I am just a simple man, living the American dream;
I might be just like you except for the fact that
I am also
a serial killer. At first I hated that part of myself, I tried to deny the truth for a long time but I couldn’t deny the excitement
that I felt when I began hunting an innocent woman only to end her life. The more I hunted the better I became at hiding from the
world my dark secret. Over the years I began to crave the rush I got when the raging beast inside me reared its ugly head. The obsession
grew until all I could think about was the next kill, the next young woman whose life I would cut short.
Sable’s
hand gripped the pages of what she had just read as she looked up at her boss. “Nick,” she wet her parched lips with the tip of her
tongue.
Nick glanced over at her and frowned. Sable’s face was pale and there was a quickness to her breathing that wasn’t normal.
“What is it?”
Sable held out the pages to him and sat down at her desk carefully. She put her hands to either side of her head
and slowly closed her eyes against the shock she felt. She rubbed her aching temples in an effort to calm her nerves. When she opened
her eyes, the first thing she saw was the plain manila envelope lying on her desk. The envelope had her full first name Sabella scrawled
in ink on the outside of it. This was the envelope she had opened moments ago. Sable frowned as she reread the name on the front of
the envelope. It wasn’t a name she used and no one other than her mother ever called her by that name.
Sable opened her desk
drawer and pulled out a large clear plastic bag and carefully tucked the envelope inside. Looking up she saw concern on the faces
in front of her. Without saying a word she handed the envelope to her boss, Nicholas Ramer.
Nick glanced at the envelope and
compared the writing to that of the letters. Sable’s name was written by the same hand as the pages. He was surprised to find there
was no return address on the envelope, and it hadn’t been run through the post office. It had been hand delivered. “What the hell?
How did this get in here undetected?”
Nick looked over at the other members of his team and handed the envelope to Quentin Parks.
“Run this over to fingerprinting and see who besides us has handled it.”
Nick glanced at Brandi Nichols. “Get a board
in here and set it up with the pages. Let’s get a handle on what exactly we’re dealing with.”
He looked over at Max. “See if
you can find anything on the surveillance tapes from last night. I don’t like the fact that this guy just walked into our offices
without being stopped along the way. This is supposed to be a secure FBI office.”
Max nodded and left the room.
Nick pulled
a chair up beside Sable and sat down. “Do you know anything about the pages? How they got into the office or who wrote them?”
“No,”
Sable replied. “I found the envelope sitting on my desk and I opened it. I guess I really didn’t think about it.” She looked at Nick
and had to ask, “What’s going on here?”
Nick shrugged. “That’s one of the things we need to find out. We also need to find out
if this is real or a hoax; and if it is a hoax, we still need to find out who is responsible. I’m not sure I like the fact that someone
can just walk in here off the streets and leave a package on one of our desks then walk out again undetected. If it's real, we need
to find out who this killer is and how to stop him.” He stood up and held out his hand to her, “Let’s find out what this guy has to
say. Let’s do our job and get him off the streets.”
Sable nodded and gripped Nick’s hand. Following him over to the board Brandy
set up, she took the time to read each of the seven pages the killer had sent to her.
“They seem to be pages of a diary.” Sable
spoke out loud. “The writing seems to suggest that the killer is writing down his feelings and experiences so as not to forget them.
Much the same as a young girl would write down what she feels is important. I think this is definitely for real.”
Brandi shook
her head. “I can think of other things to write about than that trash.” She pointed to the letters. “But I don’t think his motive
was so he wouldn’t forget his feelings, but more so that he could relive what he’d done when he reread his own words.”
Sable
turned her attention back to the letters. “I wonder how old these pages are.”
“What difference would that make?” Max asked.
| MR Reviewer: | AlexJouJou |
Laura Moreno
Reviewer