Authors: J. A. Carlton
He crept to the window, drawn by soft murmurs and grunts that sent blissful shivers through him. Peering into the room he had eyes only for Eric who knelt naked, proud and beautiful behind his lover, his full mouth nipping and caressing the other man’s neck while his arms held him tight.
“Tell me you love me,” Eric directed, easing his hips forward.
“God, I love you,” the other man strained, arching his back.
“I love you,” Randy mouthed.
“Tell me you need me? That I’m special?” he thrust more deeply.
“God, YES I need you!” his lover cried breathlessly.
“I’ll always need you, and there’s no one more special than you,” Randy mouthed, smiling beatifically as he slid away toward the barn.
“Good boy, keep yourself safe.”
Getting into the large animal practice wasn’t hard. With Eric on premises, the big barn was only locked over night. During the day, part of his duties entailed making sure the animals were all cared for, exercised and given plenty of TLC, all tasks to which the young man, with his sensitive temperament, was perfectly suited.
Randy easily picked the lock on the drug cabinet and glanced over the inventory, everything from antibiotics to tranquilizers and guns were kept here. One particular box marked Ketamine caught his eye. Smiling, he nodded, remembering some of his peers in college talking about experimenting with this very same anesthetic.
He emptied a box of low dose darts, wrapping them together with a couple paper towels before sliding them into his jacket pocket, grateful for the safety caps over the needles. As much as he hated to do something so obvious he had little choice when he slid a dart pistol into the back of his pants.
Locking the cabinet, he returned to the main area of the barn where a large chestnut stud in a sling nickered at him.
“Hey, big guy,” he smiled, moving to the animal and rubbing its velvety muzzle gently and looking around as it lipped his hand, “That’s gotta suck bein’ all strung up like that, let’s see if we…ah!” he nodded smiling, spying a refrigerator at the side wall.
Using his sleeve to open it, he grinned at the sight of a bag of carrots, grabbed one and returned to the otherwise immobile equine, breaking the stick into three parts.
I can see why Eric’s happy here. I could be happy here too.
With the last of the carrot gone, he stroked that soft seeking muzzle again and made his way cautiously out into the daylight once more.
One more time, he crossed the yard to his little brother’s window, clinging to the shadows as he did, then peered inside, warmed by the sight of the young men dozing contentedly in each others’ embrace.
--
In the gritty dusk of early evening, Randy set the dart down on a latex glove inside the ridge of the van’s floor and looked at the woman beneath him,
Can you see me?
He wondered looking into her huge frightened eyes.
“I’d almost be sorry,” he told her quietly, his blade tracing a path down her cheek, “except I really don’t care about you. I mean, I don’t know the first thing about you personally, so how can I, right?” he huffed. “But I have a message that needs to go out, and you’re going to help me,” he nodded, smiling enthusiastically at the squeak that came from the back of her throat.
Reaching over he held up a black silk dress that was almost identical to the one Sam wore at Dave’s funeral, “Pretty, huh?” he asked, nodding as she squeaked. “Bet it’s gonna feel real good on, too,” he stopped and smirked, “not that you can probably feel much at all right now, trust me that’s a good thing,” he assured her as he slid the dress over her head then arranged it modestly over her naked chest.
Next he reached over and held up a toy store item, a plastic FBI action figure, and grinned child-like as he took it from the package, holding it before her eyes, making it dance just a little bit for just a second before it disappeared amid a sticky sound and a heavy ‘thunk’ of pressure in the area of her pelvis that she wondered if she’d get a chance to feel later.
“How plain do I have to make the message?” he asked, half frowning at her, “I mean, too subtle and she won’t get it. ‘Course, she’s not dumb, I’ll give her that much. And what about him?” he pondered. “Mmm, he’s kinda caught between a pussy and a hard place, y’know? Not really thinking with the right head, y’know?”
Slowly, he nestled himself between her legs, his knife poised pen-like in his hand as he started to carve out his message in her skin, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as he hummed his song.
8
At just over fifty, Captain Ethan Zegler was a man who looked like he’d forever be more comfortable behind a lectern than in a squad room, a fact which was emphasized as he leaned against the desk in his office and addressed the detectives seated around the small room.
“We got confirmation. The guy who did Diane Thompson
is
the North Side rapist.”
He gave Paulson, Rumsfeld and Sherm a moment to digest the news, then looked at Pete and Jase, “The only positive we have at this point is that we can be pretty sure the guy’s from Glen Falls, which, believe it or not,
does
narrow the options. Sheriff Hamilton’s got the sign in log from Dave Backer’s funeral and is cross referencing that with his own records, as well as a list of folks he remembered from the Shiner’s house the night Sam’s room was ransacked.”
The guys muttered amongst themselves for a moment as the captain sighed heavily, then met Jase’s eyes.
“What?” the lead detective asked.
“I got a call from Robin Hernandez this morning.”
“The sheriff in Bakerstown?
That
Robin Hernandez?” Pete asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose, “day before yesterday a couple of her deputies were checking out a prowler tip and came across the bodies of two ‘working’ girls.”
“Aw, hell.” Jase groaned.
“Yeah, and you’re gonna love this. Delbourne County Coroner estimates one of them was killed the same night as Sam’s dad.”
“And this is the first we’re hearing about this!” Jase stormed. “What the fuck is wrong with this picture? Why the hell did Delbourne get called in instead of us!?”
“Because that part of Bakerstown sits in Delbourne County,” Cap reminded him.
“It’s less than a half a mile from Backer’s cabin! Come ON, Cap!” he shouted. “The property backs right UP to Delbourne on one side! What the hell was Robin thinking by not telling us until now?” he demanded.
“It’s not her fault Edwards, we’ve been keeping a lid on so many details, neither she or Martin made the connection right away.”
Jase knew Captain Zegler was right. In order to keep the likelihood of any potential copy cat crimes down, and to keep the public from panicking, the department had kept every detail they could get away with as quiet as possible.
“Well at least we can be fairly sure about the motive behind Dave’s murder now. He must’ve just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Sherm nodded.
“Did you tell her to check back records for similar…”
“Done and done; anything similar in the last year and she’ll notify us.” Zegler nodded.
A sharp knock brought everyone’s attention to Sam as she walked into the office, smiling sheepishly and clutching a notebook to her chest.
“Wrong place, wrong time, huh?” she nodded, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat. “Makes about as much sense as anything.” She motioned behind her, “I, uh, heard you guys down the hall.”
“What’re you doing here? How’d you get here?” Jase asked, frowning.
“I called dispatch and asked for a pick up, Elaine, uh Sergeant Valdeseri gave me a ride.”
“Sam, you’re not consulting for this case. You may well BE the case now.” The captain folded his arms across his chest frowning deeply at her.
“I know.” She nodded and tapped the sign in book. “Look, not everyone signs in, but I found a few names in here that have histories that MIGHT fit a serial rapist’s profile,” she explained.
“Good, give it to Sherm, he can go through it with Sheriff Hamilton.”
“Uhm, Cap, with all due respect, Boomer isn’t necessarily,” she paused and looked at the curious faces around the office, then sighed, “Well, he’s not exactly the best records keeper if you get what I mean.”
Every one of the detectives present groaned and rolled their heads, the insinuation immediately clear, “Are you saying he’s falsified records?” Captain Zegler asked pointedly.
“Not
exactly
that, since I don’t have proof,” glancing at the men she turned back to the captain, “So who’s lead now?” she asked.
“Edwards and Baski are lead. This guy was the rapist before he was your dad’s murderer,” seeing her blanch he smiled apologetically, “sorry.”
Nodding, she handed her notes to Jase, “There’s a dozen townies listed there that were also at the funeral. Each of the guys in question is in the right age range and had a history or reputation for mischievous or violent behavior.”
Jase flipped through the first few pages written in her neat hand, names with recalled mentions of past misdeeds. Also noted was an approximate age for each of the subjects in question.
“They’re separated into two groups. Neither of the groups mixed much but the so-called ‘leader’ of each one is noted, and it’s a pretty fair bet that NONE of those boys have records on file, not even juvenile ones.”
“But you think they should?” Pete asked, glancing at the notes as Jase passed them to him, then passing them on to Sherm.
She nodded easily, “Some of ‘em, yeah.”
“Any particular reason? I mean, come on, Sam, you know what kind of trouble you could be heading Sheriff Hamilton into if you’re wrong,” Zegler questioned.
With a nod and a deep breath, she explained, “In high school there was a girl, Melanie Thibault. She cried rape. Maybe a week or so later her WHOLE family up and moved out of town. There were rumors, and they were ONLY rumors, I understand that, but you know as well as I do, sometimes where there’s smoke, there IS fire.”
Sergeant Valdeseri knocked and entered quickly, handing the captain a piece of paper, her luminous green eyes dashing right past Sam.
Reading the note, Zegler groaned, “Aww, hell, when?”
“Call came in less than a minute ago,” she frowned, then finally glanced at Sam nervously. “You want I should take Sam back?”
“Come ON! I can help! What is it?” she asked.
Zegler shook his head at the Sergeant then frowned, “It’s alright, Sergeant, she’ll ride with Edwards.”
“Alright, people, East gate at Lyons Park. We got another one. Let’s go,” he ordered, shepherding the troops from his office.
--
In spite of the spotlights at the park, the ambient throb of the police ‘Mars Bars’ told them they were getting close to the scene.
From the passenger seat, Jase turned and looked at Sam who sat stiff and hyper-alert behind Pete, her pulse beat visibly in her throat.
“I really don’t like that you’re here.” He said as Pete parked between a squad car and one of Ming’s trucks.
“Remember, don’t touch anything, don’t go off alone, and whatever you do, don’t go out of earshot for sure,” he admonished softly.
Sam leaned forward smiling tightly, warmed by his concern. “Jase.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He wrapped his hand behind her head and pressed their foreheads together before the trio exited the vehicle.
Several officers cast curious glances at the three as they entered the scene with the Captain right behind them.
There were a few indecipherable whispers and some covert pointing as the group approached the first officer. Sam moved off to one of the three night shift crime scene analysts who did a double take at the sight of her.
“Hi, I’m Sam,” she introduced herself to the young man. “Are you new or have we just never met before?” she asked, taking in his remarkably blue eyes and gym sculpted physique.
“Ray Monteleone, I’ve been here for a couple months. Who are you, ma’am?” he asked.
“Samantha Backer, I’m consulting with the lead detectives,” she explained but only extended her hand to take the pair of gloves he offered her.
Ray looked over his shoulder then back at her with a frown, “Ma’am, do you have any family in the area? Like a sister?” he asked.
Oh no,
Sam closed her eyes and forced a deep breath into her lungs, there was only one thing that question could mean, “Jase.” she called.
He was at her side instantly.
“She looks like me, doesn’t she?” Sam asked the tech.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Shit,” he muttered and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Stay here, let me check it out.”
She shook her head and moved with him to the body, “It’s okay.”
She stopped about eighteen inches from the site where Ming pulled her eyes off the corpse and finally looked at Sam. She looked down to the victim and back at Sam a couple of times before stepping around and greeting the young woman.
“That explains why she looks familiar,” she nodded, “he didn’t do you justice. Hey, Edwards,” then shook her head and eyed his fiancée, “I take it you are the object of his obsession?”
Sam smirked at the petite young woman with bouncy hair and deep green eyes, “So it would seem. What do you make of it, Ming? I’m a little, ‘running on empty’ right now,” she asked.
“You got a ‘bulls-eye’ on your chest, take a look,” she angled the light on the corpse.
The first thing Sam saw was the dress, a nearly perfect copy of the one she’d worn to the funeral, though it was rucked up to just below the dead woman’s breasts.