Lauren (13 page)

After making his way to the Creek Valley Bank, he emptied the safety deposit box he had there. Having his money was important. There was an even bigger stash at his small house, just outside of Ridgeburgh. The fact he'd planned for this day was clever and resourceful, he knew. Still, the disappointment in his identity being revealed too soon hindered his excitement. Well, just barely. There was a new incentive for him, stemming beyond his anger at the detectives. A new hatred for the one who found him, the one he cut so badly, who'd survived.

There was a lot to be done, and the first item on the list was to eliminate the latest victim. She was of no interest to him anymore. That task would be easy. She was still alive, in the basement. At least, she was alive when he left at 4:00 a.m. Peeking at his watch, he felt the slightest bit of uncertainty.

It was now 6:30 p.m. A long time to be away from his treasure, Miss Jillian Monroe. He learned more about the missing co-ed on his way to work this morning, as well as while he drove his truck, making his deliveries.

She was supposedly a senior, had a job all lined up in broadcasting, with one of the major sports channels. The reporters said she was an athlete. Had even taken various self-defense courses, and kickboxing.

His gut feeling was right, as usual. She'd displayed her strength, her need to fight against his acts these last few days, but in the end, she figured out who was the boss. Once again, he felt like he was unstoppable, invincible.

His body suddenly craved her again. He stood in the doorway, staring at the wooden door that led to the basement. He was sure she wouldn't be able to dance, but he had more than just dancing in mind.

Her scent filled his nostrils. He could smell her from upstairs, and he closed his eyes. He could feel her body beneath his, taking every ounce of him in.

He touched himself, then lost his balance, and fell into the doorframe. The move brought him back to reality. Now, he was on a mission—a mission to fulfill his needs.

He turned on the basement light, and headed down the wooden stairs. He didn't hear a sound, when he looked toward the body hanging from his torture rack. It didn't look hopeful.

"Jillian ... Jillian, my little darling. I'm home, sweetheart, and ready to play some more.” He was practically singing the words. Pressing the button on his CD player, the room filled with music.

He approached the motionless body and stepped right up next to her face. Dry blood sat against the sides of her lips and cheek. Her naked body was still, motionless, black, and blue.

He didn't hear her breathing. He bowed his head a moment, saddened that she was dead, and he never saw her fist coming at him.

Jillian waited patiently, in quietness, and held her breath as her captor approached. She waited for the precise moment, then lashed out with the hand she'd freed. She had worked on it most of the day. Now was her chance to get some revenge.

The hit was solid, and right to his mouth, but he was faster, as he backhanded her across the cheek. He grabbed her free hand, twisting it. The distinct sound of bones breaking seemed to echo in the room.

She felt her mascara run down her cheeks, along with the tears. She was weak, and losing blood from the numerous cuts and wounds he'd inflicted on her, the past week.

This was it. She would die, but she'd fight him to the absolute end.

Jillian tried to hit him with her broken hand, but the pain ran up her arm, and into her elbow. The blows from his fists came in repetitions, until she didn't move.

Jillian lay dead, and he stood laughing.

"Just as I ordered, someone strong, a fighter, and a little more of a challenge. Now, who will I find to top Miss Jillian Monroe?” He continued to admire the youthful blonde's body. It was lifeless, but could supply him with pleasure for a bit longer.

Releasing her from the bindings, he let her body fall to the mattress below. Taking a moment to admire his work, he absorbed every detail of her injuries.

A masterpiece ... only to be outdone the next time.

Kneeling before her battered flesh, his mind envisioned his next moves. He lay down next to her body, cuddling close, smiling, as he caressed her cheek. He ran his hands over her hips, all the while whispering, with his lips pressed next to hers.

He kissed her, ignoring the fact she was dead, and started another ritual, fulfilling his fantasy.

The following morning, Lauren checked out of the motel and went to the hospital to pick up Jack. They made their way back into the city, discussing all their leads in the case, and the possible hideouts of Ben Silver.

"It sucks I can't be out there with you, hunting this guy down,” Jack said, as they drove down the parkway.

"Don't sweat it. I'm sure the captain will let you work in the office, if we ask nicely."

"Commander Quinn said he'd see what he could do."

"I told you, don't worry about it. I called Captain Morris this morning, and he said if the doc gave the okay, you can help there in the office.” She smiled.

"You're a piece of work, Lauren."

"Thanks. Now listen, I'm going to drop you off at home, and then head to the precinct. McNulty and the crew are at Silver's residence. They went there last night. He was nowhere to be found. There was a load of evidence, though."

"Such as?"

"Well, they found video tapes, torture toys, some belongings he kept from each victim, including a necklace they think could've belonged to Barbara. The list goes on. Hopefully, by later today, we'll find out where his hiding spot is, and everything about him."

"You mean that unsolved case you were telling me about?"

"Yep."

"There's still no sign of Jillian Monroe?"

"None. Which isn't like him, Jack. This guy enjoys leaving their bodies in the open, or in places they can be found quickly."

"Maybe he picked the wrong place this time?"

"No way.” She shook her head.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think, with each victim, he has increased the measure of violence in the acts he performs on them, as well as the period of time he keeps them for. Maybe Jillian is still alive."

"Are you serious? How could she survive that long, especially if he's torturing her?"

"We did that background check on Jillian, remember? I went back to the bar that night, and spoke to her friends again. Jillian was a tough cookie. She'd played lacrosse for years, was a cross-country runner, and even took kickboxing. She was a bit of a tomboy, from what I gathered. Maybe he likes that now? Someone who can put up a fight, and give him a challenge?"

"There's a good possibility, which makes me want to move even faster with our investigation."

"That's why I asked if McNulty could get involved. He's the best, and after talking to Morris, he had no qualms about it."

"That's awesome. You know what, Lauren? I think I'm going to take your advice about being respectful. No matter how much it kills me,” Jack admitted, and laughed.

A day later, Lauren stood in front of the podium, identifying the wanted serial killer and asking for the public's help. She was grateful the TV people covered the bruises on her cheek with cover-up.

When she was done, she made her way to the offices upstairs, in the 53rd Precinct. The whole half of the office had turned into a task force operation, comprised of people Lauren was allowed to handpick, along with the homicide commander.

She continued to work hand in hand with everyone, and had Officer Lopez working along with her.

"Detective Phelps, I got something here,” Lopez said, as she handed Lauren the file on Ben Silver.

"This states that Ben Silver was arrested over a year ago for buying drugs,” Lopez told her, while she looked at the file.

"Conditional discharge, personal use. This son of a bitch served two days in jail, and attended a drug program. His lawyer got him off, big time.” She tried to locate the type of drugs Silver was buying, with a quick on her computer. “Bingo!” She called to Jack, who was at the dry eraser board, listing the evidence against Silver.

"Jack, write down that this SOB was arrested for buying Ecstasy."

"Really?” He looked thrilled by this information, and so did the others around them who'd overheard. They knew Ben Silver was the killer. Now, they also had his fingerprints on file, which could be compared to prints he may have possibly left at any of the crime scenes.

Lauren would have the prints sent through VI-CAP, to see if any unsolved crimes matched up against Ben Silvers prints. She had a feeling this guy was killing women much longer than just a year ago.

"Awesome job, Lopez,” she said, and Lopez smiled.

"Now, you've impressed me so much with your ability to backtrack, I want you to find out everything you can about his family, relatives, friends, and whether they own any houses, property, anything, anywhere. Also, run his prints through the entire system. I want to know every speeding ticket, every violation, anything we can get on this guy and quickly. Okay?"

"You got it, Detective Phelps.” Lopez headed out of the office.

"She reminds me of you, when you first got out of the academy,” Jack teased Lauren.

"Maybe that's why I like her so much.” Her cell phone rang. “Detective Phelps."

"Hey, Lauren. It's Eddie."

Lauren couldn't help but feel her cheeks blush every time he called her. The sound of his voice alone did something to her.

"Hi! How are things on your end?” She noticed Jack smiling at her. He gave her a wink. She rolled her eyes. It was obvious she was busted.

"Well, we have a lot. The fiber that we found under the nails of both Renee Wilson and Tammy Lucas are a match to the carpeting found and tested in the truck. So is the material found in Tammy's hair. There are also bloodstains matching them, as well as the victim from that other case you gave me—Barbara Clark. Those stains were old, but the lab was able to find the match."

"My God, Eddie, that makes three, plus Louie the homeless guy."

"And possibly Jillian Monroe,” he added.

"Let's hope not. One of my officers, Lizzy Lopez, found out that Silver was arrested for buying drugs a year ago."

"Let me guess, Ecstasy?"

"You got it."

"Well, the evidence just keeps piling up against the guy. We can get a search warrant in a snap, if necessary."

"We'll get him."

"We will. How is Jack doing?"

"He's fine, and he's eyeing me right now."

"Well, tell him I said hello and, by the way, your friend Tom McNulty is a character."

"Bye, Eddie.” Lauren laughed, as she hung up the phone. She couldn't help the smile she wore, as she walked over to her desk. Jack appeared next to her.

"Hey, gorgeous, when were you going to tell me?"

She quickly looked around, to make sure no one heard him. “Nothing is going on."

"So it's like that, huh? All right then, back to business. The jewelry and undergarments Tom found at the crime scene belong to the victims. It's confirmed."

"What about the videos?"

"His prints are all over them, and the video room is set up for us."

"Okay, I don't want just anyone seeing these videos. I don't want to take a chance of leaking information to the media. Let's keep it small, Jack.” She walked with him to the video room.

"There's not that many. Only the ones working directly with the case."

"Good. Let's get going."

She sat in the small audio / video room, along with Tom McNulty, Jack, Commander Quinn, and three other detectives.

Everyone was silent, and it was definitely due to the shocking scenes that unfolded on the screen.

Ben Silver showed his face proudly. He'd recorded every move he made. From the time he brought his victim into what appeared to be a torture room, until the victim lay dead. To top it off, he pretended the victims were still alive, as he caressed them, spoke softly and lovingly to them, and completed sadistic ritual after ritual.

"This guy is fucking sick,” Tom said, and Lauren knew it was precisely what everyone was thinking.

Her stomach churned, and her heart ached terribly.

The room was silent, as the video ended. She looked around her. The feelings were mutual, she could tell, and she attempted to pull the team back together, remind them of their purpose. Standing, she looked at each of them, being sure to make eye contact.

"There is only one thing to do for the victims now. Gentlemen, let's find this guy, stop him, and bring justice to the victims’ families."

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Ben Silver needed a car, and he needed one that wouldn't be missed or recognized. He knew this area well, and a perfect victim came to mind. Smiling to himself, he knew the soon-to-be victim would be an easy target.

There was an old man living alone, right down the block from Ben's private cul-de-sac. His house was plain and outdated, but well kept.

He decided to wait until nightfall before striking, just as a precaution. There was no way he'd take an unnecessary chance, and screw up now.

No one ever went past the last house on the block. The ‘Dead End’ sign deterred anyone from entering. Still, he waited.

It was late in the evening. The neighborhood was quiet, as Ben expertly entered through the back door, near the kitchen. Tiptoeing slowly through the darkness, he embraced the lack of vision, the unknown that lay before him. It made his heart pump hard, and his hunger increased for what lay ahead.

A dim night-light poked out of the plain white outlet plate, on the kitchen backsplash. The ugly, dark brown cabinetry was ancient, as well as the checkered yellow flooring beneath his black work boots. Being careful not to leave evidence of dirt behind, he'd cleaned the bottom soles thoroughly, before beginning the break in. Glancing around the living room, he saw nothing of decent value. Home robberies weren't his thing, anyway. That kind of work was for pansies.

With his black-leather gloved hands, he slowly pulled the large hunting knife from the strap that lay hidden behind his back. The moonlight, from the bay window, caused a reflection against the metal blade that nearly blinded him, for a moment. The knife was extremely sharp. It could cut a piece of silk, or skin a large animal. Tonight, its prey would be human.