Spare the Lambs (14 page)

              I figured he would go for it.  After all, two huge cases are better than one.  And I was right.  He gave me a big grin, told the techs bye, and almost ran out of the apartment.  He might not be as bad of a Fed as I’d thought; but for my sake, I’m hoping he is worse.

              There wasn’t much more evidence to be found.  If he hadn’t kept the cleaver, I would’ve had a hard time proving his guilt without getting him to confess during an interrogation.  I don’t understand why he kept it, or at least why he kept it so close.  He doesn’t fit the mold of a serial killer, which would explain keeping the cleaver as a trophy.  The fact that they’re a group doesn’t hold true to the serial model either.  Serial killers are rare and it is even rarer for two or more serial killers to work together.  A group of five or six is unprecedented.  His young age is out of the norm as well.  Most serial killers don’t get around to killing another human until their mid to late twenties.  His pranks appear to fit with sadistic behavior, but as far as I can tell, he didn’t torture animals.  If the cleaver is a trophy, he would’ve kept trophies from animals, too.

              Lee didn’t keep any written notes, journals, diaries, confessions, or even names and addresses on sticky notes.  If we arrested the boy and he didn’t tell us where the others could be located or at least their full names, we might never know where any of his monstrous friends could be found.  Nothing else could have convinced me that I did the right thing.  Lee received justice and I know where another of the beast lives.

The Charlesville Times, cover page.

April 27, 2001

Another Easter Murderer Dies

A young man was found beaten and shot early on the night of the 25th. Investigators say that the young man, Lee Maynard age 15, was attacked by the dumpster in the alley.  He was beaten for some time before being shot, point blank.  Around 9p.m. police were called to the alley between The Bridal Shop and Jam’s Books on 57th Street.  Nathan Gorndoriff, employee of Mike’s Gas-N-Go on 58th Street, called the police after hearing a gunshot fired.

Yesterday, Detective Pearson realized that Lee Maynard was connected to the Easter Murders.  When asked why the police were going door to door in the area, Pearson explained that Judith Smith had kept general directions to Lee’s home in her diary.  Pearson refused to release her diary.

A meat cleaver was found in the bedroom of Lee Maynard that lab work has revealed traces of Judith Smith’s blood.  There is a second person’s blood present as well, but the police haven’t said whether it is from another Easter Murder victim or someone else.  With this damning evidence, it is now clear that two of the Easter Murderers have been identified and are both dead.  Was Lee’s death a random murder or is there someone out there that knows who these people are and is killing them?

April 27, 2001 from personal computer

              The lab work came back on the cleaver.  It’s larger than a normal kitchen meat cleaver.  It’s the type used by butchers.  I checked the only remaining butcher shop in the city but, nothing came from the effort.  The shop is on the outskirts of the city, too far from any leads.  The shop owner, and only employee, is fifty-years old and has no children.  The butcher cleaver, while not as easy to get as the kind used in most kitchens, can be bought from almost any culinary supply store and online, of course.  I requested a list of credit card purchases from every store near or related to the case.  However, I doubt it will pay off.  It’s unlikely these kids would have credit cards or that they wouldn’t think to pay with cash to kill this lead.  The dried blood on the blade is from two different people, Judith Smith and another person.  Unfortunately, the second sample was too degraded to get a DNA match.

              Agent Johnston managed to get himself involved with Lee Maynard’s murder case.  I saw him running around seemingly pointlessly and I asked what they had so far.  He was like a kid on Christmas day as he explained all that they had so far, which was nothing.  He might’ve been lying, if he found some evidence connecting me to the murder, but I doubt he can act well enough to hide it.  Surely, if he’d been talking to his main suspect he wouldn’t be able to remain so friendly and annoying.  However, I wouldn’t really know if they had anything on me until I was placed under arrest.  To avoid a panic attack, I have had to force myself not to think about it.

              I’ve requested tomorrow off so I can see if Lee really gave me James’s address.  The chief probably would have agreed in order to save money, but I didn’t want to get in the habit of relying on his cheapness.  I told him that losing the Maynard boy right before we caught him had stressed me out and I wanted a day to step away from the case.  He gave me that “are you working too hard?” look for a minute before agreeing to my request.  It worked out better than I’d thought it would, I have tomorrow and the next day off while Agent Johnston works to find the murderer --- me.

April 28, 2001 from personal computer

              Lee was telling the truth, which is good since I can’t get the truth out of him now.  I waited outside the building at what I felt was a reasonable time for a teenager to be coming and going.  As the minutes turned into hours without seeing the boy, I started doubting Lee’s answers.  He probably knew he was going to die or that I would get arrested if he went to the hospital, so a lie wouldn’t hurt him.  I even started wondering if he might’ve gotten the address wrong.  I doubt I could remember something as small as an address after being beaten like I beat that monster.

              I was so worried by the four-hour mark that I was about to get out of my car and knock on the door.  Just then, James came out of the apartment’s front door.  At first, I thought I was seeing another ghost, however, when I looked closer, I could see that it wasn’t Lee after all.  If I could’ve placed both boys side by side, there would be no doubt on their separate identities.  I judged James to be a little taller and smaller built than Lee.  His hair was a darker shade of brown and his hairline was higher on his forehead.  James’s nose was bigger and lips smaller than Lee’s as well.

              He got into a small rusty car and started it.  I started my car and pulled out into the line of vehicles, as his car backfired.  The traffic was horrible; it took us an hour to travel ten blocks and I had a hard time keeping James in sight.  I lost him for five minutes when I got caught at a stoplight and I would’ve lost him forever, if his car hadn’t backfired again and I realized that he had pulled into a parking lot.  My head whipped towards the sound and I saw James get out of his car.  He had parked in the YMCA parking lot.  I had already passed the turn off, so I had to drive around the block.  Eric was standing on every corner and he looked disappointed in me.

              I found a spot in a corner of the lot, far enough away from James’s car so he wouldn’t notice me when he came back, but roughly the same distance for the exit as his crappy vehicle.  I ran to the gym’s metal door, praying that he had gone in and not simply using the lot and heading somewhere else.  I stopped to look through the little window in the door before I entered.  I saw James talking to a young woman behind the desk.  She was high school age, waiflike.  James said something and the girl laughed a little too hard.  He smiled at her and strutted off through the double doors that probably lead to the gym.  The girl watched him until he was through the door.

              I waited outside for ten minutes, before she left the desk and went into a side door.  I’m glad that no one had gone in or out during that time.  I can imagine what would happen.  The girl was pretty enough that she would become a beautiful woman some day and I am noticeably much older.  I could almost hear the phone call, “Yes, hello police.  There is a middle-aged man stalking a young woman at the YMCA.”

              When the girl was out of sight, I pushed the door open and walked over to the desk.  She had gone to the lady’s room, so I thought I had a few minutes to search around.  A three-ring binder sat on the desk with a sign beside it that read, “Please sign in and out.  Our computer system is currently down.”

              I looked at the front page and found where James had signed in.  His last name is Levee.  I looked back and found that their computer had been down for at least a month.  James Levee had signed in every weekday for that month at around five in the afternoon and signed out an hour to an hour and a half later. On the weekends, his schedule was more random.  I heard a toilet flushed so I turned the pages back and headed for the door.  I had just stepped out of the building when I heard the creak of the bathroom door opening.  I drove home thinking about James’s habit and how I can use it.

April 29, 2001 from personal computer

              It’s odd but, my hands didn’t shake at all this time.  My heart wasn’t even beating that hard.  Does that mean I am getting used to it?  This morning, I woke up early and put on some gym clothing and a thin jacket.  To be honest, I woke up too early; it’s Sunday, so there was no reason James would be up at five in the morning.  I cleaned the gangbanger’s gun while I drank a pot of coffee.  Not his gun.  After Lee, it’s mine.

              I put the cleaned 9mm into my jacket pocket and slid my Slim-Jim, part of my kit when I was a patrol officer, into the top of t-shirt.  I opened the pack of smokes I had randomly bought after following James yesterday.  I lit it and spent a few minutes killing time by hacking up a lung.  My kitten hated the smoke and wouldn’t come anywhere near me.  I hadn’t smoked in five years.  I got them because I thought I would need a smoke to calm down after James got what he deserved, but they ended up being more of a mild distraction while I waited for him to leave his home.

              It was still dark as I parked in front of James’s apartment.  I managed to get a spot two cars behind his vehicle.  I listened to the radio and smoked to pass the time.  It only took a few hours to remember why I never listen to the radio.  Always the same five or six popular songs played over and over.  Any song I liked, they played it to death.  I guess James decided to sleep in because he didn’t leave his home until after noon.  He hopped in his car and we were off into the post-church traffic.  There was one stop at a gas station and then he parked at the YMCA gym.

              There were only four other cars in the lot.  James pulled in, while I drove around the block twice to give him time to be absorbed in his curls.  Eric was standing in the lot on my first pass and I saw Judith crossing the street with a small group of girls.  I parked on the street and walked over to his parked car.  The interior was sickening.  The back seat and floorboard were covered in packs of smokes, food wrappers, and empty bottles.  The trash disguised me, but it was good, I could hide in that crap.

              No one was looking, so I pulled out the Slim-Jim and worked it into the driver’s door window.  I hadn’t used the tool in years, so it took me a few minutes to get the door open.  Once in, I unlocked the back door, locked the front, and climbed into the back seat.  I shut it and locked the door.  I discovered the car was a lot smaller than it looked and was more difficult to get situated than I had thought.  However, after ten minutes I was able to get down on the floorboard and cover myself with some of the trash.  I’m sure I looked like nothing more than a person hiding in trash.  The one good thing was that the trash was dry and didn’t smell.

              I pulled my gun out and waited.  My right arm was pinned under my side, so I had to use my left.  I can’t hit anything shooting left-handed, but from a distance of one or two feet I couldn’t miss.  It had to have been an hour before I heard someone walk up to the car.  The door opened and the car sunk as James got into the driver’s seat.  I lay completely still, until I was sure he wasn’t giving someone a ride.  I turned my head slowly to the side to see the boy, letting a burger wrapper fall away.  James sat in the driver’s seat, staring out the windshield as he waited for the car to warm up and back fire a few times.

              I brought the gun up, being certain not to let the barrel get high enough to be seen by someone in the parking lot.  Bottles shifted and made little noises, but James didn’t act as if he noticed.  When I had the perfect angle to shoot him in the head, I said, “Hello, James.” His body tensed and I said, “No, don’t move.”  He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, “Good.  Now put both hands on the steering wheel.  We’re going for a little drive,” I told him.

              James turned his head and looked down at the barrel of my gun.  He looked past the gun and said, “It was you.”  I didn’t say anything and he closed his eyes again, “Where are we going to do this?”  His voice was flat.

              “Let’s go to where Judith died, shall we?”

              James didn’t make a sound; he simply put the car in drive and drove out of the parking lot.  I lowered the gun a bit more so people in other cars wouldn’t see it.  I wonder if he realized that with my position I couldn’t move very fast.  He could’ve jumped out of the car and ran for it; at best my shot would wing him and it would take me so long to get up off the floorboard that he would be gone.  Hell, he could just park in front of a police station and wait for a cop to come out to see why he had gotten out of the car.  I would have to simply leave in fear of arrest or shoot him and be certain of arrest. 

              My brain kept screaming, “this is too easy, it’s a trap,” as James drove southward through the city.  I worked my way out of the floorboard when we left the city-proper, making a huge racket and having to take the gun off of the boy a few times.  James never looked back to see what I was doing.  He continued silently driving.  We turned off on a small side road, barely big enough for two cars to pass each other, and after a minute he pulled over.