Exceptional The killer toys with the detectives by leaving clues behind. Bittersweet Revenge : Interpreting Clues by Mistydawn

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content. The killer rushes across town to her last errand of the day. Roy was the worst perv of all; so I think it's only fair that he suffers a lot more than the others. Pulling into the alley, she turns off her car and waits. It's finally time to close shop, Roy thinks, happy the day is finally over. He used to love his business in the beginning until his customers started dwindling away. Since his remaining patrons seldom visit the days tend to be long and lonely. Locking the front door he heads to the fridge. I need a little pick me up before facing my wife and kids. Grabbing the six pack he heads towards the shed. The killer is waiting just outside the back door when the metal lock clicks open. Raising the crowbar to her shoulder, she takes a large stance. I'm ready for you this time, Roy. She suddenly recalls his brawny physique and his violent reputation. I only have one shot so I better make it count. She tightens her grip on the weapon. Small beads of sweat form on her brow as she nervously shifts her weight. She grasps her weapon tighter then licks her parched lips. The back door slowly squeaks open. She sees Roy step outside. One more step. She swings her crowbar, smacking him in the back of his head. *** Jerry is sitting at his desk, trying to make sense of the crime. Why did she leave clues with Walter, but not with the rest of her victims? Maybe she's trying to tell us something specific about him, but what? Is he secretly gay, or a cross-dresser? Perhaps Walter hurt little girls in the past, or he threatened to hurt them. Maybe he's into kiddy porn? Frustrated, he slams his fist on his desk. Emma's report flies across the room. I think I'll work on this for a while. Picking up the sheet of paper, he reads the information again. "Whatcha working on, Jerr?" Joe asks, sitting down at his desk. "I found two unsolved cases in Gulfport that resemble ours. Here's the information." Jerry hands him the paper. Joe skims through it. "Isn't that where Emma use to live?" "They occurred the same time she was there too. I checked Emma's work history, hoping I can find her that way. It only shows one place of employment, a small roadside diner in Gulfport. I asked for a description to confirm it's the same person. The owner said Emma is a 45-year-old redhead. Our Emma is twenty-two with light brown hair." "So we have a case of identity theft on top of six murders?" "It looks that way, Boss." "Let's start working on the cold cases, see what we can find." *** Roy is lying on the ground, drifting in and out of consciousness. His hands and feet are bound with zip ties, then secured to the shed's metal frame. "I warned you that I'd get revenge," she yells, standing over him. "Please don't do this. I beg you, please, stop." "You didn't listen to us, so why should I listen to you?" She lifts the knife above her head. "I'm sorry Rachel, I'm so sorry for everything I've ever done." "I'm not Rachel. I'm her older, evil version, your worst nightmare. The bitch that's going to make you pay." She stabs him in the chest. She jerks her weapon out and then thrusts its blade in deeper. "I'm the one who's going to send you to where you belong." She forces her knife into his chest again. "Please lady, please stop," he begs, gasping for air. "You didn't listen when we begged you. No, you'd force your wrinkled pecker in deeper, making it hurt worse, or you'd tighten the ropes until our hands turned blue." She jabs her knife in again. Pulling it out, she stabs him over and over. "If we gagged on your junk, you'd thrust yourself further into our throats. If we cried, you'd slap us, yelling shut up and take it. You didn't care that you're hurting us; that you're ruining our lives forever. I bet you care now don't you, Roy? Don't you?" His head falls to the right. She grabs his hair and turns it to face her. Stooping just above him, she glares into his eyes. "I hope you rot in hell, you sick son of a bitch." She shoves his head sideways then stabs him one last time. *** Jerry sees Joe staring at his computer with a perplexed look on his face. Maybe this will help. "I've been working on our killer's profile." He picks up a piece of paper off his desk. "I figure our killer is in her mid-twenties to mid-thirties with above average intelligence. I think she watches her victims closely for months. She figures out their routine and then plans her strategy accordingly. Because her locations are scattered, I'd say she isn't a stranger to the community. Since she stabs her victims thirty-three times, I figure that number has some significance." "That really narrows down my list," Joe says, searching his desk. "What are you looking for, Boss?" "I can't find my pen anywhere," he says, picking up a stack of papers. "Here, take mine." Smiling, Jerry hands it to him. "Where did you get a fancy pen like this?" he asks, inspecting the pricey gadget. "I found it at a little shop off the square." "I'd like to get me a couple of these." Joe feels a small surge run through his arm when he pushes the top. Joe tosses the shock pen across the room. "Damn you, Jerry." "I told you I'd get even, Boss." Jerry laughs. "Your days are numbered, Bud," he says, shaking his fist. Jerry laughs again. *** Stabbing Roy felt good. It was a retribution for all her childhood trauma, the welts and bruises he left on her young frail body. For the horrid acts, she was made to perform. A payback for all the nights she lay crying in her bed. Revenge for having to live her childhood in fear and uncertainty. She feels like each murder is giving her a little more control and hopes she'll be free from all the horror when the last perv takes his final breath.  The killer sits quietly in her car a safe, visible distance from Roy's shop. "It's going to be a blast watching you guys chase your tails. Since you idiots don't have an inkling about what's going on; I purposely left evidence behind. Clues telling you why I'm killing these men; exposing them for the perverts they are, and hints as to who is committing these crimes. I left evidence on Walter too, but you're so brainless you didn't figure it out." She sees police cars pull into the alley. "Lights, camera, action." She grabs a beer from the sack and pops it open. "Got you boys hopping today don't I?" She lifts up her beer in a toast. "This is just the beginning." Taking a sip, she toasts again. "Guess what boys? I'm the last person you'll ever suspect. That's what makes my crimes so perfect. Six perfect murders and you boys aren't even close to solving this case." Realizing her can is empty, she throws it on the floor. "Glad you bought a six pack Roy because I have a feeling this is going to be one long show."  ~~~~ "Give us a rundown, Kirk," Joe instructs. "The trash man found him lying face up in the alley twenty minutes ago. He has thirty-three stab wounds and blunt force trauma to the back of his head." "Is there any evidence?" "Come see for yourself." The three walk towards the body. Roy has on a blond pigtailed wig, lipstick, and blush, just like Walter. Unlike Walter, he's wearing a pinafore over his clothes. Joe notices something dangling from his mouth as he gets closer. "What's that?" he asks, stooping over their victim. Jerry bends down. "It looks like his penis, Boss." "Our ME said it was cut off premortem." "That had to hurt." Joe grimaces. "I can't even imagine the pain," Jerry adds, covering his crotch. "So our perpetrator is toying with us by leaving clues behind." Joe circles the body again. "I suppose he knows Jennie?" "He was a prime suspect in her death." "Six damn homicides, one attempted homicide and we still don't have a lead." "There's a partial fingerprint and a weapon from the Gulfport murders. I had the lab run a search before I left." "You check with forensics, and I'll keep working on the list of Neons." *** Rachel's time card cleared her of the murders, confirming what Joe thought. Then her name shows up on their list, leaving him guessing again. Anyone could've clocked her in, I suppose. Who would do that and why? Joe pulls up to her apartment. Her neighbor's door creaks open as he climbs the squeaky steps. "Can I help you?" Randy asks, stepping into the hall. "I'm Joe with the Berryville PD. I'm here to see Miss Webb," he says as he continues up the stairs. "She isn't home. She left around 10:00 this morning." So you're the nosy neighbor she always complains about. "Did she say where she's going?"  "Rachel said she had a few errands to run and that she was going to see her dad at the hospital." His meddling might come in handy. Joe pulls a notebook out of his pocket. "Did she say when she'll be home?"  "She has to work tonight, so she won't be home until midnight." "Do you know what time she came in yesterday?" "She got home the same time I did, a little after five." "How did she act?" "Like herself." "Was there anything different about her appearance?" Randy thinks for a second. "I didn't notice anything unusual." "Did she leave anytime during the night?" "No." Seeing Joe's look, Randy quickly explains, "There are squeaky floorboards everywhere; so I can always tell when she leaves." "She still owns a Dodge Neon, right?" "That heap of junk costs her more money in repairs than what it's worth." "Thanks for the help." Joe starts thinking about what her neighbor said as he walks to his car. She either knows how to get around squeaky floorboards, or she's not our killer. *** It's been a long trying day. Between tire impressions, the murder weapon, surveillance tapes, and numerous fingerprints; Kirk is more than ready to go home. He pulls keys out of his pocket as he walks to his car. These aren't mine. Finding his set, he glances at the others again. I must've picked these up at the crime scene. He runs back inside.

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