Serial Killer Strikes Again

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Samantha and Marc

Samantha listened to Marc as he went about taking care of his phone calls. Her ears straining to hear everything, so he wouldn’t have to repeat much to her. She didn’t want to think about what was happening or how they were going to get through the next few days, weeks, months. She didn’t want to think past that.

When he came back to bed and pressed against her, she sighed and turned in his arms. “I don’t know what is going to happen, or why they think we did these things, but. . I’m glad you are here with me.”

Her fingers moved over his lips and a tear escaped her eye. “Are you okay?” she asked, kissing him gently and running her fingers over his brow, down his cheek, and the resting against his chest, where she tucked her head.

She felt protected by his embrace and knew there was no place else she’d rather be at that moment, then in his arms.

 

[Steiner]

Martin nodded. It seemed the best way to proceed - although it did mean that he was right back at square fucking one.

"So - where do we go from here then. We've worked out that the two we're chasing definitely AREN'T the killer, but this doesn't get us any closer to proving who it is..."

But as he said it he realised that wasn't true.

"Except we know that the killer was in a position to get DNA samples from Marc and Samantha... We need to question those two."

 

[jushorny]

Marc and Samantha

Just laying next to Sam was enough to arouse me, but when she asked if I was alright, when she ran her fingers over my lips before kissing me, before pressing her face against my chest, well I was ready for more. I kissed her forehead and smiled, drying the tear off her cheek.

“Yea, Sam, I’m okay as long as I have you. Please, don’t worry yourself about this mess I got us into. It will work itself out. We both know we are innocent and as soon as the police come to that realization this will be all over. Until then, I’ve arranged for us to head out to the lake, we can stay at my boss’ place. It will be close enough for the authorities to watch us if they want, but we at least will be away from the media.”

I didn’t want to scare Sam with anymore information than that. I was well aware they took the position at the Library away from her and wondered if she would get it back. Even if she was hired back, would she be able to hold her head up in this little town after what had been said about us?

“Sam, I think we should shower, dress, pack a few things, and head out to the lake. We will both feel better, more relaxed. I’ll even grill us some food when we get there, after, we try out the bed, of course.” I said with a chuckle, trying to lighten her mood.

While Sam showered I took time to pack some clothes, food and call and arrange for the ride Matthew Whitaker had promised. I also made sure he had called Hollander and him know where Sam and I would be.

Before long we were sitting in a limo, undetected by the media and heading to the outskirts of town.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Samantha sat in the limo, staring out the window wondering how her life could go so wrong. She held Marc’s hand wondering what was next. So they went to a lake and hid out, but from who were they hiding from? Who would have hated them so much that they would frame them both for murder?

She turned to Marc, and pulled his hand to her lips, kissed it and then squeezed his fingers.

“Who would do this? Who hates us both so much that they’d kill two people and leave things behind that pointed to us? How did they get stuff from me? I mean Jesus Christ, Marc. . .I’ve not been robbed and as far as I know no one broke in, so how the Hell did they get my DNA? Yours too?”

Her pulse raced the more she thought about it and for a moment a sting of anger rose up in her. “Don’t tell me not to think about it, or be concerned. . .this is my life too and for some reason I’ve pissed someone off and so have you.”

 

[Tseranc]

“Now you’re thinking rookie, I say we don’t even tell the two that we don’t think it’s them. Pump them for information, they have to want to prove their innocence anyway. Besides, we’re leaving them as bate for the media…an I’ve learned over the years that bate doesn’t really care fore being bate…especially when they know about it.”

Bruce finished his meal in near record time, and drained the beer in another long swig.

“Ok, lets head back and set up shop somewhere, then we can get going on your two little song birds…I’m sure they have something for us.’

Woods was on to something, something small, but it was just blood in the water…it made him hungry for the hunt. Or, as a favorite character of his might say…the game was afoot.

 

[Steiner]

Martin threw his deparment credit card down for the bill and called ahead via cell phone to get everything organised. He wanted to see how this Agent Woods handled things - the man obviously had a hunch of some sort, and Martin was keen to see how it made sense of all the conflicting evidence.

Not letting up on Sam and Marc also helped - because the little voice in the back of Martin's head told him he could still get a prosecution on the face of the evidence he had.

Getting the receipt back, Martin signalled to Bruce and the pair of them headed back to the station house. Instead of smart alecky comments, the Agent was preoccupied with his thoughts during the drive - Martin wondered if he'd spring into dynamic action when they got back.

 

[Tseranc]

Once back at the station, Bruce quickly departed the car, even before the engine was off. Before he took two steps he had a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He had finished that death stick before coming close to the door, and lit another on the smoldering remains of the first. This one he savored a bit longer, looking back at the Martin kid as he finally caught up.

“Oh, go requisition us a coffee pot, we’ll need it. I want it locked up in the room. I don’t wanna have to go beg steal and borrow from slack ass rookies who make their coffee like sun tea.”

Once done Woods tossed down the 2nd butt and extinguished it with a firm, twisting step, then proceeded into the lobby. He made a slight flex/jump at the desk sergeant who seemed to immediately cower behind his post. Bruce laughed and turned to his young partner. “So, where they got us holed up?”

 

[Steiner]

"It's a secondary conference room. Fifth floor." Martin said, a little puzzled by Bruce's hyper-switches in mood.

He trailed Bruce to the elevator.

"Chief says we can have a five man taskforce for things like questioning, phoning round, paperwork, that sort of thing. There's already a decent coffee pot in there - as well as a machine for people who like coffee that doesn't strip your throat bare. The only cloud on our silver lining is that the chief insists we pick our taskforce personally. You're from out of town and I've been here a grand total of 12 hours so far, so my guess is that neither of us knows good from a hole in the ground around here. This can only be so the chief can cover his ass down the line if any media leaks or screwups happen."

 

[Babette_____]

She’d kissed him, letting her ultimatum sink in and then she rolled over, slid under the covers and killed the lights. It wasn’t long before she was waking up and flicking on the same light, though the morning sun was shining into the room. She slid from the bed, not wishing to disturb her bed partner. He’d done his job last night and deserved to reap the rewards of a decent amount of sleep. She headed to the kitchen and started her coffee then called the shop, making sure her one employee was there and had opened it up in her absence. Once she assured the middle-aged single woman that all was well she headed to the shower and quickly washed away the sleepiness from her muscles.

Her fingers had been itching to turn the TV on, but she prolonged it until it was time to sit down and have breakfast. A thrill rushed over her as the names of her latest “playthings” ran across the screen, a picture of them at the beach popped up and she sneered. When another set of pictures appeared, those of the local Librarian and her Architect lover, a sense of pride washed over Angelica. Inwardly she was smiling wide. No one had any reason to connect her with either person. She had never met them, talked with them, or even taken them on a tour of the museum. They were simple two people connected to her ex-lover.

The man, Marc had been a conquest of Dippy Deb the Slut Stealing Whore and that made him an easy fall guy. The local bookworm, was icing on the cake, letting the police think they had a double team working over the fair citizens of Plainsfield. Her fingers began to curl tight around her coffee cup as she heard that the couple were being released with merely a “don’t leave town” attitude. She threw her cup at the TV, the mug chattered and coffee spilled over it. She cursed and quickly cleaned it, hoping that wouldn’t be the time Trevor woke up.

When she left that morning it was with a note telling Trevor that coffee was on the table and he could stop by the shop for lunch or to pick her up after work if he desired. She would be there most of the day unless something came up. She made a quick note at the bottom of the note stating she’d be at the same restaurant they had lunch at yesterday if he cared to join her there. She had her reasons for going there. Another few days of studying their schedule and she’d have them where she wanted them.

As she traveled to work she thought back over all the things she’d done. She’d given those photos to the reporter and nothing happened, written a note to the cops, nothing happened and now. . . she’d framed a couple of folks she knew little about, but enough to know they were ripe for the picking, yet they were sitting at home free as the day they were born.

She was furious by the time she got to the shop and quickly sent her employee home. Company was the last thing she needed. Her thoughts shifted from the couple who owned the restaurant to the fact that no one had bothered to give her what she wanted most. . .publicity.

“Go to all that fucking trouble and they let those two go. Fuck it. Take pictures and get nothing. Write a god-damn poem and nothing. Well. . .I guess they don’t think I’m very serious,” she muttered to herself as she polished one of the many weapons she had on display. Her shop was a mixture of antiques, but antique weaponry was a fetish and one that she was very proud of.

“So. . . time to up the ante, maybe a couple owning a pizza joint isn’t the way to go.”

She grabbed her morning paper and began to read about how the new assistant to the Mayor was going through a messy divorce.

 

[Tseranc]

“Fuck the chief, get me the service jacket of all the detectives and beat cops. Don’t bother with anyone from traffic or domestic. Homicide and narcotics only if we can. Typically it takes some doing to get into those positions, and the best chance we have of finding some lackeys that won’t piss themselves when faced with the details of our sick little case here.”

Bruce moved into the elevator, and pushed the button to the fifth floor, leaving Junior to go collect the requested service files. “Great, more fucking paper to sort through.”

He found the room easily enough and had just finished setting up the pot to brew a coffee that might well take paint off a car, when the kid came in. He hoped the sad little contraption could take it.

 

[Steiner]

Martin cursed quietly as he hefted the small sheaf of folders. He knew he was low man on the totem still, and he'd wanted to observe the FBI at work, but he hand't appreciated the amount of gopher work.

Setting the last of the documents on a conference table in the new Strike Team room, Martin thumbed some coffee out of the Automatic machine and sipped it gratefully.

Today had been a lot of work so far - it didn't look like slowing down any.

 

[poohlive]

Trevor sat behind the counter this morning with two women on his mind. They both seemed to swirl and surround his every thoughts. They cast shadows on everything he did, trying desperately to rid him of whatever sanity he had left.

Last time he checked, there was not much.

He wasn't going to do anything. When he got the poem, when it had slipped into his photocopied files of paperwork, he knew he had been given something special, something untouched. It was a piece of her heart, a glimpse into the soul of a serial killer.

And with one glimpse he found himself fascinated.

But what Angelica had said, and done with him also stuck in his mind. She had shared her own heart, something tainted but not demented. Not like Daddy's little girl. Angelica shared a hair of what DLG posessed.

But, Angelica wanted him for herself. Only one condition, he could never cheat on her. Never, but he didn't know if he could do that. Not anymore, not with this information about Daddy's Little Girl in his mind.

He found himself fascinated with her, wanting to know more, needing more.

But, he had never done anything about it. Not until today, not until he was sure that what he wanted was the same thing as Daddy's Little Girl. He knew now, Angelica had shown him, brought out a side of him untouched before, covered and deep in the depths of himself, but out now.

It was out and it wanted more.

He had to contact Daddy's Little Girl. He had to figure out a way.

Trevor looked at the morning paper, nodding.

Yes, that would do.

Now, what to tell her.

Sighing, Trevor sat down and began to write.

 

[Tseranc]

“I really don’t like any of them. Well, that saying I don’t know about any of our options to like or dislike any more then usual. Screw it, pick three, one for each shift to man the phones and shuffle the paper. You and I can handle the rest.”

Bruce tossed several of the manila jackets of police service records back to the table. Searching for teammates blind just wasted time, and took efforts away from the real purpose…finding this sicko

“Where are our two ‘suspects’ now? Anyway we can get them in here for more questioning? We’ll have to be careful, I really don’t want them thinking their off the hook, but maybe they’ll spill the beans on anyone they know for the chance of getting out of this mess.”

 

[Babette_____]

Angelica went through the day planning out her next stop on the ladder of fame. She was still angry, no one bothered to take not of her antics. She’d tried the poem, the pictures and even framed the local goodie-two-shoes and some dim witted construction guy, but they were let out with a slap on the wrist and a “stay close”. She was livid. A few phone calls to some area dealers in antiques told her that Cynthia Rollins, the assistant to the mayor collected Carnival Glass. Angelica made a few more calls and discovered several pieces were available just a few hours away.

She called up Trevor and left a message on his phone, asking him if he wanted to accompany her on an overnight trip to Shipshewana, Indiana. The drive itself would be boring, but she didn’t want to rush home, and chance falling asleep at the wheel. She called a local Bed and Breakfast and made arrangements with the local folk and had a room set up for her and a guest, if she chose to bring one.

She then called up the Mayor’s office asking to speak with Missus Rollins, she was rewarded with a voice mail. There she told her that her shop would be in possession of many fine Carnival Glass pieces and because a friend of a friend told her she collected them, she was hoping Missus Rollins would come by and take a look. Her reason behind it all was stated firmly, “I am new to the business and would really like a local celebrity to help push my name onto the society pages.”

When she hung up the phone it was with a sense of accomplishment. She went back to work, wondering if Trevor would be up for a night in some old hick town with horses and buggies roaming the streets, along with the Amish and Mennonites that lived there.

 

[poohlive]

It had taken him several hours, long grueling hours over the paper, writing lines over and over again, trying to make them sound just right. It became more than troublesome.

Trevor had no idea how real writers did it. He just thought it was something that just poured from the soul, taking nothing more than minutes to provide.

In the end, late afternoon, he realized he had missed his lunch with Angelica, he was finished. He sent it off to the printers, along with a nice hefty fee. It was an entire half page of the paper, it would require that much.

And of course the editor could provide, with that kind of money. Apart from the Daddy's Girl killings.

He gave a call, made sure it would be in tomorrow's paper, and checked his messages, finding out Angelica wanted him to go out.

After his shift was done, he drove down to her antique store, coming inside to see her.

"Sorry about lunch, it was murder there at the motel. I'm here though..."

And he showed her his overnight bag.

"When do we leave?"

 

[Babette_____]

Anglica took the Toll Road and headed toward the small Indiana town. The drive uneventful, and quiet. She wasn’t sure what Trevor thought about her detachment, she really didn’t seem to notice. Once they arrived at the small Bed & Breakfast, they checked in and made their way down to the large barns that served as the distribution buildings for various dealers of antiques and baked goods from the local farmers.

Her gaze moved over different wares and she made various selection, ordering them shipped to her store in Chicago, by next day shipping. It wasn’t an exciting trip, one easily handled by one person, but she enjoyed the thought of not going to bed alone. She hooked her arm through Trevor’s and leaned against him as they wove their way through men and women dressed in Amish clothing as well as modern day tennis shoes and blue jeans.

Angelica purchased a few oddities, rope being one of them. A simple wink was Trevor’s reward when she saw him notice her purchase.

They walked toward the dealers that handled antique weaponry and she feigned interest over pieces she actual found quite stimulating. Her fingers picked up blades of all shapes and sizes as well as age. “Anything interest you here? Perhaps you can find something strong enough to cut this rope for us,” she smiled at her lover.

The antique dealer grinned as Angelica twisted the thin braided nylon.