking 'I gotta get control on my temper sometime soon. Well, the job needed doing, but perhaps with a little less vigor.'
First, he puts the bucket with Buddy's genitals outside. Then he starts with wrapping the body and as many bits as he can collect inside the tarp. Double bagging and duct-taping. Because of the mess he made this bundle didn't resemble any human or tree for that matter. More like a ball of squishy flesh in a bag. Out to the wheelbarrow and down to the well. Whistle while you work, it helps the time pass.
He returns to finish cleaning up the room. Taking care to make sure that the ceiling and walls were clear of all debris. He takes a lid and places tightly on the bucket outside and along with the blood-soaked bag with the track suit inside he places it in his vehicle.
Taking note of his supplies he recognizes that he will have to order more. Each time he orders from a different place, sometimes making the drive to different cities to get all that he needs. Occasionally pilfering from his work. Delivering to different sites, addresses and mailboxes. All under aliases and some in business names. Can't be too careful. Next trip is going to be quite far so he reasons that he will have to book another 'business trip' to get materials from places he's never been to. A successful venture requires hard work, planning, and diligence.
But for today, all this extra work was taking more time than usual. Excuses would have to be made about the delays to the ones waiting for him.
| Author Notes | The fourth murder - this ones a little different |
By EILEEN LAW
She walks into the restaurant her legs shaking. 'Will he be here? Will he stand me up? How do I look? Is this really happening? How will I talk to him? What will I say? What does he want from me? I'm not beautiful or charming or anything. What is really going on?'
Then he sees her and stands up, slowly glides to her side at the hostess desk and takes her hand. He guides her silently back to the table. He slips her jacket off and pulls out her chair.
They both sit.
Looking across the table he says to her, "You look lovely tonight."
She slowly lifts her eyes to his, "uhm thank you my dress is new." She swallows the large lump in her throat and picks up the glass of water. Hastily drinking half down.
"Aliss, I told you before, nothing to fear here. I like you and want to get to know more about you. Now tell me, what do you like to do with your time?"
She looks at his unbearably handsome face, blushing. "I read a lot, watch movies, play with my cat. Sometimes I go out with Janice but not that often."
"I was wondering about your friend; you are two very different women. Its curious that you have a friendship with someone so different from you."
The waiter walks over to the table. "Do you need more time?"
"No, we will start with the crab cakes with the remoulade, I'll have the salmon and she will have the cobb salad." He ordered with confidence and without asking Aliss what she wanted. This was impressive and Aliss took notice.
"Now, where were we? Ah yes, you were going to tell me about your first boyfriend." He winked at her.
His teasing started to relax her a little bit. She avoided answering and instead talked about her work, a bit about her family and her interests in books, the types of movies she liked and of course, about her cat, Keanu.
He showed genuine interest in her conversation and started talking about his schooling, his friends and his interest in pursuing a career in medicine, particularly his dreams of being a coroner. Ideally for this police department. His interests in solving crimes with the evidence left on the bodies intrigued him.
Aliss was shocked at this idea and the look on her face showed it. However, to each their own.
The meals came and the evening went on. Although Aliss had to be prompted to ask and answer questions, his ease and confidence made her open up more and more. He began to see her sense of humor peeking out and enjoyed it very much.
At the end of the dinner, they walked out to their respective vehicles. At hers, she turned to look at him. Without a beat he captured her face and kissed her gently.
Holding her close he says, "Next Tuesday I will take you Ice skating, be ready at 6 pm. I'll call you before and get your address. This time I am picking you up."
"Ok" was all she had the nerve to say.
He bent over to kiss her again. His gentle kiss soon became more passionate. Aliss had little experience with passion and was scared and shocked at the same time. She started to pull away when he gentled himself again.
"Aliss, you need to let yourself free. Enjoy all that I have to offer. Remember, you are safe with me."
The two started dating more and more. Mark usually picking the places and events. Aliss, not one to go against the grain, agreed and found herself enjoying her time with him. Eventually Mark was able to spend the night with Aliss and he discovered her virginity. After taking this, he found that she was slowly opening up all the sides of her personality. She wasn't always the prim and proper girl. She had a bit of a wild side that she kept in the sheets and off the streets. Soon enough Aliss was in love.
By EILEEN LAW
The last 2 years were good for Mark in that he developed in his puberty. He went from looking like a boy to looking like a young man. He had soft hairs growing all over his body, and he was even starting to shave. His muscles also filled in and he had a slim but nice shape to his body.
He grew very quickly, to the point that his legs and arms would ache with the rapid expansion and growth, although going from 5'2 to 5'10 in such a short period of time can cause growing pains that are quite extreme, he tolerated this pain well.
This growth and change also had its benefits. Mark was getting more handsome by the day and the girls took notice. He had a few fumbling kisses with girls in bathrooms at the school and was occasionally sneaking into closets and empty classrooms for quick grabs of some young girls budding breasts. Mark felt like this was more experimental than emotional.
The funeral home offered him more and more responsibilities and he now sported his own keys. Most of the time these days he did the work on his own. The routine was ingrained and he was able to listen to his Walkman while he worked. His father made sure that Mark kept up his grades and Mark was able to change tennis into track. Mark was quick and made the school team easily. He was always first and soon was offered to join a national team. His father denied this request stating that his boy had others things to focus on, but his didn't stop Mark from training and keeping himself in his best physical condition.
One Saturday he was at his job at the funeral home listening to music. He would sometimes listen to Pink Floyd, Supertramp or Fleetwood Mac but he also enjoyed the classics depending on his mood. This Saturday's selection was Pink Floyd. He was walking between the isles of the family area, straightening out chairs and picking up bits on the floor. He was so focused that he didn't hear CC enter the room.
A tap on the shoulder made him do a quick turn around while taking his headphones off.
"Hey kid, howzit goin?"
"Uhm yeah great, just listening to Floyd, ya know?"
"Yup �¢?" hey wanna learn some new stuff? Like maybe coming to get some clients with me? Clients meaning corpses of course."
CC was still unusual and quirky and Mark still found her beautiful. The opportunity to spend more time with her was tempting to him, but his sense of responsibility was forefront in his mind.
"Probably shouldn't. I have to finish up here and then get home to study �¢?" I have a final in science on Monday."
"Hey kid, it's ok. I cleared it with my uncle. I'll help you finish up and we can go to The Gallatin County Medical Examiners office. They got some car accident dude that's ready for his box here." CC winked at him and jingled her keys. A few minutes later they were in the company van and headed out.
"Hey CC, why don't we use the hearse when we do this?" He inquired.
"Cause we only use those for actual funerals ya know, to move them in the casket to the graveside. The van is so people don't know what we are doing, its more private that way. See sometimes we get bodies from murders and stuff and they don't want the press to know when the bodies are grabbed and moved."
They arrived at the coroner's office around the back of the building. CC handed over the necessary paperwork, unloaded a stretcher with the body pouch on it and pushed it inside the building. Just inside the wide corridor both CC and Mark were instructed to wait. A few minutes later the stretcher was returned with the body pouch now full and strapped down to the gurney.
A 40 something year old man with a rather large belly and official coroner's office security uniform looked at CC with obvious adoration on his face. "Hey, CC how's everything?" he asked.
"It's all cool. Here is my new body buddy �¢?" his name is Mark. He's worked with me now for a couple of years. Today is his first day doing pick-ups." CC was oblivious to the man's crush and continued on, business as usual. She signed the paperwork, took her copies and started pushing the gurney towards the exit.
"Ok CC, next time get the kid some I.D. or I'll have to let your uncle know your skipping steps again." He said in a teasing manner.
"You got it, see you next week sometime!" CC started whistling and almost skipping along, while pushing the gurney out to the Van.
"Hey kid, open the back up for me."
Mark did as he was told and was quick to help load the cart. His strength and agility gave him the ability to handle the equipment quickly and the job was done faster than usual. Cc took note of his physique for the first time.
Once completed they were headed back to the funeral home.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" CC broke a long silence and asked without any preamble.
"Ah no" Mark was taken aback by the question but also reasoned that CC was abrupt that way so he took no offence.
"So have you kissed a girl before?"
"Yeah, a couple, why do you want to know?" Mark was almost ready to shut down this conversation. He didn't like things asked of him that were too personal. His father taught him that.
"Just curious, you're getting quite cute and I can see you're going to be a hot guy." CC replied. She stopped the van at the back entrance of the home and turned in her seat to look more closely at Mark. After a few seconds Mark went to open the vehicle door.
"Hold on a sec." CC said while spinning in her seat to look directly at Mark. Suddenly, quick as a flash a 26 year old CC had a lip lock on him. It lasted only a second, barely more than a peck and Mark was shocked at the response his body had to her advances. He should be pushing her away, stopping this but for some unknown reason to him. He didn't. Maybe this was why he didn't respond to the girls at his school, maybe he needed someone with more experience, maybe.
Neither one of them took notice or even cared that there was a body on a gurney just behind them. Mark looked into CC's coal covered dark brown eyes. He then took a chance and kissed her again, fumbling with how but tried his best.
CC pulls away and says, "you have to kiss with your mouth open, like you're about to take a bite out of a peach. Then gently take that bite. You'll get it."
He tried again, better. His pants suddenly starting feeling tight.
"Enough for today, little man." CC did her pull the trigger and clicking sound as she pointed at him. Both got out of the Van and unloaded the gurney.
It seems Mark was in for some training he wasn't expecting that day.
| Author Notes | Mark is growing up. Maybe too fast. |
By EILEEN LAW
Terry, in her grey sedan is driving along Chester Lane towards the place where Yvette Turner's Hyundai was found, east of town. The dirt road winds around a few corners while climbing up a mountain. There are fields to both sides that can be seen between the trees. The road winds sharply for around 3 miles and there is a pull over to the right nestled in thick brush and trees. The road continues on until it reaches a U-turn cul-de-sac. The car was found at the pull out. Terry puts the sedan in park and gets out. Scanning the area, she notes that it is somewhat difficult to see any vehicle that would be closer to the trees when looking from the road.
She walks around the brush taking note of the sight lines and that the road seems very unused. There are no homes, barns or other structures around. She turns and starts looking through the trees and shrubs and nothing sticks out as unusual or out of place. That is until she sees under a bush the slightest tinge of blue. She bends over and lifts the bottom branches of the shrub and there she sees a crumpled blue surgical glove. This is something that seems out of place here. She goes back to her vehicle to get an evidence bag and a pair of large tweezers. She puts the glove in the bag. After spending some more time in the area she also notices that her cell phone reception flickered between no service and one bar. She uses this phone and takes pictures of the area where she found the glove, and more pictures of the surrounding area and the few tire tracks that are found in the dust and dirt around the pull out.
On her way back into town she stopped at the office that Yvette was working at the day she went missing. She pulls up to J.D. Consulting and walks inside. A pretty red haired receptionist in her twenties looks up from her desk and smiles at Terry.
"Can I help you?" A saccharine smile meets her.
"Yes, I am Detective Smythe, can I talk to your manager?"
"Yes, can I ask what this is regarding?" Her tone was sugar coated and seem obviously put on.
Terry realized she would probably have to handle the receptionist with a sterner hand as she was not recognizing her authority as strongly if Terry had been a man instead of a rather petite woman.
"I am a police officer on official business and no you can't ask what it is about. Just page or intercom that person and get them down here. Thank you."
Soon enough the call was made and within a minute a 50 something year old man with graying hair and a tight suit was standing in the reception area.
"Hello detective, I am Joe Strabynski the manager here. How can I help you?"
"Mr. Strabynski can we please go somewhere, where we can talk privately?" Terry said, noticing the receptionist paying too much attention to the activities in front of her.
"Certainly, please follow me to my office."
They walk down a hallway to a large office with a desk that had 2 brown leather chairs in front of it. The desk is covered in files and papers that Joe quickly makes into a haphazard pile to the side. A computer screen is off to the left that he quickly turns off to make the screen black.
"Please detective, take a seat." He motions to the 2 empty chairs.
Terry takes out her notepad while she seats herself.
"Mr. Strabynski, I am here doing a follow up on the disappearance of Yvette Turner from last summer. I understand she was the manager here at that time. Is that correct?"
Joe appears a little surprised and quickly clears his throat. "Hmm, Yes, that is correct. I already told the other officers all I know."
"I understand that, but as the case is still open, we will continuously be following up until she is found. Can you please tell me if you were here on the day that Mrs. Turner disappeared?"
"Yes, I was. It was a normal day at work and at the end of the day, as usual, Yvette said her good-byes and left. There isn't much else to say."
"Mr. Strabynski, I understand that you took over her position here after a short period of time, is that correct?" Terry was taking note of Joe's responses to her questions and his red flush to his cheeks at that question didn't go unnoticed.
"I did, I am more than qualified, I have been here even longer than she had. I deserved this promotion." His voice raised slightly and his tone was one of indignation and seemed as if he was trying to prove himself to the detective.
"I am sure you did. Who else was working here at the time that she left work?"
"I think Jaz, our logistics coordinator and our old receptionist, Janine. Everyone else was gone for the day."
Terry found the interview very helpful. It seemed Joe was hiding something.
"Thank you for your time. Here is my card. If you think of anything else, let me know." Terry turned to leave. With a backwards wave of her hand, "I can let myself out, thank you."
As Terry walks down the hall, a larger woman with brown hair in her 30's stops Terry in the hall, "Excuse me Detective can I talk to you for a moment?" She motions Terry to follow her into another smaller office in the building and shuts the door.
Speaking with a low voice she says, "The day that Yvette went missing, her and Joe really got into it."
"What do you mean, miss?"
"Nancy, Nancy Coleman. Joe and Yvette didn't get along well. He always thought he should have gotten the promotion to manager long before she did. And anytime he could, he would make things hard for her. In fact, I am sure that at least once or twice he purposefully messed up her ledgers so it looked like she made mistakes that I am sure she didn't. Yvette was an awesome lady but she didn't put up with Joe's crap. After Joe got her job, temporary position I was told, he started making changes around here."
"I see, what kind of changes?" Terry noted that Nancy had an air of truth to what she was saying.
"Well, first he fired Yvettes niece right quick. She was the receptionist here when Yvette was here, and he put that flake up there. I am sure there is something going on with them as well. And the day that Yvette left, she and Joe got into a huge fight. She even told Joe that she was going to tell the owner that Joe had to go. We all heard them yelling all the way from her office. Something about missing files from her office, and some email that he had sent to her clients. It wasn't perfectly clear but there was definitely something pissing her off."
"Nancy, was there anyone else here that heard the fight besides yourself?"
"Yeah sure, Stefanie, she was at her desk out front and we heard the whole thing. I am sure the only reason I haven't been turfed yet is I told Joe I didn't know what he was talking about when he asked me if I heard anything. Otherwise, I am sure I wouldn't be here today." She was obviously flustered as she concluded her story.
"Nancy, do you have any contact information for Stephanie?"
"Sure, I'll send you an email later or call you but for now its best that you leave so he wont figure out that I have been talking to you."
She took Terry's card and escorted the detective to the lobby. Terry left and headed back to the precinct. Now she really had some leads on this case.
| Author Notes | Most of the details in the story are accurate. Scenery, business names etc. Come along on the journey. |
By EILEEN LAW
Big news. Its 2006 and the BTK killer was all over the media. Seems he was quiet for a while and now because of his arrogance, he has been caught. Bind, Torture, Kill. This story fascinated him. How this guy got away with it for almost 4 decades. 10 confirmed killings but who really knows. Killers don't tend to 'slow down' and stop. They can't help themselves once they have got a taste for it. So, the 'quiet' times he must have more victims, but they just can't help it.
Fascinated with serial killers, their methodology and for some of their insanity he read, re-read and researched all he could find on them. He would read crime thrillers and watch whatever documentary he could find on them. Research is the key to gathering enough information to get away with murder.
He thought carefully about how to get his first victim. The where and how, the alibi he had must be tight as can be. Forming habits so people could guess where he would be and then show up at those places. He was frequently at the library. He found a back door and jimmied it open slightly so he could come and go. He practiced. Sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for an hour or more. Making sure to say both hello and goodbye to the pretty librarian who sat behind the counter.
Weeks ago, he went out of state to several different stores to get his supplies. Women's stockings, tape, zap ties, rope, multiple heavy duty garbage bags. He staked out the best place to dispose of the bags when full. Found a gap in the gate to the local dump. He knew he could get in there at night, and no one would see him. He stashed a shovel just inside the opening and made sure it was still there over several weeks. Spare clean clothes were stashed in a garbage bag close to where the shovel was. It lay there looking like more garbage. He figured out the best victim would be a college age girl. He followed one on her regular routine for a few weeks. Knew where she worked after school, how she got home and what route she took. Some nights she would meet with friends' others she would walk home. He made sure to sit at the park along her walk, casually reading a book under the lights in a rarely travelled part of the park. He would wave and smile as she passed. Soon she would wave back and continue on her way. He is now familiar and there is an unfounded trust between them.
His heart is pounding in his chest, his legs trembling a little with anticipation. His car is parked with all he needs at the ready. He walks into the library, as usual, and smiles at the librarian. He walks to the back area and sits at his cubicle table. Unless you purposefully look, you would almost be unseen while reading there. Puts on the light and opens his book. He waits a few minutes and makes his way to the back of the library, past the older almost never checked out books and slips out the back door. He quickly gets to his vehicle and starts the engine. Within a few minutes he is at the bench in the park.
Sweat is filling his underarms, and he is deliciously scared to undertake this mission but doggedly determined to do it. There she is as usual trudging along the path towards her home. He looks about to make sure no one is in eyesight or earshot of his interlude.
"Marvelous night for a walk, isn't it?" He asks her.
She is somewhat startled and slightly skips a step but says, "yes, it is. I've seen you here before a few times. What takes you out here?" Her pretty blue eyes sparkle in his direction, after all he is a handsome young man.
"I like the quiet." He says smiling back at her. "It's not safe for you to walk through this park alone at night."
"I'm almost home now, just a block or two, I'll be fine." Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail at the back of her neck and is swaying while she walks.
He gets up to walk beside her. She turns to look at him, skeptical. "Uhm what's going on?"
"You dropped your scarf" he says deftly pulling one out of his pocket. One that she had dropped a couple weeks prior.
"Oh, there it is. I thought I lost that one for good." She pauses in her steps to take it from him.
"Here" He says, "Let me help you."
He gently wraps the scarf around her neck. He had just soaked it with chloroform and was careful to make sure that the part saturated was over her mouth.
Suddenly his body fills with adrenaline and with lightning speed he twists the scarf and turns his body, so he is behind her. He whispers in her ear, "It's ok Sandra. Calm down. Come nicely with me and everything will be ok."
She is grasping at the scarf around her neck terror in her eyes. No breath to scream, slowly no strength left to try. She feels the night and darkness closing in around her and her legs getting weak. He guides her in the direction he wants to walk. Now trying to make their walk look like drunken lovers out for a moonlight stroll. Soon enough, he has her near his car. He guides her almost unconscious body into the back seat. Here he has ropes, and he quickly ties her up. He keeps the scarf close to her nose and mouth just close enough to keep her down and subdued but not enough to render her unconscious. He covers her with an old quilt and scatters garbage on top. Making the car look unkempt. If anyone saw it, they would think its just a messy car.
He is shaking, electrified and thrilled, he did it! He has her. Now to go closer to the dump. He must be quick, before he is noticed to not be at the library.
| Author Notes | More from our killer - the first attempt. |
By EILEEN LAW
Saturday May 12, 1990. 2pm. That's the date and time they chose. A simple but elegant wedding. Mark had found the venue, The Kimpton Hotel. Mark chose the black and white theme of the wedding saying it had a class to it. Aliss wanted more color and after some discussion he did allow Aliss a sprinkling of her favourite soft yellow on her maid of honors dress, for Janice. The flowers had subtle yellow blossoms with white roses.
Aliss had to have conversations with her friends who argued that black dresses in a wedding was depressing but Aliss convinced them of the simple class of the theme. The wedding was quiet, subdued, and beautiful. Aliss was overwhelmed with love for her handsome husband and wanted to please him at every turn.
The honeymoon was in St Martinique. They enjoyed sailing on a catamaran, snorkeling and days on the beach.
While they were away news came of a shooting at Montana State University that rocked the city. Generally, a peaceful city, this event changed the face of TV and newspapers for weeks to come. The ensuing car chase ended in a circle K service station with the perpetrator's vehicle crashed against a gas pump. Mark was distracted by the story and his interest in gathering information about it interfered with some of their sightseeing plans. When Aliss broached the subject of missing plans, Mark told her to go without him. But Aliss, again wanting to please Mark, chose instead to stay in the hotel with him.
The rest of the honeymoon went according to a carefully created schedule. Soon enough, they were back in Bozeman at Aliss's apartment. They had planned to return to her suite and then start looking into purchasing a home together.
With excitement and anticipation, Aliss started perusing homes with her husband. Mark, a newly licensed physician, wanted a home with a sizeable office, courtyards for tennis or at least the land to build one in the future, and a minimum of 6 bedrooms. His plan for 4 children was agreed to by Aliss as well.
The neighbourhood had to be right, the school district must be the best, and it had to be close to the Bozeman Deaconess Hospital for Mark to get to work. His plan, eventually, was to open a private practice but for the next few years he would work in emergency medicine at the hospital. Aliss's only request was a swing in the yard for her children.
Soon enough a house was purchased, and they moved in. Mark immediately started renovations and had his tennis courts added outside and a gym was created out of a portion of the basement. The rest of the basement included at large bathroom, sauna, wine cellar and storage. All these rooms had locks on the doors.
Mark was always encouraging Aliss to expand her wardrobe and select more from the finest clothing they could find. He would frequently choose the colors and styles, saying that they complimented her figure better, and sometimes told her that longer fabrics slimmed her. Aliss wasn't one who liked spending too much money on herself and frequently was uncomfortable paying for these expensive items. Mark scheduled regular salon appointments and even had hired a personal trainer for her, who would come to the house to train Aliss. She didn't really like it but what's the use of a gym in the house if you don't use it, after all.
They had a professional housekeeper come in. Aliss never seemed to keep it tidy enough or clean enough for Mark. He had a way of admonishing her that didn't quite border on abuse, and he always ended his 'conversations' with. "Only the best, my love."
After 2 years of marriage, Mark finally agreed to have their first child. It didn't take long for Aliss to get pregnant. It was at this time that Mark started to show his controlling nature to a more extreme extent.
As a physician, he had easy access to all of Aliss's medical records, he chose the gynecologist, the pediatrician, and the room at the hospital for the birth of the baby. During the pregnancy he hired a dietician to create the perfect meal plans for Aliss. He had her exercise routine changed in ways to prevent any potential risks. Soon enough, the nursery needed renovations. Mark spared no expense and before Aliss was even 4 months pregnant hired a nanny to help with the baby. Aliss disagreed with the need for a nanny, but Mark insisted. He quoted, "only the best, my love."
As the pregnancy progressed Mark encouraged Aliss to take a leave from work. This leave was to be open-ended in case she decided not to return to work at all. Mark had a good income, and they didn't need her to work at all. Aliss knew some of Mark's childhood and although he wasn't too bothered by it, she wanted hers to be different, hers to be a home with love and caring. She wanted to stay home and raise her children. Surprisingly, Mark agreed.
Early one Sunday morning, Aliss woke to a wet bed.
| Author Notes | We build more history on this intriguing couple |
By EILEEN LAW
She sits in front of Seargent Hayes, under the desk she is clenching her feet inside of her shoes. The only way she can release the strong feelings she is experiencing, while he goes on and on about how she 'messed up his files'. She keeps all emotion off her face and gives the appearance of complete attention while in her brain she is fuming with anger at the man who treats women like they are less. Less, hmm exactly what these files are. Less impressive, less investigative, and less complete. She has successfully drowned him out while inside her inner voice is going over the information, she was able to glean from the incomplete files.
"And furthermore, if I ask you to call down to evidence to make sure everything is entered and correctly tagged. I expect you to make a note in that file, saying that you did exactly that. When I ask you to double check files, I do not want the order of the paperwork inside those files to be messed with. You may think you are 'organizing' things, but you are fucking up my very careful way of putting them in there. It helps me to recall my order, the way I got them. Stop 'fixing' everything and just do what is asked of you. When, and if I have detective work for you, I expect you to be the ride along. You are not the lead. You have no real experience and I expect you to learn from whomever I send you with. Am I making myself clear?" His face was almost purple. It made her smile inside.
"Anderson missed a bunch of obvious evidence at the Howards farm. I only grabbed what he missed. I asked the scene photographer to make sure that those items had pictures that were also taken. We would not have had all that we would need to close that case if I hadn't." Terry calmly replied.
"Anderson was going to get those; you didn't give him the opportunity to complete the job at hand. You need to learn to step back and let the experienced detectives do their job. You watch and learn. That's it." A fresh new vein was showing itself across his forehead.
It was obvious to Terry that these men were going to cover for each other. Anderson was sloppy, inattentive and was not even close to getting all the evidence that was there at the crime scene. Everyone was wrapping up when Terry noticed the shells under the brush 10 feet from the scene. Anderson thanked her at the time, but it seemed like a different story was being told to the Sergeant. What happened to accountability and professionalism? Crimes were being committed with no easily determined suspects due to the sloppy investigative work done by some at this precinct. If she hadn't found those shell casings there would not have been any ballistics to connect the murder weapon to the perp.
Terry made a mental note to keep her own records until it was necessary to share the additional evidence that she would gather. Getting the perp was more important than office politics.
For missing person # 2, Sandra Jean Jesperson, Terry was going to have to be more undercover than before. She planned on hitting the Rocking R Bar later in the evening so she can gather more intel on her co-workers.
At the end of the day Terry overheard the Sargeant talking to a beat cop.
"She had better concentrate more on her make up and less on crime scene work. If it came down to a crunch, could she actually chase down a perp? What if she was needed out there? Can you count on her to protect anyone? She needs to keep it on her desk or take notes at a crime scene and let the real police work be done by the men around here."
Terry knew he was an incompetent controlling bastard, but now she really knew what was going on. Should she seek out the captain or try to figure this out on her own. She had always taken care of herself in the past and she would do so again. Good police work is always the best evidence of a competent detective. She would continue her current path until she had to deliver the case evidence.
Later that evening, Terry actually did what she overheard him say. She put on some make up and headed out to the Rocking R Bar. She was going to flex her detective skills and poke around for some information from the patrons and other staff at the bar. Terry's wardrobe and make up were limited as she rarely had occasion to use them and dress up, preferring the function of clothing over fashion. But she did, on rare occasions, have a need for more casual dress.
Tonight, she is wearing a deep red blouse with just enough of a Vee to offer a hint of cleavage, snug denim jeans and cowboy boots. She curled her hair and wore matching red lipstick. She was almost unrecognizable. But she was still Terry, so she had a small Kimbo Micro 9 in her ankle holster. You never know.
She walked into the bar and took a seat in front of the bartender, a pretty blonde.
"whatcha drinkin sweetie?" The blonde asked.
"Long Island iced tea, tall glass and only a little ice" She responded.
"Single or double in that tea?"
"Single, I have got to drive home later, thanks."
The bar wasn't overly full, and the country music wasn't so loud that conversation couldn't be heard. Soon enough the bartender wasn't tied up making drinks and Terry waved her over.
"How long have you worked here?" Terry asks her.
"About 3 years now, I guess. Why?"
"I had a distant cousin who used to work here, and she disappeared a while a
go. I was wondering if you knew her?" Terry tried to keep it light and noncommittal.
"What cousin is that?" asks the bartender.
"Sandra Jesperson." Terry replies and then adds, "Sorry, I'm Terry, what's your name?"
"My name is Marlene. Most of my friends call me Mars. I don't think I've seen you in here before." She looks at Terry quizzically, almost suspiciously.
"You're right. I just came by looking for some information about my cousin. Were you working the night she disappeared?"
"I was. She never mentioned any cousin to any of us here, that I know of."
"Well Sandy wasn't always proud of this side of the family. But we loved her despite the distance between us." Terry thought quickly.
"Ah I see." Mars was trusting more. "It was around 11:30 or so. She said she was going to the bathroom. She took her purse 'cause you know, lady time. And she never came back. The boss asked me to check on her and I went into the bathroom, but she wasn't in any stall. I called for her but, nothing. So, I just figured she left early and didn't tell anyone. It wasn't until my next shift that I even knew she was missing."
"Did she leave anything behind?" Terry was examining Mars closely for any signs of deception and saw none.
"Uhm, just her sweater. But she did that a lot." Mars offered.
"Oh, any way I can have her sweater?" Terry asked while thinking that her department had a bad habit of not gathering evidence that seemed rudimentary to her.
"I don't know if I should. I don't want any flack from anyone."
"Please, it's all I would have left of my cousin." Terry gave her a look that she hoped looked both sad and desperate.
"Uhm, yeah, ok just give a minute to fix these guys their drinks and I'll go in back and get it for you." Mars replied.
Soon enough, an attractive, man sat beside Terry and gave her the once over with his eyes.
"I haven't seen you in here before, this your first time in here?" He asked her.
Terry, not wanting to lose her 'character' replied. "Yes, it is, do you come here often?" She gave him a quick glance; it was enough for her to size him up.
"All the time. I'm a regular here."
At this time Mars returned with a blue cardigan sweater and passed it over the bar to Terry while at the same time saying to the new patron, "Hey Joe, are you bothering this lady?"
"Hey Mars, nah, never I'm just admiring the scenery." He turned and winked at Terry who pretended not to notice.
"So, you must have known Sandra then." Terry asked him, taking advantage of the situation.
"Sure, everyone new Sandra. She was a great waitress and friendly to everyone. Why, did you know her?"
"She is my cousin on my dad's side." Terry noticed his face took a slight red tinge and what looked like a hint of guilt quickly ran across his face.
He looked at his beer and then smiled when he turned to look at her. "I guess all the pretty girls in this bar must be related then."
"Wow, thank you. You didn't even skip a beat delivering that line. You must be a pro." Terry said teasingly.
"Ah well, you caught me. I don't mean any harm." Guilt again flitted across his features.
"If you are a regular, were you here the night my cousin went missing?" Terry asked, now paying close attention to his inflections.
"Yea, I was, but I left before she did. Isn't that right Mars?" He seemed to be reaching, grasping for someone to back him up.
Mars was pouring a beer for a customer and didn't hear the question. She came back to the end of the bar with a quizzical look on her face.
"I was just telling this pretty lady here that I left early the night that Sandra went missing. You remember, don't you?" He asked.
"Yea, Joe, that's right. A bit unusual for you. Most days you're here until we turn the lights up." Mars was teasing and she offered a light punch to his left shoulder.
Terry turned towards Joe, offering a pretty smile and asked, "Joe, is it? Joe....?" Her leading question asking for a last name.
He responded to her look of flirtation and offered, "Joe Garrison. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Can I buy your next drink......?" He was fishing for her name.
She smiles at him and says, "Terry, Terry Smith." She offered a version of her name. "Listen, Joe. I enjoyed our little conversation, but I must get going. Can I get your number?" She lightly tilts her head at him.
Joe thought he was so lucky to get this girls' attention and he doesn't hesitate to offer up his phone number. She enters it into her cell and says to him, "Joe it's been a pleasure, I'll give you a call sometime soon, ok?"
Terry waves at Mars again, to pay her tab but Joe wasn't having anything of that. "It's on me, sweetie. You make sure you call me, ok? I'll be waiting."
Oh, she would be calling him. She had a lot of questions to ask him, and more to ask of Mars too. For now she was anxious to get out of the bar and take a closer look at Sandra's sweater..
| Author Notes | Terry is gathering more evidence and more persons of interest. |
By EILEEN LAW
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
He has his treasure in the back seat. Somewhere in his mind a switch goes off. His clever and charming self is pushed aside to welcome in the other one. The one who has wanted this feeding for so very long.
She is mumbling under the blanket and seems to be waking up a little more as time goes on. He must not have put enough chloroform on the scarf. Figures, what do you expect from Walmart? Not high quality. He pulls into an alley, jumps out and opens the back door. He then quickly pulls off the blanket and garbage, takes off his winter gloves, exposing the blue of the surgical gloves underneath. He tosses the gloves over to the front seat and climbs inside, sitting on the bound girl he has named, Sandra.
She looks terrified. Her eyes are wide, and she is moaning. Her moans remind him of the female orgasm. She is getting louder. He puts his hand on her mouth. "Shh, sweet Sandra, Shh." The feeling of control, of absolute power is surging through him. The adrenaline and dopamine's are coursing through his veins and slamming into the pleasure centres of his brain. She starts to struggle so he quickly wraps his strong hands around her throat. He leans into her face and whispers in her ear.
"It's alright, just let it happen. You will love the rush." His mind is telling him that she likes what he is doing. The more she struggles the more he feels the proof of it. Her red terrified eyes are dripping hot tears pouring down her cheeks. Then they start to dim. Her kicking and thrashing are slowing down. As he watches her lose consciousness he knows if he doesn't let go soon, she will die. He thinks it may be better if she is still alive for the next part of his plan.
He puts a blue tarp on the pavement and puts her body on that tarp. He pulls up her shirt and exposes her smooth clean skin. His excitement is increasing as he pulls out the last of his supplies.
He then leans over her to strangle her some more. Now he can watch as life slowly slips from her. He looks at her adoringly, tilting his head to the side while he watches her life leave her. The moment she is gone, he grabs the large knife and starts to caress her with it. He begins with her face, careful not to cut her skin. He thinks her final look of softened terror, desperation and that slackened look of death is beautiful. Terrifically beautiful. He is filled with emotion looking at her, could it be love?
Then he moves down and sideways so he can look at her abdomen. He takes the knife and presses it into her stomach. Pulling across her body. Surprisingly not as much blood as he was expecting, but then again without a heartbeat only the pressure in the veins would release any blood.
He puts down the knife and explores the gash in her belly. The glistening intestines slip out of her and onto his hand. The glorious wet warmth of them intrigue him and he runs his fingers through them some more. Curious he pulls further apart the gash to look inside. Everything is red and wet and somehow looks alive.
He then feels a twitch and increase in pressure in his pants. Not truly understanding what is happening he pushes this thought aside. He knows he has only a few more minutes so he needs to stop what he is doing so he can pack everything up. He stands, looks down at her and lovingly says. "Sandy, my love, I shall miss you so."
He wraps the body in the tarp and then gets it all inside the garbage bags, duct taping them shut. He puts this package in the back seat and looks around to make sure he has not left anything behind. He pulls off the blue gloves covered in her blood and disposes of them inside a plastic shopping bag and drops it on the floor. Satisfied, he gets in the driver's seat and heads to the dump. When he gets there, he drags the package in through the fence and proceeds to dig a hole for it. Digging in a dump is harder than it looks, many bits are bigger and harder to move than common dirt is. It took some effort but eventually he was able to 'hide' it well. He gets back into his car.
He sits there for a moment. He has not been able to get rid of that twitch in his pants. He looks over to the small mound where Sandra is and takes his cock out. He tugs on himself while thinking about the feel of her organs in his hand. Its takes only a few pulls and his release is granted. It was intense and shook him to his very core. So, this is what a real orgasm feels like. His brain in full and he is high from all the events of the evening.
No time to spare! Quickly, he drives back to the library and slips in the back door, quietly working his way back into his seat. He takes a moment and looks at his watch and discovers he made it with 10 minutes until the library closes. He takes this time to think about what he had just accomplished. Trying to slow his heart, bring down the adrenaline and fix a 'normal' look on his face, he then packs up and walks towards the librarian.
"Hey Jess, you look lovely tonight." He smiles brightly at her.
She slightly blushes and looks at him. "Thanks, did you get a lot of studying in?"
"Jess, I think you and I should go out on a date. Dinner, on me. Tomorrow. I won't take no for an answer." He leans across the counter and plants a quick kiss to her cheek.
Damn he was feeling great.
| Author Notes | His first try - not so bad is it? |
By EILEEN LAW
Marks heart is pounding out of his chest. His brain is firing on all cylinders, and he is tingling all over. Can toes actually curl? Sure, feels like it. What an explosion!
CC leans back, panting into the room, his penis is still buried deep inside her. He reaches up to her putting his palms on her breasts. He doesn't want this over. He can feel himself building up and soon enough he will be hard again.
She feels him growing and looks down at him winking, "Your kickstand is kicking me again. You got energy, don't you?"
He is 15, what do you expect? He grins up at her smiling. All they want is action and more action. Spread the seed.
CC leans over and his cock slips out of her. She raises her leg and twists to plop onto the floor beside the table. Mark, in a half-sitting position looks at her, with a soft adoration.
"Hey kid, don't go there. This is just for fun." When she saw his face slightly crumble, she added, "I do like you, but let's just keep it at that." She turned to grab her clothes and then looks back at him to say, "Sometimes I look at the bodies, the younger guys with rigor and wonder what it would be like to ride one of them. Not that I'd do it, I just wonder."
--------------------
Earlier in the day, CC had prepared for this. She had planned it all out. She made him work for it though, building it up.
This wasn't the first time. She had a knack for it. She would tease him by randomly coming up to him, lick his neck and rub his cock through his jeans and then, walk away, leaving him frustrated. On occasion he would try to touch her, but she would withdraw and tell him no. She often made him work shifts alone and made him promise not to tell anyone. If he kept quiet, she would reward him with a deep kiss and heavy fondling.
Once, in the embalming room, Mark came down to see her and was standing in the doorway. She was moving a body she had just picked up from the transport gurney to the cold storage drawer when she saw him.
She turned a looked at him and said, "someday I'm gonna suck that cock of yours. When? Who knows, but kiddo you need some." She followed that up with her trigger finger and thumb, making a 'click' sound and then wink and just as abruptly turned back to the task at hand. Marks face filled up with blood and so did another part of him.
She seemed to like this room. Come to think of it, most of her sexual advances were in this room, fitting that their first time was also in here.
For Mark, this was exciting and exactly what almost any teen boy would fantasize about. A gorgeous older woman, one who takes the lead. This was a secret world that he carefully kept hidden from his controlling parents. This secret offered him a semblance of control over his own life. Not that his parents would notice so much as all they were doing was just tracking his activities and time. He did report to them about the things he learned, wanting to protect CC as much as possible while doing it, but never did he reveal any type of relationship except a working one. He told his parents that he mostly worked on his own, with CC checking in on him occasionally. He was careful and made sure his grades stayed up, despite being distracted.
One Saturday, Mark came in to work. He noticed that it was already clean, tidy and not a thing out of place. As if he had already done his job. He looked for CC and didn't see her anywhere on the main floor. So, he decided to check out the embalming room.
When he got to the bottom of the stairs, there she was. Wearing the hottest set of black panties, bra and thigh high stockings. On her feet the most delicious black high heels. Her hand on one hip and her fore finger motioning him to come to her.
His cock instantly sprang to life as he watched her sway away and open the door. Inside it was all lit with candles. White cloths covered everything except for one red plus blanket that was covering one of the embalming tables.
She pulled him into her arms, slipped her tongue into his mouth and then said, "Take off your clothes and lay on the table."
It took seconds for him to comply. Anticipation thrumming through his veins, his heart pounding, and his cock at attention, full.
She sauntered to his side, placed a blindfold over his eyes. When he protested, she placed her finger on his lips, "sshhh."
From under the table, she took long black Velcro straps and bound him down. He was confused and excited at the same time.
"Mark, you are one lucky little man. I brought company today. You are getting your first gang bang and all you must do is lay there and enjoy the ride, or rides."
"CC, uhm, I'm not sure about this." He was a little frightened.
"Well kid, you kinda got not choice." She bent over, kissed him deeply and stroked him slowly. It was only moments before he came all over her hand and all over himself. She took a warm cloth and washed him down.
"We had to get that quick one outta the way before we can get this party started."
What Mark couldn't see were the 2 women and one man waiting for their turns.
He didn't know why he kept silent, he felt a loss of control and excitement at the same time. He just waited heartbeat by heartbeat for the next sensation to take him over.
He felt a soft kiss on his lips, unfamiliar but pleasurable. A smaller hand grasped his member and started slowing stroking him, bringing him erect once again. Soon there was a feeling of someone joining him on the table, straddling him. A slow decent and soon his cock was buried deep inside someone. She was bouncing up and down on him riding his storm.
"CC you weren't wrong, his cock is magic." Cried the strange woman. Her orgasm screaming through her. Moments passed and another orgasm rocked through Mark. How can you have both pleasure and disgust at the same time? He wondered. All he wanted was this day this over and done.
Again, a nice warm cloth cleaned him up after this strange woman left the table.
"CC, can I go now?" A tight squeeze of his hair and a dark harsh whisper in his hear "Shut up kid, don't say another fucking word. I'll tell your parents everything be damned my own job." He had never heard CC talk like that before. He tried pulling at the restraints but it was to no avail.
"Another friend is joining us. Take it easy kid. I promise you will like it."
He felt he had no control, over himself, over her or over the situation. He thought to himself. Roll with it and deal with the rest later. What else could he do? He pulled himself inside his brain to that place where he would go when life was just too much to bear.
After a few seconds he heard shuffling feet, and a warm mouth took his soft cock. Somehow against his own will, he got hard again. This person's mouth sliding up and down on him. A moan came from that person, a deep sound.
The wet mouth left him for a moment, "CC I have to ride him, I just have to," said a very masculine voice.
"Fuck no Joe, that wasn't our deal. Just finish it or get the fuck out!"
Mark felt bile rise in his throat. A man, NO! He wanted to yell, to scream at CC to make it stop but her threats kept him at bay. He struggled on the table. This seemed to excite the man and soon enough that mouth was on him again. How is this possible that he felt an orgasm for a man's mouth when he wasn't gay. Why is his body betraying him? Why?
A soft wet cloth cleans him up again. He is spent, nothing left in him. No more semen, no more strength.
CC comes over to him and whispers, "Sorry about that little dude. You weren't supposed to know it was a guy. He was just supposed to suck you off. He told me he just wanted it kinda like a fantasy he would keep in his brain before he goes back to his wife. You see little man, you did him a big favour. I promise this next lady will make you happy."
More! No more! He couldn't, he wouldn't! No, No, NO! he struggled against his restraints again.
CC came over to him and gently stroked his hair, "Hey little one, its ok. We will be cool, I promise you. I consider this a big favour and I will owe you one. Please be quiet a bit longer and it will all be over, K?" She kisses him sweetly and walks away.
He blocks his mind away, one more time. Another person comes over smelling like sweet perfume. Familiar perfume. She strokes his hair, kisses him as well and slowly strokes his body until she finds his flaccid cock. Slowly stroking him hard again. She climbs on the table and impales herself on him. She grinds over and over loudly expressing to the room her pleasure. Mark, unable to control himself is pushed over the edge once again, fortunately at the same time as this strange woman above him. She climbs down and quietly leaves the room.
In the background CC whispers to the company and escorts them out the side door of the building.
When she returns to Mark, she gently releases him.
"Mark, I'm sorry. I thought you might like it, but the dude really messed up your head. Forgive me?" She smiles at him.
All he wanted was out of there, out of the building and out of her life. He was desperate to exit this life, this experience, and this woman.
He bolted from the table, grabbed his clothes, and headed out of the room.
"Remember kid, I'll tell your parents and I'll tell them this was all your idea. I'll be the victim."
Mark dressed quickly and ran out of the building, running and running all the way home. He didn't call for his ride, he didn't wait for a bus. He just ran. He ran and ran. When he got home, he bolted in the front door. His parents were in the front room when he came inside.
His father, "what are you doing home? Why didn't you ask for a ride?"
He was trapped, what could he say? CC's warning was pounding in his head. "Uhm early day, so I decided to go for a jog. I'm gonna go shower now."
With that he left the room and headed towards his bedroom. But on the way a familiar smell of perfume wafted up his nose. Mark suddenly knew and he started retching immediately and all over the hallway floor.
| Author Notes | The story is best read from the beginning and maybe you have the stomach to get to the end? |
By EILEEN LAW
Pound, pound, pitter patter is the soft thud of little feet. A pretty little brunette girl, around 6 years old is giggling as she runs away from her father, her curls bouncing as she runs. Her father is making tickle fingers at her and is crouching while he slowly chases his daughter.
She is bright and innocent and loves her parents and her older sister. Her life is full of affection and laughter. Although her parents are poor, they love their children and do everything for them that their meager existence can afford. They named her Karma Sandrine, but everyone called her Katie Girl. Katie has an older sister named Tangerine who prefers to call herself Terry, much to her parents' chagrin.
All in life is simple for this throwback family who still live in the hippie era. They can be seen making their own soap and repurposing used furniture, farming their own small piece of property to grow most of the food they eat.
In the summers, the girls would spend at least 2 weeks at their grandparents' house in Boise Idaho. It wasn't as much fun of a place, but it was obvious that this family was close.
One hot summer day the 2 girls were playing outside in the front yard of their grandparents' house, while gramma was drinking tea on the wrap around front porch watching them. Inside, the phone rings and gramma leaves to take the call.
"Be right back, girls. Stay in the yard." She shouts at her grandchildren while entering the house.
A dark figure hiding behind the shrub next to the gate took advantage and quickly ran into the yard. Scoop! The cute brunette was grabbed, and he was gone before anyone noticed, including her sister playing only a few feet away.
Grandmother was back a few seconds later and scanned the yard looking for the girls. She found Tangerine quite quickly and shouted, "Tangerine! Where is your sister?"
"Uhm, I don't know gramma!" She says while she quickly scanned the yard.
The grandmother came down the stairs as quickly as she could, calling for her granddaughter. She canvassed the neighbourhood and talked with some of the homeowners, all the while she kept a tight grip on her other granddaughter. With her throat sore from calling for the missing child and tired from walking around, she deemed it time to call the police.
The police came and interviewed the grandmother and Tangerine. They also spoke to all the neighbours and local shops. Soon enough there were posters plastered all over the city. Not a single sight of the little girl was found anywhere. Joe and Samantha, the little girl's parents, blamed the grandmother for not paying enough attention. The grandmother unfortunately transferred that guilt down to little Tangerine.
Hours, days and then weeks slipped by with no notice of the little girl. The police interrogated the parents, the grandparents, neighbours and friends of the family. Eventually the police were calling it a 'cold case'.
With time, the family made peace with each other. All of them were now overprotective of their remaining daughter, when they could take time away from the investigation and did pay her any attention at all.
One night when the family was all together and they had spent the night pouring over what evidence they did have as a group, they tired and soon enough they were all asleep.
Tangerine woke up to the sound of a kitten crying. She got out of bed to find the noise. Quietly she crept downstairs listening hard for the sound. The mewing was getting a little louder. Soon she came to the basement door. It was slightly ajar, and the mewing seemed to be coming from the dark scary basement. She thought for a minute about waking her parents but decided to venture forth anyway. She expected them to rush her back to bed without really listening to her in the first place.
She flicked the light on, and the sound seemed to get louder. Down the wooden steps to the basement. She rounded the corner and she saw, over in the corner, next to the furnace, her sister. She was covered in dirt, her hair matted and her nightgown was both bloody and filthy. She was sucking her thumb, her knees tight against her chest. She was shivering on the cold basement floor. Tangerine screamed at the top of her lungs to get her parents' attention. Little did she know that the perpetrator was hiding around the corner, looking for a quick escape. Tangerine ran to her sister's side, and tried to hug her. Her sister cowered away and started screaming. Upstairs a thumping and thudding was heard as her family scrambled to get to the basement.
Joe, Katies father, was the first to arrive. He pushed passed Tangerine and scooped Katie Girl up into his arms. Samantha was close behind him. In the shuffle and confusion as everyone headed upstairs, they left poor Tangerine alone again, in the basement. She was confused, terrified, and felt so very abandoned.
"Tangerine! Come upstairs, now!" Shouted her mother.
She made her way upstairs and saw her mom on the phone with the police, her father was putting on his jacket, grabbing his keys. He was off to the hospital with the terrified, screaming child in his arms. After Samantha hung up she took a second vehicle and headed to the hospital, leaving instructions for the Grandmother to speak to the police, who were sending teams to both the hospital and the house.
Tangerine was left with her grandmother at the house, while everyone else left. Her grandmother was hugging her and rocking her, praying for the little Katie Girl who had just left.
Doctors determined that the child had been severely sexually assaulted. No orifice was left untouched. Her insides were decimated, and it was evident the child would need immediate surgery. The doctors were unsure if the child would survive, because she had lost so much blood. They were unable to save her uterus and her vagina was so damaged they were only able to stitch and sew it up. Her bowels had to be reconstructed and she had an ostomy bag surgically placed in her abdomen. She was covered in scratches, and bruises and her left eye socket was cracked. She also had some brain swelling. As a result of her injuries, the doctors recommended a medically induced coma so the child could heal some before waking her.
Katie Girl eventually woke up. She was afraid of everything and everyone. When she wasn't crying, she was silent and curled in a ball, sucking her thumb.
Finally, one day, Tangerine was allowed to see her sister. The parents were hoping that seeing her would help to calm Katie Girl.
They were right. The moment that Katie Girl saw Tangerine she grabbed her sister and wouldn't let her go. Rocking back and forth. Tangerine didn't mind at all and hugged her sister tightly.
Since Katie Girl's return, she hadn't spoken a word. Only crying, moaning, and screaming when waking from nightmares. Eventually doctors were able to reverse the stoma and Katie Girl was released from the hospital. However, due to her emotional state they sent her to a mental hospital to help her, hoping she would eventually return to the sweet girl that was taken that day long ago.
Whatever had happened to that poor girl. She never was 'normal' again. She was mentally stuck at the age of a 6-year-old girl. The perpetrator was never found. Terry made her sister a promise that one day, she would get the bad man. She would do her best to keep that promise.
| Author Notes | This story is deep, complicated and macabre. Enjoy! |
By EILEEN LAW
"C'mon Warren, just do this one for me?" Terry says into her cell phone
while sitting in her car. "Consider it a favour and I'll owe you one."
She was trying to get San Jose PD to run the cell phone for her. Maybe
that will lead to some clues on this missing person case. She knew it
really wasn't a missing person, most likely this was a homicide. No one
leaves a job, marriage, or family without taking their purse and cell
phone. And considering the fact that they found her car at the end of a
mountain's winding road it seemed to support either kidnapping or
murder.
"All right Tangerine, I'll get it done. Just give me some time, ok?"
Warren teasing her about her real first name was an open opportunity
that Terry rarely let slip by.
With that taken care of. Next, she had to get someone to look at the
blue surgical glove. What secrets were hidden there? This one she took
the chance that the forensic identification investigators at her PD office
would take care of it and not forward the findings on to her Seargeant.
Her next move was to investigate the disappearance of "Buddy" the
teen age boy. Everyone at the precinct thought it was just a runaway,
but again her gut was telling her otherwise. She was off to visit the
parents.
When she arrived at their front door, she was greeted by whom she
assumed was Buddie's sister. She looked around 14 had shoulder length
blonde hair with a slight curl to it. She is pretty and has bright green
eyes that catch Terry's attention.
"Can I help you?" she says to Terry with a bright smile full of braces.
"Yes, I am Detective Smythe, are you parents at home?" Terry looks
past the teen down the hallway of the middle-class home.
"Yea, hey mom! Some detective is here for you!" She yells down the
hall.
After a minute a middle-aged brunette comes to the door. It's obvious
now where the green eyes came from.
"Hello detective, can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Terry Smythe, you can call me Terry. I'm here to ask you
questions about your son, Buddy. Do you have a minute to talk, Mrs.
Stang?" She asks.
"Please detective, come in." She backs away from the door and ushers
Terry into the living room. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?"
"Water, thank you". Terry senses this woman will need a friendlier
approach, so she engages her accordingly.
Soon after they are sitting diagonally across from each other.
"I don't understand detective, we have spoken already to your
department. Is there something new that we don't know about?"
"This is just routine follow up and will only take a few minutes. Did
Buddy have any close friends at school?"
"Not really, he mostly had on-line friendships. He is kind of a loner.
That's why I insisted that he isn't a run-away but missing." She has a
worried look on her face.
"When he left for school that day, did he take anything extra? Like extra
clothing or excessive food?"
"No there was nothing unusual that I can think of"
"Did Buddy have a cell phone?"
"Yes, he did but he took it with him, wherever he went. Please
detective, find my son. He is a little confused about us but we love him
so much." She cried into her hand.
"I'm sorry to pry but what do you mean by a little confused?" Terry
inquired.
"He has recently confessed to his sister Lily that he thought he may be
transgender. We just thought he was lonely because he had no friends.
We didn't mean to hurt him or discount his feelings. We just didn't
understand." She replied.
"I'm sure he understands. If you don't mind, can I please have his cell
phone number?" Terry asked.
"Yes, of course, but it's been off since he disappeared."
Terry writes down the number.
"You said he liked online games. Do you still have his laptop here?" She
inquired.
"No, the last detective came and took it â?" a Sargeant somebody. Hold
on I'll get his card." She rises from the chair.
"No that's not necessary â?" I know who it is at my precinct."
Terry gets up and heads towards the door. She passes the mother a
card.
"If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to call me."
At the front door, the mother pauses, "Please detective. I know
something is wrong. Please find my boy. I feel so bad about the last
thing I said to him. I love him and just want him home." She lowered
her eyes as tears slipped down her cheek.
Terry was tempted to hug the woman, to offer some comfort. However,
protocols are protocols and she stood her ground.
"I will do my very best to get you some answers Mrs. Stang."
With that she climbed into her car and re-rang Warren.
"Hey Terry, what's up? You miss me that much?" She could almost hear
his grin on the other end of the phone. Warren always had a bit of a
crush on her, a fact that she is currently using to get her way.
"Ah Warren what can I say? You're charming.....Uhm can I add a phone
number to that search you're doing? It just came up and I really need
this one run as well. The only thing is I don't have the actual phone.
Just the phone number." She slightly winced as she asked.
"If I do this, next time you're in town you have to go out for a drink with
me."
Terry really had no choice but to agree.
"Of course, but platonic drinks, ok?"
She would try to wiggle out of it later, if she had to. She gives him the
phone number and says her goodbye's.
She drives to the last place that Buddy was seen, headed to the park. It
wasn't hard to figure out the path that he would have taken to get
home, so she sets out on the path and scours around as best as she
could. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be in the park. It was a
long shot anyway. She walks back the way she came, and heads to her
car. As she is exiting the gate she sees a quick flash. The sunlight
flashed on some glass. She looks down and just under the fence is a
crushed and destroyed cell phone. It was partially hidden by the
newspaper. She leans down and picks it up by the corners. She gets
back to her vehicle and grabs an evidence bag and slips it into the bag.
Just maybe this one will turn up being Buddy's but it was a long shot.
She included it in the package she was sending to Warren. She carefully
packaged up the cell phones and sent them off via Fedex, directly to
SJPD and to Warren.
She heads back to the precinct but it's late and the morning shift have
all left for the day. Most of the afternoon crew were busy getting ready
to head out.
Terry heads down to the evidence room and finds it unattended. She
swipes her card and enters the room. Between some shelves in a back
corner, she finds the box for Buddy's case and sitting inside that box,
was Buddy's laptop, undisturbed and still inside the original evidence
bag. No one bothered to start it up and look for evidence. What exactly
is going on at this precinct? She was getting tired of half-assed work and
disappointing results.
She quickly tucks the laptop under her arm and leaves. As she is walking
in the hallway, one of the street cops stops her to say hello.
"Hey Smythe, what are you still doing here? Working hard or hardly
working?" he smiles at her.
"Ah Jones, just wrapping up." She smiles at the handsome young cop.
She casually shrugs the laptop under her arm and says, "gonna catch up
on some files when I get home.
With that she steps away and heads home. She really did have some
work to do. Let's hope there isn't a password on that laptop.
| Author Notes | The story is dark and twisted - try to play along. |
|
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| © Copyright 2015 EILEEN LAW All rights reserved. EILEEN LAW has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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