The Halloween Killer

Chapter 1



The pale moonlight fell on a long figure, quickly walking down a lone, abandoned street. The wind was almost nonexistent on the cool October night, although the man’s coat fluttered around his ankles. He paused at the entrance to a seedy motel and flagged a taxi. It was then that the man’s features were finally seen for the first time. His cold, blue eyes radiated in the glow of the nearby streetlamp. His scruffy chin perhaps defined the rest of his face, or maybe it was that twisted smile. His long greasy hair, which he took no interest in maintaining, hung loosely over his shoulders. He wore no expression, only a blank stare. The cabdriver took a glance at the suspicious-looking man as he whispered a location into his ear, as if not to be overheard. The yellow cab took off into the night.

His name was Jesse Cain, and when the cabdriver, who went by the name Paul, first saw him, the creepy smile he wore was almost eerie, as if he had just done something sinister. There was nothing about him that forwarded any message of good intentions. In every way, that twisted smile was simply disturbing. As the cabdriver finished the route and dropped Jesse off at his location, Jesse reached into his pocket and removed a fifty dollar bill, and whispered, “Keep the change.” Paul thought for a moment. That’s a little unusual. But without a moment’s hesitation, he took the extra tip and shoved it into his pocket, as if it were a time bomb with a fuse that might soon explode. Jesse then left the cab and walked up the street. He carried a large bulging bag with him, which Paul began to wonder about, before he was out of sight.

Jesse quickened his pace up the sidewalk, and although the night was fairly dark, he easily slipped into the clown costume he had packed in the large bag. Almost no one was still out collecting candy from neighboring houses, a good sign. He handled the heavy bag once more, and played with the serrated knife in his pocket, taking a moment to examine it before replacing it in his pocket. He walked up to a well-lit house and rang the doorbell. Then, he waited.

A young blonde woman answered the door. “Trick-or-treat!” Jesse said as pleasantly as he could. The girl retreated just inside to get the candy. Removing the knife from his pocket, he stealthily found his way inside the house. He quietly crept toward where the woman was hovering over the bowl of candy, still deciding what to give him. He slipped the knife to her throat, simultaneously covered her mouth and then whispered, “Scream, bitch, and I’ll kill you.” He quietly closed the door behind him and forced the girl back inside the empty house.

         The girl was straining to remove herself from his grip, but Jesse was too powerful for her. Although she was petite for a woman her age, she was fairly strong and she kept trying to claw at his hands, his face, anything she could reach. He dragged her up a flight of stairs to the next floor. When he reached the landing, he found a door and tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Growing angry, he kicked the door several times before it collapsed under the force of his fourth attempt. It was a bathroom. That’ll be god for later, he thought. He kept walking down the hall until he came to another door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open and threw the girl onto a bed. Very calmly, he said, “If you want to live, you better be right there when I get back.” The girl didn’t move.

         Jesse walked down the stairs and went into the kitchen, hoping he could find something to tie her with. He rummaged through the empty drawers, finding nothing. He wandered through a doorway and found himself in an office-like room. Perfect. He searched the drawers of a desk sitting in the corner, and found a large roll of duct tape. He took the roll with him as he walked back up the stairs, and as he swaggered up the stairs, said, “You better be up there little girl, because if you’re not, I’ll find you.” He found the door to the room he’d placed her in, and to his surprise she wasn’t there. For a moment, it looked like he was having a seizure, then he found the knife in the pillowcase and left the room with murder in his eyes.

         He walked as quietly as he could. It was almost easy as he silently crept across the hallway carpet. As he came to a new door, he carefully pushed it open so it wouldn’t creak. He searched each room from top to bottom. He could not find her. But he didn’t worry. He knew he would. He had been through every door except one. The bathroom. Quietly, he crept across the tile floor, and when he sensed her fear, he threw open the shower curtain, where the girl was quivering and sobbed, “Please don’t kill me. Please. I-I-I’ll do anything. Take what you want. Please. Just don’t kill me.” Jesse laughed. She was becoming even more hysterical now. He stroked the blade in his hand. She could sense the end coming now. “Please,” she begged, “just don’t hurt me.” Jesse held the knife high over his body as he plunged it down into her chest. Again. And again. And again. The girl didn’t move.

         He carefully washed the stab wounds and then looked at himself. The clown costume he wore was now covered in a pool of crimson red blood. He took it off, planning to burn it later. He carried the girl’s lifeless body back down the hall, into the bedroom he’d been in before, and placed it on the bed. She looks kinda pretty now, he thought. And then he was overcome with an urge, and took her clothes off of her body, doing the same to himself. He taped her wrists and feet together, and then caressed her breasts, touching himself at the same time. He then lay on top of her body, kissing her breasts and touching her everywhere he could think of. Then he was ready. He slid his penis inside her, and began to have sex with her dead body. When he was finished, he put his street clothes back on and then stuffed the girl’s body in the pillowcase. He cleaned up and then left the house undisturbed.

NYPD captain Ron Burgundy was having a nice meal at the local diner with a few of his crew members. Halloween was usually a quiet night, except for the one or two jokesters who did the usual vandalism a warning would fix. He ordered the half-pound Sirloin and the IBC Root Beer he’d come to order every night he visited. The decorated police officer was not surprised when his phone rang during the meal. No details were given, just a location. The caller, a fellow member of the policing unit, said it was urgent. Burgundy left a nice tip, gathered up the team, and left the diner, where Jesse Cain sat a few feet away.

Burgundy knew the location well. The coffee shop he visited every morning before coming to the station was within three miles of the diner. He arrived there in less than twelve minutes. Prepared for the worst, he was not entirely surprised when a white sheet was lifted, and he was looking at the body of a young blonde female victim, completely naked with both of her breasts removed. No sign of clothing was found near the scene, and she carried no identification. Her chest had been stabbed repeatedly; her mouth had been taped. Her hands and feet had also been secured with duct tape. “Any leads?” Burgundy asked his investigators. One shook his head. There had not been any trace evidence found anywhere, although the woman did look like she had been raped at some point recently. The paramedics came and placed her on a stretcher, but she was already dead.

As Jesse Cain watched the police crew leave the diner, he carefully walked out, carrying his bag with him. Luckily he had been able to change back into regular street clothes before he’d gone there, otherwise he’d look suspicious, he thought. He walked out to the curb and pointed his thumb in the air, hoping someone would give him a ride up north somewhere. An approaching car flashed its blinker and pulled over. The driver rolled down his window. Then he said, “Hey pal. You need a lift somewhere?” Obviously, he was very friendly, Jesse thought. “Yeah if you could, uh, give me a ride let’s say, uh, up to the North side of Queens, that’d be great,” he told the man. The man nodded his head. It was only five minutes out of his way, how could he not help the poor guy, even if he did look a little frightening?

Jesse sat, stone-faced, in the front seat of the car. The driver started talking to him, trying to relieve his uneasiness about the guy he’d just offered a ride to. “So, uh, where you from?” he asked him. Startled at first, Jesse said, “Well, my momma raised me up in Brooklyn, but when I got outta there, I moved to Queens,” he lied. “Oh really,” the man said, “My sister lives up in Queens. What part you in now?” Jesse paused for a moment, and then continued, “Well I’m up on the North side, cause I got a job at the fish market right down the road.” The man shook his head, “Must be a lousy job, but hey, it’s money,” he finished. Then the man stopped the car, and Jesse picked up his bag, thanked the man, and handed him a fifty dollar bill. Just after Jesse was out of sight, the man thought, Wait. There’s no fish market around here. Why would he lie to me? But he thought nothing more of it as he drove home, five blocks from where Jesse’s next victim would be.

Jesse smiled ominously as the man drove away. This was all too easy. He let out a long, jeering laugh. He crouched behind a row of shrubbery and changed back into the clown costume. He checked to see if anyone was around again. The street was deserted. There were neighbors, certainly, but there was no reason for them to be involved. Silently, he stole onto the driveway of a nearby house. This will be quick, he promised himself. With the mask covering his face, he walked up to the door and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. He waited.

A moment passed. Then a tall, slender, brown-haired woman opened the door, her eyes showing signs of fatigue. “Trick-or-treat,” he said earnestly. As she turned her back to him to retrieve the candy, he slipped the knife out of the bag and pushed it to her throat. She gagged, and the blade cut her a little. He held her tightly, then whispered, “If you scream, honey, it’ll be the last thing you do.” There was no struggle. The woman was no match for Jesse, and once he forced his way inside, he closed the door and pulled her inside.

She was much too tired to put up a fight. Jesse was now becoming brutal; he yanked the woman by her hair when she slowed down. Noise was coming from another room. It sounded like a man. He quickly shoved the knife in her face and ordered her not to say anything. He peeked into the room. A television set was left on, but no one was in the room. She had been listening to the weather. He then screamed at her for scaring him like that, and became physical. He slapped her face repeatedly, bruising her cheekbone. He threw her into the doorframe, and hit her with his open hands. Finally, he made her lie down on the sofa and took off her clothes. Seizing the duct tape from his pillowcase, he immediately taped her mouth shut, then her hands together. She was pleading to him with her eyes. As his eyes met hers, he bent over to kiss her chest. Everywhere. He worked his way down to her genital area, and then the duct tape on her wrists slipped. She backhanded him across the face. Overcome with a sudden rage, he beat the woman senseless. He delivered blow after blow, until she could no longer defend herself. When she had lost consciousness, he removed the knife once again and plunged it into her chest three times. Then he began to rape her unmoving body. When he finished with her, he cleaned himself up and then shoved the limp body into the pillowcase, and left the house. He found his way inside the garage, put the pillowcase in the trunk, and drove off into the night.

Ron Burgundy was getting exhausted, but he knew that he couldn’t always go home when he wanted to. Twelve years on the job taught him that. He was the longest-tenured member of the NYPD squad, and just last year he was minted the new chief. How funny he thought it was sometimes that he had become a police officer. He remembered being a teenager. How rebellious he had been. He’d been arrested more than once for drinking, using drugs, and vandalizing his high school. But that was before his parents forced him to enroll in the Marines. He’d served his country for ten years and when he came back, he was a completely different person. His parents marveled at the drastic changes. He was honorably discharged, and then he served as a security guard for three toy companies, before undergoing training with the NYPD. He loved being a cop; he just didn’t always like the paperwork he had to do sometimes. He was finishing up the remaining forms when his phone rang for the second time that night. They’d found another body.

Burgundy got to the Shining Motel as quickly as he could. It was a seedy place, to be sure, run by an elderly couple. But he wasn’t there for a reservation. A deputy led him into the back of the motel, by a dumpster. There, a large group of officers and medics surrounded a white sheet. Burgundy identified himself and then lifted the white sheet. He took a look at the young woman and then asked, “What happened here?” A squad member briefed him up. “Well, Tony over here went to take the trash out, and he saw a human hand hanging on the edge of the dumpster. He pulled on it and yanked down the body of this young woman. No leads. We already talked to Tony, and his daughter Sheila, who works there, verified his story.” Burgundy nodded, and then looked at the woman again. Those slash marks on her chest looks strikingly familiar as he remembered the last victim he’d seen that night. She had duct tape burns on her wrists and ankles, and marks over her mouth. Could the same person be responsible for both deaths?  he asked himself. It sure looked like it, but with no solid leads, he couldn’t persecute a case yet. He’d leave it up to the coroner to figure it out for him. She would examine both victims tomorrow. No one knew when the killer would strike again.

It was Saturday morning. Jesse decided that he’d had enough fun last night, but he would need to stay low for a while. The cops could already be onto him. It was doubtful, but he still had to take it easy for a little while. He took a beer out of the fridge and went into the parlor. He put the television on, and turned it to the local news. The cops found the bodies. He’d wanted them to, anyway. What they couldn’t do was identify the dead women. Jesse smiled. They would, sooner or later, but he could be out of here by then. The news station was now concentrating on a destructive fire that burned out an old factory building. But he was happy enough. He’d gotten his recognition, even though he was the only one to know that.

He watched television for a little while longer before he decided to take a nap. It was a good nap, to be sure, but when he woke up, he was more tired than ever, which usually happened to him. He checked the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly two in the afternoon. He had nothing to do for the rest of the day, so he went outside to take a walk. He strolled down to the bus station, where he took a ride to the park. It was a pleasant November morning, despite it being chilly outside. Jesse pulled his jacket a little closer around him as he watched all the little girls running after each other and imagined himself killing each and every one of them, and he pictured the misery he would see on their parents’ faces. He let out a cruel laugh before he took a walk back to the main part of town, bought himself some dinner, and went home.





Chapter 2



Dr. Campbell Brown examined the body of the blonde woman, discovered first. She appeared to be very young, perhaps a college student. She looked to be of average height, with warm, blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Dr. Brown looked at the three stab wounds on her chest, made by a sharp blade that easily pierced through the skin and punctured the woman’s lungs. She determined that the woman had been dead less than twenty-four hours because the rigor-mortis factor had yet to affect the body. Scarring in the woman’s genital area indicated rape, but there was no semen found in her body. This was certainly an odd case. The only scenario Dr. Brown could come up with was that the woman had been killed first, and then raped. Her breasts had been removed with the same sharp cutting tool that had been used to kill her. Without any identification, it would be hard to identify her, but with her dental records, she finally determined that the woman was 21-year-old Jessica Edwards, who had not yet been reported missing.