Serial Killer Strikes Again

Two murders already committed... or are there more. Who will be next. Please refer to the OOC link for posting your character. Babette_____ will post first and then enjoy. Please keep as much OOC context out of this thread, that is why we have the OOC. Thanks again ~ Red

OOC: Serial Killer Strikes Again

Angelica watched the man at the bar, her eyes were devouring him. She undressed him quietly, each rippling muscle hidden beneath his shirt was soon finding its way into her erotic fantasy. She could almost taste him, feel the sweat of his body mingling with hers. When his eyes finally connected with hers she purred in delight. Her fingernail teased her flesh, aroused her passion, and she felt the folds of her sex become more slick with the fluids that she found so arousing.

She smirked as she watched him nod to her, as if he had suddenly noticed her first, as if he was the one hunting prey. But Angelica was. She hadn’t enjoyed bothered getting herself a nice present for her birthday and now as the New Year’s Eve party continued into the wee hours of the morning she decided she deserved a special gift.

Standing up she closed the distance between them. The skin-tight spandex hugged her body like a second skin, and she could see the man’s sex already growing as his eyes traveled over her. Her nipples were hard, they pointed proudly, and were only the beginning to the bounty of delight he would feast on that evening... if she let him.

Once she reached his side she moved between her legs and wedged herself between them. “Hello,” she said, not wasting anytime in furthering the man’s arousal. Her hand went to his shaft and she stroked firmly. Angelica saw him grin and she returned his smile when she felt his hand cup her breast and flick her nipple with his finger. “Hello beautiful. I’m John,” he answered back.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew that not all men wanted a woman like this, but this man did. She’d watched him, tracked him, and she knew exactly what type of man he was and what type of woman he wanted. Tonight Angelica Winters was that woman.


The woman screamed when she came across the scene before her. The body, or what she thought was a body, was curled into a ball, similar to the fetal position. It was held in place by thin wire that would easily bend and twist. Her scream vibrated through the air, alerting others and soon several people from the street were staring right along with her.

Ten minutes later photo’s were taken by the crime lab, yellow tape was strung around the entrance of the alley, and reporters were trying to make deals to get the “off the record” information. Words were whispered and someone said “another one” a second voice said “third one in two months right?” On and on it went until finally the crime lab officials removed the body and carted off the evidence.

“What’s his name?” one reporter asked one of the officers on the scene.

“John Dixon,” she whispered to him, then pocketed the cash.

“Thanks,” he said and hurried to the television station to start his story.

The alarm clock sound seemed to still be ringing in Samantha’s ears when she made her way to the front doors of the library. She unlocked the inner lobby doors and walked through them, then opened the outer doors. Breathing deep she enjoyed the fresh winter air that was crisp and clear. She pushed her glasses back up and looked down at the stack of papers that were resting in the plastic crate by the doors.

She picked them up and rolled her eyes at the weight of them. “Damn news... just gets spread on the bottom of bird cages.” Carrying them inside she placed the box on the counter and then set a pot of coffee and rolls out for the public. January 2, 2006 would welcome the patrons with caffeine and sugar. “Just what the kiddies need... donuts.”

As the morning progressed so did the libraries business. Obviously parents were tired of having their kids at home for the past two weeks and were finding anyway to escape the house. Kids were back in school, but it was pretty clear that those parents needed a change of scenery.

“Sam you got the papers,” Deb called to her.

Samantha sighed. “Yes, sorry. I hadn’t gotten around to getting that done yet. There over there by my desk. All I’ve managed to do is move the da.. box.” She watched Deb grab the papers and distribute them to the various patrons that had made requests for them as well as the tables and the magazine rack.

“Saved you one for your bird,” Deb winked. “After you read it.” She tossed the paper down and walked away. Sam chuckled stood up, grabbed the paper, tucked it under her arm and grabbed an apple. “I’m off to lunch,” she waved to Deb and the other employees.

“Don’t go far,” she heard one mutter. Samantha smirked, but said nothing. She opened up the break room door and took a seat at the empty table. Her eyes closed and she relaxed for a moment, tossing the paper down first before leaning back. When she opened her eyes she opened the paper up and read from the headlines. Daddy’s Little Girl Strikes Again

Samantha read the words again and she shivered inside. She wondered what kind of sick pervert would do something like that. A picture of the alley graced the front page, thankfully there wasn’t any body, just officials staring around a black void. The article went on to describe some of the details. Wires were used to keep the hands and feet bound together. There was a gag across the victims mouth, and the young man whose college photo rested in the corner, had been a graduate from the local college. It went on to list the other two victims, one man, one woman.

She shuddered as she thought of somebody out there killing innocent people and getting away with it. Her fingers moved over the rest of the paper and she picked out the movie she’d be watching Sunday when the library was closed. When her break was over Samantha tucked the paper in her satchel and went back to work.

Plainfield, Illinois Police Briefing 01 - 02 - 06

Arriving at Police Headquarters to begin another day, Officer Jerry Smith makes his way to the locker room to shower and change into his uniform. Making sure he’s spic and span and everything is in place, he makes his way to the briefing room where the day sergeant briefs the shift of all the events of the night before.

Taking his seat, he takes out his notebook and begins to take notes as the Sergeant tells of the different events of the last shift. As well as what crimes to be on the lookout for as they patrol the city streets.

Looking grim the sarge says, "There was another killing again last night. Daddys Little Girl has struck again." This gets Jerry’s attention. The sarge gives them the details and tells them to look out as they hit the streets.

Leaving the briefing room Jerry heads to his squad car and runs across one of his buddy’s that he has known since their days at the academy, Officer David Jones. Dave waves, "Hi Jeff. Have you heard the pot is up to $100 bucks on whether the killer is male or female?"

Shaking his head Jerry says, "You guys are nuts betting on the identity of a murderer. Put me down for 10 bucks on female." Telling David he will see him later Jerry makes his way to his car and checks in on the radio. “Car 41 to base Car 41 is 10-8," Jerry says into the mike of the cars radio. "10 - 4," the dispatcher replies. Jerry buckles his seatbelt, pulls out of the lot, and begins his patrol shift

Angelica stretched her arms over her head and twisted her body back and forth. Her long fingers rubbed the back of her neck and she tried to ease the tension from her muscles. She’d been climbing up and down the ladder placing items on the high shelves, now she took a moment to stretch herself back to normal. Her back was sore, so she slipped off her short-heeled pumps and picked them up. She waved to one of the custodians and asked another to please bring the New Year’s Decorations in and she’d get them set up. She’d met to do it last night, but she’d been busy, and wasn’t able to. A shiver ran through her as she remembered the night before.

“Hey Angel,” the voice interrupted her thoughts. “You didn’t get your project done I see.”

Angelica looked over at the short blonde and smiled, “Nope. Went out and partied.”

“I thought your fella was out of town?”

“Yep,” she said and winked. Angelica left the blonde chuckling and made her way to the Museum’s offices. She slipped her shoes back on once she had to enter the main building, but immediately had them back in her hands when she took her seat behind her desk. She had a quite a bit to attend to before heading out for the evening. She wasn’t sure what she was doing that night, she did know one thing she wasn’t doing though.

She smiled, sighed, and ran her fingers over the long digits of her other hand. She could still feel it, the warm, red liquid oozing over her skin. His body had been so perfect and she had taken such pleasure in his beauty. Biting her lip, the pain brought her back to reality, Angelica began to make phone calls, wanting to get finished with procuring the artifacts of Ancient Egypt before her turn to share the tour hours.

Once she was finished with that part of her day, she walked into the main corridor of the building, and waited for the group of teenagers to gather inside the room. Her eyes shut for a moment and she took a deep breath. She hated teenagers almost as much as she loved hearing cries of mercy fill her ears.

“Are we ready?” she asked the kids’ teacher. Her eyes traveled over the old matron and she pictured her mother from so long ago, those thoughts went to her father, and for a brief moment she remembered him. A shudder ran through her and she shook herself out of her revelry when the old hag said “yes.”

Special Agent Bruce Woods

"You guys are nuts betting on the identity of a murderer. Put me down for 10 bucks on female."

He hears the comment from a passing officer, apparently on his way to his car.

Beat Cops…hope he issues lots of parking tickets today…not worth much else.

He’d walked into the station in his cheap suit, and leaned against the wall purposefully beside the no smocking sign, as he lit up. He stared at the desk sergeant, wondering when the man might be drawn away from pretending to work while actually reading a self help book, and take notice that the somewhat disheveled man who is smoking in the lobby.

Nearly the entire cigarette was done before the sergeant complained; “Hey man, no smoking in the building! Put it out or take it outside!”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Bruce replied in a casual monotone. He took a long last drag, then crushed the but on the bottom of his shoe, before pitching it out the open window.

He then strolled up to the now irritated desk jockey, pulled out his badge folder, flipping it open to present his credentials; that of an FBI agent, specializing in serial homicide.

“Agent Bruce Woods, down from the Chicago office. We figured you fella’s might need a hand around on this string killings.”

No one liked the FBI butting into their turf, or taking over an investigation. Certainly not suburbanite cops out to watch their smaller communities; with their upstart detectives out to make a name for themselves as real policemen.

These facts amused Agent Woods, bringing a small smile to his pale face. An agent had been sent down due to the nature and pattern of the murders. He specifically was chosen for the task. Not because he was the most qualified (which would be true), and not because he was bored. The main reason Agent Woods was sent down was his boss was tired of hearing him speak, and wanted him as far from the office as possible.

He looked around the small station, taking note of those within it. His false smile widened.

“Looks like we’ll get along great.” He rolled his eyes as he walked past the Sergeant and went in search of whatever rookie detective was assigned to this mess.

Michael Hallenbeck sat at his desk, running his hand thru his dark brown hair in frustration as he went over the information that had been aquired from the crime scenes. He was still awaiting info from the lab on this new murder, but in his gut he knew it was the same perp as the other two. He laid out the photos of the three victims before him, his blue-green eyes squinting in concentration as he looked at them with a magnifying glass. The bodies at the scene had similarities...all were bound with wire, gagged, found in the fetal position, similar wounds on the bodies, and all were dumped in back alleyways. The medical examiner was doing the autopsy on John Dixon right now, so he'd have the results of that on his desk shortly, but he'd be willing to bet his badge that the same M.O. was used in the killings.

Aside from the M.O., however, there had as yet been no link found in connection with the three victims. Michael had been going over some of his notes, trying to figure out a motive for the killings, but so far he had to admit, he was a bit baffled...the killings seemed to have been random. This didn't quite fit any one scenario he'd ever heard of before. "Let's see," he pondered, "Two men of varying ages, and one woman. No obvious connection between the victims..."

His thoughts were interrupted as a man in a suit walked up to his desk. He looked up at the stranger questioningly, and said, "Yes? Can I help you?" The guy looked at him and asked, "Detective Michael Hallenbeck?" Michael nodded irritably, and said, "Yeah...That's me. And you are?"

The guy flashed his ID and Michael had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck," he thought to himself, "The feds are already on the case." He felt frustrated indignation rising and fought to keep it down. "I'll be DAMNED if these bastards think they're gonna squeeze me out of this case," he thought angrily.

Marc Jordan

Marc grabbed his thermos of coffee and the morning newspaper as he headed out to his pickup. He drove off towards the construction site, never exceeding the speed limit more than 5 mph. It was his way of staying under the radar of the local police. Marc had led a straight life for too long to blow it now. He was well aware of how police acted, well aware of how they loved to give anyone with a shaded past a hard time.

He pulled into the construction site, glancing over the unfinished town homes, thankful they had gotten them enclosed before the cold winter weather hit. He stepped inside one of the units, ready for another day of good physical labor, determined to finish framing the interior walls today. It was good to give oneself goals.

Marc was hammering away as one by one his co-workers showed up. A few hours later it was time for their morning coffee break, something he never felt necessary but the carpenter’s union did. He sat down with his co-workers, thankful for the temporary kerosene heaters; poured some coffee and flipped open the sports section of the newspaper. They bantered back and forth over the trials and tribulations of Chicago’s pro teams before flipping to the front page.

The talk of the town seemed to center on the newest murder and the second male victim. Many theories had been brought up about why these murders were being committed and who was doing the killing. Most of the guys here, myself included, believed the killer had to be male. It was our theory that a man could never get himself in a position with a female to be killed in this manner. We couldn’t believe there could be a female strong enough and wicked enough to commit something so heinous.

Newspaper Article

Plainsfield Times November 13, 2005

Page 3

Unidentified Man Found Dead in Alley
Ivy Tanne

Plainsfield Police responded to a call last night from Blue’s Bar and Grill. Once there, they discovered the body of a naked man tied up in the back alley. The man, who was curled into an almost fetal position and had obvious injuries to his body, was pronounced dead at the scene.

The waitress who discovered the man when she made her nightly trip to take out the garbage was understandably distraught. But police were able to confirm her statement that the man was tied at the hands and ankles by a flexible, thin wire of some sort. The man was reportedly gagged by an unknown object as well, though officers refused to confirm that detail at this time.

Police would not disclose the nature of the man’s injuries because the case is under investigation and an official cause of death will not be disclosed until an autopsy is completed.

Anyone with information about John Doe or this incident is asked to contact Detective Michael Hallenbeck at 999 555-2525.

Newspaper Article

Plainsfield Times December 18, 2005

Page 1, Small headline towards bottom of page:

Second Body Found – Killer on the Loose?
Ivy Tanne

Plainsfield Police once again responded to a late night call, this time to the alley behind the Shop-N-Go on Elm Street. Once there, they discovered the naked body of a female, hands and feet bound by a thin wire, body curled into a ball. The young woman was pronounced dead at the scene and her identity has not yet been established.

The scene is eerily reminiscent of another that Plainsfield’s finest were recently called to back in November of this year in the alley behind Blue’s Bar and Grill. When asked to comment on the similarities of the case, Detective Michael Hallenbeck refused. He stated that the police would work this case like any other and that as of yet, they were not tying the two cases together. But the whispering has already begun, on and off the force. Does Plainsfield have a killer on the loose?

Both victims were found in alleys. Both victims were found about the same time in the evening. Both victims were naked and bound by a similar apparatus. Detective Hallenbeck did confirm that the newest victim was indeed gagged, though he refused to say by what. He also refused to venture a guess as to whether the victim was killed in the alley or perhaps merely dumped there. But witnesses said there was a fair amount of blood on the body itself. The opposite sex of the victims has the police doing a fair amount of guessing however. Once again Detective Hallenbeck stresses the fact that until more details are uncovered, the two murders are to be treated as separate cases.

As this reporter was asked to leave the scene however, an interesting name came floating out of the rather large group of officers at the scene. Daddy’s Little Girl. Were they referring to the latest victim? This reporter thinks not. Worked as separate cases or not, some of Plainsfield’s Police Force have already given the killer a name… and apparently a gender. Daddy’s Little Girl. An innocent name for such an apparently cold-blooded murderer.

Anyone with information about this Jane Doe or this incident is asked to contact Detective Michael Hallenbeck at 999 555-2525.

Newspaper Article

Plainsfield Times January 2, 2006

Center Headline Front Page

Daddy’s Little Girl Strikes Again
Ivy Tanne

Plainsfield’s own serial killer was busy over New Years as the latest victim was discovered late yesterday. Consistent with the other two victims, a naked male was discovered in the back alley behind City Hall, curled into a ball. His hands and feet were bound by the same flexible wire, his mouth gagged once again. Witnesses report that the body was covered in blood and almost hard to even recognize for what it was. Police have confirmed that there were obvious injuries to the man, though they refrain from going into details, once again until an autopsy has been completed.

Detective Michael Hallenbeck gave a statement earlier this morning in which he finally admitted they were treating the three murders as linked.

There’s simply too many similarities to be ignored. We are cautioning the people of Plainsfield to be on their guard with anyone they are unfamiliar with until we have apprehended the individual responsible. No further comments at this time.

The latest victim has been identified as John Dixon, a local man who graduated from The University of Plainsfield with a degree in business. He was last seen at a New Year’s Eve party held downtown. Friends say he came alone and they don’t remember him leaving with anyone either. Admittedly under the influence however, they can’t be certain. One woman, an ex-girlfriend, claims to have seen him leave with a woman, though she seemed decidedly fuzzy on what the woman looked like. One thing is certain however; Mr. Dixon never made it home after that fateful party.

When asked about the killer possibly being female and the name being thrown so casually around already… Daddy’s Little Girl; he had only one thing to say.

This department is doing everything it can to investigate these horrible crimes. It’s when people like you put snappy little names on things that they become distorted and glamorized. We’ve not yet determined the sex of the killer and we most certainly do not have a ‘pet’ name for him or her. That’s something you can take credit for.

While this reporter is most certain she first heard the name coming from a group of officers, she’s more then happy to take credit. So you heard it here first. Plainsfield be on guard, Daddy’s Little Girl is out there.

Anyone with information regarding any of these cases is asked to please contact Detective Michael Hallenbeck at 999 555-2525.

Agent Woods

He folded up his badge wallet once more, and tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He moved over, sat on the edge of the detective’s desk, and glanced down at the gory pictures sprawled out.

“So Detective Hallenbeck, you figure it out yet? You know who the killer is? Big profile case like this could really set you up right, especially if it’s got a good scandal at the end.”

He loved toying with people, pushing buttons to see how they reacted. It also told him what he needed to know about them…how they react to adversity and pressure was vital information to have, both of suspects, and partners. But he didn’t kid himself, he didn’t do it just for the information; it was genuinely fun as hell.

He picked up a few of the photos of the victims, and then tossed them back down. Yes, these were like the others he had seen. But never before had the killings been in the same town…always moving on after the first. Looked like they had gotten lazy…started hunting at home.

“I bet you got it all figured out there detective. Tell me, was it the mayor…rubbing out opponents voters? Or maybe the town doctor…in a ritualistic cleansing of the sick? Or maybe it was the butler with the candleholder?”

Yeah, that should about do it. He stood up, removing himself from the desk, and ran his fingers through is hair…which was displaying more gray no-a-days then he cared for…but not enough to color it. He was still attractive enough to get women liquored up in dimly lit bars after all.

He waited on the detective’s reaction, which after that prodding promised to entertaining.

He looked at the Fed in front of him, trying to control his temper, knowing what the guy was up to. "This prick is trying to provoke me," he thought to himself. "Well, I won't give him the satisfaction...but he's not walking all over me either."

"Let me ask you this...what makes this a federal case? Isn't it a bit too early for the feds to be called in? I'm guessing the Commisioner was taking some heat and that's why you're here and not busting illegal aliens for smuggling cuban cigars into the country, right?" he asked mockingly, needling the guy a bit in return, and almost laughing at the angry look that flashed across the guy's face momentarily. To his credit though, his face regained his cool demeanor almost just as quickly.

"Oh, and by the way...I'd appreciate if if you didn't treat me like I'm some small town hick sheriff, Agent Woods," he said, keeping his face neutral, not showing his anger. "I do have some experience in these types of cases. As for your comment...no, we don't have it 'all figured out' yet, as a matter of fact, but we DO have some solid leads we're following, although nothing substantial as of yet. We're still profiling yet...as you know, these cases are never cut and dry."

He pointed out the autopsy reports of the first two victims. "Newest one should be on my desk shortly. Go ahead and read em over if you like...but first, I wanna see approval from the chief. It's his call, not mine. Proceedure has to be followed, and all that," he added, with a smirk. If this guy was gonna make his job more difficult, he could damn well reciprocate. He may have to work with the guy, but he sure as hell didn't have to like the fact or be pleasant to him.

Agent Woods

Ah….it was actually a pleasant surprise. A detective with a spine. A spine wouldn’t save him from the next few weeks of harassment he was about to endure, but it id make him so much more valuable in the actual case.

“Look kid, cool your jets. I’m sure you have all the experience in the world on ‘this sort of thing,’ and I am equally sure that your chief loves you for your attention to protocol, but this is how it works in the grown up world…”

He reached back into his jacket, and pulled out several sheets of official looking papers, folded in 3rds, and stapled together. He handed them as is to Hallenbeck casually, but with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Your chief was faxed these about half an hour ago, which I imagine was the reason he was cursing up a terrible storm.” He paused, to left the poor man before him read the document.

“Ya see kid, the thing is this has been a federal case for about 8 months. Previously we just quietly advised and tracked the cases from information sent us by local authorities, but this time the perp slipped, and stuck around the same town. Either they got lazy, and stopped traveling to do their dirty work, or they have moved around and decided your fair city is worth a longer stay.”

The FBI taking over a local investigation always, always pissed people off. Agents normally either went in brute force, started making demands like Napoleon come back from the grave, or made empty promises like ‘We want you to keep running things, and we’ll just help from the sidelines.’ But asshole as Woods might be, he was no liar, so he told it to the kid straight.

“Alright, now don’t wet yourself over this FBI thing. The Chicago office is busy as hell this time of year, so unless the perp proves to be the no bullshit Devil himself, the only fed you gotta worry about is me. Keep me informed every step of the way, and the papers will say you solved this thing, with as little mention of the Bureau as possible. I don’t give a shit about the glory or the press. I got all the badges and medals I’ll ever need.”

He looked the detective dead in the eyes with a cold glare, “But if you fuck with me, if you try to run off and keep me in the dark I will make your life holy hell.”

He stuck out his hand to the man to shake. It was a shake on the deal, not a promise of peace.

Michael felt his ire rise again at the Fed's blatant threat, but extended his hand anyway, and the two men shook, knowing it would be an uneasy working relationship, but at least one in which they'd be willing to work together for the sake of the case. "For future reference, I don't respond very well to threats, Agent Woods. Just so you know, I'm no glory hound either...I just want to get this killer off my streets. I live here, and I care about what happens to the people living in my city. I've invested quite a bit of time and effort on this case, and I don't want to be kept in the dark either. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me take a look at those files of the past murders you just talked about. Share and share alike, and all that. Maybe a fresh perspective would help out. I think we best compare notes." He motioned for the agent to take a seat and took a swig of his coffee. "How many more murders are we talking about here, and over what timeframe? How many before the feds got involved? Same M.O. on those cases too?"

Patroling the Streets of Plainfield

Entering his patrol sector Officer Smith begins to cruise the streets of his beat which includes the neighborhood where the library is located a nice quite safe neighborhood and he hoped it stayed that way on his watch.

Pulling onto the main street of his sector a blue little Mazda speeds by obviously well above the 35 mph speed limit.
"Ahh... finally some excitemnt", Jerry says as he hits the button to turn on his lights no need for the siren as of yet. Pulling in behind the blue speeding Mazda as it pulls over to the curb

Jerry picks up laptop computer and runs the license plate and checks to see if it's stolen or has any outstanding tickets are warrants comming up empty he puts his laptop away and grabs his ticket book and exits his patrol car.
Approaching the car carefully Jerry notices the driver is an attractive blonde female. "Excuse me ma'am do you realize how fast you were going back there?" She looks up after adjusting the buttons on her blouse and says "Oh I'm sorry officer I didnt realize how fast i was going I was on my way to work and im late and if im late once more the boss will fire me"

Nodding Jerry asks in a professional voice "May I see your license registration and proof of insurance please." as he waits he does notice how attractive she is.

Digging in her purse for her license than in her glove box for her insurance papers she hands them to him. After she does she adjusts the hem of her skirt to expose her thighs and asks as she bats her lashes at him,"Officer is there something we can do to make this ticket go away if i get another i will lose my license" She strokes her bare thighs as she awaits his reply.

Looking up and noticing her hand on her thighs he says "Yes ma'am there is a way to make this ticket go away."

Smiling as she strokes her thigh more she asks, "Oh really how?" Jerry smiles as he hands her the ticket to sign and returns her license and insurance card and replies, "I could arrest you for attempting to bribe an officer and then the ticket would go away. Sign here please"

Iindicating where she is to sign and handing her the ticket to sign she signs it and he returns her copy and says "Slow down drive careful and have a nice day."


She drives off muttering something about men and cops Jerry returns to his car and continues his patrol.

Woods turned down the chair offered, but only temporarily. He held up a finger to silence the chatty Detective, as he walked off in search of the coffee pot. All police stations had the coffee pot – brewing something horribly dark, strong and murky. Probably the same crap that had been in the pot yesterday…which would be why Hallenbeck brought his own in.

He found it, took the large Styrofoam cup from the bag neck to it, and filled up. He rejoined his new partner and finally took his seat. He began talked as if he never had left once seat, as he also reached into his lower jacket pocket and produced a flask, from which he ‘flavored’ his coffee, and tipped it in the direction poor Michael, offering him the same flavor. Never break rules and not offer other to do the same.

“We’ll I’ll get all the files and relevant evidence shipped here from the main office, but we’re going to need a room. This investigation won’t be kept on your desk any longer…we need room, and a locked door.”

With the detective’s decline at the offered booze, he placed it back in his pocket, took a sip from his now very Irish coffee; letting out a sign of relief, and continued.

“All same M.O., though the branding seems to be a new twist. 4 others total, from surrounding cities. All suburban towns like yours, no apparent connection to the victims other then their being your usual easy marks. The perp’ seems to pick them so that they know they will succeed with out much fight. Never any evidence of trauma before the torture began, which our analyst say takes place after the chloroform. They are drained and traumatized too much to scream when the killer dumps the body and hits the final slice that does them in.”

He hated to admit it, but the kid detective kinda reminded him of his younger self. He cared. Time would tell if that remained true. If the job got to him and made him jaded. If he’d get depressed and drink until his wife leaves him. If he’d absentmindedly marry the next gold digger who figured he’d get shot on the job and collect his life insurance policy. Time would tell if his 2nd ex-wife would be an nagging bitch that called twice a day about money once he finally divorced her. If his once golden career stalled because the ghosts of the past were more quiet when drunk and in the arms of some woman who’s name won’t matter tomorrow then they are in a new sports car, and public praise.

Yeah, time would tell for this one…he wouldn’t let up on him, but silently he wished him better luck then his own life had shown.

Snapping from his short trip down memory lane, he got up and walked out, “I need a smoke break…why don’t ya find us that room an move all the case material you have in there. The stuff from Chicago will get here this afternoon.”

And out he went, glared at the desk sergeant as he passed, and lit up on the steps of the station, just beyond the door. It was always more quiet here in these smaller towns. Only a few people in and out of the building during his one cigarette…back home in any precinct there would have been a score of cuffed retards being hauled in by their beat cop escorts in the same time period.

Michael nodded at the suggestion to lock up the files. He had been locking them away in his desk, but it did make sense to keep them in an inexcessable room so people walking by couldn't see what he was doing. Agent Woods might be an overbearing prick, but at least he DID seem to have a good head on his shoulders...although the booze flask in the guy's jacket didn't make a very good impression.

As Woods went out for a smoke, Michael cleaned all the relevant files off his desk...and stopped. A personal picture had been knocked over and buried under his work. He picked up the picture, looking at it closely, a sad expression washing over his face. It was a picture of him and his wife Amanda on their honeymoon five years ago. Both were smiling the carefree smiles of young lovers who thought they'd have a long life together...but that hadn't been the case. Amanda had been killed in a car crash a year after they'd married. They'd had no children, and he didn't have any real family to speak of...and he hadn't been with a woman since. His work had become his life.

He ran his finger over her face, then set the picture in its place, and grabbed the sheaf of papers, walking to the chief's office to request a conference room for their investigation. His thoughts were already back on the job, his pain pushed aside as his mind focused on looking forward to seeing these files Woods had promised.

By the time the teenagers left the Museum Angelica was exhausted and grumpy. She pushed her bangs from her eyes and waved goodbye to the custodians. As she walked past the Japanese exhibit she looked toward one of the glass cases, paused, and then walked over to it. “Can I help you?” she asked Mr. Vixon one of the curator’s the museum kept on staff along with Angelica.

“No... I just,” Vixon looked over at Angelica. “Doesn’t that look as if there is something on it?” he asked, pointing to the Japanese dagger in the display case.

Angelica peered into the case and looked closely, noting the small red fleck near the handle. “It does. One sec,” she said, walked over to one of the security doors located to the side and typed in a series of numbers. She smiled back to Mr. Vixon and nodded her head. “Go ahead.” she told him. She watched him grip the handle and pull it free from the display case. Angelica walked over and waited. “What do you think it is?”

He looked it over and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He handed the knife to Angelica and she smiled. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she replied. She turned the dagger in her hand, admiring the beautiful carvings as well as the strength of the blade. “It looks like that new polishing compound. Grant bought some and he was polishing blades the other day, something about this new stuff was supposed to keep the shine longer.”

“Oh, I bet your right,” Vixon said. “Oh drat Angel... I need to go, can you clean it up and lock it back in the case?” He thanked her when she replied with a sunny “of course” and left her holding the dagger, an eager smile on her face.

Angelica closed the case, returned to the security door, and typed in the numbers, before slipping off to the sterilized rooms and cleaned the blade and handle throughly. “Not bright little girl.” “Shut up mom,” she thought quietly. “Don’t talk to your mother that way!”

With a shudder, Angelica shook off the sounds and finished taking care of the knife. Soon it was free of all signs of anything out of the ordinary and returned to the case. “Good job baby... you can have a reward now.” Angelica closed her eyes again and felt a wave of happiness sweep over her. Back at her office she picked up her keys and called it a day. It was only after lunch, but she wasn’t really thrilled to be working now that the knife had creeped into her day.

Marc Jordan

As we finished our break and went back to work I couldn’t seem to get my mind off the killer. Each news article seemed to make the murders more chilling, more incredible. Surely the killer had to be male I though to myself, there was just no way a female could act out something so wicked, so brutal. Everyone could easily see how this was affecting suburban life, people were beginning to act more cautious, and police were much more visible around town.

I continued framing up the walls, cutting stud to perfect length before nailing them in place. I was thankful I knew what I was doing because my mind certainly was not on my work today. I began wondering why I was so interested in the killings. It wasn’t affecting me in anyway. I went about my life as I had everyday before. I only frequented places I was familiar with and knew I was strong enough to beat off any guy around, let alone any lady killer.

Lunch break once again was filled with conversation about the murders. Each guy voicing their own take, each guy purporting a new theory.

Samantha Cordial

Samatha was finally finished with logging in the newest collection of DVD's and videos that the libarary purchased from the donations the city council had given them. She placed them in the cart and wheeled them around the room weaving her way through patrons until she got to the audio racks. Glancing outside she noticed the flashing lights hitting the walls of the library, she knew someone had gotten caught speeding again. The lights came through the window and she found herself curious as to who it was now. She walked over leaving the cart and peered outside.

The cold January air hit her and she shivered. A blonde was getting a ticket and the officer looked a bit perturbed for having to get out into the cold. She shook her head and thought of all the tickets this particular patch of road recieved. It was as if when someone saw the library they had to speed up and leave. She chuckled when she saw the officer write out the ticket and then get back in his car. She closed the door of the library and went back to work.

Once the audio selection was restocked she was ready to call it a day, but couldn't. Lunch had sped past her and she ended up grabbing some popcorn one of her co-workers had popped. She was about to ready the children's corner for the afterschool program when a customer came up. "Hello there Sam, can you help me?"

Samantha turned around and smiled at the young woman, "Hey Cicely what do you need?" she asked.

"I need a book Men are From Neptune or something...," the young dirty blonde answered back.

"Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus."

"That's it!"

"I'll look it up on the computer and help you find it. Man troubles?" Samantha asked.

"You could say that... Hopefully he'll read this."

Samantha chuckled, "Well just be glad you have one." She rolled her eyes and headed to her desk, before long she had the information and not to long after that Cicely had her book. "Good luck."

"I'll need it."

The clock showed 3:00 and Samantha headed to the Kiddie Corner. Twenty minutes later she was reading stories and making crafts for the next couple hours.

After recieving John Dixon's autopsy report, and gaining access to a conference room, Michael started pinning up the photos of the victims and crime scenes to a bulletin board, and arranging the autopsy reports and other information out on the long table for easy access. He knew that he sometimes got a bit obessive when put on a case, but the results of his work spoke for themselves. There were times, though, when he wished he could have a normal life again, like he did when Amanda had been alive. All he had was his work. He knew that he was the most experienced officer Plainfield had to offer...and that was why he was lead detective on the case.

In his time as a homicide detective, he'd solved over a dozen murders...and had gained a small bit of noteriety for cracking a serial killer case about four years ago, right after his wife passed away. That one had been almost as brutal as these ones, but had been an easy pattern to follow to catch the guy. All sorts of DNA evidence, and the guy was much sloppier than the current perp. This killer was like a surgeon....the killings were precise and meticulous, making him wonder if the victims were planned out well in advance.

The lack of pattern in the choice of victims bothered him. One african-american, and two caucasians. One woman, two men. Two that had obviously been drinking, and one who hadn't. Two victims chloroformed, and one apparently not. He found it interesting that the male victims had apparently been involved in sexual activity shortly before death, and that the female victim's genitals had apparently been cleaned with bleach and scoured to hide something, and the branding had many connotations that could reveal an individual with deep seeded parental issues, and a deeply disturbed mind...as if the fact that the victims were tortured hadn't done so already. He had a few theories beginning to form in his head, but he wanted to see the other autopsy reports that Woods was having delievered before jumping to any conclusions.

He sat down at the table, looking over all the documents again for anything he might have overlooked. He knew this case inside and out already, but he wasn't about to miss any small nuance if he could help it. He still had the feeling he was overlooking something...something obvious that he wasn't seeing, that would help him figure out who the killer could be...or at least who the next possible victim could be.

Woods

Bruce returned from his smoke break, not giving a damn if anyone might be upset that he stayed outside for nearly half an hour. It was gonna be a rough day. He strolled back into the station and quickly found the room his new partner had procured; pictures already gracing the walls with their gruesome details.

“Well, now I know not to hire you as an interior decorator, I bet your girl friend loves your sense of style.”

He flopped down in the seat at the head of the conference table, and spun around in it to take in all the nasty bits of information displayed around the room. Dixon’s autopsy had come in, but nothing on it seemed like news.

“So, we’ve got a perp, who makes rather randomly located, but purposefully not lethal cuts all over the body, as there are restrained by wire at the hands and feet. This is only after they are knocked out with chloroform.’"

He spun around facing away from Hallenbeck, the pictures and anything really; leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

“We know the perp likes boys more then girls…as it seems the male victims get one last roll in the hay, while the female victims get their jollies scrubbed in a rather painful sounding fashion. So, we’re looking for a left handed female who has an issue with feminine hygiene, or a gay male who seems to like scrubbing out the competition… though that seems les likely as the left hand doesn’t seem limp wrested at all.”

He spun in the chair, never looking away from the ceiling, apparently bored out of his mind, then asked, “What you got for me kid? I just told you who it was, you’re turn to tell me why they chose these victims.”

The off-hand comment Woods made about a girlfriend stung a bit, bringing Amanda to mind momentarily, but he didn't let it show upon his face. He stood by the bulletin board. and began.

"Well, first off, from what I've seen here, I tend to believe that the killer is a female, although we can't prove that conclusively...but that brings up another question, such as how the bodies were moved by only one person. Both the male victims were not small men. It leads me to believe that if the killer IS female, she may have an accomplice, which is somewhat of an anomaly in a serial killer case, but not totally unheard of."

"The fact that there are more male victims than female is probably incidental. After all, the killer seems to have a penchant for violence against both sexes. Around this part of the country, since we're a bit more 'rural', it'd still probably be more likely for a woman to pick up a man than a woman. I think if we were in a bigger city, the victims by gender would be more equal in number. Availablity just makes the number of males more dominant."

"My theory is that the killer has some deep issues steming from his or her childhood. Pretty obvious considering the brands on the bodies. If I had to venture a guess, I would say possibly that the killer was abused as a child, physically, and quite possibly sexually as well, and is enacting a disturbed sort of vengeance on her parents. Profiling suggests the killer is a full of rage, and is displacing it, projecting it upon the victims. I'd venture a guess that maybe it is the act of sex that sets it off, causing extreme rage brought about by past events. The killer wants to hurt her or her parents, and is using her victims as a means to that end. I'm guessing in each case, the victim must have had some quality that reminded the killer of her parents, and she may have stalked them for awhile before striking."

"I think a good place to start would be to look over cases involving child molestation over the past 20 or so years, starting locally, and then maybe expanding our search to a statewide level if we don't get results. We can crossreference it with current residents of Plainsfield and see if we get any hits. It might be a place to start."

The young man walked in and handed the afternoon mail to the front desk. “Here you go,” he said. The postman walked out and headed back to the daily grindstone of work and no play. While he was making his route the officer tossed the letters to a bin and soon a college kid working on a thesis was there. He was also the “glorified” gopher so he was in charge of passing out the mail.

“Gottcha something Hallenbeck,” he tossed the letter to the table and left. Inside the envelope Hallenbeck would read these words.


Bodies shake
as the marks of love roll over them.

Oh the beauty.
Their beauty.
My beauty.

To see them quivering
begging, pleading for more...

What?

Not more...

They want it to end.
To stop the pain.
Oh all right...

I'll end it.
I'll stop your pain.

Good night Daddy
Good night Mommy
Sweet Dreams