LOOK INTO THE EYES OF EVIL CHAPTER 4

www.author2ubooks.ning.com

CHAPTER 4



Special Agent in Charge John Reeves smiled, and then shook their hands. "That was a great collar you made last night, guys," he said.
"Thank’s boss," Marc grinned and dropped his six foot, one hundred eighty-five pound frame on a chair.
"Williams' is being extradited to Texas," John added.
Marc’s grin disappeared. "Now you had to go and spoil it for me," he said.
"He has more urgent warrants in Texas, then here. On serious charges, I mind you."
"Well, how about attempted murder?" Marc said, and pointed at his head.
John just stood there, with his eyebrows pulled together, as if he had a headache. His silver gray hair gleamed in the sunlight, that reflected from the window. His fists dug into his sides.
"I know, I know, Marc. I'm not saying, he won't be charged. The prosecutor's are ready to try him for the three counts of kidnapping and murder. The families need closure. Now! This is a special request from the director to let them go ahead and extradite him."
Marc growled, but his blue eyes softened. He knew the kids were the real victims here. Williams had to be brought to justice for the killings.
"He’ll get the death penalty for what he’s done," Chris chimed in.
Marc finally put his hands up in the air, and surrendered. "Too bad they can execute him only once," he grumbled.
"All right then, the subject is closed. He leaves on a flight this afternoon," John said, and then added, "You two got bigger fish to fry." John walked over to his desk, picked up two folders and handed each one.
Chris opened his, and almost dropped the contents. Photos peered out at him. He suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. A sickening feeling crawled into his gut, as he stared at a young woman’s nude body. Her hands were tied behind her back, bruises covered her entire torso. Blue fingertip marks where visible around her neck. Deep cuts on her chest and breasts told of a vicious attack. The killer had also savagely slashed her throat.
The scene looked too damn familiar. Chris took a deep breath, and then looked up at his boss.
"I don’t have to tell you what this means," John said. He sat down in his chair, and waited for a response from either one of them.
The scenario was definitely one they had seen before. Marc and he had been hunting this animal for the last eight months. The Cutthroat serial killer, as he was dubbed by the Press was responsible for at least six murders so far. The first victim, Kelly Summers' strangled, raped and disemboweled body had been found in February by a jogger at Dearborn State Park. Jane Doe 1 was found three weeks later at the same park, left within five hundred feet of the first victim. Her body was so decomposed, identification would be nearly impossible.
The next victim, Theresa Slovich, was discovered four weeks after that at a construction site. She'd been suffocated and sexually assaulted as well. Two more victims were discovered in July, on the same day. Chris could still remember the chill he felt running down his spine, even though it was a steamy ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit that day. The way the bodies had been discarded, like trash, dumped onto the side of the road, twenty feet away from a busy highway, burned Chris up inside. Both, had their throats cut, and they also had been sexually assaulted. They still needed to I.D the women as yet.
Then, just as sudden as the killings had started, they stopped. Chris wondered if the killer had been caught for another offense, or possibly killed. He'd hoped for the latter.
Marc’s hands visibly shook, as he got up from his chair. His face had turned pale. He walked out of the office without a word.
Chris watched him leave. He knew exactly how Marc felt. Disappointed, disgusted and enraged. This madness was going to continue. They had no viable suspects at the moment, and it was driving them insane. They knew at least three of the victims had been killed by the same guy, because forensic evidence linked them through DNA.
Chris stared at John and held up one of the pictures. "Where did you get these?" he asked.
John opened his copy of the file, and then said, "They were sent to us. Stamped and post dated envelope with your name on it."
Chris stared shocked at him for several moments. John pulled out the envelope and showed it to him. "The envelope was metered and post dated the day before yesterday, the 16th of September, at the Western Avenue post office. It’s just a couple of blocks from here," John said.
"Son of a bitch..." slipped out of Chris` mouth as he shook his head.
"The envelope was brought to my attention by the mail room. It looked suspicious. There was no return address," John continued.
"Any prints?"
John sneered. "A hundred and one. Several sets from postal workers, and of course our mail room."
"No note with the photos?" Chris asked.
John shook his head, and then said, "Nothing."
"This definitely puts a new spin on the case. He takes his own pictures. Sick bastard probably keeps them as mementos."
"Not really uncommon for a serial killer, although, he must have developed the pictures himself. There’re no trace numbers on the back,” John said with a sigh. “We should be able to find out where the same kind of photo paper is sold in this area. It’s a start."
Chris stared at the photo again. "Look’s like she’s lying in the woods. He dumped two of his previous victims in the woods. Maybe we need to search Dearborn State Park again?"
John shook his head in disagreement, and said, "We don’t have the man power for such an undertaking. Not on a hunch anyway. We’ll have to wait until she surfaces somewhere."
Chris couldn’t hide his disappointment, but, he knew John was right. Dearborn State Park was a 5000 acre, heavily wooded area. It would be a miracle if they would find anything, conducting a ground to ground search.
"I wonder, if he’s going to send us pictures from now on?" John said. Chris nodded his head deep in thought. He could think of only one reason why the killer would’ve sent the pictures: The killer's ego. He thrived on the power of being in charge. The photos screamed: `Look, at what I’ve done. Catch me, if you dare! `
It was definitely intended as an insult, and Chris took it as such.
"Are you all right?" John asked, and studied the agent’s face.
"Yeah, I need to get out of here," Chris said, distracted. He stuffed the photos back into the folder, and then rose from his seat. He headed for the door.
"I’ll talk to you later, John."
"Chris," John stopped him. "I’ll leave it up to you, if and when you want to divulge this information to the media."
"If we circulate her face on the news now, we might get an I.D. on her, and by chance get a step closer to the killer."
"All right, I’ll take care of the media," John answered. He picked up the phone, and waved at Chris. "Go on, it’s done. You got more important things to do."

*

Marc sat at his computer and hammered away on his keyboard, when Chris walked into the office. Marc ignored his partner and continued to stare at the computer screen.
Chris taped the newest picture of the dead woman to the chalk board, next to the others, and then dropped onto his chair. The eerie silence in the room nagged at him, but there wasn’t really anything he could say, that would make the situation any better. They were still in the same predicament. They needed answers to move this investigation forward.


This novel is now available on www.ebay.com here:

http://myworld.ebay.com/peach1212