Spare the Lambs (5 page)

I still can’
t
turn them in.  They are my true family and I love them too much.  I also fear
prison
.  Once the cops knew I killed the Collins girl, I would be sent to juvenile
hall
then to
prison
for the rest of my life.  Even if I got the
judge
to let me go for turning in the others, the girl’s family would kill me or have me killed for taking their daughter away from them.  Their “Little
Angel
” as the paper quoted.

We moved to a new location and found another twelve-
year old
for this year’s
murder
or acceptance into the group.  Her name is Judith and she has tanned skin, dark
brown
hair cut to shoulder length, and eyes that are so dark they appear to be
black
.  Lee has taken a liking to her and she is overjoyed by his attention.  She doesn’
t
like me.  She might even hate me.  I found myself looking at her and thinking about telling her the truth or at least to run from the group; to run as fast as she can and get her parents to move out of the
city
before it is too late.  She glared at me when she caught me staring.  Maybe I should’ve used that hate to push her from the
pack
.

As I have said, I love them more than my family or I would have turned them into the police a long time ago.  Killing myself is the only way I can think to end the guilt and shame.  I hope this is enough evidence to put the cops on their trail.  I also hope it doesn’
t
hurt too much.  I researched the best way to do it.  A gun would be best but my parents don’
t
have one and I can’
t
think of where to get one.  If I do the knot right and fall far enough, the internet says it will snap my neck when I hang myself.  And most of all I pray, God please spare the
lambs
.

March 22, 2001 from work
computer

              The forensics
team
didn’
t
find any fingerprints on the
confession
, however, they did find some on the plastic bag that held the pages.  The kid must have worn gloves when handling the
confession
.  It seems a pointless act, he didn’
t
burn or cut his fingerprints off after all.  The lack of prints could point to a staged suicide with the
confession
written by someone as of yet unknown, but I doubt that.  All the evidence points to a real suicide and not a hidden
murder
.

              After all, it is almost impossible to get a
victim
relaxed enough to look like they wanted to hang themselves.  Even if the rope snapped the neck, the moment of tensed muscles from the fall would rip them in a way that any
medical
examiner
would notice.  Drugs would leave traces, too.  Unless someone found the
body
or knew of his attempt before hand, the
victim
is the one that wrote the
confession
.  Even if they had found the
body
, it would have been hard to place the
confession
in his inner jacket pocket when the
body
was suspended three feet below the window.

If what the
confession
says is true, it is no surprise that no one has found the
murderers
yet.  About ninety-eight percent of
murders
are for love, hate, or money.  All you have to do is find the person that loved the
victim
too much, hated them with enough passion, or stood to gain from the
victim
’s death.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Maybe one point nine percent are from crazy people.  They have no reason for killing who, how, and when they do; at least no reason a sane person could come up with.  Normally they are picked up for something else and we gather the evidence that they leave everywhere.

Rare are the serial killers, and catching them is normally due to luck alone.  They mock the police too much and let something slip, or get a parking ticket near two of the crime scenes.  Groups that are so loyal that someone doesn’t confess after the first
murder
are almost unheard of.  Now, the signs are so clear, the fact that a
black
hood was found with each
body
even though that information was withheld from the press, the same type of weapon, and the fact that every victim had been washed in bleach.  Yet, every
body
showed evidence of a different murderer.  The signs are clear but the thought that Charlesville had its own Charles Manson never crossed my mind.

Thanks to the boy we can finally start looking in the right direction.  If we only knew who John Doe was, it would make it easier to find the others.  So far there have been no hits on the
Missing
Person’s
Database
and nothing from fingerprints and DNA.  He claimed to have parents, where are they and why aren’
t
they looking for their son?

I went to three schools today and talked with all their staff.  I asked them to keep a look out for very shy or unpopular girls who has changed recently; such as missing school all the sudden.  I gave them the descriptions of Gerald, Samantha, Lily,
James
, Lee, Judith, and John Doe to see if anyone
recognized
them.  I understand that the descriptions are very vague but the staff just stared at me with bored expressions as I asked them to look through their students for
murderers
.  They didn’
t
fucking care.  There is no reason for them to have been more interested in whatever shit they had going at home than in saving kids’ lives.  I wanted to beat some sense into the lot of them.

I have to watch it this time.  After Eva Collins’s death they made me take a vacation, they claimed it was for my health.  I had worked too hard and needed to relax for a bit, the Chief had told me.  The time off the case didn’
t
hurt any, we had no idea where else to look.  But, this time we have a lead.  Finally, a lead.

March 23, 2001 from work computer

              Negative on five more schools.  I got the same damn response from the teachers and principals as the three yesterday.  Am I the only one who cares?  There are so many people in this city with kids, I am sure some of the teachers have kids the same age as the victims, but no one really cares because it’s not their kids dying every year.  I sent patrol cars to every abandoned building in the greater city area.  It will take a few days, maybe a week, to check them all.  I’ll check the buildings in the surrounding areas myself.  Three of the group should be able to drive, so they could be anywhere.  That thought sickens me; I need to catch them before they kill again.

March 24, 2001 from work computer

              I woke up last night screaming.  I dreamt that I was John Doe as he chopped Eva Collins to pieces.  It was the first time I’ve been happy to be single.  I don’
t
think I could’ve handled it if a girlfriend or wife was there to ask me what was wrong.  This case has always given me bad dreams.  A few cases before have done it as well, but they were always vague.  Shadowy dreams about chasing someone that was always too far away to catch.  But, I’ve never had a dream so clear as the one last night.  The dream was so real that I was shocked when my arm wasn’
t
dead from exhaustion when I awoke.

Negative on the last two schools and twenty abandoned buildings.  Looks like the building where the boy hung himself was their base this time.  The floor of the room he jumped from was littered with cigarettes and beer cans, even a few joints in the dust and dirt.  There are fingerprints and DNA all over the room, sadly none hit on criminal or
Missing
Person’s
Database
.  If we find them, we could hold them for underage smoking and drinking until we could prove they’re
murderers
.  I don’
t
know if John Doe thought his choice of suicide spots would help us catch the others or warn them.  They must have been spooked by his death and ran.

              The patrols I sent out have found a total of thirty homeless people.  The patrol cops arrested every one of them for vagrancy.  I plan to start questioning as many as I can about the group and possibly find evidence for other crimes they have seen or committed.   J
ail
time isn’
t
truly a punishment for them, it’s more of a reprieve from their everyday struggle.  For normal criminals, the lack of freedom is meant to convince them to quit their illegal actions.  For the homeless, while freedom is important, being arrested gives them a warm place to sleep, three meals a day, clean clothing, and
medical
treatment, if needed. 

I have to think about how the
jail
time will help them in order to control my frustration at the patrol cops when I see the cells filling up with homeless people.  I doubt, even if they saw the group every day, they’d really be able to give us anything useful.  Even if one of the homeless had witnessed one or all of the
murders
it probably wouldn’
t
do much good.  After all, attorneys are really good at convincing a jury to disregard witness statements if they appearing to be anything short of a saint.  However, I plan on giving each of them a good questioning just in case.  Hope springs eternal and all that shit.

March 25, 2001 from work computer

              I woke up from another nightmare last night.  This time I was in Eva’s place.  I could hear the heavy breathing, cheers, and the “
forgive
me” every time the cleaver fell.  Damn that kid for writing so much down and in such detail.  He had simultaneously bragged and
apologized
for his deeds.  All he had to say was, “I killed Eva Collins on this date, at this location, and with this weapon.”  That is all that is needed for a
confession
.

              Five more buildings and three construction site were negative for any sign of the group.  The cops I sent out arrested ten more homeless.  We are still nowhere on identifying John Doe.  I could call in the
Feds
; groups are their deal.  However,
Special
Agent
Johnston, a useless man that is all ambition and no talent, would take the case away from us.  I have worked too hard on this to have it taken away, especially, now that we have something to go on.  I want to be the one that catches them.  The one that locks them in the gas chamber.

March 26, 2001 from work computer

              I went to the Charlesville
State
University and talked to a PhD in Religion or Philosophy, or something along those lines.  We talked for a few hours about the details John Doe gave and the group’s odd beliefs.  She had never heard of any system of belief that focused around the killing of humans, without sacrificing them to some god or eating parts of the
body
.  Thank god they didn’
t
eat the children. 

Some of the faiths she described convinced me that humans are more fucked up than any of the devils and demons we created.  People have burned their own babies so a god would give them victory over an enemy.  Some cut out and ate the hearts of captives for a sun god.  One system required its people to die in battle or they’d be denied any form of afterlife.  Almost every faith gave divine permission to a few to rule their people as badly as they wished or to rape,
murder
, and steal from their enemies.

She gave me her number, and told me to call her with anymore details I uncover on the group.  It was a professional offer, however, I didn’
t
miss the shy and cute smile she gave me.  The doctor is a lovely woman, sweet, and a few years younger than me.  Other than the phone number, I doubt the trip was worth the city’s gas and the couple of hours pay I got for it.  The group, or at least Gerald, seemed to be turned on by the thought of humans back in the hunting-gathering stages of society.  Plus, a hatred for the “God of the
Prey
.”

March 26, 2001 from work computer

              I’ve been having those nightmares every night.  My point of view alternates between
victim
and
murderer
.  I hate them.  I tried drinking last night to hold off the dreams, but it only made it so I couldn’
t
wake up from the dream.  I woke up on the floor with my nose bleeding and sheets knotted up.  I will never try that experiment again.