The City of Darkness and Blood

Chapter 16

Thursday Afternoon

I was in my home office, poring over the crime scene photos Kendall had provided. The room was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of the papers and the hum of the air conditioning. Speaking of Kendall, I was currently on the phone with her, and I had put her on speaker. Something about the situation felt off. "You sure your mom has no idea you're discussing a case with me?" I asked, my voice laced with concern. "As I said, we're swamped. The press, even the commissioner, is putting pressure on us to catch this prick and close the case," Kendall responded, her frustration evident, and sighed deeply, "Right now, I could use all the help I can get. So, did you find anything?"

"Nothing yet," I said, looking at each photo meticulously, "So, you think Billy Randell's your guy? He did threaten to kill his neighbors."

"No, he owns a machete, but the blade was 5-12 inches and didn't match the Butcher's weapon. He's more of an angry, abusive husband than a killer. At least I managed to collar him for assaulting an officer," Kendall replied, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

I let out a small chuckle. "Looks can be deceiving." My attention was drawn to a particular photo. "Hold on..." I found a photo of a deceased little girl dressed like a doll.

"You got something?" Kendall asked, clearly hopeful.

"Yeah, the photo with the dead girl—the one dressed as a doll. Were there any signs of sexual assault on her or any of the other victims?"

"No, why?" Kendall's voice was puzzled.

I examined the photos more closely. "Her nails were cut, and her hair is neatly done. It seems like the girl was well taken care of before she was murdered."

Kendall didn't seem to understand the significance. "The Butcher kidnapped her, replaced her organs with stuffing, and dressed her up like a doll. That screams psychopath," she said.

"But these murders aren't random. None of the victims are black or Hispanic. Why kill the parents?"

"The Butcher wanted the girls; the parents were just obstacles," Kendall explained.

I continued to ponder the killer's motives. "I've been reading the reports—some of the families had sons, but they weren't harmed. He wasn't interested in the boys?"

"No, his victims are mostly females," Kendall confirmed.

"Hm..." I mused aloud. "You know, I'm starting to think that girl's not the only victim who got this kind of treatment. I think the Butcher's other victims were also taken care of. Since there's no sign of rape or physical abuse, he's probably doing this because he wants a child of his own—to raise and to love—or to replace a daughter he lost."

Kendall sounded uncertain. "That... is a good theory, but if he's really taking good care of them, then why take their lives?"

"He probably killed them when the girls refused to obey him," I hypothesized.

Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. I wasn't expecting anyone. "Uh, Kendall, I'll call you back. Someone's here," I said. "Alright, bye," she replied, ending the call. I made my way downstairs as the knocking persisted. I opened the door to find an elderly woman standing there. "Jason Adams?" she inquired. I took a closer look at her. She was dressed in a fancy white dress and adorned with expensive jewelry. "Yes, that's me," I said, meeting her gaze. "I would like to hire you," the elderly woman said, her voice smooth and refined. Intrigued, I invited her inside to discuss the case she had for me. I hoped it was something substantial.

Later That Evening - 8:23 PM

Back at home, I was cleaning up the kitchen when Herman's call came through. We talked about the Mad Butcher and, of course, Hunter. It seemed like everyone was fixated on these topics. In the background, I heard a doorbell ring, followed by a startled "What the hell?! Who are you?" from Herman.