All characters and places in this series are fictional. Any resemblance they bear to actual people or places is purely coincidental.
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“I don’t think I’ve ever been inside an actual junkyard before,” said Detective Lieutenant Andrea “Andi” Desalis to her partner.
Detective Sergeant Jacob “Mac” MacGregor nodded his head in acknowledgement before replying. “Me either. I can think of lots of other and probably better reasons to visit one though.”
“Yeah,” said Andi. She was looking at the body of a child laying on the backseat of a junked car. The car was probably over thirty years old. The child had been eight before disappearing almost two weeks earlier. This was the fourth child’s body that had been found in the past month. Andi and Mac were the lead investigators on the case, but neither of them was happy with how the case was developing. The killer was either lucky or skilled or both. They’d found – so far – no physical evidence on or around the children’s bodies that might link them to any one person. There was plenty of evidence of how the children had been treated before being killed, and none of it was good. Andi had a hard time controlling her tears – not of sadness but of anger and rage – when she considered how the lives of these children ended. Each had been kidnapped; three of the four showed signs of both torture and molestation before they were killed. It was absolutely sad to think that their death might have been the kindest thing the killer had given them in the last weeks of their short lives.
Mac was just finishing up with his notes when the agency’s evidence team showed up. Bert and Ernie – the photographer and the evidence tech – were perhaps one of Oceanside’s larger jokes. Bert, a sworn officer, stood six feet nine inches tall and was rail thin. Ernie, a civilian employee, stood about five feet nine inches tall and was round like a bowling ball. Together they listed, numbered, photographed, diagrammed and cataloged every piece of evidence they could find in and around the body. If there was even the smallest possibility that something could be evidence, they took pictures, tagged and bagged it. Both of them had been at the previous three crime scenes where the bodies of children had been discovered. They didn’t like it any more than Andi and Mac did.
As the evidence team worked, Andi turned to Mac and said, “Can you handle this here? We’ve got that briefing to give this morning and I want to go polish up our handouts.”
“Yeah,” Mac said as he nodded. “I’ll see you back at the office or over at the academy.”
Without so much as a nod, and feeling emotionally drained because of the impact of the pedophile crimes, Andi just turned and headed back to her cruiser. She and Mac had arrived in separate cars because it was so early. He was in his personally owned vehicle (POV) and she had brought the agency unmarked sedan they were assigned.
As Andi drove away she considered what she needed to do to prepare for the presentation. The Chief’s office had arranged for use of the academy auditorium. It was the only space the agency had access to that came close to holding all of the officers who would attend. It hadn’t been made mandatory but the “Chief’s Invitation” had made it pretty clear that he wanted every officer who COULD be there TO be there and that overtime pay would be authorized for those officers not working at the time. Some officers definitely wouldn’t be there – because they were scheduled to be working and had been selected to stay on the streets covering calls. Andi expected that the whole presentation, including questions and answers, would take less than an hour. For that time frame, though, the city would be patrolled at about one-third normal strength. The citizens would probably complain if they knew, she thought. On the other hand, some of the citizens would simply take advantage of the fact fewer officers were on the streets – and the crime rate would soar.
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Patricia Ladde - or “Tracy” as she was most commonly known – had rented a house near the end of South Nassau Avenue. It wasn’t cheap. Atlantic City was a relatively typical oceanfront city and houses that were located on the beach were never cheap. In this case, the three bedroom house cost her almost five thousand a month in rent, but, thanks to the cash she’d taken from Doug and Stan’s boat after she’d killed them, she had plenty. She could stay a year or more unless circumstances prohibited it.
Circumstances often did. She was quite honest with herself about a few things. First, she had long ago decided that she was a sociopath and she didn’t mind a bit. If she’d had any feelings about not having feelings, then it would have been proof, to her way of thinking, that she wasn’t a sociopath. Since being a sociopath meant she didn’t have to worry about guilt or morals, she found the belief much more relaxing and suitable to the lifestyle she’d chosen. She tried to be careful about it. After all, being careful was necessary because the rest of society most assuredly would not be as comfortable or understanding about all of her lifestyle choices that were empowered by her being a sociopath. So, being a sociopath was the first thing. The second was her sexual appetite. While society used terms like “slut” or “hussy,” Tracy preferred to think of herself as sexually liberated. Sometimes she’d prefer to herself as promiscuous. But the fact that she enjoyed sex with either sex, and preferably with multiple partners at the same time, definitely classified her outside of what society considered “normal” for sexual practices. She liked men. She liked women. She liked having multiple partners for her sexual activities and she enjoyed it all the more if they also interacted with each other. As much as Tracy liked being the center of attention, she had a voyeuristic streak a mile wide and she enjoyed watching her partners pleasure – or take pleasure from – each other. As an attractive and petite very fit female, Tracy usually had no problem finding sexual playmates. In any given bar on any weekend night she could usually find two or three friends out for drinks; and that group of friends was usually more than happy to go back to her place for sexual play. So, second – she was sexually free and felt no guilt about it thanks to that whole sociopath thing.
Third, she liked killing people. Well, sometimes. She didn’t kill, or even WANT to kill everyone she played sexually with; but some of them left her with a desperate desire to just end their life. Sometimes it was due to their selfishness, lack of energy or lack of imagination, but whatever it was, when the sex play was over, sometimes Tracy just felt like the world would be better off without that person in it. She didn’t always entertain her desire to kill. She probably suppressed it eighty to ninety percent of the time. She was honest enough with herself to admit that if she actually killed everyone she wanted to, she’d be in jail pretty quick. She probably wanted to kill half of her sexual playmates, and since there could be five to ten of those in any given weekend, that would be two to five murders per weekend. That kind of killing would definitely be noticed in any city smaller than New York or Chicago. By limiting herself to the one in ten that she REALLY felt needed to die, she kept the murders out of the limelight. She usually killed two at a time, and she’d become pretty expert at disposing of bodies… which brought her to the fourth item.
Item four: she liked the taste of human flesh. Cannibalism had been a common human practice for as far back as documented history. Sure, it had always been frowned upon – unless you were eating the heart of your enemy or some such, but it wasn’t anything new in human history. Almost by accident, during some really rough sexual play, Tracy had gotten a taste of a playmate’s blood… and it grew from there. She’d studied a lot of cook books to learn a wide variety of recipes on how to cook pork which, according to everything she’d read, was the closest meat she’d find to human.
One day she hoped to find her perfect soul mate. She didn’t like being alone more than anyone else did. She wanted to be held, and loved and appreciated. But she knew that it would take a truly special someone to feel that way about her. It would have to be someone she could be completely honest with and that would require someone else who was as comfortable with her lifestyle as she was. She’d often giggle at her own thinking: it meant she was looking for a partner in crime.
In the meantime… she was enjoying the beach even though the tourist season had passed. Thanks to the casinos though, the fact that the weather was turning didn’t mean a complete lack of tourists for the city. There were still plenty coming and going although many of them were older than her tastes focused on. At 28 years of age, Tracy tended to find playmates who were between 25 and 35. Younger than that and they tended to have family that would miss them VERY quickly if they disappeared for a day or two. Older than that and it was hard to find them in good physical shape. And, let’s be honest – like Tracy always tried to be with herself – sex is better with someone who keeps themselves in shape, and… well… there was less fat in her food that way too.
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Eddie’s squad had the day off but all of them had come in for the briefing. JP was working but she was there and found her way over next to Max to sit for the presentation. The briefing was scheduled to start at ten a.m. – ten hundred hours in police speak – and it was about that time when the Chief walked up to the podium in place on the stage. Clearing his throat, and after tapping the mic to make sure it was on, the Chief began.
“Good morning and thank you for coming in,” Chief Barry Beam said to the crowd of officers and staff. “Especially for those of you who are on your RDO, I appreciate you prioritizing this. As most of you are aware, we have had a series of murders in our city in the past four to six weeks. The murders occurred after the victim was kidnapped, molested and then tortured. That the victims are all under the age of ten makes these crimes even more heinous than normal.” He paused and waited for the murmur that ran through the gathered officers to quiet down. Not everyone had been aware of the ages of the victims, and while police officers usually learned to block themselves from the emotions commonly caused by such violent and harsh crimes, blocking those feelings got harder when one realized the victim was just a child.
“Here to give you a briefing on the crimes are the two detectives currently leading the investigation. My office will be assigning help to them as they ask for it. The resolution of this investigation is our first priority until further notice.” With that he stepped back, gestured his hand toward Andi and directed her to the podium. “Detective Lieutenant Andi Desalis and her partner Detective Sergeant Jacob MacGregor,” the Chief said as he stepped back.
Andi stepped up with Mac right beside her. The Chief took his seat and scanned the crowd. Those in the audience who knew him personally at all knew how hard he took these crimes. Barry Beam was a man who took his role in law enforcement seriously. He never had focused on the “enforcement” part although he’d never shrunk from it either. He focused on the “protect and serve” part far more than the enforcement duties, and his leadership style displayed that clearly. Those who knew him knew full well that his stated desire to close the investigation was his way of saying he wanted the perpetrator(s) caught as quickly as possible so the crimes would be ended. Given that the victims to date were all children, he’d give or direct to be given any assistance that Andi or Mac asked for.
“Good morning,” said Andi. “Thanks for coming in. We’ll try to be brief, but we’ll stay and answer any questions you have for as long as it takes.” While she was speaking, Mac was setting up the slides they’d prepared to display on the large screen that rolled down at the back of the stage. The first slide up showed a map of the city with red stars showing the locations where the bodies had been found. Indicating each star by location as she spoke, Andi described the location, the child’s name and age, and the reported cause of death. Two of them had been strangulation. One had been stabbing. The last had been blunt trauma. She ended that part of the briefing with the statement that, “to date, we have no pattern identified in the location nor any connection between the victims.”
Mac changed the slide and another map of Oceanside showed, this time with green circles indicating events. Andi explained, “These green dots show the locations of every reported ‘creepy clown’ we’ve had in the last eight weeks. We don’t see any connection and aren’t sure if there is one, but we find it coincidental that the clowns all started showing up just two weeks before our first kidnapping and the kidnappings seem to be occurring on about a two week schedule.” She took a breath and gathered her thoughts because her next observation wasn’t part of the slide or the original planned presentation. “Just last week, as I’m sure you’ve all heard, we had a clown sighting that included a report of the clown being armed with a machete. In the end, the investigation revealed it was just another fruitcake, or it was an attempt at suicide by cop. Sgt. Presser’s squad handled it well and we have one last creepy clown on the streets. That individual has been committed for psychiatric treatment and his background is being investigated to see if he has any connection to any of the victims in our murders or the locations where the bodies were found.”
Mac changed the slide and a man’s photo showed up. The face was badly scarred. Andi continued. “Now, we’ve developed three potential suspects based on their criminal histories and last known residence. This first suspect is Marcus Cantaldo. He has priors for aggravated assault, armed robbery and stalking. As you can see from these other pictures,” Mac changed the slide as Andi kept talking, “he’s also worked in the past as a carnival clown. The scars on his face were received when he had an accident at one job and were caused by a mix of shrapnel and caustic liquids.” She looked down at her notes. “He’s 33 years old, six foot one and weighs about one hundred seventy pounds. Although he has priors for violent crimes he’s never been arrested in possession of a weapon. He’s on our suspect list because the stalking charges included that of two minors, although none of them were younger than fifteen years of age.”
Mac changed the slide again as Andi said, “Next up… is Terrence Whitley. Terrence is 39 years old, five feet eleven and one hundred eighty five pounds. He is dark complected and keeps his head shaved although the facial hair is reported to change depending on the season.” Mac changed the slide to show another picture of Terrence with a shorter beard and no moustache. Andi continued. “He has a prior arrest for kidnapping, but…” She paused as a murmur went through the audience. “BUT…” she said in a stronger voice, amplified further by the PA system in the auditorium. “BUT, it was during a custody battle and his ex-wife got the warrant because he didn’t return their child at the end of specified visitation. He’s on our list of suspects because of the prior for kidnapping. He has no other arrest history we can find.”
Mac changed the slide again. The picture showed an average looking guy in his early forties, slight overweight with a smattering of freckles and a receding hair line. Andi started her narration. “This is our primary suspect: Daniel or Danny Laidstone. Danny has a past conviction for pedophile molestation and is a registered sex offender living on the outskirts of the city. He is 43 years old, five feet ten inches tall and weighs about 230 pounds according to the Department of Motor Vehicles. He is divorced and lives alone. He has adult age children who have no contact with him according to his coworkers. He is currently employed by the County Department of Waste and Sanitation.”
Mac changed the slide again and it went back to the first slide they’d shown: the locations of where the children’s bodies had been found. Andi scanned the audience. “We have photos, descriptions, places of employment and last known addresses in packages available by the exit doors,” she said, pointing toward the closest exits with her chin. “Make sure you pick one up and look through it. For you sergeants, if you have squad members who aren’t here, pick up enough to distribute at roll call.” She paused. “Any questions?”
The audience was quiet for a moment and then a hand shot up. Andi acknowledged it with a nod of her head. It was a male officer in uniform. “Is there going to be a task force set up for this?”
Andi didn’t answer that one, but she didn’t even have to look around at the Chief for an answer. He was already on his feet approaching the podium. Andi stepped aside and he cleared his throat as he got to the microphone. “We’re looking at the need,” said the Chief. “I’m consulting with the county and state and if we need the extra manpower, we’ll get a task force set up.” As soon as he said that, a number of hands went up. The Chief knew what they were for; each of them wanted to volunteer. It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of this child molester / murderer. Making a dampening motion with his hands he said, “We already have agency members picked out to man it if it happens.” Most of the hands went down. One stayed up. The Chief pointed at the officer and said, “Yes?”
The officer stood up. “Chief, I only have one question.”
“Identify yourself and ask your question, officer,” ordered the Chief.
“Patrolman Kevin Murphy,” said the officer, and then he asked, “Will there be additional patrols or added manpower… authorized overtime while this investigation is under way?”
On the one hand, it sounded like a selfish question. Children were being kidnapped, molested and killed and this guy wanted to know about the availability of overtime? On the other hand, it was a good suggestion hidden in a question if the Chief took it that way. The Chief took it the second way and spoke up quickly about it. “We will coordinate extra shifts with the lead detectives in this case,” he answered, indicating Andi and Mac with a nod of his head in their direction. “This agency will expend any necessary resource to stop these crimes and bring this criminal to justice.” Patrolman Murphy nodded and sat back down.
“If there are no further questions…” the Chief said, looking around the room to check for raised hands. “Very well then,” he said, “pick up your info packets on the way out. Now let’s catch this scum before he snatches another kid.” With that, he flipped the switch that turned off the microphone and stepped back. The audience stood to vile out and the noise level went up as they began talking amongst themselves.
As he was walking out, Patrolman Murphy was approached by his Sergeant. “That was an uncalled for question, Kevin,” the sergeant said.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, I guess,” replied Kevin. “I meant to suggest that some extra patrol coverage might be a good idea. I think the Chief took it that way.”
“I didn’t,” replied his sergeant. “If overtime comes available, I won’t be assigning any to you unless the Lieutenant orders me to.”
“Fair enough, Sarge,” replied Patrolman Murphy. “That’s your prerogative.” With that he turned and walked away.
On the other side of the auditorium Eddie, Max and JP were filing out. Each was silently hoping for a chance to get their hands on whatever scum was committing these crimes. They’d never say as much out loud, but the secretly hoped he’d fight and fight hard so they’d have a good reason to put him in the hospital… or under it.
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Larry Murphy was stewing. He’d finished his work day and was enjoying a cold beer. The bar room around him was dark as compared to the bright fall sunlight outside. The beer was cheap but cold and better than anything he’d had in jail, simply by fact of beer wasn’t available in jail. Larry wasn’t an overly social person and he didn’t talk to anyone around him. He spoke enough to the bartender to get his beer and pay for it, along with a small tip. The bartender wished he’d gotten a bigger tip, but he’d known Larry – and all of Larry’s brothers – for years and he knew Larry’s situation. He was surprised he got a tip at all.
Just a few feet away from Larry, near the end of the bar, a few guys were talking about the kidnappings and murder of the kids around the city. Like most other convicts, Larry had an unhidden distaste for those who preyed on the weak. Rapists and child molesters weren’t generally treated well in prison. No stranger to violence himself, Larry contemplated what he’d do to the guy if he could ever find him and get hold of him. Larry also reminded himself not to say anything about those hopes to his parole officer.
It was close to dinner time when Larry’s brothers walked in. It was quite the assortment. From oldest to youngest there was Jerry, Bud, Reggie, himself, Rick, Stan and Kevin. Rick was a retired cop and Kevin was still a cop. Five of the seven were military veterans and four of them had seen combat during deployment tours. Rick and Stan were the only two who hadn’t served in the military and even Rick had tried out being a cop but had lasted only about four years.
Seeing all his brothers inevitably cheered Larry up. He knew that they were at least slightly ashamed of him because he’d been dishonorably discharged from the Army and then had become a convict. Still, they loved him and spent time with him and when they criticized him in any way it came across as advice, not criticism. He knew they’d stand by him as long as he could justify his actions. It was good to have brothers.
