Chapter 1:
Breathing hard with fear, the child lay as still as she could on the mossy covered rocks trying not to a make a sound. She could hear his ragged breathing, his stumbling and cursing. He was loading a gun, cold fear made her stiffen with a renewed sense of dread. She clenched her eyes shut against the night, the sounds that he made and tried to calm her racing heart. She knew that this was her night to escape; she knew that he meant to kill her. This was the one year marker of her disappearance and like the rest he always killed his captives on the anniversary of their kidnapping. The horrible thing was you couldn’t tell he was a cold blood killer. He fit in where ever he was. He made people like him and that was a dangerous thing. She knew he was sick. He would capture only a few children at a time sometimes within days or weeks of each other. Never leaving anything that could be considered as evidence. Except when he killed them; he killed them all in the same fashion, careful to not leave any of his blood, saliva or DNA on the victims. She sometimes heard them scream. The ones he had captured prior to her capture. They pleaded with God to save them; they prayed they would be sent home to their loving homes. Sometimes they would just cry and that would be worse for her because she knew that the fear they felt was so horrible that they sometimes went so deep inside their own minds that all they could do was cry. She felt that way most times. He would yell and get enraged because he knew he was not having any kind of effect on his victims when they went into themselves to escape his torture. She remembered one brave boy. He stood up for himself even until the final blow that ended his life. He wouldn’t cry out or make any kind of noise that would give the killer any kind of acknowledgement that he was being hurt. The boy, she didn’t know his name, she called Michael the Arc Angel had died quietly. That enraged the killer so much so that he killed another child that same night. That child gave the killer exactly what he wanted. The tortured screams, the pleading, the acknowledgement that he was there and was superior to all of them.
She never knew why he did what he did. He never would talk to his victims. He never spouted that he had a rough childhood although she could tell that something went wrong for him to have made him snap and start killing children. In her own warped way she often wondered if he had been treated differently would he have become the killer he is or would he be a different person. She knows she will never get the answer, even if she made it to freedom and he was finally caught and put on death row. She knew she didn’t want him to be put on death row only to await the day of his execution. She wanted him to suffer the way those children did when they were tortured to death. She wanted him to feel exactly what he did to those children. She didn’t want him to get paroled she wanted him to rot in a cell for the rest of his natural life and she prayed he would think often of the children he killed and the lives he wrecked by taking them.
Slowly she opened her eyes, looking around cautiously she sensed more than just the man’s presence. She strained her ears to hear his movements. Then she heard it. The tell tale sign that he was on the move again. He was softly muttering under his breath. She also picked up another sound. One that wasn’t part of his movements. It was another set of footsteps. She knew instinctively that the killer couldn’t hear the footsteps because he was making too much noise for them to be of much notice. If he had noticed another set of footsteps he may have shrugged it off as an animal. She knew better. It was no animal that stalked the killer. His breathing became heavier as he moved through the broken branches and shuffled through the rocks and debris from dead trees. He was almost to where she was hiding. Thoughts of bolting came to mind and she knew if he sees her get up, she wouldn’t have a chance because he would fire on her and maim her rather than kill her outright with the gun. She knew that is how he always started the killing process, with a gun wound. Sometimes it would be a shoulder or a knee or a leg. She scooted further under the big oak that had become her shelter. Praying that whoever was following or whatever was following the killer would already make their move and bring the killer down. She hoped it was someone that knew what he did. Crashing through the underbrush the killer came to a standstill. “Come out; come out, wherever you are.” He chanted. “I know you are out there and you are no match for me.” Wiping his grimy hand across his mouth he wiped away the sweat and spit that had coated his mouth and chin. “You know Imma gonna find you girl!” he shouted. Looking down to make sure that his gun cartridge held the amount of bullets he wanted he clicked the magazine into the gun. With a loud click he cocked the gun and peered through the scope.
Startled he stumbled backward. Just five feet in front of him was a shadowy figure of a man. He hadn’t heard him step out from behind the oak. “Jesus, God! Who are you?” The killer demanded. Looking wild-eyed at the shadow. He swiped his hand across his brow and then looked again and didn’t see the shadow. His thoughts were racing now. He was beginning to think that what he saw was just a figment of his imagination. He sneered to himself. He hadn’t had much of an imagination since he was a child and now he reveled in what the papers said about him being clever. He always wanted someone to acknowledge his presence. He always wanted someone to see him for the potential of what he could have been. All his life he knew that no one would accept him for himself. He knew that if he didn’t get the better of people that they would always take advantage of him. “Damn them all!!!” he shouted at nothing. Spit flying out of his mouth into the night air. Then he saw it again the shadow of the man. Closer this time. He raised the gun and began to count to calm himself so that his shot would be true. In an instant the shadow was upon him flinging him to the ground. Surprisingly fast and heavy the killer grunted in pain. Having had the gun shoved into his jaw hard enough to shatter it, he felt his teeth come loose and began spitting them at his assailant. Nonchalantly the shadow wrenched the gun from the killers grasp and flung it a good distance away while still holding the killer by the throat. “I am your worst nightmare asshole!” The shadow growled in the killer’s ear. “Kill me then.” Grunted the killer. “That is what you want; it is not my place to put you down. For what you have done you should be locked away and the key thrown into a melting pot.” Pulling his cuffs out the shadow clapped them around the killers wrists and hauled him to his feet. “Alright sweet-pea you can come out of hiding now he isn’t going to hurt you or anyone else again.” The shadow assured. Hesitant in making her presence known to the killer and having to face him again she didn’t answer. “I know that you are scared sweetheart, but I have him in custody there is no way he will be allowed to harm you let alone touch you.” The shadow wrenched on the killers cuffs causing him to grunt with the force.
“I will come out if you turn him around so he can’t see me.” She called.
“You caught him where?” came the grumpy tone on the other end of the cell phone. Leaning against the SUV, Chase crossed his ankles; listening to the department chief. The day had been a long one for Chase. He was pursuing the child killer while looking for signs that the child might still be alive. He had several leads and eye witnesses that turned up nothing. He had been sitting in an air conditioned café when the next call came in. It was another lead; this one seemed genuine. After five minutes of getting all the details he paid his tab and left the chilly café. Wearing his Ducati Monster sunglasses he straddled his 2010 Ducati Hypermotard 796. The wind was whipping his hair into a frenzied knot as he traveled the interstate following the lead. The location was in New Jersey, north of Dover. Hedden Park had been the destination of the child killer. After scoping the possible routes into the park and the select places that Chase figures the killer would hide a body; he settles in to wait for the child killer. The lead told him that a man in his mid-fifty’s was seen acting suspicious with children that he claimed were his own. The killer was seen talking to some of the frequent visitors of the park. Many got a creepy feeling as if bugs were crawling along their skin. The questions he asked were pretty ordinary according to the people he spoke to. He generalized his questions about the park coming off as someone that wanted to know more about the park because he was a nature buff. He claimed he wanted to wow his kids with his knowledge. Most people avoided him and the others were happy to assist him. After having got the information the killer wanted he went back to his lair to finalize the details of his killing. He would let the kid try to escape by giving her a head-start. Most of the kids ran away screaming and the others tried to be stealthy. The ones that ran away screaming seemed to make more mistakes which lead to their deaths and the others that used stealth just prolonged their deaths. He would find them and then torture them. Many people had heard the screams and because of superstitious; figured it was the Jersey Devil in the flesh tearing apart another animal. The screams were primal and coated with fear.
Smirking to himself the child killer cleaned his gun meticulously making sure that finger prints and DNA were cleaned off the weapon. He mentally went through the motions of just how sweet this kill was going to be. The girl was feisty. She spit on him and clawed him whenever he came within arm’s reach of her. Even with the chains she was strong. He smiled to himself picturing her broken in many places as well as spirit. He reveled in the fantasy where he knew she would beg for her life and acknowledge that he was worth paying attention to.
Chapter 2:
Night had fallen. The kids whimpered in fear and hunger. “Shut up!” he screamed. The whimpers got louder before they were hushed. Walking the length of the dog kennel like compartments he came to the last one where the date of the kidnapping was posted and today’s date. The girl stared defiantly at him. Tapping the plate he sneered, “Know what today is girl?” Chuckling in his throat he stared at her envisioning the torture that he was going to inflict.