Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1) (7 page)

Jack

That was one hell of a crime scene for our first case. Max handled herself well. I’m pleased with what she showed me today and I think she made a positive impression on the professionals who were working the crime scene. She listened carefully, really paid attention, and didn’t seem overwhelmed with the gory sight of that severed leg. That tells me a lot about the professionalism she’ll bring to the table on this team.

As for me, I’ve got so many questions rolling around in my head – primarily, where the hell is the rest of the body? One thing I do know is the killing was recent and, perhaps more importantly, the killer wants attention.
Fucking sicko.

Max’s blog is the perfect way to lure him out of hiding. I may be old school in many ways, but I fucking love the internet. Reaching out to a killer via social media is a surefire way to connect with him (or her, as the case may be) and begin a dialogue. The more they communicate, the more information we have, the more likely it is that they’ll make a mistake, and the sooner we’ll solve the case.

My gut tells me a man committed the murder and planted the leg where it would be sure to be found. And if our un-sub is the arrogant asshole I think he is, he’ll be more receptive to a woman. If I can get him to believe Max is working alone—he’ll underestimate her. I just don’t want Max thinking she can go gung-ho on this case without back up. With little field experience under her belt, her unbridled enthusiasm could put her in danger. It’s time to remind Max that she’s not flying solo on this case.

I stride out of my office and out into the courtyard. The compound is set up with parking behind our security gate and a courtyard tricked out with an impressive outside cooking area and comfortable furniture for kicking back and relaxing. Even though it will be a while before I have a full slate of trainees on site, I’ve got everything set up to foster a sense of comradery among the team. It will serve to keep morale up during moments of discouragement when a case isn’t moving along as quickly as we’d like it to.

Frustration goes with this line of work because you bond with the victims and, as sick as it may sound, you also bond with the criminals simply by spending so much time trying to get into their head. I’ve had years to visualize every aspect of this compound and plenty of experience to draw on—I’ll need every bit of it to keep the members of my team safe and motivated to make a difference. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what it’s all about.

I head down to Max’s room. When she lets me in, I see she’s already set up a traditional office along one wall, but the rest of the living space is pure Max. The decor’s theme reflects her love of writing. The duvet on the bed features a black feathered quill pen on a cream background. The curtains are thick enough to provide privacy from the outside courtyard. They feature literary quotes in calligraphy and a scattering of small quill pens. A print on the wall reveals a library filled with shelves of books and one of those rolling ladders that reaches the top shelf.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Want to know what
I
love? This computer set up. I’m telling you, it’s the shit, Jack. The best of everything, thanks for that. Do you want to see what I’ve done so far?”

“That’s why I’m here. You only get to make one—”

She cuts me off, finishing the sentence for me “--first impression. Yeah, I know how OCD you are, no Lone Rangers in your outfit. I get it, Jack.”

“Good, I was going to go over that with you, but since we’re obviously on the same page, let’s get back to work.” I pull up one of her cream colored, high top executive chairs and I can’t help but comment. “Seriously, I’m impressed with your décor, Max.”

“Yeah, my dad had an interior designer do my room at home and he moved all this stuff in yesterday. You were busy with your own furniture being delivered. I moved the old stuff next door, hope that’s okay. I work better when I’m in my own surroundings. But this computer is all you, Jack. I love it!”

“Writing really is your life, isn’t it?”

“Since I was a kid, all I’ve ever wanted to do was write.”

“Who knows, kiddo, you may be able to write a book by the time you get done working here.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not, I want you to be successful. You know me, I’m all about ‘girl power’.”

“You’re a smart man, capitalizing on the female psyche.”

“Over the years I’ve realized a couple of things. One, that I need all the help I can get. And two, that I’ve also known some fantastic women along the way,” I say wistfully, thinking of my mother and Valerie. They set one hell of a powerful example. I lean in toward the computer monitor and read along. “Let’s see what you’ve got here.”

This morning marked anything but a peaceful fishing trip for one Louisville resident. I’m certain when he planned his early morning trek into the great outdoors, murder never crossed his mind.

Although the discovery was made on dry land, it more than qualifies as the catch of the day. The early morning fisherman, who has asked that his name be withheld, discovered a severed human leg. The medical examiner confirms it to be the leg of a woman. Interestingly, the limb had a message written on it. I won’t divulge any details that could interfere with the ongoing investigation, but suffice it to say that I’ve dubbed the perpetrator of this crime ‘The Riddler’.

The horrifying discovery leaves us with several questions. Who is the dead woman? Was she a resident of Louisville, one of our own? Where is the rest of this woman’s body? Why did the killer dismember her? Was the leg disposed of unsuccessfully or was it placed deliberately to taunt the authorities in a game of Hide and Seek?

Whatever the killer’s intentions, I’ll be here covering his story as it unfolds. The Urban Elite Guardian blog is your inside source for the latest news about this heinous crime.

In the meantime, here’s how you can help. We’re asking anyone who may have a loved one missing to contact your local police, and to file a missing person’s report if they have been missing for over twenty-four hours.

I’m Max and if you have a story to tell or a lead that needs to be checked out, I’m right here waiting to hear from you at the Urban Elite Guardian. Feel free to contact me, Louisville, because I’ve got your back.

“I like it. You didn’t reveal too much but you interacted with the readers in a meaningful way.”

“Thanks,” she says with a broad smile. “I debated including more details about The Riddler’s message, but I felt like if I did it would draw every serial killer wanna-be out of the woodwork. There are a lot of sick fucks who don’t have the balls to kill but want a ride on the fame train, so they take credit for kills they didn’t do.”

“Good thinking, Max. I think you may have found your calling. Authorities always keep some detail out of the public record, that way if a suspect comes along who knows details we’ve withheld, then we know they’re tied in to the crime somehow.”

“Well, that’s what I was thinking. Also, I’d be flooded with e-mails and it takes away from work time when I have to stop and answer them all.”

“I’m assuming you understand how dangerous this line of work can get?”

“In all honesty, I’m an adrenaline junkie. I’m also fascinated by the criminal mind.”

“A potentially deadly combination. And all the more reason for me to keep a close eye on you.” I cut my eyes, giving Max a long, considering look as I weigh my next words. “What is it Max?”

“I’ve got a weird feeling the killer is going to contact me and want to interact with me. Just think about how brazen he was to leave that severed leg out in the open like that. And then to write a message on it? He’s desperate for attention. What do I do if he does contact me?”

“Does that scare you?” I probe gently.

“Hell, yeah, Jack -- The guy cuts off body parts for entertainment. I can’t even begin to imagine the blood and gore on scene of where he cut that body up. Honestly, the average person would puke their guts out. He has to be one seriously sick guy to do that.”

“With this being our first case, there are a few things for you to keep in mind, Max. If this guy contacts you it’s because he wants to use you, which can definitely work in our favor. However, the bad thing about that is that once he doesn’t need you anymore -- well, I’m sure you can fill in the blanks. He’ll have it in his head that you are a way for him to reach the masses. Always remember that you’ve got back up. Nobody is going to come in here and do anything to you, I won’t allow it. Just don’t do anything stupid, like meet him alone. This type of killer who likes to manipulate and play games is always going to push the envelope and try to get you to do things you wouldn’t normally do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s easy to bond with a criminal without intending to, even when they’re the scum of the earth. That doesn’t mean you like them, it just means that you end up with a connection of sorts, no matter how twisted it is. They wreak havoc on every life they touch and yet they get inside an investigator’s head and some sort of sick bond forms.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I certainly fucking am.”

His Muse

Time to see if my bait has snagged a new playmate for me. I do love the internet; an endless sea of information and the ability to be concealed behind a keyboard. Complete anonymity. What more could a sick fuck like me ask for?

I’m disappointed when I do a search and find nothing about the severed leg – more specifically, the severed leg of the nasty whore I stabbed in the heart.

I try one more thing before I give up. I run an automated search of news alerts. I search chat rooms and blogs and that’s when I get a hit—and, oh, what a hit it is.

There’s a picture of a pretty little brunette with chocolate brown eyes who looks like she just might want to play. My dick stirs in my jeans as I read her brief blog post. The sweet little thing is even inviting me to contact her? I stroke my semi through my pants, deciding that I may just do that.

I have to admit, I like a girl with brains and, even better, this one has brains
and
beauty. I take a moment to think before I contact her. My response needs to be something simple, nothing fussy or pretentious. Yes, back to basics, I think…

Roses are red, violets are blue,

I’m ready to play, how ‘bout you?

If you are, little blogger girl,

contact me: [email protected]

Of course, someone will try to trace the address, but they won’t find anything. I’m too smart for that. I’ve hidden my online identity underneath so many layers on the dark web that even the smartest hacker could never figure it out -- but they can have fun trying. For the first time in years, I recognize a spark of creativity and inspiration. Few women have ever been able to truly inspire me in my line of work. The first thing to do is find out who Max is. I begin by seeing if she has another blog out there and, sure enough, she does.

In spite of myself, I feel a tug at my cold, black heart as I read the blog’s ‘About’ page –and that just pisses me off.  

Hi, my name is Maxine Raleigh, but you can call me Max. I started this blog when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. When we went to our support group they recommended that we do a blog and share our journey and that’s what this blog is for. We’ll be sharing all the ups and downs of this disease and we won’t be holding any of our emotions back. I’m not about being politically correct, I am about keeping it real, and right now I’m pissed; I’m pissed at this disease and I plan on doing everything I can to kick its ass.

I read on, gleaning what information I can about this intriguing woman. This far more intimate blog she did with her mother reveals more about her than the crime blog does. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. Poor dear had no idea she would pique the interest of a stone cold killer. Oh, but I do love a fighter and this woman has the fiery spirit for battle if I’ve ever seen one. I find that I want to get better acquainted.

The blog doesn’t reveal her address but I pride myself on being versatile, so I have other ways to get that information and other personal details about my new playmate. I like her, I like her a lot. I like her so much I want to know everything about her.

I take down notes and bask in the information she has given me already. Then I browse through the large freezer, searching for just the right thing. Oh, I have a plan that’s going to confuse the fuck out of her. Really, it’s only fair, since she was able to inspire me, that I return the favor. After all, turnabout is fair play…