Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) (6 page)

Melanie

I grab my phone, answering it on the second ring. We’ve spent all day following around Kimberly Regis, doing surveillance while she shops at all the upper echelon boutiques in town. Now we are sitting in the SUV, parked outside a popular bar in the downtown Louisville area, while she dances the night away inside. As far as information gleaned from watching her, we’ve gotten all of nothing, except perhaps, that it is looking more and more likely that she is an opportunistic gold digger like we initially believed. It still doesn’t change my mind about Richard Roundtree being a possible rapist. He might not have done any harm to Kimberly Regis, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t hurt others. In a matter of this extreme importance, making sure the guy is innocent is just as important as making sure he’s guilty. If he is living some secret, debauched lifestyle, we need to know so that he doesn’t harm any more innocent women.

I listen as a panicked Evelyn fills me in on what’s going on. Quickly, I press the button for the speaker so my husband can hear as well, placing a finger over my lips to let him know to be quiet. I want Evelyn to think we’re in cahoots together, with no one else involved.

“He was here!”

“Who? Who was there?”

“Richard Roundtree! The dirtbag was standing over her bed, staring at her while she slept. Is that creepy or what? Can you imagine how freaked out she would have been if she’d woken up and seen her attacker looking down on her? Geez, even if I didn’t save her life, I damn sure saved the poor girl’s sanity.”

Immediate mental red flags go up when she says
saved her life.
“Do you feel like you saved her life?” I don’t give her time to answer; I’m too full of questions to be patient. “What did he say when you came in?”

“I confronted him and told him that it wasn’t visiting hours.”

“Why do you think he was there?”

“I couldn’t clearly see because the lighting was so dim and his body was blocking my view, but it looked like he was holding a pillow over her face.”

“He may very well have been. You probably saved that woman’s life tonight.”

“Like I said, I at least saved her mental stability. Do you think someone should be stationed outside her room?”

“I can’t give that order without involving the police, and she doesn’t want that. You’ll just need to be sure to watch her closely because if he was there to kill her, he won’t let the notion go until he’s successful. Not only that, but it tells me he must be guilty of something. It damn sure isn’t a coincidence that he showed up to visit her. They’re not even supposed to know each other outside of her being his realtor. I mean, really, what are the chances of him truly knowing the woman accusing him of rape when they have no history? Just keep a close eye on the girl. She’s been through enough, and she’s no good as a witness if she’s dead.”

“Point taken, and I believe that’s why he wants her dead. He had the audacity to tell me he’d had her on his TV program. He mentioned something about her working in a soup kitchen.”

“And that’s why you have to keep an eye on her, Evelyn. You may be that girl’s only chance of survival. When she wakes up, though, ask her about that. Try to do it without telling her he was there.”

“Ask her what? If he had her on his show?”

“That, and ask her if she’s ever done any volunteer work in a soup kitchen. If she has, and he knows about it, then it means he’s been stalking her for a while. I want to know why. I want to know if he has a type.”

“Okay, I’ll try to ask her in a way that doesn’t upset her or enlighten her to the fact that she had a close call with her rapist.”

“Speaking of that, didn’t you say he didn’t actually rape her?”

I’m asking her because it will give me insight into what this guy’s motivation is. If he isn’t the one actually raping the women but, instead, having the other men do it, then he’s even sicker than I initially believed. It’s very likely there is a sociopath walking around under the guise of a philanthropist named Richard Roundtree.

“No, the sick son of a bitch issued the orders to his group of men. Why are you asking that?”

“Because it will tell me something about his psyche.”

I hang up and look at my husband as he speaks.

“I’m impressed with your ability to get into a sociopath’s head”

“Why? I’ve been living with one for years.”

“Touché, my love… touché.”

Charles

By the look on my wife’s face, it’s clear the phone call was unexpected. For the first time since she made the decision to solicit my services, she’s truly afraid, and this time, it isn’t me my wife fears. Some sick part of me is jealous of the fact that this stranger can engender the emotion I believe should be reserved for me. I’m her protector, so I am the only one permitted to strike terror in her heart. I resolve to make him pay for intruding on ground I consider to be sacred.

“He was there to kill her.”

“I know, Charles.”

“And you fear him?”

“I’m afraid for Lisa Monroe.”

I viciously grab a fistful of her hair and pull her toward me.

“Don’t ever fucking lie to me!”

“Yes, I’m afraid of him.”

“It’s me you should fear. I’m the only killer who can get close to you.”

“You’re jealous?”

“Yes!” I hiss, pulling her mouth to mine and forcefully plunging my tongue inside.

My hands pinch and pull at her nipples through her clothing. I want to hurt her, to make her pay for giving someone else such a sacred gift as her fear.

“I’m sorry; you’re right. I trust you to protect me. My fear, my trepidation, my anguish—it all belongs to you.”

I unzip the jeans constricting my hard cock with one hand and guide her head down with the other, watching as she pulls me into her mouth. She knows what I want. My hands fist her hair as I groan. Laying my head back against the headrest, I give myself over to the pleasure her warm mouth provides. The thought of using her out here in the open excites me so much that I quickly unload. I hold her head down, forcing her to take everything I give her. I love this woman. She’s my obsession, and I will never get enough of her. When it comes to my wife, I will never be satisfied and cannot be sated. She’s an addiction that I will take to the grave.

Charles

My wife sleeps soundly in the adjoining master bedroom while I sit at my desk and try to get some work done. We’d been successful the night before, but it hadn’t been due to our late night out spying. No, it was all because a killer had revealed his intentions. I find myself no longer second-guessing Evelyn’s involvement. I hate to think what could have happened to Lisa if she hadn’t walked in. Also, because she works so closely with my wife, she was able to inform us about Richard’s presence at the hospital. If we can manage to keep her at arm’s length, Evelyn will be a useful resource. It will be a balancing act; she needs to be close enough to help us yet far enough to not realize we are serial killers. It will take some skillful maneuvering, but it’s doable.

I have a lot of experience living a double life, so it isn’t like this is anything new for me. Even during the years I stopped killing for the sake of my family, in a sense, I still lived a double life. I may not have been wielding the knife anymore, but the craving for blood still remained. It’s an addiction no different than a drug, constantly calling to me from the dark recesses of my mind.

I am looking forward to working with my wife. There will be no more secrets, no more hiding, and no more having to suppress the craving for blood I long to spill. For so many years, I’ve held my addiction in check. Now, I’ll finally be able to let go with no threat of losing my wife in doing so.

Killing isn’t something I do; it’s who I am. It isn’t like I can cut out that part of my personality. I was born a predator, and I will die one.

I look up to see my wife shuffling in, wearing a robe and carrying two cups of coffee. Setting one in front of me, she kisses my cheek before taking the seat beside me. She sits with one knee bent and her foot on the chair as she looks over at the screen where I am working.

“Have you found out anything new on Richard?”

“Well, after the little stunt he pulled last night, I felt compelled to quickly get more information on him.”

“Yeah, trying to kill someone in a hospital bed is pretty damn bold.”

“I think so too. It makes me think he has something to hide. He must be desperate if he’s sneaking inside a hospital to kill a woman. I’m convinced now she’s telling the truth, and he was trying to kill off the only potential witness to his crimes. Men like him will do anything to keep their sparkling reputation intact.”

“Did you think she was lying about it?”

“No, not intentionally. I believed her; what I was concerned about was her recollection of the details. Sometimes when a person is traumatized, the mind can build walls. It’s a defense mechanism that protects us from going crazy. If a memory is too painful to bring to consciousness, it will force us to forget. I have to make sure every one of her memories was processed correctly so I know the details of the crime committed. The last thing we want to do is kill an innocent person. When you’re dealing with vengeance, the judicial principle,
innocent until proven guilty
, is a necessary evil.”

“I agree with what you’re saying, but in my mind, trying to kill someone is a pretty blatant sign of bad intentions.”

She’s obviously being facetious. Perhaps sarcasm is her way of handling the fact that we’re planning something others would find reprehensible.

“Even though I’m inclined to believe Richard Roundtree is guilty, we still don’t have proof he tried to kill her, Melanie. Your friend Evelyn admitted his body was blocking her view, and you and I both know she has a penchant for the dramatic. She takes being a drama queen to a whole new level.”

“I have to agree, but in all her years of spreading gossip, I’ve never known her to outright lie. It would be pretty slanderous to accuse a man of attempted murder. She’s also changed since she went through the embarrassment of being engaged to a necrophiliac serial killer.”

“Well, that would be enough to humble anybody. On another note, that’s why I’m researching the timetable of the deaths; I’m trying to collect more solid proof against Richard.”

“What? Like seeing if he had speaking engagements in the same towns at the times of the other women’s deaths?”

“Exactly. I also want to look for things like how long the women were held in captivity before he killed them.”

“How will you know?”

“Well, this particular killer places the bodies out where they can easily be found. Some killers enjoy taunting the authorities, though I doubt he realizes he’s playing with fire in garnering David and Rene’s attention.”

“David and Rene? Those are the FBI agents, right?”

Though answering all my wife’s questions can be tedious, I don’t mind because it’s coming from a good place. She wants to learn, so I continue to teach.

“Yes, they’re the FBI agents assigned to the case for these women, and they’re very good at what they do. Underestimating them would be a grave mistake.”

“Those are the same ones who are investigating you, aren’t they?”

Once again, she’s asking me something I feel like she should already know, but I don’t mind. What I would be troubled by is if she assumed things to be true. You can’t double check facts enough when you’re talking about taking someone’s life. Once they’re dead, you can’t undo it. If you make a mistake, all you have is regret and insecurity about your next kill.

“Yes, and staying one step ahead of them won’t be an easy feat.”

“I wonder if they’ve linked all of Richard Roundtree’s victims yet—if they at least know the women were all killed by the same man.”

“Melanie, again, we don’t have proof it was Richard. That’s an excellent question though, and I’m sure the media will be all too willing to answer it for us in time. Speaking of the media, use them to your advantage to find out information, but don’t always believe everything you hear. The FBI will sometimes plant false information on the chance the killer is watching the news. It’s not uncommon for serial killers to insert themselves into investigations; they get a thrill from it. Not all serial killers fly under the radar like I do. Some get a thrill off pulling one over on law enforcement or bask in the glory of all the media attention. A good profiler knows this about serial killers, and at times, will use the media to their advantage.”

“Well, please continue to do so… fly under the radar, I mean. I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to be visiting you in prison, only able to look at you through a glass partition.”

Smiling, I give her a quick nod before turning my attention back to the screen where I’m comparing timelines. After careful study, my suspicions are confirmed. Richard Roundtree has been in every location where the women have disappeared, but not during the time their bodies were discovered. Of course, that doesn’t exonerate him of guilt. It just means he was smart enough to get the hell out of dodge before the bodies were found and the FBI could put two and two together to equal him in the equation. He’s managed to convince the community he’s a philanthropist; the last thing Richard would want is for the authorities to discover he’s really a cold-blooded, sadistic killer.

I look at the pictures of the women’s corpses, and it’s quite clear I’m dealing with a man given to sadistic tendencies. After all, a sadist knows another sadist. Personally, I tend to operate more in the realm of mind fucks, and when it comes to sexual sadism, my play is always consensual and only with my wife. I enjoy exploring the corridors of her mind, and it never ceases to amaze me the things I discover there. However, when it comes to mind fucks that aren’t sexual in nature, it’s open season. One of my favorite forms of entertainment is toying with the heads of my victims. I go into the game pissed off at them for their atrocious behavior, so I make them pay with more than just their lives. Nothing pleases me more than watching them lose their confidence, bit by bit, as I chip away at it with my manipulation. Let’s just say that if karma’s a bitch, then I’m her bastard of a brother. Once I set my sights on a bully, it’s game on. If they happen to go crazy during the process of me bringing them down, then as far as I’m concerned, they got what they deserved.

The pictures I am looking at reveal a vicious man who gets off on not only inflicting pain on his victims, but torturing them as well. Each body displays different wounds. Some professionals might profile them as different signatures, but I see them as the mark of the same sadist escalating.

For the average person, looking at the horrendous pictures on my screen’s display would be unbearable. For me, though, it’s a necessary evil to study the marks each body bears. It will give me a look into the psyche of the man we’re dealing with. I believe he is the one inflicting the pain, and then he’s issuing the order for the other men to rape the women. The pain is a form of physical sadism, and watching the rape satisfies his mental sadism. This also gives him control over a group of people. It’s hard enough to exercise control over just one person, but to achieve manipulation over an entire group says something about Richard Roundtree’s charismatic personality. As sick and depraved as he is, he’s also smart. Immoral and intelligent is a very dangerous combination.

I’ll need to outwit a man who enjoys playing puppeteer with those around him. It’s just a diversion to him, and the people are nothing but pawns in his twisted game of cruelty. I can’t help but wonder if he has something on the men he’s manipulating. It’s possible, but it’s also just as likely that he found a group of sick sons of bitches that enjoy rape. Rape is all about control, and even though Richard is ultimately the one in charge, they would all get a taste of that control when assaulting their unwilling victims.

One of the women in the pictures has scars on her back that are unmistakable; she has been mercilessly beaten with a whip, possibly a cat o’ nine tails. The marks are wide and deep, the skin raised in such a way that suggests scars over scars. She’s obviously a woman who has been beaten not just once, but numerous times. There’s no mistaking the signs of this type of abuse if you know what to look for, and I do.

Another body bears the distinct markings of cigarette burns. Literally hundreds of them cover her body, including her face. There’s not a single square inch of her skin that was spared the torturous burn.

Judging from the evidence shown in these pictures, it looks like this group of men abducts a woman and then tortures her until she’s on the brink of death. At some point, their victim stops fighting the abuse, or they get bored with her, and I imagine that’s when they decide to kill her. Guys like this get off on resistance and would enjoy hearing the horrendous screams of a woman in pain. Once the women are broken and compliant, their sick form of entertainment is no longer any fun. At that point, it would be time to find their next victim.

I also note that each woman has been killed in a different manner. Once again, this doesn’t make me think there are different serial killers at large. The different MOs only solidify my belief that we’re looking for a group of killers—a group with one ringleader calling all the shots.

What kind of power does Richard Roundtree hold over these men to make them kill for him? Why would someone risk a lifetime of incarceration just for another man’s morbid entertainment? It has to be an enormous power high to not only control the women, but to also have the men do his bidding. Clearly, Richard is getting off on it, but what are the men getting out of it? Maybe he does have something he’s holding over their heads.

I look at the descriptions of how each woman was killed. There was one by strangulation, another had her throat slit, and for one, they went so far as to let her starve to death. It’s like they’re playing some macabre game, trying to think up cruel ways to eliminate the women once they’re done terrorizing them. Despite my show of uncertainty with Melanie, I’m certain it’s Richard who’s issuing the sadistic mandates. The simple fact that he didn’t send in one of his cronies to kill Lisa at the hospital tells me he’s the one who has the most to lose. He’s also the one willing to take the biggest risk; the bigger the risk, the better the adrenaline high is.

One thing’s for sure, he isn’t going to stop until he’s six feet under. I am going to make sure that’s exactly where my new partner in crime and I put him. He has to be stopped, and I need to catch him before the police get to him. Rehabilitation isn’t an option because it’s nothing more than an illusion for those in society who want to continue submitting to the false sense of security it engenders.

I’m a realist. I believe in leveling the playing field for those who have no one to protect them. I am going to enjoy not only killing this dirtbag, but also making him suffer before he draws his last breath.