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She got there an hour ago, two hours since the first patrol car arrived and two and a half hours after the first call reporting a murder was made. Lets round it up, she thinks, and the killer got three hours to escape.
Three whole hours, He could be anywhere now, even in another country.
She looks at the bodies for one last time as they are finally removed. Forensics will most probably confirm that the killer is the same guy who has been butchering dogs and homeless people in the last four years. But this time he killed someone with a girl with name and a job, and a guy who was a real prick, to be kind for those who passed away.
The girl was secretary in a multinational bank, well dressed, but in a conservative way. Soon they will call the Bank and most probably they will say she used to stay late, working extra time, really working, once her underwear was the type women only use when its absolutely sure no men will see them. In her finger a beautiful but simply engagement ring. She was still in her twenties; maybe she was making some overtime to afford a new house, or a little more elegant wedding party. She could be saving some money to a nicer wedding dress. Soon her fiancé will receive a call that his future wife was almost raped and then murdered, and he will blame himself for letting her left work so late.
The second victim was a well know son of a bitch who made a reputation stealing from pregnant girls, old ladies and kids. Last year he raped a fourteen year old girl, a mistake on his paperwork, a cop who punches him in the face in front of the press and a girl too scared and ashamed to go to court let him walk away. He was suspect of five other rapes in that area, always old ladies or teenagers. But ten rapists like him wouldn’t pay the life of one single girl who worked hard to have a less ordinary wedding.
The woman looked around. How come no one see something like that? Simple: the close curtains, turn the TV, pretend that no one is getting raped or murdered in their doorsteps.
-Fuck, this city is getting worst on daily basis.
A black man, very tall and thin come closer, and smile paternally:
-Hey partner, what’s the problem?
-Josh, the problem is that I’m getting tired of finding a new corpse on the sidewalk every five minutes and no one sees anything.
-Sammy, that’s how life in a big city is, everyone pretend to be blind and deaf, at least until someone stab them in the guts.
-It’s the same guy Josh. The same guy and we could have prevented this.
-I know, but was not our fault. Our bosses thought it was a nice social engineering, all those homeless murders, and they fucked with us until we had no choice but move along. Shit Sammy, if I recall you even got suspended over it.
-Yeah, but I got back. This girl won’t have the same luck. Now the guy now has twelve deaths on his body count.
-So what we do? Cry a little?
She looks at Josh and thanks for having such pragmatic and reliable detective as partner and friend.
-Can you guess what I’ve been doing on my free time?
-Oh! Can you guess what I have been doing on mine, Sammy?
She grins a little more.
-This guy never attacks in the same place, but he has a pattern: if you put all attacks together, animals included, this guy is making a spiral, coming from outskirts to downtown, slowly reducing his area of action, very slowly.
-Exactly Sammy, but the center of the spiral is the commercial and political center of the city, no one actually live there.
-But he could work there, Josh.
-Yes, rushy one, but thousands work there, actually I run some numbers and we got over six thousand people working there. And we don’t have anything on this guy. He could be anyone of them. I know you would, literally, investigate everyone on this list, but damn if any judge would give us a warrant on such basis. You know, from what we have in this exactly moment, we can’t do much, Sammy.
-Fair. Lets cross our fingers and hope his time forensics will do their job without the higher ups telling them to “lost” and “postpone” papers.
-And until we got it we can move accordingly with his pattern, and try to catch him up red handed.
-Or a little before. Too much red to my tastes…
Josh raises his head and smile like the man who know a secret.
-Oh, if you don’t like red, maybe you like what I just found for you, in black, white and our favorite, shades of gray.
*
I watch the sun rise; I am in peace with an overwhelming feeling of fulfillment and pure unspoiled joy. Soon they will found my first official victims; then they will try to cover my existence, but I am prepared: I put my plan in movement, and their actions will only work to make me more famous.
I am bounded to become immortal; no one can deny my fate.
I remove my uniform: black is a wonderful color. The little blood spatter is almost invisible under the faint street lights. Still, I will be cleaning it afterwards, not for fear of identification, but because I don’t want to remembered as a sloppy, untidy man.
I am now naked, my flesh exposed. I look at the mirror and for maybe the first time in my life I truly love the man I see. No shames, no despise, no second guessing or doubt, only power and beauty. My hands slide over my arms and chest, my finger tips feel the muscles and scars, my beauty marks from this day on.
I feel my hands and I remember the feeling of the knife diving on soft helpless flesh, and I realize how much I want to have this feeling again.
I look at the face of the man in the mirror.
-You are truly beautiful!
*
In an elegant medical clinic, a man dressed in immaculate keep his attention on his monitor. The fat fingers are adorned by two gold rings, one with a black opal on it, type fast. His round face, red, is covered in sweat. He only stops typing to scratch his white beard and clean his bald head with a expensive Egyptian silk handkerchief. His phone rings and he almost jump of his chair.
- Hello? Who is it?
-It’s Dover
Anxious the man grab his phone with both hands.
-Spit it out!
-He started again, this time is for real. Two last night, no hobos or puppies.
-I was starting to wonder for how long he would train.
-This time no way the badges will pretend they saw nothing.
-Not of your concern. You know what to do next. Call me again tonight.
And the fat doctor turns off his phone. He lay back on his chair for a minute and look at the screen: A report with the picture of a young boy, no more than six years old.
-Project Hammer-Head. Test subject 0912 AKA “One Hit Killer-D”.
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