His name was Michael Bruxton, a computer analyst with skills matching my own. But he had a sick hobby that cost the lives of three families over the past two weeks. I spent day and night searching for him, and now I found the bastard.
We circled each other in the rundown, abandoned warehouse he’d holed up in while on the run. On the floor were tokens he stole from his victims. The baby doll with a bright pink dress caught my attention first. My whole body shook with rage. “How could you do it, you sick fuck?”
His eyes sparkled. “It’s like putting paint to canvas.” He looked down at the things he collected and smiled. “Their pleas for help were music to my ears.”
Flashes of the children laying in their own blood, their lives taken from them at such a young age plagued my mind. They were innocent, along with their parents who only wanted to protect them. A man like him deserved to die a slow, painful death . . . and I was going to make sure that happened.
Lunging for him, we went down to the dirty floor, his head slamming against the concrete. He tried to punch me and missed. I couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through my veins. Pinning him with my weight, I punched him over and over, the feel of his bones crunching beneath my fist. I didn’t know the families who were killed, but I fought for them, bringing their murderer to justice.
The sick fuck spit to clear his throat, blood dribbling down his cheek, and laughed. “I love it when they fight back.” He pushed his arousal into me and groaned.
Jesus Christ. Grabbing his neck, I squeezed and snuffed his next words out. “You get off on pain you perverted son of a bitch?” I picked up a brick from nearby and raised it high. “Let’s see how you like this.” As hard as I could, I slammed it down on his face. “You said screams were music to your ears,” I yelled into the silence. “Where are the screams now, you bitch?” I slammed the brick back down on his mutilated face over and over again, trying to unsee the pictures of the flayed bodies he’d left behind.
Throwing the brick across the floor, I got up and surveyed the scene, breathing hard. “Now you can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
“Got anything new comin’ up?” Blake asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Strapping on my holster, I shook my head. After everything that happened with Bruxton, I needed a break. “I hope not. You?”
Jaw tight, he trudged into my office, gray eyes full of turmoil. “Actually, I’m headin’ out for good. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you skipping town or quitting the team?”
Blake Evans and the rest of the guys on our team were the best undercover agents in the country. We’d already lost a couple people, including my sister who decided to move away to California to settle down. We couldn’t afford to lose another skilled agent.
A small smile splayed across his face as he sat down. “I’m still going to be a part of the team. This is my life. I’ll just be living it somewhere else.”
“Where to?”
“Wyoming. My grandfather passed away and left me his ranch. I figured I’d go since nothing’s really keeping me here. I’m single, and we’re always traveling with the job. I’m never in Charlotte that much anyway.”
“No shit. I think this is the first week in months I’ve been able to sit back and relax.” I stared at him and chuckled. “Blake Evans turned cowboy. I never would’ve thought it.”
He got to his feet. “Me neither, but it’ll sure be interesting. How about we get one last drink together at Second Street before I go?”
“Sounds good, bro. I was just about to head out.” We got halfway to the door when my cell phone rang. I looked down at my phone and walked back to my desk. “It’s the Chief of Police from Vegas.” So much for the break I wanted. Leaning against my desk, I answered the call. “Ryan Griffin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“No pleasure in this call, son. Are you still at the station?”
“I was just getting ready to leave. What do you need?”
Sounding tired, he sighed. “I sent you some files. Take a look at them for me.”
Blake took a seat while I sat back down behind my computer. It didn’t take long for it to boot back up and when it did, I found the files. “All right, I have the files opened up.” The first one was a woman who was found dead two months prior, followed by two other murder victims and one who was missing. “What the fuck is this?”
“Whoever this fucker is, he’s cutting them, strangling them, and then leaving them on the side of the road.”
I waved Blake over. “Take a look at this,” I whispered, holding the phone away. While he sat down, I moved back. “Did it all start two months ago with this first woman, or have you had similar cases?”
“Nope, all new. We’ve had eyewitnesses give us descriptions of the people these women were last seen with—all high rollers of Sin City. No one wants to talk. All we’re getting are dead ends. I need someone on the inside who doesn’t look like a cop. My people can’t get close enough.”
Blake moved out of the way and I glanced at the pictures one last time before closing them out. “I’ll be there soon,” I said, hanging up.
“That’s some really nasty shit going on out there,” Blake stated.
Anger boiled in my veins. The pictures of those women were going to forever be ingrained in my mind. “Yes, it is, and I’m going to make sure I find the fucker responsible.”
Three Months Later