The Detective
prt 3
Seems like it was so long ago. Though only three years have passed. He tried living his life as a normal human being. Always on the watch, looking over his shoulder, screaming at night, seeing the faces of his family, their eyes full of accusations, blaming him and he agreed. Was this how normal human beings lived?
He was no longer employed by the police dept, they felt he was too much of a liability, guess he was, he had been topic of conversation with most of his fellow officers. The wolf tattoo was available on You tube..
There had been no word from his tormentor in these past three years, but, there had been many bodies..among them, his wife and his daughter.. It made him throw up still when he thought about how they had been tortured raped and murdered, how the psycho had sent the tape for him to watch.. He had their bodies cremated.. Although he and his family had burial plots, he wanted them burned, cleansed, he wanted the mans filth seared from their flesh.
The apartment window was open at all times, the only way he could get air,,, he picked this place out special, there was one way in, one way out. It was on the third floor of an abandoned warehouse. He laughed to himself thinking about how his wife would have called it a pig sty, his daughter would have made one of her little funny noises...he wanted revenge, revenge pure and simple..he needed it, craved it, he would have it.. Problem, he didn't have a plan...he needed a plan, a good plan!
He was no longer employed by the police dept, they felt he was too much of a liability, guess he was, he had been topic of conversation with most of his fellow officers. The wolf tattoo was available on You tube..
There had been no word from his tormentor in these past three years, but, there had been many bodies..among them, his wife and his daughter.. It made him throw up still when he thought about how they had been tortured raped and murdered, how the psycho had sent the tape for him to watch.. He had their bodies cremated.. Although he and his family had burial plots, he wanted them burned, cleansed, he wanted the mans filth seared from their flesh.
The apartment window was open at all times, the only way he could get air,,, he picked this place out special, there was one way in, one way out. It was on the third floor of an abandoned warehouse. He laughed to himself thinking about how his wife would have called it a pig sty, his daughter would have made one of her little funny noises...he wanted revenge, revenge pure and simple..he needed it, craved it, he would have it.. Problem, he didn't have a plan...he needed a plan, a good plan!
Him
He loved the fear, the cries, the screams.. He sat in a chair across from the bed, the young woman lay there, he had tied her hands over her head, and her legs he had pulled apart as far as he could, then tied them down, pulling the rope to the bottom rails and tightening. Her eyes were huge with fear and it made him throb.. He had been busy for hours, blood stained the sheet, sweat ran down her face, he was so aroused he almost missed it, the final scream, the final tear and sweet sweet release...He loved women..
The Detective
He knew the man wasn't stupid, and he was sure that the man knew he was no longer a detective. His plan would have to be his own, He could not, would not, get anyone else involved.
He still had friends at the news desk, he also bought a cam and uploaded a picture of him naked inviting the man to come and find him, he challenged him, he taunted him, he told everyone in the world that, the man had been weak, that he had escaped, that the man wasn't able to handle anything but women and he had to tie them up because he was impotent.. He told everyone that the man had been such a coward that he'd had to sneak up on the detective from behind, he couldn't face him..like a man..He went one step further and told all of the world that he believed (the psycho was a product of inbreeding, probably between his mother and him...in the video, he made sure that certain things were recognizable, the man would know, he would come to find him.. He could count on that.
Him
It wasn't in him to get angry, what he did demanded patience and he wasn't about to let an amateur rile him, though his head started to hurt when he mentioned the inbreeding, what did he know, his mother had been an angel, though a bit weak..still he didn't blame her for that, he didn't blame her..his father, tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, his father...his father, he did blame him.. He stared at the video.. And laughed until his sides hurt..stupid, stupid little man, he had shown him where he was..
The Detective
Waiting was irritating, it grated against his nerves like nails down a chalk board. He waited, he waited, he didn't like it cause he knew, while he waited, another woman was being tortured and murdered. He stuffed the .45 in the holster under his arm. He never left the house without it, he never slept without it, he bathed with it, he peed with it. It was an extension of him, he vowed never to be caught off guard again but, the waiting..he couldn't stand it..
He was searching for his wife.. He heard her cries, and he knew he had to find her. She was soaked with sweat and blood, her hair hung limp, her eyes swollen shut, she tried to speak but just a groan came out, she pointed... he turned and there he was, the naked body of his daughter draped across his arms, the man dumped her on the ground, looked at him and said it wouldn't be long, he could hear the man laugh as he scooted over to hold the body of his daughter,, she screamed, he felt the blood sticky and wet on his hands...
And that was the dream.. The same one, for three years.. The dream that made him feel helpless and impotent.. The dream that wouldn't let him sleep for more than four hours a night. The psychiatrist had given him sleeping pills but he knew, that would leave him vulnerable..sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford.
The apartment was set up just right..windows up high, you would have to have a ladder, and then still reach another couple feet or so. He left the apartment everyday at the same time, he returned at the same time, always with a news paper or a brown bag. There had been a special pocket sewn into his jacket, there he kept a little box with two indicator lights, red for standby and green for go. It went with him, just like the .45....
He was searching for his wife.. He heard her cries, and he knew he had to find her. She was soaked with sweat and blood, her hair hung limp, her eyes swollen shut, she tried to speak but just a groan came out, she pointed... he turned and there he was, the naked body of his daughter draped across his arms, the man dumped her on the ground, looked at him and said it wouldn't be long, he could hear the man laugh as he scooted over to hold the body of his daughter,, she screamed, he felt the blood sticky and wet on his hands...
And that was the dream.. The same one, for three years.. The dream that made him feel helpless and impotent.. The dream that wouldn't let him sleep for more than four hours a night. The psychiatrist had given him sleeping pills but he knew, that would leave him vulnerable..sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford.
The apartment was set up just right..windows up high, you would have to have a ladder, and then still reach another couple feet or so. He left the apartment everyday at the same time, he returned at the same time, always with a news paper or a brown bag. There had been a special pocket sewn into his jacket, there he kept a little box with two indicator lights, red for standby and green for go. It went with him, just like the .45....
Him
Once again, the detective had allowed anger to get the best of him..he had been watching him for a week and it was the same thing everyday..oh he looked over his shoulder, but still he was making mistakes..he watched him..men weren't his thing but he had a hardon for this one, he was going to show him how it was to be at his mercy (he was not merciful).. He wasn't going to kill him, but he was going to make him wish, no, pray for death..his humiliation would be public, the thought made him sigh, he stroked himself.. It was the best orgasm he had ever had....
The Detective
He was sure there was someone watching him, he could feel it. He checked everything, made sure all was ready.. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.
Him
The door was slightly ajar..that wasn't very smart, he was about to step in when he stopped...he stood still for a moment, he pushed the door with his finger..tape..a bomb? No..more than likely an alarm.. The wire ran all the way down from the knob to the floor, there, it was a little slack, but if you pushed hard enough the wire would tighten and what? Warn him...in the dim light it was hard to follow the wire without touching it..so, ever so gently.. It had to be connected to a power source...ah there it was. Just over the top of the hinge, a little square about the size of a matchbox...he decided to take a chance and break the connection.. If it alarmed, he could come back another time,,, he smiled, then snatched the wire from the box...silence. The inside of the building had a lift..too much noise.. He climbed the stairs....it was three flights and by the time he had made it to the door, the anticipation had made him giddy, he stood there and listened...he tried the door..it was one of those long handle locks, inside you could just push the lock in...easy access...it was predestined, the detective was his...
Detective
He never heard him.. The little box never lit up, he was thrown against the wall of the shower, he felt the mans body, he knew he was naked.. The .45 had been flung to the floor, he was pinned..
There was an invasion, an intrusion, an addition of insult to injury, he shut his eyes tight as the man groaned his satisfaction...all his insides screamed, he saw the faces of his family, the faces of all the women the man had hurt, tortured, raped....just an ounce of strength, all he needed one moment and just one ounce...he leaped from the shower, surprising the man, he flung his body forward, slamming his head against the tiled floor.. In that moment, he was in control, he snatched the .45 up, pointed it at the mans head and pulled the trigger..the man stood there, staring down at him, blood started to trickle from the hole in his forehead.. He finally fell to his knees then slumped, his head resting on his arms...
End of it All
He still couldn't sleep, he was anxious all the time, he watched everyone, looking over his shoulders, he saw the faces of the mans victims, he saw the face of his wife, the face of his daughter, he was miserable,,,,, he thought,, there had to be a better place..thought that place would be with his wife and daughter,, god how he missed them. He never told all that happened that day, he would take that to his grave with him, he placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger...
