Spare the Lambs (8 page)

              I’ll stay over today and look through some vandalism reports for signs of the Easter
Murderers
.  I don’
t
trust myself to drive around the town.  Not when my heart rate doubles and I feel sick when I think about what might be waiting in my apartment.  Other detectives and even that ass Johnston, came by my desk to see what was wrong with me.  My fear and sweating must have shown.  I told them I ate something bad and everyone said that they understood and knew that pain, everyone except
Agent
Johnston.  He simply stared at me for a long time before nodding slowly and walking away.

              I wish I had a more entertaining plan for the rest of the day.  Vandalism reports are always a painful thing, both read and write.  I had to write a number of them back in my patrol days and reading them is even worse.  Location, size, substance, appearance, and a suspect description if someone happened to see the person.  That’s it.  So dry and lifeless.  I plan on searching for anything in or near churches, but I doubt I will find anything more than
gang
tags.

April 8, 2001 from work computer

              Well, the chief had a lot to say about the piece in the paper on the “
homeless
problem.”  Yesterday, shortly after I had completed my entry, he called me into his officer and screamed at me for almost two hours.  The mayor was being pressured to deal with the problem and he was taking it out on the department, which he felt had caused the problem.  I was getting ripped a new asshole because I had sent the patrol officers out.  He yelled, “The fucking beat cops are too damn stupid to think about how their actions will play out, but you know better.  You should’ve stopped them.”

              On and on he went until he told me to get out and that he didn’
t
want to pay such a “retarded detective” overtime.  I went home and was unable to eat anything.  The kids were watching my every move.  I woke up to my screams this morning and saw Eric staring down at me.  It was horrible, since the dream I’d been having was that boy chopping me to pieces and screaming “forgive me”.  I showered and dressed in record time.  I almost ran out of my apartment and quickly headed to the safety of work.  However, work isn’
t
safe anymore either.  On the way in, they were on every street corner and in the parking lot.  The girl was in the goddamn
Bull
pe
n
, always watching me.

              I can’
t
bring myself to eat anything with them watching me.  Watching with their little dead eyes.  I haven’
t
eaten anything other than a cheeseburger in the last two days.  Why haunt me?  Why not their murderers?  Luckily, my heart doesn’
t
feel like it will explode every time I see one of them now.  Maybe I am getting used to them, or maybe my heart is just too exhausted to beat that hard.

I have been covered in an uncomfortable clammy film since I woke up.  My nice white dress shirt is starting to show sweat stains.  I sit at my desk all day with all those kids standing around the
bull
pen, sweating bullets.  To distract myself, I read through the remainder of vandalism reports.  I found some promising ones this time.  One report noted a Catholic church that’d had their holy water filled with red dye, making it look like blood.  Another described a Baptist church that had had “why is he always white”
spray-painted
under a statue of Jesus on the cross.  It’s possibly this last act of vandalism was committed by an adolescent, possibly a minority, who was mad that Jesus, is always shown as a white man, when he probably looked more like an Arab.  Or maybe not.  My money's on it being either Lee or
James
, with their love of pranks and hate of the “God of the prey.”

I had one of the patrol officers drive me to the church that received the holy blood treatment a few months ago.  The officer was starting his portal for the day and he didn’
t
mind taking me.  I think he was happy to have someone to talk to and I learned some new information about the Charlesville college basketball team and their chances of “going all the way.”  The visit, however,  was not so informative.  The priest claimed to have been helping someone with a problem and had forgotten to lock up when he went up to the rectory.  The water had been red by the time he went to open the church the next morning.  With his bloodshot eyes and strong smell of whisky, I suspect he was drinking or sleeping it off when the vandals struck.

I took a taxi back to the cop shop.  After I finish this entry, I plan to head home and try to eat something.

April 9, 2001 from work computer

              I failed to sleep last night, but at least I was able to eat.  When I tried to go to bed, Eric and Lauren Dokes, the first victim, were standing beside my bed.  Joe
Smith
stood inside my couch, so sleeping there was out of the question.  While in bed, I could always see one of them no matter what position I tried to fall asleep in.  I just couldn’
t
close my eyes.  I was certain that if I did, they would touch me and that would send me into madness.

              Every time one of the kids shows up, my body reacts the same way it does when a rabid dog has me cornered.  They can’
t
be real.  Ghosts are said to be seen by most people, but nobody in the Bullpen has reacted yet to little dead kids popping up.  They must be only in my mind.  Some screws are loose or something. However, my body won’
t
believe me when I tell it they can’
t
hurt me.

              The kids held guard duty over my bed for hours until.  Finally I gave up and went into the kitchen to make some coffee.  The kitchen was completely free of phantoms or hallucinations, and I remained there for the rest of the night.  I made a large meal with hamburgers and some cheap noodles.  In the bathroom, Michele Hardy was standing in the sink.  I did my business covered in a layer of sweat while staring at a spot on the floor two feet away.  For a moment, my disobedient eyes still wandered over to the dead girl.

              After two and a half days, I finally ate something, but still haven’
t
slept in thirty-two hours.  I requested tomorrow off to recover some sleep, either at my apartment or a hotel somewhere.  The day off will also help me prepare for the shit storm that always blows in after another dead kid is found.  Only two days until I have failed again.  Knowing that I failed them is worse than the victim’s parents, always crying and demanding justice.  If I can close this case and give the victims and their families justice, I can die knowing my life meant something.

              The chief agreed to my request, but only after giving me one of those “are you working too hard?” looks.  I went back to my desk and finished off the vandalism reports.  I found only two more dealing with churches.  The first might have a connection.  Someone broke into a Baptist church and burned a bible on the preachers lectern.  The second case looks more like a drunk man forgot where he was and shat in a confessional.

              I took a thumbtack board from the Vice squad and set up a map of the city, pins marking areas of importance to my case.  I used red tacks for the body drops, blue for the one known hangout location, and white for the
vandalized
churches that are possibly connected.  I
realized
that I needed more clues to crack this case.  The blue pin for the school hangout and that year’s body drop were in the same part of town but without other points, it means nothing.

After I looked at the map for a few minutes,
Agent
Johnston stuck his nose in.  After he asked about the map and pins, I explained and he quickly pointed out something that I am still kicking myself for missing.  I’d forgotten to mark the possible kidnapping locations.  I added them to the map with green thumbtacks and stepped back to take a look.  The kidnapping locations and the drop points were within five miles of each other for each victim.  Eric’s hangout and murder site was within this five-mile radius.  This could mean that all the murder sites are close to the pickup and drop off points as well.

This may help us find evidence to convince a jury once we catch the group, but it won’
t
help us save the next kid.  Somewhere in this city a child is walking around, unaware that their life will come to a violent end very soon.  I was starting to get a headache from lack of sleep, so I told Johnston that I was calling it a day.  Once I finish this entry, I am heading home.  I just hope the kids let me sleep.

The Charlesville Times, cover page.

April 14, 2001

Easter
Murderers
Changing
It Up

Early this morning, the body of a girl was found in the customary black bag of the Easter
Murders
.  This victim makes seven in as many years.  However, this victim is unusual in comparison to all previous victims.  The body was identified as Judith
Smith
and unlike the other ritualistic killings were
ten-years old
and from middle-class families, Judith was twelve-years old and from a lower-class family.  Does this mean that the murderers have changed their targets to throw off the police’s investigation?  Or could this be a real copycat killing, as was suspected of the previous murders until we read Eric Moore’s confession?

One thing that points to this being a copycat killing is that, according to the police, Judith was attacked, by up to five different individuals.  While evidence has revealed that each previous victim was killed by a different murderer, each murder was committed by only one attacker.  That distinction could point to a copycat; however, the police state that evidence points to this murder belonging to the murderous group known as the Easter
Murderers
.  The police claim that the wound patterns match those of earlier victims.  When asked which victims, Police Chief Jones stated that they matched all the victims except Eva Collins.

While wound patterns are not distinctive enough to be as certain as fingerprints, DNA, or bullets, the Police Chief and
Detective
Pearson are confident that Judith
Smith
was killed by the remaining members of the group.  When asked why the group would have changed their ritual, both in victim and in the number of attackers,
Detective
Pearson claimed to be unable to answer at this point in the investigation.

April 14, 2001 from work computer

              We found Judith today in a bag.  Her wounds were similar to five of the six “Easter
Murders
” cases.  It normally takes longer for an autopsy and identification, but everyone was waiting for this one in terrible anticipation.  Those bastards hacked her up in what the M.E. called “a frenzy.”  At least she died innocent and didn’
t
have to live with the guilt of killing the child that had been chosen for the sacrifice.  After so many nights dreaming I was Eric, feeling trapped and the only escape being to kill that girl, I find that I understand the kid better than I should.  In free moments I have wondered if it is better to kill or to die.

              The girl described by Eric Moore in his confession was Judith
Smith
.  She went to the first school I’d visited.  I can’
t
believe that even after personally asking them to take a look at their students to see if one or more of them might be murderers, they simply forgot about it and went on with their normal routine.  They said, defensively, that they really hadn’
t
noticed the girl.  Apparently, she was quiet and her grades were neither too high nor too low to draw attention.  The kids had noticed her though.

              The girls in her class pitied her but still shunned her.  They pitied her because she was poor and normally wore bruises, or so the girls guessed.  A few thought she hurt herself for attention.  I had to piece together why they shunned her, since no one wanted to admit to doing it, not even the girls that claimed she hurt herself for attention.  They shunned her because she was poor and an early bloomer.  It felt really weird broaching the subject of the victim’s body in comparison with their own.  However, once I had, they didn’
t
attempt to hide their jealousy as they hurled accusations like, “Judith is a slut.”

              The boys in her class seemed to have swarmed her after
summer
break, when she came back to school with “big
tits
”.  Eventually the boys gave up one by one as they realized their attention was just annoying her.  They soon forgot about Judith Smith as an object of desire and simply deemed her a cold bitch.  How some people think about young girls disturbs me.  In school, as I remember it, if you were a bully your friends were bullies and if you were being bullied, you had friends that were also being bullied.  These girls hated her because the boys wanted her and the boys hated her because they couldn’
t
have her.  That seems much
crueler than simply being beaten up
.