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Serial

By: usm1carbine



Editor's Note: As this story deals with the tracking of a serial killer, it contains couple of scenes of violence necessary to the plot. If this offends you, please read no further.

* * * * *

The phone rang and startled him from a sound sleep. Wearily, he reached for the receiver, "Hello?" and he adjusted his eyes to the dark room. 

It was the station, "Lieutenant, we need you to go to 415 Bowers. We have a homicide," and he fought to wake up and come to grips with the information being fed to him as he scrambled for a pen to write it down. 

"Yeah, be there as quick as I can," he said and hung up the phone, looking at the Big Ben clock on the nightstand, 3:53 AM. He pulled his clothes on and made himself a cup of instant coffee before grabbing his keys and heading out the door, it was a 15-minute drive to the address he was given and he hoped the coffee would make him coherent by the time he got there. It had been a rough couple of months, his wife had left him, and the caseload was getting to be too much. 

He slapped his blue bubble light on the dash and turned it on as he neared and the patrol officers waved him through as he pulled up alongside the usual parade of police and rescue vehicles that had come to symbolize the crime scene. His partner Vince met him at the curb, "Young woman, early 20's, Caucasian, pretty," Vince rambled on as they approached the front door, "But this one is a little off Frank," and Vince got suddenly quiet

"Odd, how?' Frank asked as he made his way to the upstairs bedroom, "The killer removed certain trophies from the body. Unusual trophies, Frank," and he stopped dead in his tracks. Serial killers often took trophies of their victims, sometimes a necklace, or even their panties, what could be so unusual? Vince nodded towards the open door and Frank walked through, he saw a young white female who looked to be about 22 years old, long blonde hair, pretty face and an exceptional body, but then Frank's eyes locked on her breasts, her nipples were missing! 

"What kind of a sick fuck would take someone's nipples as trophies?" he asked Vince and Vince just shook his head, "Dunno, Frank. And that's not all; she had a lot of bleeding from her vaginal area as well. We'll have to wait for the autopsy results to find out what that's all about," and Frank stared at the pretty young girl, his thoughts turning to his own daughter. Vanessa was 25, just a couple of years older. He made the rounds; trying to gather what information he could from everyone on the scene before he headed back to his car, the night sky giving way to daylight. Frank drove home, the scene etched in his mind as he tried to rationalize what had happened, 'A rape maybe, or maybe a burglary that turned into a sex crime,' his mind thought, but he would have to wait and see. 

He showered and dressed and headed to the station house, the images of his early morning investigation running through his mind. He plopped down behind his desk and Vince deposited some papers in front of him, "Ginger Franklin, age 23. Moved here 4 months ago from Muncie, Indiana. Parents are being contacted right now; she worked at Lerner Technologies, over in the office park, secretary. No kids, no known boyfriends, well liked at work, not much else Frank," and Vince sat in the chair beside Frank's desk as Frank rubbed his eyes. 

His phone rang and he picked it up, it was his wife, "Get me a cup of coffee, will you Vince?" and Vince took that as his cue to get lost, he hated it when Marilyn called Frank at work, it made him hard to be around for hours. "I have retained a lawyer Frank, we need to settle this so we can move on with our lives," and Frank could feel the burning anger deep in his gut as he listened to her try to sound like she was doing him such a favor, "Look Marilyn, I'm not the one who went out and found some fucking pill pusher to fuck!" heads turned as his voice raised, but everyone knew that he was not one to deal with when he was angry and they all returned to their work.

"Bernie is not a pill pusher Frank, he is a physician and maybe if you had found a little time for me, I wouldn't have had to go out looking," and there it was, the guilt had come home to roost. She was right, 70-80 hour weeks had destroyed their marriage, he just wanted to blame it on the good doctor, "Whatever Marilyn, look, I have work to do. When I get an attorney, we'll exchange numbers, ok?" He drummed his pen on the desk, "I loved you Frank and to a certain extent, I still do, but I was dying inside. Please take care of yourself and look for an attorney, ok?" and he felt his heart sink once again, "I will, got to go," and slammed down the phone. 

He picked up the file and started perusing it, no sign of forced entry, preliminary autopsy results showed that she had contusions on her wrists and ankles, indicating she had been bound, they had also found several tears in her vagina 'This is one sick fuck,' he thought as he read on and discovered that a criminal history check had shown that she had filed charges against her father for sexual assault, but dropped them before the case made it to trial. 

She had made a few friends at work, guess that was as a good a place as any to start and he grabbed his coffee from Vince's hand and told him to come on and they headed for his car. He walked up to the receptionist and showed her his badge, "I need to see Ginger Franklin's supervisor," and she looked at him questioningly as she looked up the supervisor in the in-house directory and got him on the phone, "Mr. Potts would like to know what this is regarding," she smiled up at Frank, "It's personal," and she told him how to get to Mr. Potts' office and he thanked her and headed down the hall, while Vince shot a smile to the receptionist, "Control her testosterone Vince, we have work to do," and the girl giggled as Vince left embarrassed. "Do you always have to do that shit to me Frank? I am single, you know," and Frank didn't even bother to answer as they turned the corner and he saw the man's name on the door and walked in, showing his badge once again, "Oh yes, Mr. Potts is expecting you, go right in," the woman said and Frank stared at Vince, knowing that he would be hitting on this girl as well and Vince's face went blank as he followed his partner inside. "You're always thinking with your crotch Vince," he whispered as they walked across the office to the huge walnut desk and the man rose to greet them, "I'm Ralph Potts, what can I do for you? Ginger hasn't come to work yet, she isn't in any trouble, is she?" and he sat back down as Frank and Vince took seats in front of the desk. 

"Mr. Potts, Ginger is deceased. She was killed approximately 2 AM this morning," and Frank watched as the color left the man's face. He sat there in silence for several minutes, "How did she die? Was it an auto accident?" he finally asked, "She was murdered Mr. Potts. We need to ask you and her coworkers some questions, "Of course," he answered, "Any thing at all," and Frank sat back in his chair, surveying the man's plush office, "Just what do you do here Mr. Potts?" 

The man rose and turned to look out the window, "Lerner Technologies is a government contractor, we provide data and testing on a number of sophisticated programs. Mainly we deal with GSA computer programs, but I can only divulge so much about our operation, as I'm sure you understand," and Frank watched him nervously shift his weight on his feet as he stared out the window. 

"What was your relationship with Ginger?" he asked and he watched his weight shifting abruptly stop, "I was Ginger's boss. The young lady you passed at my outer office is filling in for Ginger, since she had not shown up for work," and Frank decided to push it one step further, "No other relationship?" and he could see the man begin to perspire, "No, none." 

Frank could sense that he was lying, years of interrogation could easily detect a liar and Mr. Potts was definitely lying, "Ok Mr. Potts, we'll need to talk to her co workers and he picked up the phone, "Miss Lacy, please see that the detective gets all the cooperation he needs from Miss Franklin's co workers," and Frank thanked him and walked out. "Please wait here and I'll get someone to escort you around," the secretary told them and they sat in the outer office, Frank peering into Mr. Potts' office, seeing what his nervousness would cause him to do.

He saw him pick up the phone and dial a two digit number, someone in house, and he could see beads of perspiration on his brow as he made gestures with his hands to whomever he was talking to and Frank made a mental note to check into this further. 

The escort showed up and showed them to the cafeteria where some of Ginger's co-workers had been assembled to meet with them. He split the group and had Vince take half to another table, making sure that Vince got mostly men, otherwise this would take all day. 

Vince kept flashing him dirty looks as he interviewed all the guys and he smirked lightly, smug in the fact that he had foiled Vine's plans at flirting and they had everyone interviewed and got up to leave just as people started to file in for lunch. They got into the car and Frank started heading for the crime scene, "What do you make of all of that?" he asked Vince, "Seems like our nice Mr. Potts had a little more to do with Ginger than he is letting on," and they looked at each other, "Yeah, that's the impression I got too. Check him out," and Vince nodded as they turned on Bowers and Frank pulled up in front of the house. 

The ominous yellow crime scene tape was draped around the house and several people were hard at work, collecting fingerprints and looking for any kind of evidence that may have been overlooked in the earlier, hasty examination. Frank and Vince split up, Frank taking the downstairs and Vince the upstairs as they wandered from room to room looking for anything that might be of importance. The townhouse was nicely furnished and Frank slipped on his rubber gloves as he leaved through the stack of bills and papers on the desk, finding one envelope particularly interesting as he read the return address, Dr. Myron Fitts, PHD and he opened it to find a bill for an office visit. From the looks of the bill, she had been a regular patient and he wrote down the address and phone number in his book before resuming his search. 

He also found a phone number written on the back of one of the envelopes and copied that as well, before venturing on through the rest of the downstairs. As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed that service for two was sitting on the table, 'Must have had a dinner date,' he thought to himself as he rummaged further and the kitchen light glinted off of a piece of metal in the garbage disposal and he fished around, jerking his hand back quickly and seeing the blood from his finger pouring through the slice in the glove. He grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around his finger as he searched for something else to probe the garbage disposal with and found a set of tongs, making several unsuccessful attempts to withdraw whatever was down there before ripping the rubber from around the drain and then he could see the razor blade as it shone in the direct light. 

He grasped it with the tongs and brought it out, noticing the dried blood caked on it and he retrieved an evidence bag from his pocket and dropped it inside before checking on his sliced finger. He pulled the glove off and the slice was deep, so he applied pressure to it to stop the bleeding before he went any further, 'That was a smooth move moron,' he thought to himself. 

"What the hell happened?" he heard Vince say as he appeared from the next room, "Just a stupid move," Frank said as he handed Vince the evidence bag and watched him look it over, "Where'd you find this?" and Frank pointed to the sink and they headed to the car, Vince taking the wheel. "Get that to forensics," Frank said as they entered the building and Vince headed off to the lab. Frank opened his desk drawer and pulled out a band-aid and some antibiotic ointment as he doctored his finger. He sat at his computer and searched for information on the good Mr. Potts and the doctor and then he did a reverse check on the phone number, which gave him an address uptown. 

The doctor turned out to be a shrink and he made an appointment to visit him tomorrow, Mr. Potts turned out to be clean with the exception that the address the phone number had turned up just happened to be his home. He made a call to the courthouse and got a search warrant for Potts' home and he gathered up Vince, who was trying to make time with a lab worker, and they headed out. He looked at his watch, 5:30, he should be home by now and he looked at the sports car in the driveway and noted the expensive home.

Potts looked like he had seen a ghost when he opened the door and Frank flashed the search warrant, "Anyone else at home?" he asked, "No, I live alone," he said and Frank and Vince split up, making Mr. Potts sit in the living room while they rummaged through his home. "Can I ask what this is all about?" Potts said and Frank smiled at him, "You can ask, but I'll tell you when I'm ready," and went back to his search. 

Frank found a hollow panel behind the books in the study, which yielded several videotapes, two of which had commercial packaging, but the third had none. They were porn tapes, he read the titles, Teen Sluts On A Mission and Lolitas 4, and he thought about good old Mr. Potts, what a 40 something man would like. Other than the tapes, they really didn't find anything else, so they bagged the tapes and left, much to Mr. Potts' delight, although he seemed nervous about the tapes. Frank wondered what was on the third tape, he would have to find out later on, it was after 7 and he was hungry. He dropped Vince at his car and headed to Antonio's for some pasta, securing the videos in his lock box in the trunk. 

He hadn't realized how hungry he was as he ate the soft breadsticks, waiting for his Lasagna to arrive. He dove in as Maria brought him some more breadsticks and more wine, noting that he had never noticed how pretty she was before when he and Marilyn had eaten here. She was quite striking and he took in her body as she sauntered towards the kitchen, her ripe ass making him feel a twitch below as he looked around to see if anyone had caught him staring. 

He wiped his mouth with the napkin, his belly full and he watched Maria as she approached with his bill, she had a great face and a very nice chest, her slightly olive shin in contrast to her bright white teeth as she smiled, she was second generation Italian and she was hot. As she lay his bill down, she sat opposite him and began to make small talk, "So, Frank, I hear that you are a single man now," she said and he at first felt shame at his failure but then he felt flattered as he realized she was flirting with him. "Yes, back in the world of single men once again," he said and flashed her a small smile, "Perhaps we could go out sometime, if you're interested," and he got a huge smile on his face, "Sure Maria, I would like that," and he saw her smile and she touched his hand and darted off towards the kitchen and he paid his bill and left, halfway gliding as he walked to his car.

As he started his car his pager went off and he recognized the number as Vince's cell phone. He hated cell phones, they had tried to give him one, but he had steadfastly refused it and he looked around for a payphone, finding one by the convenience store. He dialed the number, "What's up Vince?" and he heard a short silence at the other end, "We've got another one Frank, same MO as the Franklin girl," and he felt a burning in the pit of his stomach, "Where at Vince?" and he wrote down the address, it was on the opposite side of town from the Franklin girl, and he jumped in the car, threw his bubble light on top and took off. Quite a crowd had gathered when he arrived, this murder being discovered much earlier than the Franklin one and he fought his way through the crowd, seeing Vince waiting for him on the front porch. 

"Same thing Frank, nipples gone and I'm betting all the blood between her legs will point to some sort of violent penetration as well," and Frank rubbed his brow and then followed Vince inside. This one had been gagged, Frank looked at the panties sticking from her mouth and her wrists and ankles were still bound. It was a cotton rope, 'Looked like clothesline,' he thought and he noticed a small stain on the bed between her legs, "Have forensics test that," he said and pointed to the stain. "Who found the body?" Frank asked and he was directed to a back bedroom and a sobbing woman sat there with a policewoman. 

"This is the girl's mother, she found the body," the policewoman spoke and Frank saw the woman look up at him slightly, her cheeks stained with tears. "Why don't you have the rescue people take her to the hospital, get her calmed down, we can talk with her tomorrow," Frank instructed the officer and she went out to get the paramedics. Once again Frank's thoughts went to his daughter, and he thought how awful it would be to discover your own child's corpse, especially after this maniac had finished with it. The paramedics took her out and he set about searching for the razor blade that he had found at the Franklin scene, they had no garbage disposal, so he began to check the trashcans and then moved to the bathroom. 

He spied the razor blade in the curve of the commode, they had tried to flush it, but it was still there and he pointed the forensics team to it. "See what all you can find out Vince, we'll get started on it first thing in the morning," Frank said and headed for his car. This was all he needed, a panic with every young female in town, thinking that they would be next, but his expertise told him that this was not random, serial killers developed patterns and this guy had one too, he just had to figure it out. He pulled the videos out of his lockbox, tucking them under his arm as he put the key in the door and then shut the door behind him, he needed a drink bad. 

He made himself a Wild Turkey and a glass of water and drank it straight up and then another one before grabbing up the videos and heading for his bedroom. He pulled off his clothes and popped the first video in before getting into bed and sitting up as a young girl came on the screen, she was made out to be a girl scout and was trying to sell cookies door to door. You were supposed to believe that she was very young, but her overly large tits killed that thought, as they seemed to burst out of her top. 

An older guy answered the door and immediately invited her in and before you knew it, he had his hand up her skirt and was promising to buy all of her cookies if she would be "nice" to him. Frank couldn't believe that guys would really buy this shit and he grabbed the remote and fast-forwarded the tape as several hours of scenarios developed on the tape. He ejected that tape and inserted the Lolita one and as the film started, he saw that the quality wasn't very good, with noise lines through the bottom of the picture and he fast forwarded the tape and just as he was about to stop it, the picture changed and he recognized some of Mr. Potts' furnishings in the background as a very young girl appeared. 

This girl really didn't look much over 13 or 14 and it caught Frank's eye, as she was dressed in a girl scout uniform and was selling cookies, but this one was for real. He heard a voice tell her that if she were really nice to him, he would buy lots of cookies; he couldn't swear it was Potts voice, but it sounded like it. Hands reached out and took the cookies from her and he heard the man ask her to take her uniform off and Frank watched as she nervously unbuttoned her green scout dress and the bright white bra came into view. 


Serial Bad Decisions



A short piece I know. It was supposed to gone on longer, but the idea's I had seemed to be merely tacked on, so I left it.

********



I was walking home in the cold drizzle when the car pulled over a short way ahead of me, the engine stuttering. The driver, who I could just about make out in the evening gloom as a woman, got out and opened up the bonnet, peering in at the engine. As she looked over the recalcitrant motor I heard her speak.

"Oh you silly cow Carla, you didn't do the radiator cap up properly." She breathed.

The name 'Carla' hit me like it always did: The name of the girl I'd grown up with, the girl I'd fallen in love with but couldn't tell, the girl I'd stupidly left in France with my supposed best friend over twenty years ago.

* * * 

 The three of us, Carla, Mark, and me, had grown up together, walked to the same schools together, and generally just hung around together. Not that surprising you might think; we were all roughly the same age and lived close to one another. What was surprising to me, at least in retrospect was that Carla continued to enjoy being with us even after she began to develop as a young woman; a beautiful young woman who could have garnered the company of any guy in town if she'd wanted. Being around Mark I could understand; he was a sporty athletic type with a dazzling smile and a hearty laugh, but me? I got tongue-tied talking to shop assistants and could have made a Tuxedo look scruffy. I suspected that Mark kept me around because it made him look good and he wasn't threatened by my presence, but Carla? What could she possibly see in me? She had no real reason to keep me around other than our long standing friendship. But she did. She made sure I got invited to all the parties she did and I went along because it was her asking me, even if I did feel like a fish out of water most of the time.

As we finished our final term at school I was totally devoted to Carla, but never said a thing. And I was beginning to feel like an extra wheel when the three of us were together. I was so in love with her that I couldn't bring myself to turn down the invite to tour Europe that summer with the two of them. I knew they weren't the 'item' that Mark pretended to everyone else, so I thought that one last blast for the three of us would be a laugh. And that had been when I lost her through my own stupid thinking.

* * *

 I came back to the present, before the litany of similar bad decisions on my part could begin to play through my head again, and instead began to wonder if this 'Carla' could be 'MY' Carla, a ridiculous hope I knew. I pushed it from my mind and hunched up my shoulders as I walked past the stranded motorist.

"Excuse me?" The woman called out as she saw me. I looked up, it wasn't Carla. "I was wondering if you knew where I could get some water, my flatmate topped up the radiator yesterday but didn't tighten the cap properly and now poor Lizzie here is overheating." She waved her hand over the car. Much as I didn't want to get involved I couldn't bring myself to ignore her.

"Errrm, sure. I, errr, live just round the, errr, corner. I can get you some water." I blushed. I just couldn't talk to women without feeling foolish.

"Thank you. You're a sweetie." She smiled.

"Errr, s'all right." I gave a quick smile and then found myself frowning.

"What's the matter?" The girl asked.

"Nothing, I was just trying to think of a way to ask if you wanted a cup of coffee that didn't sound like a come-on or a trap that made you report me to the police." I said with a sad smile.

"Oh, it's too late for that," she grinned, "I am the police."

"A pretty girl like you?" I said in surprise.

She gave me a hard stare.

"Are you suggesting that in some way some of my sister officers do not possess womanly charms."

"Errrrrr, no. Not at all in fact. And if I did, I didn't mean too." I said in a bit of a panic.

She laughed.

"Only teasing. Some of them can seem a bit butch. Lead me to the coffee." She held out her hand. "I'm Tina by the way."

"Dave." I said, shaking her proffered hand.

 Tina sipped at her coffee after I had handed her the mug.

"Mmmm, that tastes familiar." She said.

"It's only the Instant that I've drunk since I was a boy." I shrugged.

"I think it's the same stuff Carla likes though."

A little bell went off in the back of my mind. My Carla had always liked the same coffee as me; the stuff our mothers had given us when we were kids. Was it actually possible...? I shook myself.

"You seem to think a lot of Carla?" I said.

"I do. She took me under her wing when I was sent here. I owe her a lot."

Again that sounded like my friend.

"In what way?" I asked.

"The usual. If I was doubting myself she'd give me confidence; If I was down she'd cheer me up with some story about her travels on her own in Europe after she'd left school."

It sounded more and more to me that Tina was talking about my Carla.

"So, she and Mark split up?" It slipped out. I cursed myself silently.

"Right after the other guy left." Tina nodded. "Mark had got annoyed when she said it wouldn't be the same without Dave, I think she said his name was, so she ditched him." I thought for a moment Tina hadn't spotted the connection, but then realisation spread across her face. "It's you isn't it? You're the guy who did the vanishing act?"

I went red and bowed my head.

"Yes, that was me. I thought I was helping, doing the right thing, but from what you say, the one decision that I thought I'd got right was as wrong as all the others I've ever made. I'm bloody useless." I sighed deeply. "Could you tell Carla I'm sorry?"

"No." I looked up in surprise. "No, I think you'd do better to tell her yourself." Tina grinned.

"Will she even want to see me after I just upped and left?"

"You'd be surprised. She talks about you a lot." She smirked. "Come on, tidy yourself up and I'll take you home."

"Home?"

"Flatmates remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right."

 "Hey Carla, I've brought someone to see you." Tina called out as she opened the front door to her flat.

"It's not one of your strange university mates is it?" A voice that I'd missed hearing for twenty years called back from the kitchen.

"Nope," Tina laughed, "just some lost soul who claims to know you."

"Someone who knows me?" Carla said, coming out into the small hallway while drying her hands with a tea-towel. As she saw me she stopped and stared, the colour draining from her face in shock.

"Hello Carla," I said quietly, "long time, no see." I gave her a watery, apologetic smile, worried that despite Tina's confidence she was wrong and Carla didn't want to see me.

The huge and much-missed smile that spread across her features proved my fears groundless. Carla dropped the tea-towel and threw her arms around me, hugging me in the way she'd always used to.

* * * * 

 We'd had a fun day in Paris; taking in all the usual sights and amusing the Parisians with our faltering attempts to speak their language. In the evening all three of us had imbibed perhaps one glass of wine too many and consequently were all a bit giggly as we got back to the cheap hotel on the outskirts of the city, making a bit too much noise on the landing as Carla went to her own room and Mark and I went to ours. He pulled a couple of cans of lager we'd bought on the ferry from his backpack and passed one over to me. We sat down and sipped at the cans in silence for a while and then Mark spoke.

"I gotta tell you Dave, I'm getting a bit fed up with waiting for her to make up her mind." He declared with a little slur.

"Who? About what?" I replied, mystified by his statement.

"Carla of course. About us." He'd definitely had one too many.

"What 'us'? You and me?" I asked, more confused than before about what he meant.

"No, me and her. I've been asking her out for two years now, but, but it's always got to be all three of us she says." He tipped back his can. "I dunno if she don't trust me, or she don't wanna upset you, but I can't get her alone for more than ten minutes." Mark sighed and drained his lager. 

Suddenly that extra wheel feeling came back to me; I was getting in the way of my friends. 

"Sorry mate." I mumbled.

"Iss not your fault." He muttered.

"Why not say something to Carla?" I suggested, hating the idea.

"Maybe t'morrow. Get her to decide."

"Yeah. Sleep on it."

"Yeah. Thanks Dave." Mark said, rolling up in the blanket. 

He was soon asleep, a release I could not find forthcoming. I tossed and turned for two or three hours until I came to a conclusion: I couldn't, wouldn't, make Carla choose, so I'd make it easy and leave them to it. They were my friends and they deserved the chance to be alone. As I made my decision I acted on it. I rose quietly and gathered my gear together, stuffing it into my pack before slipping out and down to the front desk. After I'd paid my part of the bill I headed for the central railway station. I knew we had been planning on going to Germany and Italy, so I used my rail pass to board a train going the other way, south to Spain.

* * *

 " So you just gave up and left?" Carla said, a glimmer of annoyance in her eyes.

"Mark had as good as told me I was getting in the way." I shrugged, reddening under her glare. "It seemed to be the best solution."

"You were both drunk."

"It still seemed to be the right thing to do."

"Mark was an idiot who thought all he had to do was smile at a girl to make her go weak at the knees." She snapped, her eyes again blazing momentarily.

"It looked like it worked most of the time." I replied, remembering how easy Mark had made picking up girls seem.

"And you're no better." She gave me another glare. "You didn't once think about how I might feel."

"I promise I did Carla," I said as soothingly as I could, "I thought that a clean break you could do nothing about would be easiest all round. For everybody." I stood up. "I think I should go now. It looks like I'm raking up things you would rather forget, messing things up as per bloody usual." As I turned to go, Carla reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Stay." She said softly, all annoyance gone from her voice. "Please, this time, stay."

I sat down, clasping her hand in mine.

"Tell me what to do to make things right." I said. "I'll do anything for you, I always would."

"I know you would." She gave me a watery smile. I gave her a little grin in return. 

We sat in silence for a while, just holding hands, until Tina passed into the room, evidently on her way out somewhere. She looked at the two of us and rolled her eyes.

"Good grief! Hasn't he guessed yet?" Carla shook her head. "And you still haven't told him?" Carla shook her head again.

"Told me what?" I asked, more than a little puzzled.

Tina went to open her mouth but Carla spoke first.

"No Tina, I'll do it my way."

"Do what?" I asked, now thoroughly bemused.

"Tell you the reason why I wanted to keep us as a trio."

"It wasn't some sex thing was it?" I said jokingly. Tina sniggered eliciting a glare for both of us from Carla.

"Dave, I'm being serious here. I liked having you around; you made me laugh and treated me like a real person."

"You are a real person." I interrupted, but Carla carried on.

"Mark, in those last four years, seemed to think I was some sort of trophy, something to be won and then paraded around."

"But you were, you still are, astonishingly beautiful." I said, feeling some need to explain my former best buddy.

"Thank you," Carla blushed. I'd forgotten how red she could go. "but that didn't mean that I was some sort of prize; I still had feelings; I wasn't some dumb bimbo desperate to win popularity by any means. But that was how Mark saw me, how he treated me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I thought that you and he were mutually attracted; in love in fact."

"Maybe we were, sort of, at the beginning."

"I knew I wasn't completely wrong." I said thankfully. "What happened?"

Tina was shaking her head.

"I thought YOU were going out?" Carla said to her pointedly.

"I was, but this is getting interesting." The younger girl grinned.

"Just go Tina please; You're putting me off." Carla sighed.

"Spoilsport." Tina grinned, poking her tongue out as she left. 

A pregnant silence fell on the room after Tina left. Carla obviously wanted to tell me something but didn't know how. Equally obviously she was hoping that I would guess what it was; but I was drawing a blank. Whatever it was wasn't as obvious to me as she thought. To break the deepening quiet I asked a question.

"When we were at school you never mentioned wanting to be a rozz.... a police officer." I hurriedly corrected myself.

"At school I didn't," Carla smiled, "it developed at university. I wanted to make a difference to society. I haven't the patience to be a nurse so I became a cop." She grinned at 'cop'. "What about you? What are you up too?"

"Well, when I went to Spain I found myself a job at one of the British bars in Malaga; found I had an strange aptitude for it. I worked there for about five years and then came back home. I work the bar at the big hotel outside of town now, plus some handyman work. You know the sort of thing, painting, gardening, other repairs, you know the sort of thing." I wasn't proud of what I did; there were no qualifications needed other than I could do it. Being a police officer seemed much more responsible. At least I had a job I told myself every day.

"A man of many talents then?" Carla grinned.

"Not really," I grinned back, "I'm just about adequate at the things I need to be."

"Surely that's a talent in itself?" Carla said reproachfully. "You do yourself down Dave, you always did."

"Carla, dear Carla," I shook my head, "the only thing I'm good at is making bad decisions. If you don't know what to do, ask me, and then do the opposite of what I would." I smiled although I wasn't really joking.

"You seem happy enough about it though?"

"Happiness is relative. I've not been truly happy since that one day we had in Paris."

"Not even now?" Carla asked.

"Sorry, not even now. The thought that both you and Tina, who I hardly know, both think that there's something I should have realised makes me feel more than a little foolish."

"You shouldn't be."

"But you're still not going to tell me what it is?"

"Nope!" Carla laughed. "Even with your gloomy outlook I reckon you'll work it out for yourself, and I'm prepared to wait."

"Don't be so sure: I've got bugger all right for the past twenty years." I warned her.

"Oh, I don't know. Coming here to see me wasn't a bad idea."

"Not entirely my idea I must say: Even then it was a bit touch and go early on I thought." I gave her a grin. I had grinned more in the past twenty minutes, genuine grins, than I had for the previous twenty years.

"It was a bit wasn't it?" Carla said, pecking me on the cheek.

We lapsed into silence again for a short while until I felt the need to speak.

"Carla, can I ask you something? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I'll understand."

"Try me." She replied.

I took a deep breath.

"What happened after I left in Paris? Between you and Mark I mean?" It obviously wasn't the question she was expecting as she gave me a surprised look. "You don't have to tell me." I added hurriedly.

"No, it's okay. I'll tell you." She sighed and looked away for a moment before turning back to face me. " I woke up that morning feeling full of beans; I was out on a big adventure, away from parental control for the first time. And suddenly you weren't there; one of the props of my life was gone and everything felt wrong." She paused for a moment. "When Mark suggested maybe it was for the best and he and I could be alone together at last I freaked; I called him all sorts of horrible names; told him that I was never going to go out with him. I grabbed my stuff and stormed off to the railway station on my own, catching the first train out and finding myself in Switzerland." Carla looked down at the ground. "I was really mean to poor Mark. I blamed him for messing up my carefully nurtured plan, even though I soon realised most of it was your fault, you idiot." She thumped me on the arm.

"What happened to him?" I asked. "I never found out, even after I came back."

"I'm not really sure what he did in Paris. I have seen him about a couple of times since, in the distance. I think he owns a car showroom, BMW's, a couple of towns away."

"Perhaps I should go and find out?"

"That's up to you. I never felt the urge to find him myself."

"That's something. How come I've never seen you around before. You know, out and about on the beat so to speak?"

"When I was a beat copper I was stationed somewhere else. After I was promoted I wangled a posting back here as a desk sergeant, so unless you'd come into the station we had no chance of bumping into each other." She flashed me another grin. "Won't be there much longer though."

"Oh?"

"I'm packing it in. Too many cheeky young devils on the force now. I've got it all planned out."

I missed her implied invitation to ask what she was going to do as another, more important question occurred to me.

"Carla, I have to ask; how come you never looked for me? I mean, I thought that you were with Mark, so I never tried to find either of you."

"I went around to your Mom's house when I got back from Europe, but they didn't know what you were up to, and then I went to uni. I never forgot you, but I had no idea about where to look."

"Of course. I should have realised, sorry." I looked down and then back up, catching sight of the clock. "Carla, I have to go. I have to be at work in less than an hour. Can I come back and see you again?"

"Of course you can," She smiled, "but not in the mornings please; I'm on duty until six."

"The graveyard shift?"

"You got it. Ten til six for a month."

"I'm glad you're not still mad at me." I said.

"I'm just happy to see you again; at least at the moment." She laughed.

I held out my hand at the door. Carla looked at it in amusement for a second and then grasped it as if to shake it. Instead she pulled me towards her and then planted a kiss firmly on my lips.

"See what you missed." She smirked mischievously as we broke apart. I couldn't think of a coherent reply I was so confused.

 I was still confused later, behind the bar, when I saw a grinning Tina ordering a round of drinks.

"Hiya Dave. She tell you yet?"

I shook my head no. 

"She wants me to work it out for myself it seems."

"Maybe I could give you a clue?"

"I'd appreciate it Tina. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be working out."

"Okay then." She paused for a moment to think. "Okay. Think about what she doesn't say rather than what she does say: And her reactions rather than her actions." I gave her a bemused look that said she wasn't really helping much. "Sorry if that seems a bit cryptic, but you'll work it out. Carla says you're not as stupid as you like to pretend." With that she took her drinks and disappeared into the crowd.

I mused over Tina's 'hint' whenever I got a slack moment, which wasn't that often as we were busy that night. It wasn't until after we'd closed and I was cleaning up alone that I could really put my mind to the issue. I pondered on Carla's words and actions earlier and things began to click into place. The way she'd held my hand to stop me leaving; the way she seemed to prefer my company to Mark; her description of 'freaking' in Paris when she found I'd gone; and finally, and most tellingly, the kiss she'd planted on me as I'd left her flat. Carla seemed to be telling me she loved me. My first instinct was one of denial; there was no way on this earth that Carla had ever, would ever, be in love with me. My deductions were wrong, they had to be. But the more I thought about it, the more I went over what had happened, the more sense everything she had said and done made. It all fitted together so neatly. I nearly dropped the tray of glasses I was putting away when I suddenly realised what I had done, what I had thrown away. I had to see her; I had to see Carla now! Locking up quickly, I hurried to the police station where she had said she would be on duty tonight.




Serial Bad Decisions



I don't know why but I expected to see Carla behind the desk at the station when I went in; I mean that's what 'desk sergeant' implies, right? Instead there was a bored looking, baby-faced youngster who looked like he should still be at school. He looked up as I walked in.

"Is Carla around?" I asked politely. A look of incomprehension crossed his face. "Sergeant Owen?" I added helpfully.

"Oh, the Headmistress." He grinned as he realised who I was talking about. "She's checking the drunks in the cells at the moment sir."

I smirked at her nickname, knowing immediately how she'd come by it, and wondering if she knew about it.

"Well could you ask her if she'll see me when she's done? It's a personal matter."

"A personal matter? I didn't know the sarge still had those." He beamed. "What name shall I tell her sir?"

"Tell her it's the idiot from earlier today. She'll know who that is."

"Very well. If you'd like to take a seat, I'm sure she won't be long."

As I sat down the young policeman went off to locate Carla and pass on my message. He was soon back with a smiling Carla.

"I guessed it was you Dave; I don't meet that many idiots when I'm off-duty." She said laughingly as I stood back up.

"I worked it out Carla; at least I hope I have or every stupid thing I've done before will pale into insignificance when I tell you what I think it is."

Carla took my arm.

"I'm sure you're right, so come outside and tell me without an audience." With a nod of her head she indicated three or faces watching us from the other side of the desk.

She led me out of the station and around a corner until we were out of sight of prying ears and eyes. There was a hint of hope in her eyes as she said: "Okay, tell me." That reinforced the feeling that I was right about this. Taking a deep breath I plunged in with both feet.

"I'm sorry that I didn't realise earlier that our feelings toward each other were mutual and not one-sided on my part."

The relief on Carla's face told me I was spot-on for once.

"Not entirely your fault; I could have said something." She said meekly.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because of the lack of attention you gave me. I thought you had someone else."

"Someone else? Carla, I worshipped the ground you walked on."

"You disguised it well."

"Of course I did. I thought you were in love with my best friend, not me. And in any case, what girl ever looked at me twice?"

"You'd be surprised. Quite a few girls at school expressed more than a passing interest in my broody friend, but I put them off. Sorry." She added at the shocked look that crossed my face.

"I don't believe it." I said.

"It's true. I wasn't the goody-two-shoes you think. I let them think there was something wrong with you, without being specific."

"Not that, shocking as it is. I don't believe that any girl, especially you, was remotely interested in me."

"I forgot about your innate ability to do yourself down; I've missed that." She stroked the side of my face, looking into my eyes to reassure me that it was true.

"Is it permissible to kiss a police officer?" I asked softly before I brushed my lips against hers.

"Depends which officer you're thinking of kissing." She breathed in my ear.

"I was thinking, maybe Tina?" I smirked and then crushed my mouth to hers. 



Serial Hunter



It was nearing midnight, Halloween coming to a close. All the little kiddies were at home sifting through mounds of sweets in preparation of cavity orgies in the days to come. Most adult revelers were still partying or finding spots to nurse their binges.

Usually, I'd be home with a tumbler of Johnnie Walker Black in hand, microwave popcorn by my side, watching Halloween 1 & 2 back-to-back. It was a usual tradition since my teens, but now I sit in a corner booth at the waffle house, nursing my umpteenth cup of truck stop Java, waiting on him.

It all started with my fascination of horror movies and urban folklore, but that little fascination turned into an obsession while poring through the library archives in the campus library.

Two years ago, I was just a normal college sophomore on scholarship in a small college town near the Texas-Louisiana border. I did the usual college things, binge drinking, binge fucking, football games on the weekend, cramming for tests on Sunday. I chose English as my major, but thought about film school ever since I saw my first horror movie at the age of twelve. 

I considered myself somewhat of a movie buff. I hold the record of most rented movies at the local Blockbuster and have a pretty extensive collection of tapes and DVDs. It was my senior year that I started research on folklore and urban legends for my graduation thesis. It was one of my many late night in the campus library that I came upon an article about an abduction so obscure, that it only garnered a few inches of text on the back page.

Coed missing off campus

The disappearance of a local college coed has authorities searching nearby bayous and questioning several students. Shannon Bates, Liberal Arts major at E.A. Poe College, was reported missing by her roommate after not returning from the Halloween party she was attending two nights ago at the gymnasium.

She was last seen in the vicinity of the King Memorial Gardens. She was registered at the college with no next of kin and law enforcement said there might be a possibility that she just left on her own. Authorities are questioning students and ask that any information be directed to the Royal Parish Sheriffs office.

King Memorial Gardens wasn't actually a garden. It was a small graveyard on the edge of campus, which held the tomb of the original landowners Richard and Betsy King. Around the ghastly mini mausoleum were a couple of unmarked graves, presumably offspring. It was too scary even for the like of me, with it's covered walkways and mildewed smell. 

Only horny drunken kids and frat pledges during rush week ventured out there at night. In the morning, empty beer bottles, used scumbags, and the occasional panties would litter the area. It wasn't a murder yet, just a missing person's case until I found another article with the same circumstances, five years later to the day.

Missing college student's dorm ransacked

An E.A. Poe College student's dorm was pillaged, prompting the Residence Advisor to alert police. Judith Myers, a Journalism Major, has since been reported missing, following an extensive search of campus. The annual Halloween party held in the campus gym was where she last talked to her roommate, whose identity is being withheld. According to eyewitness accounts, she was seen headed in the direction of King Memorial Gardens. What was first thought to be a Halloween prank became more sinister when a mutilated hand was discovered among the bedlam tips missing. Authorities are silent as to the owner of the hand and expressed concern for finding the missing student.

"We just want to find Ms. Myers ASAP and get this all behind us," stated Sheriff John Stroh. 

This is the second time at the college where a student was reported missing. In 1990, Shannon Bates went missing and after furtive efforts was never found. Like Bates, Myers was also a student with no next of kin, but local law enforcement says there is no connection. Poe College president Wes Romero showed concern for the allegations and promised, "to get to the bottom of it post haste." Anyone with information should contact the Royal Parish Sheriffs office immediately.

Next to the article was a photo of Judith Myers from the student directory with another of President Romero in his office right below. She was a pretty girl with sad eyes, as if she knew of her own demise. President Romero looked stoic as ever, puffed chest, and straightened back. 

Anyone that ever met him knew he was all spit and polish, from his starched cuffs to his always-polished Stacy Adams. Him and his Southern Belle of a wife, Jamie Lee Romero, were known Hitler and Eva in quiet circles. After a couple more hours of poring over articles, slugging Bawls energy drinks, and three trips to the rest room, I put together what I knew to bring me to the Waffle House off I-10 at Midnight.

Even without the fingerprints, I knew that the hand belonged to Shannon Bates, but who could prove it. The federal authorities were never called in to assist. Nor were they called five years later for Judith Myers or five years after that when another coed went missing on Halloween and the nipples of presumably Myers were discovered on the kitchen counter in the off-campus apartment of the third victim, Simone Carpenter. 

I guess these southern towns, still don't look too kindly on the "guv'ment" getting involved. All the victims were single with no next of kin to notify. They also were all African-American. Kinda easy to sweep them under the rug, with the Elizabeth Smarts, Jon Benets, and Natalee Holloways getting the above the fold headlines. 

A few calls to area papers and even the USA Today produced no results and even the FBI confirmed what I felt. I realized that three black women missing weren't too high on the priority list with Homeland security trying to monitor the corner store terrorists. After all, there was no real evidence except for untraceable body parts and all the victims were adults with no one to miss them anyway.

I drew up a shoddy timeline and pieced together what facts I knew. It happened every five years on Halloween. Usually right after the annual party in the gym. The killer had to be someone who lived here year round, probably a professor or a local. Somehow, the victims were alone and in the vicinity of King Memorial. 

No lighted area, leaving perfect seclusion for the abductor. Even the horniest and drunkest sumbitch avoids that area on Halloween. By the time incoming freshman have graduated and moved on with their lives, the next abduction happens. The college is small but large enough for news to never stay in place too long, before the next big thing. The closest daily paper is 40 miles away and the college paper has enough soft news like alumni grants and football scores to shy away from anything investigative.

By the time I knew that no help was coming, Halloween was a week away. I hacked the databanks of the admissions records; too easy since the only firewall on campus was the one at the Homecoming bonfire. I narrowed a search down to possible candidates, or should I say victims. I found fifteen women with no next of kin, but only three of them were sista's. I actually had to get off my ass and do some legwork. Of the three women, two lived in the dorms and one off campus.

The off-campus student was an Amanda Tittle, but after two hours of staking out her pad, I crossed her off the list. She had not one, but two men in her life. Not that she hid that fact, with her bedroom window open in the October night and both of them at either end of her like a Chinese finger puppet. I think if she came up missing, she would truly be missed.

Next on my list was Tiffany Jones. She was a sophomore on scholarship, Dean's list, Varsity Cheerleader, and pledge of Lambda Epsilon Iota sorority. It was no secret that the pledges were whisked away in the middle Halloween night, chained together in a rundown shack in the middle of the bayou, to be retrieved in the morning. Just the thought of half-naked coeds huddling together for warmth in pitch black made me want to investigate, but life and death were at hand.

Therefore my target of the night was Jasmine Sweets. She had no boyfriend, kept to herself, and slaved away on the third shift at the aforementioned Waffle House, just two miles up the road from Poe. By the time I found her dorm, she already left for shift and there was no picture of her in the student directory for me to find her

I went back home to prepare. Not wanting to look out of the ordinary, I rummaged through my footlocker for something suitable. Since I was strictly on the espionage tip, I decided with all black. I shook off my old leather pants that I bought with my first motorcycle, wore once, and decided too gay for my liking. I strapped on a pair of hiking boots with the hidden contraband heel. 

As an afterthought, I slid a three-inch blade I bought in New Orleans in the compartment. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized I resembled a poor knockoff of Wesley Snipes in Blade. To finish the ensemble, I cut a hole in the top of my trench coat and slid my souvenir Hatori Hanzo from the Kill Bill Series down the back. A pair of Ray Bans and fake fangs and I looked a little better. I ran outside and jumped into my 78 Corvette Stingray with rebuilt engine, bald tires and rusted muffler. Hey, I was in college on a scholarship.

I got there about nine and there were few patrons scattered about. The only worker present was the portly cook slapping his spatulas together in an ungodly concerto as he moved hash browns back and forth across the spitting grill. I found a corner booth where I could get a good look at the door and the parking lot. I tried to relax, but my nerves were shot and the damn sword was rubbing a hole in my smaller back. My next move was nonexistent. Do I find her and say, "Hey, I think you're about to be abducted and possibly murdered tonight." That would probably put me in jail, she'd be killed and I'll be on trial for conspiracy. 

I tried to call the F.B.I again earlier, but was told to call my local authorities first. I should have told them my name was Ahmed and I have a nail clipper. So before I left the house, I sent a Fed-Ex to the headquarters of the F.B.I with copies of all my findings and a note about events that may or may not take place in the next 12 hours.

As I fiddled with my Zippo, I felt a presence and smelled the intoxicating aroma of cocoa butter.

"Would you like some coffee, Sir?"

That voice drizzled over me like caramel over an apple at the annual parish fair. It had just a twinge of Southern twang to let me know that the owner was born and raised here, but stayed long enough to assimilate. I felt myself stiffen at the outside chance that I could hear that same voice in my ear asking me to do things that you couldn't get at the 24-hour restaurant.

"Are you Blade? I think that is so cute."

I lifted my head to respond and was struck by the mocha-hued goddess standing there with a steel coffeepot in one hand; the other placed demurely on her hip. She stood about 6'2", her hair blown out in a shapely natural with an Afro pick resting off to the side. Instead of the standard yellow WH smock, she was dressed in skin draped denim bejeweled with sequins and a pair of calf high boots with pimp heels.

"Foxy Brown?"

"Yep, you're the first," she replied as she poured that first cup of coffee smiling at me. "I thought that no one was gonna get it; you made my day."

I smiled back at her, my mind thinking of her warm and wet place. I shook off those thoughts and concentrated on the steaming liquid in front of me.

"My name is Jasmine and I'll come back when you're ready to order."

As she walked away, my heart dropped through my stomach and ended up somewhere near my right foot. It can't be her. That is so fucked up. I felt like the Grim Reaper; knowing her possible demise and also realizing that I had a snowballs chance in hell of stopping it."

I lit up a Marlboro and took a sip of coffee, wishing I brought my flask of Johnnie with me. I glanced at my watch and saw that I had two and half-hours before the witching hour. I glanced across the way as Jasmine scuttled back and forth with plates of steaming eggs, the never empty coffeepot, and her innocence intact.

I calmed down enough that when she came back to me, I was able to order without a panic attack. Famished from running around all day, I got the steak and eggs platter. When she returned with my order, she sat down and looked at me. This took me off guard as I stared back at her with knife and fork in ready position.

"So, Blade. What's brings you out here this time of night. The parties aren't even in full swing yet."

"Waiting for somebody."

"Are you early or are they late."

"Don't know yet."

Her eyes closed as if she was trying to read me and her nose scrunched her like a rabbit searching carrots.

"Are you sure that's all you're doing?"

I shoveled in a mouthful of hash browns covered with onions and chili and mumbled, "Yep."

"Well, I hope they take their time." With that, she got up and went to greet a trucker with that smile and pot of coffee.

For the next two hours, I went through a pack of smokes, another steak dinner and a huge slice of apple pie. Jasmine checked up on me every once in awhile, throwing a little small talk my way every time. I found out that she was an orphan, here on partial scholarship, but raised in Haddonfield, Illinois. I also was on my own and knew how hard it was with nobody watching your back. Customers came and went, but I couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary.

A few minutes past 11 o'clock, Jasmine came by with a check and her goodbye.

"I don't think your friend is coming through, Blade." She sat down and repositioned her comb. "I'm about to end my shift and I've got a date."

As I fiddled in my coat pocket to pay the bill, my heart leapt just a little. She has a date, so she won't be alone. My little celebration came to a screeching halt when she added, "I got the DVD warmed up and I never miss watching Halloween one and two. It's tradition." With that, she swept up the bill and my money and went to the cash register.

I jumped out of my seat, shook off the pins and needles, and abruptly headed for the exit.

"Your change," she shouted after me.

"Keep it," I replied as I shoved past a drunken Frankenstein and beeline for my car.

I parked a distance from the restaurant so I could get a bird eye view of the parking lot. Through the wide windows, I saw Jasmine check out and gather her belongings. She swiftly walked to a beat up blue Honda Accord and got in. I turned the engine over in the Stingray and stared at the dashboard clock. I had one hour to go before the witching hour and another two to keep vigil. A sudden shower speckled my windshield with watery drops making harder to see with activating my wipers, but I wanted to keep a low profile.

Jasmine pulled out of the parking lot and after waiting at the light, turned left onto I-10. I pulled out also and began to make the turn when out of nowhere, I was momentarily blinded and slammed backwards into my seat. I didn't know what happened until I heard the scream of my tires and the sick twisting of my front fender and realized I was blindsided by another automobile. After the noise subsided in my ears and the car came to a halt, I shoved against my drivers' side door and peeled my self from the mess.

"Dude, Are you ok?" asked a weaving Mummy as he tried to peel the gauze from his mouth to speak more clearly.

I thought about Jasmine's fate, thinking about how I should have let her in on what I knew, and instantly puked all of my dinner on street and the Mummy.

"Shit, Man," screamed the Mummy as my dinner mixed with his dressings and fake blood, actually putting an improvement on his costume.

I plopped down on my back fender and tried to clear my head. I looked at my car and saw it was finished. The front end was bleeding green, and both front tires were flattened. The other driver's car was still intact due to the ram bars installed on the monstrous SUV. Before I thought about what I was doing, I jumped behind his driver's seat, peeled his truck away from the wreckage, and pointed it west.

In the rear view, I saw a ghostly figure jumping up and down in the shadow of the overpass, loose bandages flapping like a tails on a kite. I pushed the accelerator down and let the hemi do the work. Five minutes later I slammed on the brakes in front of Jasmine's dorm building, looking for any sign of her blue Accord. Not seeing it, I jumped out of the stolen truck and raced across the parking lot, up the flight of steps to the dorm monitor's office.

"Jasmine Sweets. I need to see her now."

The plump matron looked at me with bored eyes, smacking her gum. "Men are not allowed visitation after Midnight, young man." Glancing at her watch, she added. "There's no need to be waking her up anyhow, call her tomorrow."

"Just call her, please." My frantic eyes searched for a way in, but the front doors were electronically locked.

Sighing she picked up the phone, and dialed the three digits of Jasmine's dorm room. After what seemed like an eternity, she put the phone back in it's cradle and mumbled, "No Answer."

I slid down the wall and buried my face in between my knees. I failed her. I failed myself. I wracked my brain for something and within an instant was on my feet again, hurtling out the door into the unloving night. The rains subsided, leaving the campus covered in a light fog.

I stopped short of the parking lot when I saw two campus security cars, circling, with hi-beams cutting through the settling mist. They targeted the Dodge and got out to investigate. I crouched low and swept along the shadows until I was far enough away to break into full stride. I ran into a group of revelers and blended in with them until I reached the West End of President Romero's house whose footpath led right to my objective.

The stillness of the surrounding woods sent shivers through my thick jacket, right into the marrow of my bones. There was no spooky music to tell me what was around the corner, no camera angles to tell me which way to look. Only the sound of shifted pebbles under my cautious footsteps broke the night air. I crouched low to the ground to let my eyes adjust to the dark. I gripped the hilt of my Hanzo sword for comfort and proceeded forward. Before I knew it, I was at the entrance of King Tomb. I tried to control the fear seizing me by steadying my breathing, but truth is told I was a shivering bitch. It was that unyielding scent of cocoa butter wafting past my nose that steeled my nerves and told me I was in the right spot. 

A branch broke underfoot to my rear and I quickly spun to face my intruder.

"You shouldn't have come, what you think you're doing is useless." said a recognizable voice.

"Well, I'm here now and I got Hanzo with me," I barked in false bravado as I reached back to pull my weapon. Squeezing the patterned handle, I snatched it out and took a defensive stance. The pull was easy; too easy. I followed the focal point from the handle to the blade only to realize that more than half the blade was missing. It must've snapped off during my fender bender. By the time I registered the mistake, I felt a crushing blow on the right side of my face, sending me hurtling down to the gravel. The last thing I remember were a pair of the shiniest damn Stacy Adams this side of God's green earth planted a foot from my closing eyes.

I was dreaming of the Bahamas, White sands, blue skies, and crystal waters. I was nursing a Margarita that was way too salty and I was stretched out next to Jasmine. She looked as beautiful as ever but was troubled, Despite the gorgeous day; it felt damp and chilly. She mouthed something to me, but someone on the beach was playing a David Allan Coe ballad, preventing me from hearing what she was saying. I leaned closer, but I still couldn't hear but a whisper. I concentrated on her ripe lips and realized she what she was saying.




Serial Hunter



"I don't want to die."

I jerked awake and the Bahamas was gone, replaced by a darkened room that smelling of earth and rot. There was no Margarita but the slight trickle of blood from a cut inside my mouth. Jasmine was there and she was still whispering those words.

"I don't want to die."

We were in a small room with no windows, a wooden door in need of repair, and the strains of David Allen Coe fell away to a Merle Haggard tune that came from a radio in the adjourning room. We were trussed up in an unusual fashion. Both our hands were tied in front of us, but my arms were looped around the outside of her waist. Hers were bound and pressed against my crotch. Then we were tied up with another rope encircling both our bodies and another at our feet. We were face to face with a couple of inches separating us. 

My trench was taken, along with my cell phone, and any possible weapons and my boots were missing too. All I had on were my Under Armour top and those tights-ass leather pants. She was also in stages of undress, wearing only pajama bottoms and a bra. Her breath had an unusual odor to it. I realized it was chloroform. They must have gotten her in the room. I didn't want to imagine what she smelled on my breath. I could only stare at the tear stained face of my fellow captor, realizing that her fate was also mine. I was also an orphan on scholarship. Who would miss me?

"Blade, how did you get here?"

She was still using my character name. I didn't answer her at first, but tried to get my bearings. It wasn't until a movement of her hands against my groin forced me to look at her. 

"Is this some fucked-up Halloween joke?" she asked, eyes pleading for a hint of recognition.

"I wish it were, but I gotta tell you something I should have told you after that first cup of coffee."

I tried to summarize as much as I could being we may have been pressed for time. She kept quiet, but her eyes watered which each discovered fact I released past my lips. I told her about everything leading up to us lying on the floor tied together like a rushed Christmas gift. I couldn't bear to look at her anymore. It was tearing me the fuck up.

"I'm sorry, Jasmine." I pleaded. "I tried to get help, but no one would listen and I thought that if I told you, you wouldn't believe me either." I closed my eyes to hold back any tears trying to escape when I felt her soft lips meet mine.

"You're right. I probably wouldn't have believed you." She kissed me again on my right eyelid. "With all the things I've been through in life, I'm really honored that someone in this world cared enough to watch my back for me."

"But, I didn't watch your back. And now we're both here in this fuckin' root cellar and could be..." I couldn't bring myself to say it.

She gave me a tired smile and said, "But you tried and that says a lot. Hell, you stole a truck and tried to stab Romero."

I felt her hands moving below and while I wanted to believe that she was loosening her binds, my dick was thinking otherwise.

I closed my eyes in embarassment and quickly opened them when I felt my top button give way to see a smiling Jasmine.

"It is what you think it is, Blade."

I tried to stretch my arms outward to give her some positioning room but the outer rope held. Then I thought about a trick I learned on a field trip to a magic show when I was with the orphanage. It was a long shot but it might work.

"Jasmine, on the count of three blow all of the air out of your lungs, it might give the rope some slack. We counted and on three blew out air while at the same time shifting our shoulders in a jerky manner. The rope moved some, but slacked up again when we inhaled.

"I felt it move," she whispered.

"Again."

We kept huffing and puffing and shimmying until the top loop passed my ear. All the while, my cock kept rubbing against her fingertips. Once in awhile she would lightly pinch the head.

"I know we're in danger, Blade." She explained. "But I'm feeling you, babe. No pun."

I grinned at the crazy prospect that I might come and go at the same time. After another ten minutes of blowing in each other's faces, the rope slipped off past the knot and we were semi-free. Without thinking, I leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. She accepted my advancement and countered with a probing tongue and a firm grip on my shaft. Stroking me with unbridled furor, she kissed me all my face and neck. I shifted my hips forward and searched for my cock's final resting-place. She obliged by moving her hands and pushing the hem of her pajamas down her thighs. Our feet were still bound together, but she pushed her hands out and over my neck. 

We continued kissing in the dampness while grinding our hips closer together, until I felt the small thatch of her trimmed pubic hairs tickling the topside of my thickening mushroom. With another lunge, I felt a small trail of wetness slide against my cock as her moistened flower beckoned me. It only excited me more as I struggled to get inside. Using my hands for leverage, I grabbed her apple-bottomed ass and lifted her onto me, until I felt my head break the outer folds of her vulva, sinking in a wet paradise.

Being inside Jasmine for possibly the only and last time was more beautiful than I imagined. The warmth from her pussy took the chill off my entire body, as I pushed deeper, trying to lose myself in her. I felt her contract her muscles, pulling me in deeper. We tried to keep quiet but the pleasure was more comforting than any pain we were to endure in the future. Shifting our hips back and forth on the dirt-packed floor amongst the gloom was better than if we were really in the Bahamas.

"Stay inside me, forever."

I moaned my approval as we ground against each other for our final farewell. Her breathing became more frantic as well as mine as we melded into one being. I felt the pull on my cock become greater and as she bit into my chest to stifle the cries from her orgasm, I had to bit my already swollen cheek to silence mine. I came so hard that each blast inside her forced a reaction of more pressure into my pec. Just when I thought she would come away with a piece of my flesh, her jerks subsided and her breathing returned to normal.

After a while, my dick shrunk back down to normal and fell out, subjecting it to the cold of the room and me back to reality. I held onto my temporary lover tight and tried not to think of the future when I adjusted my eyes to the corner of the basement. I made out what I thought was a pile of dirt and after a closer look realized it was my trench coat and boots, There was also what seems to be a pair of bunny slippers.

"Jasmine, do yo own a pair of bunny slippers?"

"That was the most original question I heard after sex, but yea, I do."

"Baby, we are getting out of here."

We disengaged from each other and semi-crawled over to the corner where to my relief, I was right about the articles. A thorough search revealed my cell phone gone, but my boots unmolested. With a pull, out popped the blade I concealed earlier. Quickly I cut away the ropes at our feet and we took turns cutting each other's binds on our wrists. Once we were free, we embraced and kissed again like true lovers.

"Don't take this the wrong way," I said as I pulled away. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Even if I don't know your real name."

"It's...."

She put fingers to my lips and said, "Tell me when we are long gone from here."

I motioned for her to stay and crept towards the wooden door with cracks of light beaming through. I peeked through one of the larger cracks and found my sucker puncher. Sitting in a plain wooden chair with his gun belt a couple of feet to his right, pants hanging around his ankles was Sheriff Stroh. 

He was busily jerking off as he watched a hidden camera video of two coeds fucking in front of the King Tomb. That's how they knew I was there, I thought. I tried to push against the knob on the door and felt it give. I motioned to Jasmine to cover her eyes from the light. I picked up a piece of rope and fitting it like a garrote, slid forward. The Sheriff was still going at it, oblivious to me creeping up behind him. He was wheezing and kicking his legs back and forth as if he could force the nut from his body. By the time he noticed the dark figure in the reflection of the 13in monitor, I already had the twisted rope around his neck and pulling for all I was worth.

"Sucks to be blindsided don't it, Bitch," I screamed as I lay down my weight on the Sheriff's shoulders. He tried to reach for the rope stuck in between the fatty folds of his neck but it was useless. In a fit a panic he stood up, with me still attached, raced over to the card table knocking over the monitor, VCR and the small transistor radio, halting the ballads of Mr. David Allan Coe. He tried to reach for his gun, but a well-placed knee in the back halted his progress.

I felt like I was in the PBC, riding the biggest and nastiest Brahma in the pen. His wheezing reached a crescendo and without warning, Stroh popped his load. He was shooting long arcs of cum, like a malfunctioning water sprinkler. It hit the walls, door and one caught the swinging light bulb. And just as he blasted one in the direction of Jasmine who moved her bunny slippers out of harms reach, Sheriff Stroh keeled over dead. I fell down with him; the circulation in my hands briefly cut off.

I stayed in the prone position on top of the Sheriff for another minute, until the crackle of his walkie-talkie snapped me back to reality.

"Stroh," said the recognizable voice of Romero. "Bring the gal up here and take care of that goddamn Nigra." The words flowed so easily out of his mouth, I would have sworn that Bull Conner himself had risen from the dead.

"You heard the man, Baby." I rose to me feet, careful to avoid the unused seed of the late sheriff.

Jasmine came out of the corner and I handed her the gun. It's a nine-millimeter. This is the safety. When I say, click this button to red. Just in case, shit jumps off. She took the firearm, hefted and sighted it like an old pro before sticking it in the holster and tying the whole thing to her waist.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Blade."

"I can't wait to find out."

We both edged cautiously to the outer door. I pressed my ear to it for any sign of movement, but got nada. I cracked it open and saw a long hallway dimly lit by alternately hanging light bulbs about four feet apart. I took the lead, knife concealed in the palm of my hand, feeling my way down the hall. I paused when I heard what sounded like a female sobbing, consoled by another voice, also female.

"Shhh. Shhhh, " said the quiet voice. " You hush now and it will be all over soon. We had some good times, didn't we?"

The voices came from a door camouflaged to look like the earthen walls that surrounded them. I felt a depression in the walls until I was able to gauge where the door was. I gave a push and it silently gave way to reveal a room somewhat like the one Jasmine and I was imprisoned in. Sitting in a wingback chair, with her back to us was none other than Eva herself, Jamie Lee Romero. Facing out of the corner was a naked and shackled Judith Myers. Ten years older and traumatized, but it was the same face staring back at me from the mugshot in the paper. She didn't try to cover herself up, revealing the scars where her nipples were taken. She didn't register my presence, just continued to sob.

Ms. Romero turned in her seat and shock registered in her eyes, but before she could do anything, I was upon her, hand wrapped around her lily-white trachea.

"What do you want?" she squeaked out as I herded her into another corner.

"To see you suffer at least half of what you put Judith through, Bitch." Without warning, I head butted Eva right across the bridge of her nose, feeling cartilage give way. She tried to scream but I stifled her sounds with a little pressure to her windpipe.

"Where in the fuck is your husband?" I allowed her to breathe just enough to tell me.

"At the end of the hall. He 's expecting the sheriff any second." I switched hands and curled the southern matriarch into the crook of my arm and placing my small knife blade against her cheek. 

"I guess we are gonna pay him a little visit, then."

I frog marched her out into the hallway when Jasmine was waiting with a look of concern.

"Me and Eva are gonna meet up with Hitler. Judith Myers is in there and I think Simone Carpenter is also here somewhere."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need back-up."

Jasmine nodded and we strode down to the end of the hallway. With the unwilling assistance of Mrs. Romero, we accessed the hidden door and entered a real chamber of horrors. Romero was sitting a large oak desk, similar to the one in his office on campus. Behind him sat a dozen monitors; each with a different face, but all dressed in business attire. I guess we interrupted him in the middle of his videoconference. To the right was a large space with all types of antique torture devices. The Iron Maiden sat in the middle, next to The Rack and a Guillotine, all of them looking well used. Against the far wall stood a rack of period costumes and a table with whips, dildos, and other assorted instruments of bondage. I tried not to think of what went on here, but the rage inside me would not settle.

"What have you done to my wife, Boy?" roared Romero as he set eyes on the bloody mask of his wife.

"Oh this," I pointed to my handy-work. "I'm just getting started." With that said, I deftly plucked out her eye using the tip of my dagger. Eva screamed bloody murder, wrenched loose from my grasp and ran blindly for her husband. Slipping in her four-inch pumps, she tottered towards the Guillotine and before Wes could shout warning, fell into it, where the blade was jarred loose, promptly chopping off her arm at the elbow.

Romero's faced turned redder than our school colors as he reached in the left-hand side of his desk. I reared back to throw my knife when a shot rang out. I flinched at the sudden sound and looked up to see the great college president grabbing his forearm and squealing like a stuck pig. Behind me, Jasmine kept her gun trained on him. I strode around the desk and found out that he wasn't reaching for a gun himself, but a red panic button. He wasn't man enough to do his own fighting.

I hauled Romero from around the desk, past his wife who was spurting blood like a supersoaker and threw him up against the rack. I quickly bound his hands and feet and prepared to interrogate him, when I noticed that all the monitors behind the desk where still on and each face watching with renewed interest. None seemed taken aback by this intrusion at all.

"Is this what you done with the missing women, you cocksucker!" I screamed at him before pulling the lever down and stretching him out.

His face broke out in the sweat and he began to stink of fear

"Please, Let me explain," He blubbered and began to soil himself. Here was a man who just two hours ago, was willing to sacrifice the lives of unknown and assuming unwanted, but not he's a moaning, pissing machine.

I stepped over to the desk and picked up the phone where I dialed the number to the Houston office of the FBI. I had no idea how far his little bit of power stretched, but I knew that New Orleans might have been tainted with his poison. After convincing them it was no Halloween prank, by sending them a web cam link-up of the freak lab, I hung up and began to undercover the truth about the Halloween missing person cases. Jasmine sat down next to me as I searched his files and found what I was looking for. 

Over the years, Romero and his conglomerate of perverts have been abducting women from all over the world, subjecting them to torture and sexual abominations, recording the events and selling them to the highest bidder. When the cost went down on the said victim, a snuff film was made. For Romero, it was on Halloween. As proof, the tape was real, articles of the abductions were provided as proof as well as the body parts. It was easier to cover up with local law enforcement in his back pocket. 

As to the whereabouts of Shannon Tate, only Romero and Stroh knew and the sheriff isn't talking. I copied all the evidence onto to backup disks and waited for the authorities. Romero was still blubbering and fouling himself and as I walked over to his stretched form, I began to hear voices. They were coming from the faces on the monitors. 

"Do it!"

"Finish Him!"

"Quickly!"

"I'll pay a Million!"

"Two Million!"

Romero sobbed and thrashed about as I approached the lever. Jasmine stepped forward to say something, then decided against it. I gripped the lever in my hand and with the voices on television chanting, Romero pleading, and the voices of those who no longer speak pounding in my head, I made my decision.

Five years later, Klieg Lights bathe the Kodak Theater in the hues of Crimson and White. Flashes from paparazzo bulbs temporarily blind me as I step onto the red carper. Looking back I reach into the car and feel the firm grasp of my wife, Jasmine in my palm as she steps out of the limo. We wave to the crowd and cheese for the cameras as we strode down the walkway. After three years of legal battles, we finally get our story told. Serial Hunt is making it's premiere on Halloween five years to they day of our harrowing experience. You still want to know whether I pulled the lever or not, huh? Well, the premiere starts in five. See you on the inside.



Serial



He gripped the edge of the table as her mouth brought him to new heights of pleasure and then his hands grasped her head under the table as he pumped his cum into her mouth, biting his lip to remain silent as he came. She sucked him dry and he looked down to see her angelic face looking up at him, his cock still in her mouth, then she gently stroked him, "Is anyone around?" and he glanced to see if there was and shook his head no and then she crawled out from under the table, her chin still glistening from her recent activities. 

She picked up a napkin and wiped her chin, "I'll go check on your dinner," and smiled as she trotted off and he fumbled to put his cock away. She returned with two plates of pasta and sat next to him as they ate, her hand occasionally dropping to stroke his cock, "That was a wonderful appetizer," she smiled and kissed him. Marilyn had never been much on blowjobs, she hated giving them, and Maria had more than made up for that inequity. He smiled at her as they finished eating and sat drinking their wine, "Oh Frank, I can't wait to get you home, I'm so horny and tasting you only accelerated it," and he felt himself start to blush again as she kissed him. 

They had barely walked into her townhouse before she was all over him, jerking at his clothes as he tried to assist her and then he worked on hers until their clothes were just a ball on the foyer floor and they pressed their bodies together. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, gently depositing her on the bed before his mouth sought out her wet pussy and he buried his tongue in her. 

She pulled at his ankle and he moved around until his cock was in her mouth as well as they devoured each other, each one enthralled with the other as their sounds filled the quiet room. Frank had never had so much sex over such a short period of time in his life and Maria was quite the partner indeed as they 69'd on her bed until they both came and he flattened out on top of her, his muscles feeling like rubber. His face was on her thigh and he could feel his cock against her cheek as they both panted, trying to recover, as he felt her once again put his cock into her mouth and began to suck it as it grew once again. His mouth resumed its work on her pussy as he felt his cock getting very hard once again and he stopped, he had to feel this pussy around him. 

He pulled out of her mouth and quickly repositioned himself, his hard cock pressing against her wet pussy as he pushed forward, her mouth flying open as he speared her and settled deep inside of her. She felt so good, he didn't want to move, but her hips began to move, forcing him to join her as he thrust in and out of her, her wet pussy grabbing hold of his cock as he did. Her hands pulled his head to her tits and he sucked a nipple into his mouth as she groaned and then thrashed wildly as her orgasm struck. Her release triggered his as spurt after spurt of his hot jism erupted into her and his mouth released her nipple just long enough to cry out in ecstasy. He lay there on top of her, marveling at her perfect nipples, how could anyone cut off a woman's nipples, they were so beautiful. He slid silently off of her and to her side as they basked in the afterglow and silently dozed off to sleep only to be awakened by his pager an hour later, it was Vince. 

Vince could tell he was irritated, "What is it!" and he cringed, he hated it when he pissed Frank off, "Potts is at the jail," he said and there was a silence, "It will wait until morning Vince," and he heard Vince laugh, "You're with her, aren't you? You lucky bastard, hey I'm sorry man, ok, see you in the morning," and he hung up. "Do you have to leave?" Maria asked as Frank turned to see the covers slide from her ample tits, "No baby, we have all night long," and his hands shot to her chest as the smile lit up her face. 

He couldn't believe how good Maria made him feel, loving her was like a dream come true and he intended to make it last as long as he could. They had grown so very close in such a short period of time, it kind of scared him, and his thoughts of going through the rest of his life without her freaked him out. As he buried himself inside of her and her moans made him feel so good, he wondered if he could make a go of this with her, and he looked down to see the look of pure pleasure on her face and decided that he would work at this relationship and not just give up, as he had done with Marilyn. 

Maria was pure; Marilyn had been so tainted by the things that money could buy. He felt her pussy milking him as he shouted out and erupted inside of her, yes, she was worth the effort, definitely. He kissed her and then slid silently off of her to lie in her arms as she stroked his brow and said softly, "I love you Frank," and they drifted off to sleep. He awoke to a very warm feeling and opened his eyes to see Maria's mouth stuffed full of his cock as she moved up and down on it, oh what a wake up surprise! He rubbed her head as he stared at her eyes, never leaving his, as she worked to please her man and he jerked as his cum shot into her mouth and he watched as small droplets oozed from the corners of her mouth and she sucked him dry. They showered together and delighted at bathing each other playfully before they dried and dressed and he watched her move gracefully around the small kitchen as she made breakfast. 

"So, how was it stud?" Vince's voice made him jump as he looked up to see him walk into the office, "None of your fucking business," he shot back as Vince took the seat before him, "Well, what do you say. Shall we pay Mr. Potts a visit?" and they walked towards the detention wing and into an interrogation booth as Potts was led in and took a seat. "Decide to spread your wings, eh Ralph?" Vince asked and Potts stared at him, "I want my lawyer!" was all Potts would say, "Look Ralphy, we have video tape evidence of you and a minor. You're looking at 10 years minimum, your lawyer won't change that you scum bag," and Frank watched the look of fear in his face, "And inmates just love pedophiles Ralph, you will be the Belle of the Ball, so to speak," and they both laughed as Potts cringed. 

"But, if you can shed some light on Ginger Franklin, maybe we could convince them to go easier on you and your little boyfriends wouldn't get to "date' you for quite as long, who knows, if your evidence is helpful enough, we might even get you a deal," and they watched as Potts perked up at the sound of a deal. "I really don't know too much about her, but she did open up some after we got together," he chirped in as he shifted in his chair.

"Was she seeing anyone else Ralph?" and he looked at them, "Not to my knowledge, I kept her pretty busy," and he saw the look of disgust in their faces. "She saw this shrink across town. Her father had sexually molested her for years and when she ratted him out, no one would believe her. She had a tough time living with the guilt, that's why she moved here. Even her own mother called her a liar," and he sat back as Frank and Vince listened intently, "Her old man made use of every hole and every charm she had, even knocked her up once. But the reality of it was, she liked fucking him, none of the younger guys could make her feel like he did, that's why she didn't date. So, I saw an opportunity and I took it. 

What you saw on the tape was the first meeting, as we continued, she became quite the little vixen," and he smiled until he caught Frank's scowl and then his face went blank, "You're a fucking pervert Ralph, preying on little girls to satisfy your own selfish needs. Someone should cut your fucking prick off!" and Vince told him to calm down and he left the room for a few minutes so he could cool off. "I thought you quit Frank?" and he looked to see Vince approach as he lowered the cigarette from his lips, "I did. The separation and all of this shit pushed me back to them," and he took another drag, "What'd you get out of him?" 

"He said that the good doctor had told the Franklin girl that she needed to confront her problems head on, that's why she welcomed the sick little fuck after the first encounter," and Vince glanced down at his notes, "Also, he said that the doc's son used to hang around during her sessions. She saw him outside a couple of times and he had even phoned her once. Said he kept trying to get her to go out with him," and Frank looked at Vince, then put out his cigarette, "Let's go," and they headed for the parking lot. 

They saw Mrs. Parker first and she confirmed that her daughter was seeing Dr. Fitts as well and then they went to where the last girl worked, she was seeing the good doctor too, bingo!" They headed for Dr. Fitts' office and burst in on one of his sessions, "I'm sorry doctor, they pushed right past me," and the startled patient's eyes grew wide, "It's ok lady, we just need to borrow the doc for a few minutes. 

I'm sure he won't charge you for this session, right doc?" and the flustered doctor shook his head, "Shall we go to your office doc?" and they went across the office and closed the door. "Why didn't you tell us that you were seeing all three of the victims doc? You should have called us right away, I could charge you with obstruction of justice," and he cringed as the thought of a charge being placed against him, "My patient's files are confidential, besides, I didn't kill them," and they stared at him for a long while, "Where is your son doc?" and he looked really nervous, "He's at school, he's studying to be a physician, why?" and he looked at them as they stared him down, "We need to speak with him, today!" and Frank slammed his hand on the desk as he said it, making Dr. Fitts jump, "Hell be home this evening," and Frank smiled, "We'll be back and he had better be here," and they left. 

"Did you catch that shit? He's studying to be a physician, the pieces are beginning to fit together Vince," and Frank turned onto the main street and headed downtown, Vince hated it when Frank got so involved in a case. They returned to the doctor's that evening, but no son, "Edward hasn't come home. I don't know where he is, honest!" and they waited around for a while and then left, "Put out the word to pick this prick up Vince," and he let Vince off at the station. 

He pulled into the parking lot of Antonio's and Maria met him at the door with a hug and a kiss and showed him to a table, he needed her to get over his anger in this case and she was making him feel better already. It was busy tonight and Maria didn't get to spend a lot of time with him, but every minute helped immensely as he struggled to quell his anger. His pager went off and he saw that it was Vince and he used the restaurant phone to call him, "You need to come to the kid's place Frank," and he jotted down his address and told Maria he would see her later on that night as he kissed her and left.

The kid had a bungalow on the east side with a small garage and Vince led him to the garage, and pointed at the neat row of jars on the shelf. Inside there were 6 pairs of nipples, soaking in alcohol, each jarred labeled with their donor's name. 

Frank's rage immediately returned as he looked at them and he asked Vince if they had located the kid yet, "No, still looking and then Frank's pager went off again with a number he didn't recognize and he used the phone in the bungalow to call it, "Hello Frank. This is Edward Fitts, I understand you're looking for me," and Frank's face turned red with anger, "Where the fuck are you!" and he listened to him laugh, "I'm visiting a friend Frank, someone who knows what it's like to be "friendly," and there was a silence and then he heard, "Daddy?" and sobs, "Vanessa!! Vanessa!!' and then the kid came back on the line, "She sure has some pretty tits Frank, her nipples are by far the best I've encountered. They would make nice specimens," and Frank exploded as Vince rushed in to see what was going on, "The little fuck has Vanessa!!" and Vince went blank, unable to believe it, "How? When?" and Frank heard him start again, "I've set up a little show for you Frank, why don't you go to your daughter's apartment and see what I have for you," and he hung up. Frank called the operator, the number was a cell phone, and he could be anywhere. 

The car screeched into the parking lot of Vanessa's apartment and Frank drew his gun as he climbed the stairs, hearing Vince's car pull next to his as he stuck his key in the lock and opened the door. He focused on the apartment as his eyes scanned and he went room to room, nothing. Then his eyes caught the computer monitor and he saw Vanessa tied spread eagled to a bed, her panties stuffed in her mouth as she writhed, trying to get free. He called the station, trying to find out how to get a fix on this image as they worked to trace it and he saw the kid come into view with Marilyn, he hands tied behind her back as he shoved her onto Vanessa's naked body. 

He could hear Marilyn cursing at her captor as he rolled her onto her back, her head on Vanessa's stomach as her blouse was ripped open to reveal her bra and he saw a hand with a razor blade come into view, cutting her bra off of her and then the blouse and her other clothes, until she too lay naked before him. "Must run in the family Frank, she's got killer nips too," and he stroked Marilyn's nipples as she scooted away from his touch and he slapped her. 

Frank watched helpless as he tied Marilyn in another bed next to Vanessa and began to probe their bodies, Vanessa's sobs through her panties making him cringe. The camera panned from one woman to the other and Frank knew there had to be someone else in the room and he played a hunch, calling to verify the address of Marilyn's new boyfriend. Units were dispatched and he watched helplessly as his wife was speared with a huge cock, he had never seen one so big before on a man, and Marilyn's scream filled the room as he fucked her, her pussy most assuredly tearing before this monster and he shoved panties in Marilyn's mouth to shut her up while he fucked her harder and harder. 

He saw Marilyn pass out from the pain as the boy kept up his thrusts, only concerned with his own pleasure. He watched him tense up as he knew his wife was being filled with his cum now, his back arched as he made the last few jabs and then he withdrew, Marilyn's bleeding vagina shedding light on their investigation. He watched as the glint of a razor blade appeared and then he watched him surgically remove Marilyn's nipples, her agony causing her to regain consciousness and he gingerly dropped them one at a time into a jar by the bed. 

Blood ran down her tortured tits and pooled beside her and then he watched as the kid's hand closed around her neck, squeezing the life from her as her eyes rolled back into her head and Vanessa struggled to free herself, her screams making Frank pace. Frank watched him smile at the camera and he couldn't take it anymore as he raced for his car and sped out of the lot, hearing Vanessa's screams echo in his mind as he headed for the address he had obtained. 

He broke down the door and shot the man working the camera, his body slumping to the floor as he scanned the room, seeing that huge cock buried in his daughter as the man pumped her and he shot him in the back of the head, his body slumping to the side and he pulled him off his daughter as she sobbed. He untied her and she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as they rocked on the bed. Then he looked over to see Marilyn's lifeless body on the next bed and he cried, his tears joining Vanessa's as other officers arrived. 

He took his jacket off and wrapped it around Vanessa as he held her tight and then the paramedics took her to the hospital and he said a final goodbye to his wife before they took her away. "Looks like you got the serial killer Lieutenant," he heard someone say and he looked at the dead men, "Seems that they were student and teacher, guess that's how they joined forces," and he nodded his head and got up and headed for his car. He stopped to pick up Maria and they headed to the hospital and waited as Vanessa underwent surgery to repair her torn vagina. 

The doctor let them see Vanessa and the drugs kept her drowsy, she drifted off to sleep and Frank took Maria into his arms, "I love you Maria."