Chapter 2 part 1
Father Muldoon sat in his room, sipping lukewarm morning tea. The TV squawked to life as Sister Maria passed by it. She did so like her news. His mind had been where anyone in his position would have been. The stranger with his gory deeds; it could have been a hoax, someone testing the seal of confession, or just a deluded person off the street looking for free psychiatry. As much as he would have liked that to be true, in his heart he knew it was not. The way he described her smell, the intricacies of the knife skills needed. This guy was for real.
Dragging his thoughts away from the man he tried to focus on the day’s sermon, a voice from the news however shattered any hope of leaving that man behind.
"Prostitute Marcella Sanders was found today in a motel often used for her business. The coroner is not releasing cause of death but our source says that the girl’s eyes were removed as well as other pattered carvings drawn into her body. The motels operator…"
The reporter droned on but Father Muldoon heard nothing more. He could tell them the cause of death. It was a big knife to the heart. The stranger’s voice reminded him of how ‘yummy’ the sound was. His teacup crashed to the saucer causing Sister Maria to jump.
"Everything alright, Father?" She asked her voice once again showing her concern.
"No, it’s not." His sounded weary, even to himself, but he couldn’t be dishonest with her.
Sister Maria shook her head. The dark grimy man who practically ran from the confessional yesterday afternoon was surely the cause, but the vows taken that ensure the sanctity of confession prevented Muldoon from whispering a word to her, even if it was tearing him apart.
"I need to pray." He reached out for Sister Maria who took him to the chapel and left him alone with his troubled thoughts.
Detective Fate looked on as the crime scene people did their bit. He rubbed his eyes, the big gulp coffee doing nothing to drive the grit of a twenty-hour shift from his eyes. He’s seen many sickos come and go, memories they made that loomed larger and more grotesque then life as he tried to fall asleep.
Therefore, this guy was no new pony. Body parts had been taken before. What got to him about this one, was the lack of hesitation. The new kid was old hat at this. He had no doubt when he took the particulars back to the station and put them into the computer , at least a few more unsolved cases with this MO would pop up. This was not his first time.
The way working girl cases went, it probably wouldn’t be the last either. As much as he hated it, they went on the bottom of the stack. Some even felt that they got what they deserved living a life like this. Fate felt differently. The letter of the law said one thing about this way of life, but the girls hardly ever harmed anyone, and besides, no matter what life you chose, nobody deserved to be carved up like this.
The coroner walked towards him.
"Detective Fate." He always sounded so well-rested. Fate kind of hated that.
"Hey Doc, what’ve you got for me?"
"From preliminary examination, her eyes and the carvings were done post mortem. There is a single stab wound to the heart that I am thinking is cause of death, but I can’t tell you for sure till I get her on my table. I will say this, you may be looking for a surgeon. There’s a curious lack of damage to the ocular cavities. Our killer scooped them out almost flawlessly." He shook his head, moving back into the room to assist getting the body onto the gurney.
"Fantastic, a psycho with a heart and skill." Fate mumbled heading back to his car.
The squad room was dark; it smelled strongly of coffee and white out. Most of the chairs were unoccupied. Detective Fate sat silently, his desk in the shadows, his hunched form easy to miss in the gloom.
He had been right, fifteen other unsolved cases with the same MO had popped up and that just covered the last 10 years and this part of the country. He would have to wait for start of business to get the older ones and those from the east coast.
He had hoped that having the other cases would shed some light on what he was looking at, but it only made him more confused. One was a mother of two, another a history professor at a community college, then a crack head, and yet another high school senior. There was absolutely no pattern to his choice of victims. Some mere months apart, some years. Detective Fate ran his hand through his deep brown hair, causing it to stand up in all kinds of strange ways.
He tabled all the things he didn’t know for now. What he did know was that he had a serial killer on his hands, and that meant FBI. He could not stop the audible groan. Those goons from the FBI field office were insufferable jerks with god complexes. They did more harm than good to an investigation, but procedure mandated their involvement. Tipping back in his chair and loosening his tie, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine what this perp might look like.
After a few moments, all he got was a cross between Freddy Kruger and Michael Myers. He sat forward with a smirk on his face. He was tempted to draw up a flyer about a crispy guy with butcher knives for fingers. The Feds would love it. Sometimes it was his odd sense of humor that got him through. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day. Between filling in his boss, visiting the morgue, and awaiting the goon squad. Now would be his only chance for sleep. With that in mind, he groggily made his way to the lounge. Within moments of his head hitting the lumpy worn cushion, he was fast asleep.