The Angel of Death

Chapter - 5 (The Heckle)

I sift through my collection of books, contemplating which ones to dive into later, while I punch in Lance's number.

"Good morning, sunshine," he answered cheerfully.

"Hey, good morning," I replied softly. "Do you have a moment to chat?"

"For you? Always," he said. "What's on your mind?"

"Why were you at Levi's office the other day?" I inquired.

"He didn't fill you in?" Lance let out a sigh. "Of course not. He's my younger brother, after all."

I hesitated, unsure of how to reply.

"We haven't spoken since I went off to serve in the military, so I went to see him but he didn't want to see me," he added. "That's what led to the argument."

"You didn't want to stay in touch with him?" I probed gently.

"He didn't," Lance said, his voice heavy with frustration. "He's been pushing me away since we were 16. Our relationship shattered when I went to the military."

I felt a pang of empathy. "I'm sorry you're going through this. It sounds really tough."

"Don't worry about it," he dismissed casually. "I'll reach out later. My dad's got a task for me."

"Okay, see you." I hung up and tossed the books I hadn't chosen back onto the shelf.

I approached the murder board I had assembled on my office wall, pinning Jack Brown's photo right beside Ava's. I have an interview lined up with him tonight. Fingers crossed he brings some valuable insights.

As I entered the café, I spotted Jack already seated. He rose to greet me, and we exchanged a firm handshake.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mr. Brown," I said as we settled into our chairs. "I can only imagine how challenging this must be for you, considering..."

"I just want to ensure that no one else has to go through this, Miss Jones," he replied, offering a strained smile. "Shall we get started?"

"Absolutely, would it be alright if I record our conversation?"

"Of course," he said. "When he abducted me, I was just about to step through my front door. His face was obscured, but the porch light revealed his striking grey eyes."

"So, he had been tailing you," I inferred. "Did you catch any other details? Any distinguishing marks, perhaps?"

"He had none," he said, shaking his head. "He quickly threw a black bag over my head and tased me before I had a chance to defend myself."

"What happened next?"

"He took me to a place I couldn't pinpoint, my memory hazy from the blow that knocked me unconscious. When I finally came to, we were still on the move, the hours slipping away from me. After two hours, I lost all sense of time. He tormented me for two long days, stabbing me with knives, violating me, and lashing me with a whip. I had a fleeting sense that someone else was in the house during one of those brutal sessions. In his rush to leave, he carelessly left the basement door ajar. Summoning every ounce of strength, I crawled upstairs and squeezed myself into a closet, clutching a fire hose for comfort. After what felt like an eternity, he returned downstairs, and by then, I had gathered enough strength to make my escape. I burst through the front door of a grand mansion, isolated in the wilderness, but I didn't stop to think. I sprinted through the dense forest until I stumbled upon the main road. After 46 gruelling hours of wandering, a truck finally appeared. The driver became my saviour, alerting the authorities to my plight."

"I'm so sorry you endured that, Jack," I said softly. "Do you recall where you were found?"

"Whites Hill," he replied.

"And what about the house or the surrounding area? Any details?"

"No, all I could think about was getting away," he answered.

"That makes perfect sense," I nodded in understanding.

We delved deeper into his experiences before we finally bid farewell and stepped out of the café. Just as I was about to relish the thought of heading home, another notification pinged on my phone.

'Oh my god, who died now?' I thought, a wave of dread washing over me as I glanced at the screen.

Another murder? So soon?

I hurried to my car, urgency propelling me toward the crime scene.

Upon arrival, I found Emma and Levi surrounded by forensic teams, while a throng of journalists clamoured at the perimeter, eager for any scrap of information.

Emma quickly ushered me inside, and I gasped as I laid eyes on the lifeless body. It mirrored the previous victim, posed with angelic wings, but this time, the face was grotesquely disfigured. A piece of paper was affixed to the body, bearing the chilling message: You can't stop me.

The bastard was mocking us.

Anger surged within me. He took a life, all to taunt us? His arrogance is growing, fueled by his criminal prowess. He's aware of our weak evidence. He knows we're clutching at straws. His confidence is becoming dangerously bold.

Emma put a silent hand of support on my shoulder as I observed the lifeless body while Levi was hovering around the forensic team.
Emma and I scoured the area but found nothing—not even ropes and plastic sheets. There must be something I can find- Is that...?
I paused when I came upon tyre marks. I looked around me; no one was around. I crouched down and took multiple photos of the marks. I could run that up with a tyre manufacturing company. Maybe it's a unique track.

I made my way back to the crime scene, observing the absence of journalists. That was a relief; they always complicate things for us.I knelt next to the lifeless form, slipped on my gloves, and began to examine for any signs of struggle.

I looked for knife wounds, disfigured fingers and toes, and evidence of sexual assault. This woman had endured horrific torture before her death, yet her body was already cold, suggesting she had been lying here for a considerable time before we arrived.

A sharp intake of breath from the forensic scientist next to me drew my attention, and I was struck with horror as she extracted a watch from the woman's corpse.

What in the world? It was a signature of sorts, a grotesque mark left by him. An unsettling piece of art crafted from the woman's body, arranged just like the others, yet this time he had dared to leave such a blatant and exposed signature.

The scientist swiftly placed the watch into an evidence bag and passed it to a colleague, who carefully stowed it away in a box. I need to examine that watch later.

I remove my gloves and make my way back to Levi and Emma.

"Any updates?" I inquired as I positioned myself before them.

"None whatsoever," Levi replied. "The woman's features are completely unrecognizable. We'll need to run DNA tests."

"I'll gather DNA samples from the families of the recent missing persons," Emma suggested.

"That would be excellent," Levi agreed with a nod.

"Isn't it strange?" I began. "He typically doesn't strike this early. His timing is always so twisted."

"That bastard is definitely toying with us," Emma scowled. "We have to put a stop to him, and quickly. We need more solid evidence."

Levi simply nodded, "I guess we do."

Emma cast him an irritated glance but remained silent as I weighed the decision to reveal the tyre marks.

In the end, I chose to keep it to myself.

"I'll head back to the office and file the evidence," I announced, turning to make my exit.

"I'll handle it," Levi interjected without hesitation. "You should head home; it's getting late."

"No, really, it's fine," I replied, my brow furrowing. "I've got this."

"But you-."

"Levi, she said she'll take care of it, so let her," Emma interjected with a frown.

Levi reluctantly backed down, and I grabbed the box, making my way to the car before driving off.

After carefully stowing the evidence away, I slipped on a pair of gloves and retrieved the watch from its box for a closer inspection. Although they had already collected several DNA samples, I wasn't about to take any chances.

As I scrutinized the watch for any initials, I discovered them etched on the back—B.A. The same initials as the lighter. I quickly snapped a photo and slid my phone back into my pocket. It was a Rolex, and I could reach out to the company to track down all the B.A.s in our area who might have purchased this timepiece.

Entering my office while peeling off my gloves, I halted in my tracks at the sight of a box sitting ominously on my desk.

Oh no, not again.

I tossed the gloves into the trash and approached the box with trepidation. As I opened it, a wave of nausea hit me. Inside lay a severed human eye, dismembered fingers, and what appeared to be a piece of kidney, accompanied by a chilling message—This could be you.

Let him give it a shot.

I grabbed the box and headed to my car, ready to make my way to the forensic office. They'll determine if these belong to the woman or yet another tragic soul.

I refuse to be intimidated by the empty threats from that jerk.If he had the guts to harm me, he would have done it by now.

I'm on a mission to track him down, and I won't let myself falter.

I will not fail.