A Collection of Short Stories

7. Black Heart

He fled the scene the minute he heard the sirens. He left through the back door to avoid being seen by CCTV. He didn't leave any clues behind. No footprints, no fingerprints, no trace of the phone he used to make the call, not even the murder weapon. He was getting good at this. The only thing left was her body, and a small black heart carved in her chest.
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Maya Larson's body was found in her home. She was in horrible condition. She had thirty stab wounds to the chest, back, and lower waist. Blood was splattered everywhere. On the walls, the floor, and even on Maya's clothes. Police arrived almost immediately after the call was made. When they got to the crime scene, they immediately thought something was off. There was no sign of the murder weapon, but there were stab wounds on her body. They even found the black heart on Maya's chest, which they thought was strange. But they would never know they were dealing with a serial killer. Not until it was too late. 

Detective Carter arrived on the scene first, followed by Officer Gray. They noticed Maya's lifeless body in the middle of the living room. There were also pieces of broken glass as well as a rose. A crime of passion. It was the only thing that made sense to them. They didn't have any solid evidence. All they had was her body. Nothing else. They noticed the black heart, but they thought it was just a tattoo. Little did they know, it wasn't.
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He stood outside the windows of her house and watched her. There she was. Making coffee at 11:00 at night. She was on the phone talking with someone. Her TV was still on, not surprisingly. So she was a night owl. He liked it. Just his type. 

He went around to the front of her house. Of course, the door was locked. She was careful. She was smart. He liked her. Such a shame he had to kill her. But that was his nature. He was born a killer. Not made. 

He knew the key to her place was around here somewhere. He just had to think. If he were her, where would he hide the key? Under the floor mat. Of course. The easiest way to hide a key in plain sight. He took the key and opened her door, careful not to make any noise. The TV was on, so she wouldn't hear him come in. He waited for the right time. Then, he shot her six times in the chest, back, and waist. 

He had the silencer on his gun so no one would hear it. Just like with Maya, he didn't leave any clues behind. He was careful. The only left was the small black heart carved into his chest. He left the house through the back door to avoid being seen, and then he was gone.
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The third call came into the police station the next day. Sabrina Dawson was found dead. Six gunshot wounds to the chest, waist and back. No sign of forced entry, no sign of the murder weapon, and no sign of the killer.

They all gathered in the conference room where Detective Carter was standing by a board with all the murders so far.

"Three victims," he said, pointing at the chart. "The first one is Blaire Sullivan, age 19, who died of strangulation. The second is Maya Larson, age 21, cause of death is stabbing and the third, which came in today, is Sabrina Dawson, age 20, and died of six gunshot wounds. They were all found dead in their homes. No ID or connection to one another. All of them were found with a black heart carved in their chest. Murdered likely by the same person, if not, by different. All young adults."

"That's it?"

"That's all we have for now. I'll let you know if we get any updates."

"Thanks for your time, Alex."

"So what happens next?"

"We take matters into our own hands. We investigate."

The next day, three officers went to the victim's houses. They talked with their parents, siblings, or any other person who might know something the police didn't. Everyone's statements were the same. They were either at home or with a friend. Nothing helpful. When questioned about enemies or possible suspects, they all said the same thing. They didn't know who could do it. With only three dead bodies and no sign of the killer, the police had nothing. They were about to give up and close the cases when the fourth call came in later that day. 

"The fourth victim was called in today. Piper Grayson, age 19. She was found  murdered in her home with thirty five stab wounds, and a black heart on her chest. No sign of the murder weapon and no fingerprints. Nothing."

"Okay. We need to find this guy. He's getting clever. He's playing us. What did Brentley say?"

"He has a potential lead. Kurt Webber, age 34, lives in Portland."

"Could he be our guy?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"There's only one way to find out. Bring him in tomorrow."
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He sat in the waiting room of the police station. They were going to interview him. They suspected him. They were on to him. But how? They didn't have any evidence. They couldn't legally arrest him. So they would let him go because they didn't have anything.  They would make a mistake. They would screw up, and he would be free. 

"Did you know Blaire Sullivan?" Detective Carter asked him. 

"No." he responded plainly. 

"What about Maya Larson?"

"No. Never met her."

"Sabrina Dawson?"

"Look. If you think I had something to do with their deaths, why not just say it?"

"Okay then. We think you did it. We think you killed them."

"You can't prove that. You don't have any evidence."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been following the cases on the news. You have nothing. No weapons, no fingerprints, no leads." 

The sudden realization hit. It was all true. They did have nothing. He was right. They couldn't move forward. Even if they did suspect him, they couldn't arrest him.

"Well then, I'm gonna let you go, Mr. Webber. Thank you for your time."

"No problem, Detective." And just as quickly as he arrived, he was gone.
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He went back home after. He felt good about himself. He didn't lie to the police. He just told him the truth. They didn't have any evidence and so they couldn't arrest him, no matter how much they wanted to. He was free. Free to do anything he wanted. Free to kill again. 

He had killed four victims within the Brentwood area. Who's to say he couldn't kill one more? This one was going to be different. He was going to make it look like a suicide. He carefully planned everything out. First, he needed a letter. A suicide note. He had to make it believable. Like she was really struggling and she didn't want to live anymore. When he wrote it the way he wanted to, he mailed it to the police station, and addressed it to Detective Carter. Now came the suicide part. 

How would she die? Stabbed, shot, overdosed, or falling? He thought falling was the safest option. It was a lot more dramatic and people would fall for it, especially the police. He drove out to a bridge nearby that had a lake. Perfect. He parked his car in the rear, and then got off. Before he died, he did one last thing. He put gasoline he carried with him in his car so it would blow up. Then, he took one step off the bridge and fell into the lake. 
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The police got the suicide note a day later. It was all over the news. Serial killer Kurt Webber jumps from his death after killing four people in the Brentwood County area. They read the note in their office. It stated in detail everything he did to each victim and how he did it. He signed it at the bottom with his name and a black heart.

His body was never found.