Falling For The Bad Guy.

Chapter Four

It was on November 15th,2015 that I knew something was up. James and I had only hooked up about four times. I got a phone call from him, screaming and nervous. He sounded anxious, as if he was awaiting a disaster. He asked me to come by and so I went to his apartment. When I got there, he was fine. It was so odd. When I heard how panicked and scared he was on the phone, I knew he needed me. I expected him to be acting crazy, but when I got there, he was calm. I mean perfectly relaxed to where he was on the couch, drinking a beer. The only thing out of place besides his behavior was that he still had his uniform on, and his usually organized apartment looked torn apart. He looked baffled to see me. "Hey, why are you here?" He greets me standing up and I can clearly see he's wasted. "You called me. Remember?" "Oh right, about that, it's fine. Everything is fine. I just had a little worrisome moment,but it's all good". His personality switch was very alarming, but at the time, the alcohol was an excuse for me to excuse his behavior. Although, I walked out of his apartment that night with a pit in my stomach. There was something off about him. It was that night, a few weeks into knowing him, that I noticed how weird of a person he could be. A week later, I got a phone call from him again. This time, he was his "usual" self, and he wanted me to come over. I went to his place, and the sex was much more than sex. It was an aggressive and rough night. I'm not talking throw me against a wall rough, but he asked to handcuff me to the bed, and when I said no, he stopped kissing me. He went from zero to one-hundred in a matter of seconds. Questioning my trust he said, "come on, what? do you not trust me? It's not like I would leave you here to rot." The seriousness of his words "to rot" was even more alarming. So, I left once again. Opening my computer on a Friday night, I googled Officer James Herilson. Not one man by the name James Herilson in my area came onto the screen. I was so confused, and irrational. I called him before I had time to think. When I asked the questions, "where did you grow up?" Or, "when did you decide to become an officer?" It took him to long to answer such an easy question. Looking further into it, I couldn't find a trace of James Herilson anywhere. All I could find, was a drawing of a man that looked similar to him. A drawing of lookalike of James, holding a knife. I couldn't put my eye on what this was. What this whole act was. It wasn't clear, it couldn't have been. But the cold night of November 15th, lead me to look deeper into who this man was. I had trusted him, as he instilled loyalty into my mind, but even as a young woman, I knew cops weren't always the good guys. I had been working as an assistant for Publisher Roger Ton for a while, James knew that. When I was on my way out of my house to go to work at 7am, I heard a knock on my door. I opened the door to James standing out of uniform. It was so weird how whenever I didn't expect him to be wearing his uniform he was, and when I most expected it, he wasn't. "I want you to work down at the Precinct where I work, there's a case I've had for a while, and I want you to look into it with me." The job opportunity was thrilling, and I took it due to the good pay and the fact that I could get closer to James and actually find out more about his act. Going down to a Precinct for a first time was a bit scary, but James' coworkers were welcoming. I informed his boss that I had no prior experience, but his boss told me that they would take whatever help they could get. So, I quit my job and began to work as an assistant to all at the Precinct. My job became so time consuming and interesting, that I didn't have the chance to look further into James for a while. The big case that James and every detective in the area was working on, was one no one could crack until I came along.
Two Months Later
Twenty One missing women all ages 18-28.
All brown haired, blue eyed, with a thin build.
Twenty One women who I, along with every person who works in the Criminal field, have been searching for. No trace of there DNA. No trace of who took them. Besides there appearances, they all had another thing in common, they lived alone. All independent women who were vulnerable to let someone in. Or, all women who were closed off, and got something they couldn't have possibly expected. Some psychopath has been on the loose for two months, holding Twenty One women captive. James has been helping with this case, but his main priority is his everyday job. I haven't been close to him, and we haven't slept together in a month. On January 20th, a murder. The first murder to possibly be linked to the missing women. Jessica Downes, a fifteen year old girl. A sister to Emily Downes, one of the missing women. The reason for her murder stood unclear, but I became quite the profiler as I looked at her body. Two deep scratches on her neck, three stab wounds on her stomach, a bite mark on her thigh, and the full reason of death, a bashed in head. The scratches on her neck made it clear she was scratched by a woman with long nails, possibly fake nails. The bite mark and scratches was to much evidence. This murderer wanted to be caught. This couldn't have possibly been the same person who's been holding the women captive, there's to much. To leave the body in plain sight, with DNA all over it, was to easy for us to uncover. While I knew this was linked to the kidnappings, I quickly came to the conclusion that there were two people in on this. The person who killed Jessica, had to be set up by the other. Hours of testing DNA go by, and we soon find the name of one of the killers. A female, like I inferred, named Kimberly Marie Johnson. We have the proof, and the equipment to catch and arrest her. But, when we trace her car, we find a setback. She's dead. It's hard to see at first glimpse if it was a suicide or homicide. We later find what was expected, it was a suicide. Who put her up to this? Did she do it willingly, or did someone threaten her? Questions that all would go unanswered for so long. I get handed a piece of evidence from the scene. A note left in the glove compartment of the car she was found dead in. The writing of "I'm sorry I did this." The detectives think it's her writing, but I know it can't be. She's right-handed. I could tell because she scratched the right side of Jessica's neck when she killed her. A right handed person writes straight across, usually evenly. But, the person who wrote this note wrote sloppily and precisely with the spelling. I can't explain how I know this, but it's clear from plain sight that a left handed person wrote the letter. Someone is either apologizing for her murder, wrongfully assumed suicide, or someone is apologizing for putting her up to murdering one of there victims. I go to sleep uneasy that night. Tossing and turning in bed, I get up and make a pot of coffee. At 3am I get a phone call from Peter Vendelson, Lead Detective, another person has gone missing overnight. But this time, it's a man.