Chapter 3

Gabe had no idea of how right he was.

A chair went flying across the room, followed by an orange streak as Buddha ran from the room. A vase followed, shattering in a burst of colored glass as it crashed against the wall. Papers flew as he pushed mail and dishes off the breakfast bar, a lamp crashed against the refrigerator, shards of pottery raining down onto the kitchen linoleum. He stood, chest heaving, his eyes tracking the room and taking in the damage he had caused as rage flared through his system.

He forced himself to be still, forced his mind to calm as he had when he was young. That little voice, the one that had stood him in good stead as a child talked to him now. "We'll get even, she'll see us, don't worry. She'll love us," it whispered quietly. "Take care of business, take care of now. Soon."

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. With a smile, he turned towards the stairs, his next gift waited for him down there. And this gift was sure to get her attention.

He opened the basement door, pulling the heavy panel closed behind him. The screams started as soon as he turned on the light switch. He stood for a moment, enjoying the sound, letting it soothe him even more than the voice ever could have.

Starting down the stairs, he could see into the small plastic cube approximately half the size of the other room he'd always used. But that room was for Kaylee, he wouldn't let this one ruin one thing that was to be Kaylee's. Instead, the cube was shorter, barely tall enough for a woman to stand.

She was sitting in a chair, tied to the arms and legs with long thick plastic zip ties. The ties had rubbed into her skin, leaving deep wounds in the flesh of her wrists and ankles. Blood had dripped onto the floor around her. She was naked, vulnerable and fear shone in her eyes.

"Please, let me go," she begged as soon as she saw him. "I won't tell, I promise. Please, God." Her voice was muffled from the plastic, coming to him from the holes drilled across the top of the plastic cube.

He pulled open the door and went inside, dropping to his knees which put him at just about the same height as the girl in the chair. He came closer, staring into her eyes, letting his fingertips run across her arm and up to her shoulder. She tried to pull away, gasping at the pain in her wrist from the movement. His hand tangled in the snarled and matted hair just above her ears. It was the wrong color, sandy blonde, and cut short.

He pulled his hand back, taking her head with it until her throat was a tender and defenseless arched line, her pulse beating madly, pulsing against her pale skin. He leaned closer, feeling her shaking as his mouth touched that throbbing pulse. His tongue slipped out, licking at the salty tang of sweat her struggles and fear had left upon her skin, savoring the taste of her terror.

His eyes roamed over her naked body, eyeing the slightly sagging breasts, the scar that bisected her flabby stomach. Her sex was covered in light blonde wisps of hair, her frame so different from the taut, tawny bodies of the girls that he had loved.

He let his eyes show his disgust. She was nothing like his normal prey, so unworthy of his attentions. If only she hadn't done and said what she had that day, he wouldn't have ever even seen her. But she was here now, here and his to do with what he wished.

His hand slid down her front, cupping her breast even as she whined and tried to pull away from him. His fingers pulled at her nipple, tugging and twisting gently. It hardened under his ministrations, making him laugh. "Look at you." He laughed derisively. "You're like the rest of them. You fight and fight but your bodies crave my touch. In the end, you'll beg me, just like the rest of them did."

He moved away, leaving the cube and going to a small dresser off to the side of the room. After fumbling through a drawer, he returned, a brush in his hands. He carefully brushed the mats and tangles out of her short blonde hair, brushing it gently away from her face. Every time she would try to pull away, he would turn the brush, using it like a paddle on her arms and legs, raising bright red welts across her skin.

He finally finished, putting the brush handle side down inside the back pocket of his jeans. He moved around so that he faced her, using his hands to stroke over the smooth strands. He wiped the tears from under her eyes with his thumbs, smiling gently. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out a long trail of bright red silk ribbon. He wrapped it around her hair, tying it deftly into a bow and then moving the bow so that it lay just above her left ear.

The girl, sobs racking her form, tried to hold still for him. She prayed silently through her tears, begging God to help her. When her captor moved away once more, she prayed that he would leave, that he would go away like he had before. Even sitting in the chair, cold, scared and having to pee was better than having his eyes on her body, the disgust he felt evident. It was better than having his hands on her.

When he turned, she screamed. His face had changed, it was no longer kind or disgusted, now his eyes had grown hard and cold. He pulled off his clothes, grabbing her hips and dragging her forward in the chair, twisting the ties around her ankles so they bit even deeper in to her abused flesh. He plunged into her dry sex and as his hands closed around her throat, his body ripping into hers, she begged.

Kaylee sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Her day off had gone by far too fast and she was due in to the restaurant early this morning. Lucky her, she was doing prep with Devon. Another sigh slipped from her as she walked across the deserted parking lot to the back door. It was just one more little jab from Devon at her, forcing her to come in this early in the morning to work with her.

But she needed this job. She had bills to pay, rent due and she happened to like eating on a regular basis. So if she needed to kiss up to dragon queen Devon to keep her job, then so be it. She would.

As she drew closer, she noticed something strange. The employee entrance, also used for deliveries, was wide open, the door propped with a block.

Kaylee's step slowed. Devon never left that door open, she was almost anal about locks and security, keeping things safe and the health department off of their case. She looked around the lot, her eyes searching out the shadows. The only two cars were hers, retrieved from the crime lab yesterday, and Devon's. It was almost eerily quiet.

"Devon?" she called softly, looking in the open door. Everything looked okay to her. The door opened into the back hallway. Two doors opened from that hall, one going into the locker room that everyone used, the other going into the manager's office. The door to the office stood open.

Kaylee took a couple hesitant steps in. "Devon?" she called once more. "Where are you?"

Her heart was racing, she knew something was wrong. She knew it. She could feel it. Two more quiet steps forward and she could see just inside the manager's office. It wasn't a big room, more like a closet with a desk and a safe. Extra tills were stacked on a shelf off to one side. A chair sat in front of the desk, empty.

Kaylee took the last step that put her in front of the door. A gasp of horror escaped her lips as she stared at the figure sitting behind the desk. She backed away from the door slowly, turning and running out of the building, her hand digging through her purse, frantically looking for her cell phone. She hurried to her car, unlocking it quickly and sitting in the driver's seat before dialing 911.

She was still sitting there, on the phone with the 911 operator when the first police cruiser pulled up, lights flashing. One officer came toward her as she opened her car door.

"She's inside, in the office. She's dead. I know she's dead." She knew she was babbling and hysterical but she was terrified.

"Okay, ma'am. Did you see anyone else inside the building?" As she shook her head, he waved her back. "Sit back in your car and don't move." The officer moved towards the building, pulling his duty weapon as he went, his partner standing off to the side of the door. They went in together, one low the other high. She heard one of them call out. "Police!"

Two more cruisers showed up in short order and she was escorted to one of them and given a seat in the back. She watched as an officer taped off the area. Police went in and out of the restaurant, but no one came and talked to her.

Just as she was about to open the door and find someone, an unmarked car pulled up and Gabe stepped out of the driver's side. Another man stepped out of the passenger side and they both walked up to one of the uniformed officers. He gestured towards the cruiser that she was sitting in and Gabe nodded, talked a few more moments and then headed her way.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly as he opened the cruiser door.

"Devon's dead, he killed her, the maniac with the red ribbons. And he left her for me to find, Gabe." She felt panicked tears slip down her cheeks and wiped them away with furious hands. She was scared and she hated herself for being scared. But she was also mad. "Why would he kill Devon? She doesn't have dark hair and she's so much older than his other victims."

"You've thought this through, haven't you?" Gabe asked, crouching down in front of the door to be at her height.

"I've been sitting in a car for over an hour, Gabe. I didn't have much more to do than think. It's like the box in my car. He's leaving things for me to find." She held her bag close to her stomach, wrapping her arms over it, huddling into herself. "How he knew my schedule, I don't know. All I do know is he left her there for me to find, he's following me and watching me. Do you believe me now?"

Gabe pushed the dark hair off his forehead and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, looking at it and then putting it back in with a sigh. "I don't know anything yet, Kaylee. I've got to go work the scene. I need you to stay put here and then I'll be back to talk to you in a little while." He patted her on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

A car pulled in, a man in a suit getting out and storming towards one of the officers. Gabe saw him, gave Kaylee one last reassuring smile and then went to head him off.

"I'm sorry sir, this is a crime scene and you can't be here."

"My name is Tyler Wentworth. I own this restaurant." The older man puffed out his chest and tried to stare Gabe down. "I want to know what's going on here. Do you know what all this hullabaloo is going to do to business?"

He stood his ground. "Mr. Wentworth, I don't have all the facts yet. When I do, I'll be happy to let you know all the pertinent data. Until that time," he grabbed the man by the shoulder, "if you could go and talk to that man over there," he pointed towards the man he'd brought with him, Detective Alan Scott. "He'll have some questions for you."

The crime scene team along with the coroner's van showed up as he was talking. Gabe pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, pulling them on as he turned toward the back door of the building.

Walking inside, he could smell a strong scent of cleaner. Under it, the unmistakable smell of death mixed with the scent of cooking from the kitchen area. The tiles on the floor gleamed, and he stepped to the side of the door, hugging the wall of the hallway. Tile floors were excellent for lifting shoe prints, as long as the killer hadn't cleaned behind himself.

He found himself in the entryway to the office, staring at the victim's body. Devon Basset sat behind the desk, her body dressed garishly in clothing that was too tight for her heavier body. Her face had been made up, bright blue eye makeup covered her eyes, harshly red blush streaked her pale cheeks, and garishly scarlet lipstick covered her lips and smeared over her skin.

Her blonde hair was brushed back and a red ribbon tied in a bow just above her ear. A red halter bit into her ample breasts. She was propped up behind the desk, tied to the chair behind her. One glance sent a chill down Gabe's spine. Kaylee was right, if this was the same man, Devon definitely wasn't his normal choice in victims, being twenty years older than the oldest of the first five victims. She was also heavier and with hair the wrong color.

Gabe moved into the room, cautiously. There was a sheet of paper on the desk, a pen lying lax in Devon's hands that were resting upon the paper. From what he could see on the paper, an almost illegible scrawl had written two words. "I'm Sorry."

"Sorry for what, Devon?" Gabe asked aloud.

The coroner came in, stepping to the other side of Gabe. "Oh my," he said as he got his first glance. "Someone really has a problem with women."

"Or with this woman," Gabe said. "How you doing, Mitch?"

Doctor Mitch Vetnor was their coroner, thirty two years old and a huge player of practical jokes. But he took his job and his patients seriously. "Doing good, Gabe. Was better before I saw this but..." Mitch shrugged. He reached around, feeling for a pulse. "Welp, she's definitely dead."

"Funny, Mitch, now tell me something I don't know."

Mitch moved around to the other side of the body. He carefully moved part of her hand. "She's just coming out of rigor. I'd say time of death was yesterday sometime, very early." He moved her head to the side slightly, exposing deep puffy bruises, caused by fingers. "I'd say cause of death was suffocation. And from the look of the bruises and the way they ring her neck," he looked up at Gabe, "I'd say she was strangled until she was unconscious and then brought around so that he could do it over and over."

"Shit," Gabe hissed.

"Yeah. I'll be able to give you more at my post after I open her up. This is one sick fuck, Gabe." Mitch stepped back as the crime scene analysts showed up at the door. "I'll get out of your way, tell me when I can take the body." He walked out.

Kiley Ames and Brandon Staples from the crime lab, each carrying a metal case, Kiley with a camera around her neck, stopped just inside of the door.

"Jeez," Kiley breathed. She sat down her case and lifted up her camera, taking duplicate overalls of the entire room before taking pictures of the note, the pen just lying on Devon's hands. "I thought our guy was into brunettes? Escalating?"

"Or making a statement." Gabe leaned over, staring down at the paper. "I wonder what he wanted her to be sorry about."

"We'll get it printed right away, Gabe. He's got to start making mistakes soon. They always do, sooner or later." Brandon lifted the note in his latex covered hands and slid it carefully into an evidence bag. The pen went into another. He sealed the bags and slipped them into another bag.

"Kiley, get some pictures of her wrists." He moved out of the way, holding her arms out slightly so that the ligature marks could be plainly seen.

Gabe stared down at her bare legs, seeing the same torn and bruised skin around her ankles. Large gashes, made by something very hard and tight that she struggled against ringed her ankles. Ropes caused bruises, burns and chafing marks. These ligature marks looked more like something made with plastic or wire.

Blood had run in streaks down her legs, drying on her pale skin. Gabe felt a surge of unprofessional rage well inside of him. Murder was dirty; it was a cheap thrill for a sick mind. Crimes of passion were more easily understood, rage could affect anyone. But a serial killer was like a sick dog. He killed for the thrill, for the joy, for the pleasure that he derived from someone else's pain.

And a man who would take a young woman away from her family for no other reason than his own personal perversions was the worse. That's what they were up against here.

"Get me results quick as you can, okay?" he touched dark haired Kiley on the shoulder. "And be careful. I don't want to come to a scene like this and find you."

Kiley tapped the Glock strapped to her side. "He wouldn't find me an easy victim, Gabe, but thanks for caring." She smiled and turned back to her work as Gabe slipped out of the room.

Kaylee sat up straighter when she saw Gabe walk out of the restaurant door. Tears streaked her cheeks and her head throbbed from stress and crying. She gave him a tremulous smile as he walked up to the car door.

"This is my fault, isn't it?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"No, this isn't your fault, Kaylee, how could you think that?" He crouched down in front of her. "A killer took her, he murdered her. It's his fault, not yours."

"But he left me that box, didn't he? He broke into my car and left that box. He took her and killed her. He must be watching me. So it is my fault she's dead." Tears slipped down her cheeks despite her best effort to stop them.

"Listen to me, Kaylee. You didn't do anything to attract him. This isn't your fault. You've got to believe that, okay?"

"Okay," she said, but he heard the doubt in her voice.

"I need to get a statement from you. I'm going to have you taken downtown. I want you to wait for me there."