06/27/2023
FIRST COMES MURDER
* Chapter 1
I just killed, as simple as that. There is anticipation for the next, but I know not to move too quickly. I put it to paper and yet it still seems so surreal. I’m writing down my thoughts, not for anyone to read but as preparation for the next step. If someone should read this then they can follow in my footsteps.
I feel so exhilarated and my skin is tingling. I’ve waited years for this. One might think that I sound like a fanatic or a deranged psychopath because I have no sense of guilt. Then again, why should I? Guilt is just something to make us feel bad and why should I feel that? Not for those who I eradicate. If they die, then it was meant to be.
I learned early that people expected me to react to distressing situations, so I did. But silently inside, it felt good, even exciting. I did it and couldn’t wait for the next gratification. It was like stealing for the first time and getting caught. My parents said it was a child’s prank and it was wrong. The only thing wrong was getting caught. I made plans, even at my young age, knowing where all the cameras were and who Security was. Stealing became too easy and I wanted something more. I was studious about what it took to be superior.
My parents thought I was an upstanding if not calmest, child. I excelled in school and didn’t find it very challenging. I had few friends. But they too thought I was respectable. I knew not to show too much of myself. I told everyone that I was into art and liked the privacy of my work. I would throw paint on paper and call it abstract art and no one questioned it. It gave me time to be alone.
There were few homes in the neighborhood where I lived, surrounded by a wooded area. I would go into the woods and find things to cut. I liked the way the worm or insect would squirm. I would see how many slices it took for the creature to die. The only problem was that it didn’t scream. I wanted to hear the sounds, to watch their eyes, blacken and shine with fear, the last second between life and death. The creatures that did scream excited me.
I didn’t know what the feeling was until one day a cat came into my view. The cat was a mixed bread with long hair and so soft. Her coat had dots of colors black, white, and brown. She was friendly and came to me. Her soft paws crackled the leaves with each step in anticipation. I sat on the ground and she rubbed against me and then rounded my body, all the while purring. I just watched for a few minutes as she looked up at me as if asking me to cut her. I picked her up and she purred in the croup of my neck.
I remembered that I had a bagel in my backpack and took it out and tore off a piece and handed it to the cat. She smelled it and then took it hungrily. I watched her eat and she seemed grateful. She put her paws on my arm and investigated my hand hoping for more. I tore off another piece and gave it to her, and then I took a bite.
I watched her wondering if it would be so easy with a human. I laid down the rest of the bagel and untied my shoes. I took off each one slowly. I tied one of the laces around the neck of the cat. She didn’t put up with a fuss, too busy eating. Just before she was done, I tied the other end to a small branch that was close to the ground. She started to struggle and I could see the look in her eyes that told me she wasn’t sure what was happening.
I pulled her down onto her back and rubbed her belly, it calmed her down. Then I took the other lace and tied up her one paw. It wasn’t until I tried to take her other paw in my hand that she struggled. She started to meow and scratch. I almost gave up trying to tie her down; I had to lay my one leg down on her back legs. I wanted to hit her, she hurt me. My arms were all scratched up and starting to bleed. The need to cut her was growing.
I finally got her other paw tied with the end of the lace and wrapped it above her head to the branch, so her arms were stretched. She was still squirming and crying out. My senses felt heightened and every nerve in my body tingled. I looked around and wondered if anyone else heard her cry. There seemed to be silence everywhere but from the cat. I touched her belly and felt a surge of thrill run throughout my body.
I listened again for anyone near the woods and everything was quiet. Even now I can hear the little stream gurgling, as it flowed next to me. I pulled out the small pocketknife that I always carried and flipped it open. I touched the knife’s edge to the cat’s belly and calmness came over me and yet I felt something tingle in my lower region. The feeling was unnerving and yet I knew that I didn’t want to stop. With one hand I held down the cat by its upper chest area and again moved the knife slowly down its belly. I could feel the cat squirm in a nervous reaction. Now she was really putting up a fight and I felt a throbbing between my legs.
As she fought, I looked into her eyes to see the blackness and knowledge of what was going to happen. The damn cat got one leg free from under mine and tried to lurch away. It happened so quickly that I wasn’t fast enough to move my knife. I felt it getting into the cat. She screamed almost as a child would and the throbbing between my legs started pounding and all I knew was that I had to stick the knife further into the cat. It took several stabbings before she lay there quietly, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. I looked down at myself and knew that I had my first or**sm. It was so quick and yet so powerful.
I looked at the cat and stabbed it again, and again. It was almost like cutting into a melon. You can hear the tear as your knife goes in and then feel the soft center. A melon oozes out juices… no not juices; it’s the cat’s blood. I touched the blood and it was still warm and sticky on my fingers. I got into another rush and closed my eyes to take it all in. The memory… oh yes, the memory is so sweet.
“Damn it,” Marcus said. He felt his lunch moving around in his stomach. He tried to think of something else but it wasn’t any good. A case never got to him like this one. He should be used to it by now, being in homicide for six years. He looked over at his partner, with a questionable stare.
“So, what do you think Leslie?” Marcus asked after reading a portion of the story out loud to her.
Leslie studied Marcus and thought that his handsome face was now marred with a look of disgust. She’d worked with Marcus for a little over a year now and thought that he never lost his cool. This was a new side to him. If it wasn’t such a horrible case she would make a comment, however, she too was finding it hard to get the image of the cat out of her head.
“It still doesn’t tell us much. At least this sounds like the pretenders' first journal. How did we get this one?” Leslie inquired.
“It was found in a wooded area. Some kids were playing and saw something shining in the lower trunk of a tree. It was a metal box with a lock. The kids took it home and were trying to open it when one of the mothers found them. She called the police, afraid that there could be something illegal inside. The local police checked out the area and said it didn’t look like anyone had been in the area for a while, except the kids. The box was old and worn and even had moss growing on it. We got it because of being the largest city around. They hoped that we had more resources to check into it. I don’t think they knew what they found and were too lazy to check into it, so passed it off to us.” Marcus said dryly.
“I’m not sure if we were supposed to find the books or not. The first one could have been a lucky fluke, but the one we have was hidden and locked. If it wasn’t for the kids, it may never have been found. Did they check the homes in the area?” Leslie quizzed.
“Yes, but no luck. There weren’t any homes in that area in ’97. The nearest town was forty-three miles away. They checked into that town but really didn’t have anything to do. When we get more information, they will check again.” Marcus said then paused. “The other journal was found by the side of a highway. The Oregon police assumed that it fell out of a vehicle because half of it was missing and the part, they had was damaged. If it wasn’t for the local chain gang doing clean up on the roadside, they might never have found it. They thought it was a joke until they found a significant amount of blood on one of the back pages. Later, when they found Mr. Lee, they matched the blood to him.” Marcus finished.
Marcus and Leslie were sitting in one of the interview rooms, going over the latest journal that showed up. Leslie was taking notes. They hoped that the pretender would give them some clue as to who he was. They didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. The notebooks were all printed in a mechanical technique and no mention of gender. The forensics team checked over the notebook before they received it and there wasn’t one fingerprint or fiber found, except dirt and grass stains. Marcus kept his head down not wanting to look at his partner, he needed to collect himself.
Marcus was young for a detective but two years older than his partner, Leslie. Leslie was still that enthusiastic type excited over every case. He felt much older than his age. He looked at each crime as if it were a case study. He knew that logic and gut instinct would supply an ending. He and his partner hadn’t solved every case but their percentages were good.
Marcus stood about five foot eleven, not tall, but his brooding good looks and broad shoulders commanded attention. He had dark brown hair, cut short at the nape of his neck in long layers that framed his green eyes. He prided himself on never losing control and now felt himself being pushed to the brink of anger. He always wore dark suits.
His outfit fit well for his meager pay. Leslie glanced at him and again wondered how he paid for the Hugo Boss suit. She knew that he was a straight-arrow and got the suit legally. Leslie turned her head hoping that he didn’t notice her staring.
Marcus knew that Leslie was staring, everyone did, but he rarely took notice. He knew Leslie, like others, wondered about his financial status. He grinned to himself and wondered why she never asked. He had a trust fund. Not that he wanted to tell anyone, but the expressions on people’s faces were all the same when they found out that his family was wealthy. Then the question always came up, “Why a cop?” He liked being a detective and, as droll as it may sound, he wanted to help people and knew he was good at it.
He glanced back at Leslie, she was a good partner, and he trusted her with his life. In this job, your partner was everything. She wasn’t only attractive but she was smart and complemented his techniques. She didn’t question him, as his bosses did. She always added her thoughts, and they were first-rate.
She stood around five foot-five and had a small but full-bodied frame. She kept her soft brown curly hair tied back, but curls always seemed to escape. Her green eyes matched his own. He never worried about her; she could handle herself along with the best of them.
Leslie dated as much as he did, which wasn’t often. The job commanded a lot of their time and they both were dedicated. He rarely thought of her as a woman, she was his partner, his friend. Marcus glanced down at her legs like he did on occasion and smiled to himself. He shook his head and pushed any thoughts away. They had a serious problem with this new case.
So far, they found part of a notebook and now know it had to be the second notebook. The other journal was in the same mechanical writing but with numerical code, more elaborate than this one. It took months for the other detectives in Oregon to break the code. When they did, they found Kenny Lee, of Portland. He went missing in 1997. He was Chinese and the owner of a restaurant in Little China.
They still didn’t know the identity of this predator. But one thing was certain, he was insane. Marcus knew after finding the first body the killer was on the level and not to be taken lightly.
The clues in their notebook were easy. This one was in a riddle or puzzle of some type and looked like it was just the tip of the iceberg. He was hoping that it was just a lark or a joke, but the brutality of Kenny’s killing was too real. He flipped through the journal and there were three other names listed.
The puzzles in this notebook seemed too simple in their design. They haven’t figured it out yet, but the second notebook was in numerical code and harder to crack. Marcus wondered if there were only two notebooks and did the missing pages from the second book included more murders? He picked up the notebook and started reading again.
Later, I found my calling in biology class; we would dissect bugs and then small animals. I excelled in this class and couldn’t wait for the next project. We received cats one day. While dissecting, I found out that my cat was pregnant. The only thing that would have made it better would have been for the cat to be alive. I watched the reaction of my classmates as they cooed and were awed. The sounds were so thrilling. I had to excuse myself and go into the bathroom. I relieved myself and went back to class. My teacher thought I was ill because of seeing the kittens; I just smiled and said nothing.
“Relieved himself. That’s a phrase that a man would use.” Marcus quoted.
“Okay, but it could be a woman and she wants to throw us off the track. Besides, women need relief too.” Leslie said with a quirky smile.
Marcus didn’t react; he kept his eyes on the notebook and flipped through the pages. “Take this down. This is the first clue of murder.” He said to Leslie.
the mountain rains
Where paradise is found
the boulders three arrive, Missy Grey,
“Phrank, check on a missing person, Missy Grey,” Marcus yelled at a fellow cop.
“Okay, got it, Missy Grey,” Phrank said, as he turned back to his computer.
“Okay, how many mountains are there? Mount St. Helen’s, Mount Olympus, Mount Baker…” Marcus was saying aloud.
“Also, Mount Shuksan, Mount Stuart, and Mount Rainier,” Leslie added.
“There’s Glacier Peak and Mount Adams,” Marcus interjected.
Phrank came over to Marcus’ desk and handed him a paper. “She’s real enough. Missy went missing in 1994, from a restaurant in Tacoma. The statement gathered said that she was a waitress and finished her shift as always. However, she never got home. She didn’t leave with anyone but her truck was found in the back. They assumed that she had a date but didn’t talk about it. There wasn’t a sign of a struggle.”
Marcus looked over at Leslie. “So, assuming that this is the first notebook, and this was the first murder, and that the other notebook was the second journal, it’s been eight years in between. There are two other clues with names in this book and we don’t have the other half of the second book. If he killed all five of these people then we now have a serial killer on our hands.”
Phrank listened to their exchange and realized that he was standing there unneeded, so walked back to his desk. Leslie looked up briefly and watched Phrank walk away; she gave Marcus a look that he didn’t notice.
“The clues seem so easy compared to the second book. I guess he thought that someone might find it and didn’t want to make it too easy. It shows growth, as he murdered and got away with it, he felt superior.” Leslie said more to herself than to Marcus.
“Well, Mount Rainer is closest to Tacoma and the word rain may be the clue given for Mount Rainer,” Leslie said.
“Where’s paradise or are they referring to the mountain as paradise?” Marcus questioned. He turned back to his computer and punched in some words and started reading. “There’s a Paradise Lodge and Paradise City, both near Mount Rainer.” He said aloud.
“Does it say anything about three boulders?” Leslie asked.
“No,” Marcus replied.
“I guess that means that we get to take a trip to both places and see if we can find those boulders or if the locals know anything about them,” Leslie said.
“Yes, I guess so. We need to make some phone calls first.” Marcus said.
While Marcus was on the phone with the Portland police department where the first notebook was found, Leslie was calling the Educational Donation Program that supplies animal cadavers. Marcus asked them to check all the high schools and colleges in the area. He wanted them to check if any had biology or zoology classes, where they dissected animals, before 1994. Leslie asked them to supply the names of schools where they supplied the animals. She asked them to fax a list to them and the Portland police. It was the best clue they had to go on. How many schools had these classes, hopefully not many?
On the way out, Leslie went to the Lieutenant’s office and told him where they were off.
