“Forsaken”

Out of the catacombs, a story of bloody proportions awaits my loyal fans! I have prepared a short tale for all who dare to proceed. A quick synopsis to titillate the taste buds.
A calling card written in blood is the signature for a killer roaming the hills of Cutter’s Pass. Detective Steve Creighton and his team have been assigned the grisly task to stop the madman at all cost. What they discover sends them on a manhunt, leading to one of their own. Will they be able to stop the one who calls himself Forsaken, before he quenches his taste for an inhumane delicacy? Only time will tell…
Without further ado, the first installment… (Remember, death is only a click away.)

The man placed the blade against his muscled chest; with one quick motion, a cascade of crimson stained the steel intruder. Pain never really meant much to him. It was an act of realization if anything. The new scar would join the others, in celebration of his next conquest. His upper torso was riddled with the reminders of all his wonderful victims. Today, while he was involved in his daily dose of fitness at Hensen’s Gym, he had acquired an unlikely target. Her name was Shanna Wilks. A tall toned redhead; who instructed the early bird yoga class. He was amazed by her blemish—free pearl skin. She reminded him of a ceramic doll, sitting on the shelf of an exquisite antique shop, more so, than something living.
Shanna wouldn’t be that too much longer. He reached into his pocket and removed a metallic holder. Running his fingers along the ridges comforted him. This was his ritual. The monogrammed letters stared back at him, beckoning him to withdraw the contents. The man removed a blank business card, careful not to drip blood on it prematurely. The smooth texture of the paper was just perfect to capture each stroke, as he positioned the knife at such an angle; none of the precious fluid was wasted.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. Almost time. The sound of chimes filled the car’s interior. He flipped open the console, and stared at the screen. “Shit, what now?” Taking a deep breath, he answered the annoyance. “Detective Creighton speaking.”
“Sir, sorry… I know it’s your day off, but we have something you need to see,” a soft voice apologized.
“Lydia, what’s going on?”
“It’s him again sir. He left us another calling card.”
Must be talking about Jessica. Ah, her blood was so sweet. “Where?” He playfully used his finger as a pen, as he scribbled in mid-air. He knew the location.
Lydia’s voice cracked. “2131 Providence Ave. Officer Davis and Beltz have the scene secured.”
I’m sure. “10-4, tell them I will be there in twenty. Clear on the other side of town,” he lied.
“Sure thing, sir.”
He slammed the phone shut. Why does everyone fuck with my time off? Glaring at the digital display of his watch, a crooked smile passed his lips. No worries, this won’t take long. He ran his thumb along the blade, and closed his eyes, as he devoured the sweet life juice. Ah, better than the last. Detective Creighton once again repositioned the blade against the thin cardboard, this time finishing his signature free from interruption. Perfect, simply perfect!
Creighton gently blew on the card, not wanting his creativity to be ruined by the natural way blood has the tendency to flow. Satisfied, he stepped from the dark unmarked cruiser. He weaved throughout a cluster of bushes and foliage, until he was at the scene of his “work”. Strapped between two saplings, was the torn body of a young woman. The fresh carcass had already begun to attract the creatures of nature, as they clawed through the flesh, taking prize possessions from their latest meal. Creighton smelled the air and relished the moment. Pamela Abens had been way too easy. The twenty-something brunette simpleton, was a local whore, the town of Cutter’s Pass would not miss. Creighton had taken advantage of that fact; watching her get wasted in these woods on several occasions, and barely making it back to town. She had done it again tonight, but this time she was his. There would be no more apologies to her distraught parents for the gross error of judgment. Now, the earth would swallow her with welcome arms, and be a part of her for eternity. Creighton knelt down and placed the card just below where her feet. Always the same place, always…
Creighton glared at his watch. Shit, gotta go!
It was ironic to say the least, patrolmen waiting for him at the Providence location had no idea; a murderer was coming to take over their crime scene. Quite ironic indeed…

Forsaken…Finale?

The mass hysteria at the Cutter’s Police departmental offices had only escalated, as the Emergency Medical Technicians had gone through the motions, utilizing all the tools at their disposal, to bring the young female detective back from the grave. That of course, was a failure, and without a qualified Medical Examiner’s final autopsy report, Creighton’s statement was for the time being, accepted by everyone, especially the Chief of Police.
He had snuck through the crevice of investigators, senior investigators, and several media outlets, realizing what he had to do. Hensen’s Gym was a ten minute drive from the police department. Shanna Wilks would soon be finishing the last of her personal training classes; there would be only one chance to take her, before making his final exit from the city. The façade had lasted several years, but alas, everything comes to an end. Parking the unmarked, Creighton moved through the darkness, until he was at the rear entrance of the fitness center. Shanna would have the security system in place, but the proximity card issued at the time of membership, provided anyone with twenty-four hour access. Creighton scanned the card against the reader, smiling as he heard the magnetic door locks disengage. He slipped inside, carefully inching his way to where Shanna usually ended her evening. Quiet and empty. Exactly, how Creighton liked it. Off to his right, steam rolled out from underneath glass double doors, which told him, she was in the sauna. A nightly ritual that would be her end.
Unzipping his suit jacket, Creighton pulled out the blank piece of cardboard. Time to create. One swift motion toward his belt, and the double edged blade was positioned to carry out his bidding. Pushing on the door, he felt the instant heat vapors, and recognized it was warmer than normal. More than one person here? He stripped off his jacket, placing it on the door handle. Cocking his head to one side, Creighton thought he had witnessed something moving. Time to play. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, proved to work to his advantage, the masked figure was too eager; the movement telegraphed, sending the assailant crashing headfirst into the sturdy glass. What the fuck? Creighton positioned himself above, as his lips burst wide open and a boastful laugh was expelled. “Well, looks like you came to me.” Creighton raised the blade high above his head; a powerful downward thrust into the man, caused an explosion of crimson to paint the surroundings…
* * * * *
“What’s taking them so long?” Gelati bit his lip, straining
To see the display, Harold and Harlan were monitoring. They were only a building away, but somehow Gelati knew that may not be close enough. Harold rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, the signal is weak, but we—”
Gelati peeked over Harold’s shoulder. “Peter’s GPS locator working?”
Harlan leaned in to pinpoint the eldest brother. His eyes scanned the screen, searching for the red blip. Removing the headset, he shot from his chair, pointing to the laptop. “Sir, something is wrong. I don’t have either of them here!”
I knew it… Gelati motioned at Harlan. “You, stay here. If they pop back up on the display, I need eyes on them.” Gelati grabbed his brother by the collar, yanking him towards the door of the small make-shift office. “Get on the horn to the Chief; tell him to send his people in… this goddamn minute!” Gelati patted at his waist, making sure his weapon was ready. I should have been with Peter.
They raced through the building, across the parking lot, meeting up with the several uniformed officers, also responding to the location. A burst of adrenalin propelled Gelati through the rear door of Hensen’s Gym. Thick balmy steam had completely engulfed the area, making visibility near impossible. Gelati eased his weapon from his holster, positioning it for confrontation. “Peter! Hey, you okay?” Silence greeted the group, as they stopped in their tracks, hoping something would give away the location of either.
Gelati’s portable radio squealed to life. The shaky voice of Harlan filled the small speaker. “Boss, we got a signal, but it’s moving away from you guys…and headed out of town! Gelati’s face was ashen. “Keep on them, we’re going—“
One of the uniformed officers grabbed his arm, pointing to the floor. The portable fell from his grasp, smashing to the wet tile, sending electronic innards in all directions. “No, please God…” His knees buckled, sending him to the floor. A few feet away, was a scene Gelati thought he would never witness. Face down, surrounded by pools of his own blood, was the motionless outline of Peter Bater. “Peter!” Inching next to him, Gelati knew it was too late. Fucking Creighton! Peter had underestimated the man, and this had cost him the ultimate price, his life. Gelati slumped over the body, as an ocean of tears exploded from him. There was no telling how long he stayed by Peter’s side, but didn’t move until the County Medical Examiner, tapped him on the shoulder. “Son, we need to take care of your brother.”
At least someone can, I couldn’t. He rose to his feet, collecting his jacket and damaged radio. Gelati had only taken a few steps, when the County Medical Examiner rushed to his side. “I think you need to see this!”
Turning to face his brother, the Medical Examiner pointed to a small piece of white paper that was underneath Peter. Gelati rushed to his side, snatching it from the floor. His eyes bore into the paper, as rage filled his face. Written on the front in what Gelati knew was blood, was the following phrase:
Only one is Forsaken!
Gelati bolted out the door, in the direction of his rental car. Steve Creighton had taken the life of Peter, and he would not rest, until Creighton was in the grave and rotting in hell. The GPS locator would unveil when the bastard did finally stop running, and Gelati would be there…waiting.

The End

Forsaken…chp 6

Creighton had spent the early morning at work, obsessing over his new find; a partially torn blue post-it note with lipstick on it. It wasn’t the ordinary testing of a woman’s make-up that had him on edge. Not at all. It was the tacky way his new sexual partner had scrawled a phone number on it, carelessly leaving a majority of the digits legible, when she tossed it in the bathroom trash. He knew, Tiffany had men lined outside her door, and sex appeal oozed from every pour in her body, but that’s not what bothered him. Not by a long shot. The number on that paper belonged to one of Gelati’s people. Creighton had recognized the odd area code, when the Chief sent him contact lists for G.S.I. Fucking Gelati was baiting him.
Creighton had been cautious, with every kill, so even if Gelati was setting him up with the Chief, the evidence was light at best. He typed a few more paragraphs of his original report on Pamela Abens, but even just one abstract thought of her, made him thirsty for his favorite inhumane beverage. I need it now! Reaching into his jacket pocket, Creighton slipped out the vial of dark liquid. The black plastic cap made a rubbing sound, as it slowly opened. Intoxicating. The odor of Pamela Abens permeated his senses, like an animal who knows wounded prey is near. Each had its distinct flavor and Pamela’s had a tartness which was simply divine. Raising the glass tube up to his hungry mouth, a noise from outside the office door startled him, causing him to loosen his grip. He watched helplessly, as glass met ceramic tile, spilling all of his precious elixir.
Fuck! Creighton scrambled to the ground, but the door jiggled open, and Nicole Hollison stood there staring at him with condemning eyes. “What are you doing?”
Kill her, push her down the stairs. He looked up. “Damn sample for the crime lab, dropped.” Creighton rubbed his hands on his pants, smearing small patches of crimson.
“I thought the collection unit retrieved all the blood?”
I have to kill her. He feigned a smile. “Except this one. Gelati asked me to get him a sample.”
She cocked her head. “Gelati? Doesn’t he have people to do that for him?”
“Apparently, he wanted another.” Creighton shrugged. I would believe me.
“Since when, did you start helping him, without being told?”
Never. “I’m turning over a new leaf.” Creighton opened up his desk, removing several paper towels. Without another word, he started cleaning the mess. I need blood.
Nicole joined in, but was only on the floor for a few seconds, before she leaped to her feet. “What the fuck is on your face?”
Creighton scrunched his face together. “What are you talking about?”
“Your face! I think you have blood on it!”
Clumsy me. “Are you crazy?”
Nicole gawked at the floor, then back up at his face. “That is blood. No way in hell, that little vial could splatter that much. She unclipped her phone. “I’m calling—“
Creighton leaped to his feet, quickly yanking the phone from her. Powerful arms wrapped around Nicole’s windpipe, closing the airway within seconds. She tore her fingernails into the back of his hand. A snapping sound, followed by chunks of nails, mixed with rose polish fluttered to the ground. One violent jerk of her neck, and it was all over. Poor, Nicole… Dragging her to the front of the doorway, Creighton peered out into the narrow hallway. The lack of noise from other adjoining offices was a sign he needed to finish her. Hoisting her onto the ledge of the stairwell, he catapulted her thin torso downward. The sound of crunching bone, hitting the redwood stairs, told him, this would be most definitely a closed casket memorial. Creighton stared at her broken body, as it came to rest a few feet from the water cooler. Clean up quick!
Rushing back into the office, the compilation of blood, mixed with human tissue, almost stopped him in his tracks. Simply divine. Creighton managed to pull himself together, cleaning everything in sight. When he was satisfied, the area was sufficiently clean; he picked up the phone and dialed the Cutter’s Pass dispatcher. Lowering his voice, he pretended to cry. “This is Detective Creighton. My, God… something…has happened. Detective Hollison is injured. Looks like she fell-“A quick description of location and the sound of other department employees screaming when they stumbled onto the motionless corpse, convinced him enough time had passed. His face turned a dark shade of red; his teeth clenched in frustration, as he sighed. Nicole was only a phone call away, from ending his life. Several uniform officers poured through his office, trying to console him, but Creighton was more concerned about losing his blood. Hmm, the redhead from Hansen’s Gym does seem inviting…
* * * * *

Gelati tapped on his laptop. The digital display brightened; the familiar face of lab technician, Harlan Weik, filled the screen. His brow was wrinkled, his face full of t defeat. “Boss, we have a situation—“
Gelati turned up the speaker. “What’s going on?”
“Sir… I don’t know how to tell you this—”
“Spit it out, I know you wouldn’t call unless it was something big.”
“The Detective’s partner…she’s dead!
Gelati jettisoned a full can of soda across his hotel room. “What the hell happened?” Fire in his voice, told the technician, the time to break it gently was over. Harlan rubbed at his eyes. “Looks like she fell down those shitty stairs at the police office. Or someone may have pushed her.”
“Someone? That bastard, Creighton is the someone you mean?” “Not positive, but possibly.
“Seriously?” Of course it’s him. We were getting too close.
“You need to get back there pronto.”
Gelati’s stomach grew nauseous. Do I Let Peter take him out? He sighed. “We need to make a few stops for Peter. There are some items he needs.”
“Sir. I don’t understand?”
“Don’t worry, you keep him pegged with the GPS location device, I will handle the rest.”
“Yes, sir!” Harlan was well aware; this situation was now out of his hands.
“Harlan, we will get with the Chief of Police. You have done your part.”
Harlan’s face relaxed. “Thanks”
Gelati darkened the display. No more time to think. He yanked on the door to the adjoining room. Harold and Peter were examining photos from the Pamela Abens crime scene. Peter looked up, cocking his head. A sparkle in the killer’s eye started to form, as Gealti slowly approached. “Looks like our detective friend appears to have killed his partner. It’s time. No one else dies while we are here. Do we understand each other?” The lack of acknowledgement to his question was the only answer needed.

Forsaken…chp 4.

The accommodations the Cutter’s Pass Police Department had prepared were neither, comfortable or spacious. Hospitality was more of an afterthought, than anything else. Steve Creighton, lead detective of the killings, had created a makeshift office located in the basement of the main police station. The building was better off served as a training aid for mutual fire departments than to house anything of value worth losing. That being said, Gelati noticed, Creighton appeared to be edgy and appeared to be upset with various staff members. He even heard the professional investigator mumble something about the lone window in the room still wasn’t high enough for all of Gelati’s ensemble to leap to their deaths, should they develop cabin fever.
Peter Bater had been watching Creighton, but waited until the investigator left, before he again brought up the man behind his back. “I don’t like this too much Gelati. Darkness is on his mind, whether it is here or somewhere else. We need the geeks to dig into him and tear his profile apart. I just don’t have a good feeling about the man.”
A serial killer with feelings. News to me. “I agree Pete, but let’s keep that to ourselves for now and move ahead with this investigation. I don’t want to scare him off. I would like to draw him in and see if he makes a mistake.” He changed the subject.”What about this dead girl? Where do you think the head disappeared to?”
“My brother, it didn’t disappear…the killer has it hidden, and may do some questionable things to it, before we see it again.”
Not going there. “So where do you think it ends up?”
Peter tapped his foot against the concrete. “The power of mutilation is intoxicating and once he tires of his new toy, the killer will probably give it back. Drop it in a ditch or alley way… but sometimes… and I mean sometimes, he may increase suffering to the remaining family, and mail it back to them.
I had to fucking ask. “Okay you’re coming in loud and clear, brother.” Gelati pointed in the direction of the two pencil necks reviewing reels of video footage. “Hey guys, let’s get someone on the parents and keep tabs on electronic shipping information for any parcels in transit their known addresses. I would prefer not to have the parents receive the girl’s head in a package.” Should have a nice juicy fingerprint or two on it.” He a flashed a disgusted look at his brother.
One of the techs nodded, scribbling on a note pad. “I’m on it. Let me run a scan on residence ownership sale of record, just maybe they have a summer home listed.”
Peter opened the window, taking in a breath of fresh air.”This feels wonderful.” He turned to Gelati. “Look for anything from three days ago and forward.”
Through the encryption of various programs, it took longer than expected, but within a few hours, progress had been made and a discovery appeared close at hand.
“Sir, I found something!” A short pudgy lab tech, with a haphazard style of groomed hair, and a larger than life name tag, looked up from his laptop and waved at Gelati.
His eyes lit up, as he motioned to Peter. “Blaine, give me some good news.”
Blaine Herbstreet pointed to a row of numbers on the screen. “Take a look at this. Here is the digital shipping info for Unified Parcel Shipping. There is a package being scanned right now at the sort location, in the city, where our victim’s parents list a second home.”
Gelati rubbed his chin. “From here?”
The techie tapped at the keyboard, as his eyes lit up with delight. “Yep, approximately three days ago.”
Gelati scrambled to the floor, sorting through the clutter of papers. He plucked one from the ground, reading with reckless abandon. “Shit, it’s here.” Tapping at it, a smile crossed his face. “Guys, the toxicology report says…time of death is somewhere between seventy-two, and ninety-six hours. No doubt that’s our package.”
* * * * *

The hum of the air conditioner struggling to provide cool relief to Detective Creighton’s two-person office wakened him from a trance-like state. Peter Bater knows something. It was obvious, especially, when the man appeared to catch him smiling at the crime scene. Fuck me. The killer, part-time psychic investigator had some type of sixth sense, and may have to be dealt with. Creighton had gotten quite used to his extracurricular hobby, and wasn’t ready to retire, due to some wacko’s beady-eyed stare. He shuffled through stacks of crime photos and still needed to finish up with the narrative follow-up note on his latest victim. Don’t give too much away.
The door to the office flew open, as his co-worker, Detective Nicole Hollison burst through with an armful of plastic bags. “Hey, a little help here?” Silky red bangs covered her face. Nicole was a former model for a national tanning chain. After developing skin cancer, she decided another line of work was forthcoming. Several years in patrol, finally landed her a desk next to the department’s lead investigator.
Creighton pushed his massive frame away from the desk, and grabbed one of the bags. “How much food did you get?”
Nicole flashed a crooked smile. “Enough for us and your new friends.” She placed the bags on the desk, as she flipped away the hair from eyes.
Wonder why we never? “Just wonderful. The sooner we solve this, the quicker those guys can get back to whatever it is the hell they do.” Creighton ripped through the plastic.
Leaning in, Nicole winked at him. “Aw, the boss give you the Obi-wan we need their help crapolla?”
Creighton shook his head. “Of course. What else?”
Nicole folded her arms. “It’s crazy, a private organization and not the feds?
“No, shit! Don’t get me started.”
Nicole handed him one of the bags. “Well, go make nice and give those boys some food.”
I should shove it down Peter Bater’s throat. “Okay, I’m going-“
Nicole grabbed his arm. “I will come with you.”
Walking out the door almost proved to be hazardous, as the Police Chief, almost knocked them over. “Get your team together… another victim found in the woods.”
Nice, somebody found the slut. Creighton nodded. “Gotcha, do they know who it is?”
Walt Prescott wiped at his brow. “Local wildlife appears to have taken a toll on the body, so, no identification as of yet.”
Creighton tried not to smile. I can tell you, only cost you some blood. “I will grab Gelati’s team and head out.
Walt Prescott was known for his strong demeanor, even when the shit hit the fan, a blank expression was the standard. Today though was different; a look of sadness filled his face. “Steve, if you could get that Peter Bater to tell you something about this guy, do it. No more deaths Steve…no more.”
Creighton bit his lip, trying to mimic some of Walt Prescott’s emotions. “I won’t disappoint you.”
Chief Prescott gently touched his shoulder, as he walked away. I do hate being touched. Creighton waited until he was out of sight, before descending the stairwell. Placing an ear against the door of the temporary office belonging to Gelati and his merry men of mayhem, Creighton heard his killer counterpart talking with the team members, about someone in particular. Creighton’s eyes narrowed; his face reddened. The someone, Peter Bater was referring to…was him.