Untitled, Old Friends

Old Friends

“Stormy!  How the hell are you?  How long has it been, five years?  Good to see you man!”  Agent Young said enthusiastically upon seeing his friend again.  They gave each other the “man hug” with the greeting. 

“Landau, you know I hate that nickname!  But for you, I’ll tolerate it.”  Agent Weathers replied.  “And it has been too long, I haven’t seen you since we worked the sniper case, that was a tough one to crack, but we did it!  We’ll get this bitch, too.” 

“We will, and I’ve reviewed the case files to date, have you found the first victim yet?  I need to know how she has evolved, because damn, I have never seen anything like this woman.  She didn’t start out slashing their femoral artery.  This method took years of practice.  And I hate to tell you my friend; she’s been at it longer than 5 years.”  Landau said.

“Yeah, I think so, too.  But until we can trace her back, we can’t prove it.  Besides, telling the public she has been eluding us for five years was bad enough.  What do you think will happen if we can trace her back farther?”  Stormy replied earnestly. 

“Oh hell yes!  The shit is going to hit the fan like it has never hit before.  John Q Public will not understand the various police jurisdictions have not been sharing information about their homicides.  We are just now starting to link all the localities and it will be another ten years before we have a solid information sharing computerized system in place for all police localities, even the small town shit holes.  We would not be onto her now without the ones we have in place.  She moves around frequently.  She never kills in the same jurisdiction twice.  I don’t know if she plans it or she’s just that damn lucky.  And, the older the homicide, the more likely it is buried in some storeroom box as unsolved.  Those haven’t even begun to get entered into the computer systems, yet.  They are too busy with the recent ones to worry about a cold case.  This is going to be hard to crack.  She doesn’t leave a paper trail.  Her DNA and evidence trail is magnificent, but it is also useless unless we know who she is.”  Landau sighed.  “She is going to have to make a mistake for us to catch her.  We need to draw her into the investigation.  We need a fucking break.”

“What are you thinking, Landau?”  Stormy asked with a note of curiosity.

“I think this job has stressed you out, you stone cold mother fucker!  What the hell happened to your hair?  I saw that head shining from the plane, damn man!  What have you let this job do to you?”  Landau laughed. 

“It’s not the fucking job, it’s the fucking politics within the job, and you know how it is.  Always accountable to the boss, and there is always a boss.  Always wants the case solved yesterday and everything by the book.  Landau, life isn’t written by the book.  Rules are good, but they don’t work in every situation.  Sometimes you have to get creative to solve a case, and when the case is solved I get my fucking ass reamed.  I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.  Results Robert, we want results!  I give them their fucking results and I’m the one who gets fucked.  I take it straight up the ass, too.  The slam fuck is when they take credit for solving the case and I get disciplinary action in my file.  That’s some fucking shit and that’s where I wonder why I am even doing this job.”  Agent Weathers said solemnly. 

“Damn, Stormy, I didn’t know it has gotten this bad.  This isn’t the guy we named Stormy.  You used to tear it up!  You got a Black Widow to confess using your many considerable charms.  We were after her for months, and we were getting nowhere.  You wine, dine and fuck her and she confesses right on the video camera you hid in your bedroom.  That was brilliant, man, fucking brilliant!  That was the ultimate sex tape.  I laughed my fucking ass off watching your ass blurred out in the courtroom.”  Landau said.

“Yeah, but it was the fucking her that got into my file, Landau.  It was not procedure, atypical protocol.  I’m sick of the fucking bullshit.  I just want to do my job, I want to catch the bad guy, or the bad woman we have here.  Sometimes you have to break the rules to break the case.  Some of these shithead supervisors they have now are all college educated, but they don’t know shit about what it’s like out here in the field.  They think the couple months they shadowed before they went into administration makes them experts.  The worst part is that I’m getting reamed out by snot nosed brats half my age!  The job has changed, Landau.  You don’t know.  It has taken on a PC attitude and you have to be careful you don’t say the wrong fucking word to the wrong fucking dick who has a bigger fucking title.  I’m tired, Landau.  I’m worn out and worn down by these dickheads who have taken over the department.  They may be book smart, but they are not street smart and they don’t want to hear what it’s like in the real world.  They want results and I give them results.  They shine in the glory and I get my nose put in the corner like a bad boy.  That’s some fucking shit.  Do you want to know why I am lead on this case, Landau?  Because they know we might not be able to catch her, at least not soon.  They want my face to be the one out in the public eye, so when she kills again they can cite some insufficiency on my part and take me off.  They are trying to get rid of me, of all us old time let’s get our hands dirty agents.  They don’t just want us gone; they want us to go down in shame if they can manage it.  Then they can cheat us out of our pensions and healthcare.  I’m telling you Landau, it has gotten bad.  I never thought the day would come when I didn’t want to be an Agent anymore.  I used to live and breathe the case, that’s why I was able to solve so many.  I became the case.  And I was good at it too, the best!  But I don’t know anymore, I don’t know if I have the passion for it I once did.”  Agent Weathers shook his head sadly, and looked down at the floor.

“Man, that’s fucked up.  Seriously, that’s fucked up.  I heard they burned Agent Trenton, but I couldn’t believe it.  I worked with Trenton, he was a good man, a good Agent.  And to see what some smart ass little dick has done to you really cuts me, it does.  You are Special FBI Agent Stormy fucking Weathers and you need to remember that!  We will get this bitch; I already have some ideas on how to draw her out.  I’ve seen the photos, but I’d like to visit the crime scene.  Is it still locked?”  Landau was taken aback to see the friend he once knew so beaten down.  He was going to help him solve this case and make sure it was known by all the media and press that it was Agent Robert ‘Stormy’ Weathers who was responsible for bringing this woman to justice.  He had heard what it was getting like at the bureau, and he was glad he got out when he did.  He was also glad Stormy called him in to consult with him, and was even able to pull a few favors to get reinstated as an FBI profiler. 

Visiting the Crime Scene

Landau entered the crime scene with a deep breath.  He didn't expect to find anything particularly revealing, but violence leaves its own mark in the universe.  He could almost palpate the rage this woman has inside of her.  She entices men into their most vulnerable and weakest state; during sex because that is the only time she can get close enough to them to kill them easily.  Any other way and they would put up a fight which would be a disadvantage to her. She can't take on fighting with a man, his strength alone would quickly place her in harm's way.  Her method of killing is highly evolved, precision like in its execution.  She has been at this for longer than five years, more like ten or more.  She is still attractive enough to lure an age range of men, so if she started at say, sixteen, lets put her at around 26-40 age range.  To catch this one, we need to find the first victim.  Given the time span, frequency and number of victims, Landau surmised her first victim was probably a relative, most likely her own father.  That would make the most sense, given the sexual component of the killings.  

The bed still had the blood stained sheets on it but Landau laid down in it anyway.  He wanted to see and feel what it must have been like in those final seconds of life.  He closed his eyes and allowed the crime scene to speak to him.  The coroner will tell you the dead speak through autopsy.  Landau knows they dead also speak through a restless spirit.  His grandmother taught him that.  She had "the gift."  Landau didn't inherit her "gift;" he was a man of science for the most part.  But when a spirit speaks to you, turning away from evidence you can't prove is equally as ignorant as turning away from evidence you can.  It can't be used in court, however, and it can't be mentioned in any reports.  This isn't even something you can mention to your closest colleagues.  He lie there quietly for several minutes, but felt nothing.  Suddenly, his body felt weak, drained.  Then a sense of calm swept over him, as if all his worries were lifted.  It took only a few seconds before the sensation disappeared as quickly as it came.  He remained supine a few more minutes, hoping for more but nothing came.  The muscle weakness made sense, the man exsanguinated.  The sense of calm, however did not.  In every case of violent death there is terror, fear, confusion but never calm.  Could this man have wanted death?  Is that how she picks her victims?  Interesting.  

He rose from the bed, drinking in the tainted air. The smell of blood excited him, even if it wasn't fresh.  God, how he missed being in the thick of a crime scene.   He walked around the room, not finding anything of value.  The bathroom, however was rich with afterglow.  There was an excitement, an electricity in the air.  He could feel it tingling on his skin.  Electricity shot up his spine, jolting his senses.  She is powerful.  She doesn't have a clue how powerful her life force is.  He stood in the bath tub, the last thing she did before she left.  He imagined the hot shower beating down on her upturned face, washing away the man's filth from her body.  He could envision the water mixing with the blood as it hugged the curves of her body before being washing off into the drain.  This is a part of her ritual that brings her comfort.  How long does she shower?  Is it purpose driven; to clean off her "work?" Or is it obsessive, does she shower until the water runs cold, trying to make herself clean again?  The bathroom had a damp smell, with an underlying aging mold to it.  That probably didn't mean anything, this was an old building.  As he stood in the shower, reaching for her energy, sexual desire throbbed through his veins.  It didn't happen at every crime scene, but some did cause an erection.  This one was rock hard and slightly painful.  With all the technology there is out there these days, he dared not risk masturbating here to relieve himself.  That wouldn't look good in a report, and if the forensic team came back to swab for more evidence he would not fare well if they found his semen on the scene.  Besides, there is a stunning redhead waiting back at the bar for him.  Maybe he can put his erection to better use.