Thriller Short Story – Serial Killer : Identity..
Photo credit: biberta from morguefile.com
A forest, at times, develops a certain mysterious charm, with its hundreds of tall trees standing proudly in unison like a barrier, hiding everything behind them. Such a singularly mysterious forest stood cold and naked along the Western Mountain Range in Colorado. The sun woke up quite late that day, taking a nap behind the clouds, and then filtered through the trees, casting long shadows upon the ground, among the fallen leaves and branches. It was winter, with the branches bare and the smell of dead leaves hanging in the air.
“You sure it’s this way, sheriff?” A confused Deputy Harry Simms asked.
“I’m positive.” Nick replied without looking back. He made his way quickly through the bushes, assaulting them with a stick. His gray eyes were fixed into the West, hoping to find another body.
“The map says it’s the other way.” he interrupted again, looking up from the map he clutched in his hand nervously.
“You see the greenery over to the west?” The irritated sheriff growled, pointing his finger. “And the animal foot prints? That’s all you need to tell which direction the lake is.”
Silence descended as Harry thought better than to disturb him again. Even the early birds stopped chirping, as if on cue, and an eerie calm descended, enveloping everything around them. They kept on walking, their footsteps loud, enhanced by the silence.
Ten minutes later, they found the lake amid a small clearing, surrounded by shrubs and wild grass.
“There’s no body here.” Harry announced, breaking the silence, “don’t know if that’s good or bad. I’ll climb and confirm.”
“It has to be here. The tip can’t be wrong. It can’t be…”
“I got footprints!” Harry shouted from up the tree, pointing his finger. “Over there.”
The footprints led them to a tree. There she lay, dead and rotting, with small insects crawling all over her. Harry stepped forward while Nick lit a cigarette and watched silently. She was, Nick could clearly see, gutted like a fish. The cut started from her chin and proceeded downwards, wavy at certain places, and ended up at her lower abdomen. It was quite messy, with blood dried alongside the cut, and her lifeless eyes staring at them. The two flaps of her skin were parted unceremoniously, trying (and failing badly) to hide her insides. There were violet marks all over her body- just like the other victims. Nick closed his eyes and exhaled. His face was expressionless, but his eyes, unblinking, fixed upon her, were alive. The briefest smile flickered upon his lips, and disappeared.
Meanwhile, Harry sat near the body, watching it closely. His hungry eyes roamed over every inch of her mutilated body. He longed to touch her, to feel her bruises against his fingers, to gain some warmth from her cold body…
“It’s her. Jennifer.” Harry confirmed, comparing her face with the photo he held in his hand.
“Seventh one in three weeks,” Nick mused, “turning out to be a hell of a month, eh?”
“Yup. This freak’s pretty angry at blondes.”
“Call it in, Harry. Just hope this one gives us something to catch him.”
“Why, do you think,” Harry started, “he uses a pen knife? I mean it’s so messy. Even a damn kitchen knife would cut them up nice.”
It came as shock to Nick, who coughed loudly, clutching his chest, choking upon his own smoke.
“What? A pen knife? Wait a second” he blurted, throwing away his cigarette. “Nobody knows about the pen knife except the coroner and me. How the hell did you-” It happened too fast. One moment Nick stood contemplating what it implied, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Harry’s gun was leveled at his forehead.
“Now you bas*ard, why did you kill them?” Harry growled, shaking with anger.
“What? You think I did this?” Nick asked in disbelief, his eyes locked upon the gun waving in his face.
“Don’t play cute, you sick freak! You always know where the bodies are, you get all the tips, you are always one step ahead, but you can’t catch him! Hell even the last tip we got came through the payphone by your house! You actually think I’m that dumb?”
Harry tripped over a branch during his furious outburst, losing his balance. Nick was quick on his feet and leveled his gun against Harry’s chest as regained his composure.
“No no no… It was you all along” Nick hissed at him, “It was you… It all fits now. You found the bodies, you wanted in on this case, hell you even refused that bi*ch for a date! Now that’s something! You refused her just to come up here at this god forsaken hour finding banged up bodies! And guess what? Psychos like to participate in police business, right? You freak! I’ll kill you.”
“Wow. That really was some serious BS. You should be a politician.. Oh sorry! My mistake! You’re a serial killer!”
“I can’t believe it! You’re blaming this sh*t on me! Seriously?”
Both gripped their guns steadily leveled at each other’s foreheads.
A single gunshot rang through the forest, and the birds flew away.
__END__
