A Long Halloween in La (temporary title)

It was a miserable late afternoon, certainly more miserable than most in LA. The sun had just set and heavy rain beat down on the ground like dried peas. The only signs of life on the street were a tiny squirrel scurrying along the gutter and the vagrant dog wandering around inanely, muttering dejectedly as it did so. The shadowy figure lurked in the alley, just across the road from number 28. He was watching her, the tall girl with the long blonde hair. She stood at the window staring out, lost in her own thoughts. Even through the dripping windows he could see she was absolutely petrified. He knew the reason why as well. He knew what he planned to do. It wasn’t going to be hard, not at all. He was too clever for that. This was going to be the first chapter in his reign. He had the devil on his side, he thought to himself as the girl was confronted by her father and the curtains were drawn. With that he headed towards the house, the object in his right hand catching a shimmer of the streetlight as he did so.


********************************
Tuesday October 27th Rickets street LA 6 31 pm

“You stupid girl”, screamed Doug Turner as he slapped his daughter Mary hard across the face.
“I told you not to go out with that little brat Tommy Traither. He’s nothing but bad news. But no, you didn’t listen did you, and now your paying for it. That thing growing inside you is going to need looking after, and don’t you dare turn to me. You’ve got into this mess; you can get yourself out of it. You get rid of it little girl, or you can make for the morgue just like your mother for all I care.”
“Please daddy”, she pleaded to her livid father, “I can’t get through this on my own. I need you, please!”
“No Mary,” he bawled stridently, “what you needed was young Tommy Traither, but look where he is, he wants nothing to do with you. You need a beating little girl. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy. Wouldn’t want to hurt the baby now would we?”
With that he proceeded towards her, unbuckling his belt slowly.
“You hit me and I’ll kill you” she screeched, backing off against the wall. “I swear it!”
He didn’t listen, just advanced gradually, striking the belt against the back of his hand aggressively.
His actions were interrupted by an immense smash from the kitchen. He swiftly dashed through to the kitchen angry as a bull, and Doug Turner was not a man you would like angry. The window was smashed and glass littered the floor. The little bastards he thought to himself. Who the fuck thought they could do this to him and get away with it. He gasped in utter horror as he realised what they had thrown through the window. There on the floor by the cooker, was a dead cat. He could see by the look of it that it was long dead. It was rotten and stiff as a board.
“The sick fucks,” he uttered. Who the hell would do this? Wait until he got hold of them. He took his shotgun from its cabinet and scampered out through the back door. The back gate had been kicked open. He headed out into the alleyway only to find there was nothing there. Not a soul. Whoever it was had high tailed it faster than their legs could carry them. Lucky for them, he thought to himself. He heard something stir in the bushes, outside the back garden of number 32. He steadily ambled over, with his shotgun aimed. Doug Turner was not a man scared easily. Possibly the only things that had scared him in life were his father and the thought of bringing up a 3 year old daughter without his wife, who had died in a car crash. Since then drink had turned him into a different person. He cared about no-one now, not even himself. He had found himself placing a shotgun inside his mouth some nights, but never had the guts to pull the trigger. Because underneath that hard man mask he was a scared old man, who took out all his anger on his harmless 15 year old daughter. He had put her in hospital more times than he had bought her a gift and no one had ever done anything about it.
He gradually used the barrel of his shotgun to inspect the over-grown bush and found nothing. With that he turned back, and began pacing back to his house. He was about to enter his house when he heard something move near in the tree in his neighbours garden. He re-aimed his shotgun and prowled over to scrutinize the source of the sound. He probed around the bush with his gun but found nothing once again, thus, headed back into the house, locking the back door behind him.
When he entered, he couldn’t see Mary anywhere. He checked the living room entirely and found nothing. The scared lass had obviously gone upstairs to hide from her father’s belt. Well he wasn’t finished with her yet. He headed upstairs to find her and finish his example, and then he would call the police. As he crossed the hall to his daughter’s room, the bathroom door swung open independently and he could hear the shower running. He curiously moved towards the door and pushed it open with his shotgun. He noticed instantly that not only was the shower running but the sink was too. What was she playing at? He promptly slid open the shower curtain to find she wasn’t in there. Why the hell had she turned the shower on for no reason. She was only putting herself in more trouble. Then, totally out of the blue, it hit him. Why in the world was he still holding his shotgun? It was obviously just kids messing around. Very sick kids mind, but just kids. That was just what this neighbourhood was like, Lots of juvenile trouble. He realised that he was genuinely frightened. He hadn’t been for sometime but right now he was. Was he scared for his daughter, or himself? He had no idea. He immediately pulled himself from this bizarre thought and strolled back into the hallway. He didn’t feel like persecuting his daughter anymore. Why, he didn’t know. However, his fear and curiosity drove him towards her door. Peculiarly, he gripped the door handle for about 30 seconds before finding the courage to open it, and when he did his hand slipped off he was that sweaty.
The first thing he noticed in the room was his daughter, huddled in the corner. “Mary,” he whispered. “I’m sorry Mary. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you honest. I just got upset. Mary?”
As he drew nearer he realised she was shivering severely and breathing exceptionally heavily. Her eyes were blank and she looked more scared than he had ever seen her before. More scared than when he took off his belt every night.
“Mary, what’s wrong” he exclaimed worriedly.
“Some ones here…” she managed to squeeze out.
“Who…who…who is” he stammered. He was as scared as she was now.
“I could hear him daddy. I thought it was you, but I looked out of the window and saw you in the garden.”
His jaw almost dropped at her words. Was she lying? Was someone really in the house? Suddenly, her eyes lit up like light bulbs and she shot forward.
“Daddy…behind you” she bellowed out deafeningly.
Alarmed, he span round and hauled up his shotgun. He saw nothing but an empty doorway.
“There’s nothing there honey. It’s ok.”
“But there is something there. I saw it.”
“You didn’t really see anything Mary,” he assured her. Of course it was himself he was trying to assure nothing was there, not her. He was absolutely terrified and was struggling to stay stood up; his legs were wobbling so much. Suddenly, he heard something scurry along the hall and he directly rotated his head and heaved up his shotgun. He saw something run past the doorway and fired a shot. A vast bang echoed through the house, followed by complete silence. He cocked his shotgun back, ready to fire again at his uninvited intruder. Had he hit him? He didn’t think so. He had been too quick. Doug only had 1 shell left so he couldn’t fire another wild shot. He was determined not to remove his aim from the doorway. The intruder would have to run past again. His arm was shaking violently and he couldn’t keep his aim still.
“Who the fuck is there? Come out and face me like a man you little shit.”
He had obviously been understood as he could now hear slow, heavy footsteps advancing towards the door. He had his gun ready to fire at anything that came through that door. Nothing on earth was getting to his daughter.

******************
Tuesday October 27th LA 6 35 pm

Detective Mike Lyons and Barry Smith had just received an urgent call from Rickets Street. One of the neighbours there had reported a disturbance.
“So what your saying is, I shouldn’t ask Lisa to marry me” stated Mike, taking a huge bite out of his doughnut.
Lisa was a real beauty. She was a small woman with long and dark red hair. She had these beautiful eyes that you could just get lost in, they were so captivating. Mike had met her in a supermarket. He had been in a rush and knocked her over trying to get to the freezers. When he had helped her up they both gave each other that look. You know the look. The love at first sight one. He had asked her out to dinner and it had gone from there. He knew how lucky he was, and he wasn’t ever going to let her slip away.
“What I’m saying is it’s too soon,” answered Barry, taking out one of his cancer sticks and lighting it. You’ve only known her for 7 months. It took me 2 years to propose to Tracy. You got to wait until you know its right, and 7 months isn’t long enough to know that.
“Well it just seems right” exclaimed Mike. “When I’m with Lisa I feel like a school boy again. She makes me so happy; I don’t ever want to be without her.”
“Well all I’m saying is ask her when you’re both completely ready, and if she accepts, I’m happy for you both.”
“Thank you” said Mike sarcastically. Mike was 26 and had only been a detective for a few weeks. He loved it already though. It was what he had wanted since he was a kid. He was average height and build but was a black belt in kung fu. He had learnt martial arts because he was bullied at his secondary school by a kid named Darren Barton. One day, Mike had had enough and turned round and broke Darren’s nose. I can tell you, Darren never even so much as looked at Mike funny again. Mike was what you’d call a ‘nice guy’. He was easy to get along with and you rarely got into an argument with him, and if you did it wouldn’t be a serious one.
Barry had always been moody and fastidious. There was no pleasing him, whatever you did. Perhaps that was why his marriage was crumbling more and more as days went by. His wife, Tracy, was tiring of him and behind his back it was heating up between her and their Mexican neighbour Carlos. Barry was a stocky 43 year old, with gingery grey hair that was falling out more and more everyday, coughed about 8000 times a day from the 40 cigarettes he smoked, was most likely going to die of lung cancer before he retired, and hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to Tracy since their honeymoon.
Carlos on the other hand, was an incredibly handsome foreigner with eyes that could seduce a nun, knew exactly the right words to say to a lady and actually showed an interest in her, unlike her 20 year husband.
About the only thing Barry had better was fists. He was forever getting into fights in bars and liked to get heavy with some of the felons we encountered. It was his way of disposing of all his anger, kicking the absolute shit out of people. The whole thing was made it even worse by the fact that their 3 kids Katie who was 16, Zack who was 8 and Max who was 10 were getting mixed up in it all. They were spectators to the obliteration of their parent’s marriage. They needed to just split up for the kid’s sake.
“Ok, here we are”, said Mike, as they pulled up outside number 28 Rickets street.
The old woman who had contacted the police was stood outside the front garden, not looking too blissful.
“Here we go,” sniggered Mike, clambering out of the car.
“He’s gone too far now” she groused, clenching her fists belligerently. “That poor daughter of his has gone through hell living with that violent thug. He has to get over the past, and you have to get her the hell away from him.”
“Ok miss….”
“Patty. Miss Patty.”
“Ok Miss Patty, explain to me everything that you saw and heard, slowly please.”
“Ok, well I live across the road at number 37 and the first thing I heard was a huge scream when I was making a pot of tea. I knew it was coming from that house so I phoned you straight away, that would have only been a few minutes ago. I knew he was beating her again.
“Beating who, his daughter?”
“Yes of course, Doug’s beat her ever since his wife died in a dreadful car accident seven years ago. Well anyway, after I had rung you I put on my coat and was ready to march over and give him a piece of my mind when I heard a gun shot. It was deafening, everyone on their street was at their curtains looking to see what it was. I’m positive it came from that house. After that, I heard another gunshot, and then it all went silent.”
“Ok, thank you Miss Patty, that’s all we need. You’ve been great.” Said Barry, withdrawing his .44 handgun. They ensued into the garden and began banging on the door.
“Doug, open the door please or we’ll kick it down” bellowed Mike.
No answer.
“I like it when they don’t answer”, sneered Barry, backing up a few spaces. He flew forward with a powerful kick, kicking the door through in one hit. With that they rushed into the house.
“Careful,” they heard Miss Patty shout. “He’s a dangerous man.”
They hastily searched the living room and the kitchen and found nothing.
“Ok, they must be upstairs” proclaimed Mike. “Let’s go.”
They advanced up the stairs cautiously.
“Ok, you check the bathroom and I’ll check the bedrooms” ordered Barry.
Wasting no time, Mike scurried down the hall to the bathroom; whilst Barry kicked open the bedroom door. He had to fight hard not to vomit at what he saw. He stood bewildered for a few seconds, trying to find the strength to move.
“The bathrooms clear”, proclaimed Mike, approaching him from behind. He stopped dead as he entered the doorway.
“Dear lord” Barry murmured.
Scarlet red blood lined the walls, oozing down onto all objects and the fish tank lay smashed to pieces on the floor, its inhabitants gasping for air. There was no sign of the girl or her father, just his bloodstained shotgun lying on the floor. The window was smashed and broken glass littered the bed. ‘666’ was written on the wall in what Barry assumed was Turner blood.
“What in god’s name?” Where are they?”
Mike was too stunned to move, never mind speak.
Barry’s question was soon answered, when he peered out of the broken window.
“Oh my?” he whispered, with a fearful tone in his voice. There, lying on the grass in a pool of blood was the shredded remains of what had been Douglas Turner. As he peered down at the motionless, torn up corpse he couldn’t help but think to himself ‘thank the lord for dental records.’

*************


Tuesday October 27th 2003 LA 7:22 pm

The drive away from the crime scene was the most tranquil any of them had ever taken. The chief had ordered them to go home because of what they had seen. They could return to work the next day. The crime scene investigator had been utterly perplexed by the inexplicable demise of Doug Turner. His tongue and his hands had been sliced off and he had a single gun shot to the right shoulder. He had probably dropped his gun after that giving the intruder a chance to make Doug’s insides his outsides, as a result of about 60 stab wounds to his face, chest and stomach with a vast sharp object. The CSI couldn’t find anything on the scene at all that could really help them find who had done this. The killer had been clever, Very clever. Outlandishly, the killer had etched 666 into Doug’s leg, like what had been written on the wall. Neither Mike nor Barry could get the image of Doug’s body out of their minds. Mike was unquestionably the more affected of the two as he was a rookie in the detectives department and had never discovered a dead body. Doug Turner was definitely not a good introduction
Barry had spent 10 years there but it never got much easier for him. He didn’t expect it did for anyone.
Neither of them could grasp what could have done such a thing. What beast would slay them in such a repulsive way? Why was there so many sicko’s in the world that enjoyed slaughtering innocent people in the most horrendous ways to be famous for a while and get their picture in the paper? How could they sleep at night knowing what they had done? Did they not have a conscience? Barry was all too familiar with these questions but never found any answers. Whoever had done this had done it very quickly as they had been at the scene about 4 or 5 minutes after they got the call.
Mary Turner had been too mortified to even speak. They had found her under the bed, completely blank, covered from head to toe with her own father. They could not get a word out of her, and sent her to the station. She might have seen everything that happened to her father and as atrocious a man he was, that would be too much to bear for anybody. She would probably never recover. Not even the strongest willed person could recover from seeing something like that.
“So, how about coming out for a beer tonight,” said Barry, breaking the disturbing silence. Neither of them wanted to talk or think about this any longer.
“No thanks” replied Mike. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Come on,” encouraged Barry. “It’ll clear your head.”
“I suppose. But I want you to drop me off at the station when we get back. I want to talk to Mary before I go home for the night with Lisa. I want to know what the hell happened to her father. She must have seen everything, so why wasn’t she harmed. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Ok, whatever you want. I’ll pick you up from your house about 9. We can talk some more about Lisa if you want.”
“There’s nothing more to say about it. I’m gonna ask her tonight, no matter what. I know she’s the one for me and I don’t want to grow old regretting never asking her.”
“Well I wish you the best of luck partner. And if she says yes, may you live happily ever after like me and Tracy.
When Barry came out with that, Mike wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or not, and had to fight from bursting into a fit of laughter. Barry surely didn’t think his marriage was happy. Was he saying it because he didn’t want to face up to his problems? Would he rather pretend he was the happiest man in the world, than admit his marriage was over before it had ever started. From the look on Barry’s face, he was just trying to kid himself and he just stared into space for the rest of the drive. The journey home was completely silent except for when Mike was getting out.
“So, I’ll pick you up at 9, and you can ask her when you get back, ok?” said Barry.
“Ok, see you later” Mike replied.
With that, Barry shot off like a bullet, in a hurry for something Mike thought.

*******************
Tuesday October 27th Aberdeen street LA 7 29 pm

Upon stepping out of his car, Barry knew something was wrong straight away. He could smell deceit in the air. He knew he was going to catch them this time. The kids were in New York with their grandma for a week. This would be their perfect chance. He wasn’t a stupid man. Certainly nowhere near as stupid as he looked. He saw the way his wife looked at Carlos if they saw him when they were out. They were mocking him, thinking he would be too stupid to catch on. He had known for some time. He just didn’t want to say anything until he knew for sure. So today, instead of his usual trip to the pool club for an hour, he had raced straight home. His wife wouldn’t expect that. As he reached out to open the door, he found himself pausing for a second. Did he really want to go in there? What if he did see them together? Would he rather live in doubt and always have that little ray of hope that he had been wrong, or know for sure? He had to know. And without thinking anymore about it he commenced into the house, gently shutting the door behind him. He could hear them straight away. Panting and puffing coming from his bedroom. HIS bedroom. HIS bed. HIS wife. Who the fuck did he think he was. The thought of it made him sick, and more importantly, absolutely infuriated. Barry wondered what he would do if he went up there, saw them together. Would it be wise? Would he be able to stop himself from killing Carlos? Did it matter? Carlos deserved whatever he got. Barry proceeded up the stairway. He noticed a shirt on the floor, just outside his bedroom door. Carlos’s shirt. Seeing that was the final straw. He launched forward, kicking the door right off its hinges. The two of them dived off the bed straight away, and the fear in Carlos’s eyes was incredible. Tracy just stood there, a smug look on her face like she was proud.
“Barry, this isn’t what it looks like,” pleaded Carlos, edging toward the wall.
Tracy let out a little snigger. He was man enough to sleep with her, but not admit to it. Typical man.
“Oh yes, what is it then? She slipped and fell on your dick.”
That line was in loads of the movies but Barry never thought he’d say it himself.
“Please Barry, I’ll go. I’m sorry.”
Sorry! That was all he had to say. Barry couldn’t retain himself any longer. He shot forward, his face like thunder. Carlos let out a girly scream, as Barry gripped him by his neck, delivered a harsh blow to his stomach and threw him towards the door. Carlos picked himself up and attempted to run, but Barry caught up to him at the top of the stairs, kicking him all the way down. He again picked himself up and ran, but Barry was on him like lightning. Tracy came running down the stairs, throwing on a pair of pants and a shirt, screaming for Barry to stop. She wasn’t laughing now. She knew what Barry was capable of. Just a year ago, Barry had beaten a man nearly to death in a bar because he called him ‘an old faggot’. He could explode at any time for any reason. This was the main reason why she had the affair. She was sick of him shouting his head off and then storming off for the night all the time, never facing up to anything. She didn’t want that anymore. She never expected to go anywhere with Carlos. They just had nothing in common. He was kind and gentle but the fact was he was just a way of getting at her husband. She grabbed Barry by the arm as he continuously pummelled Carlos in the face, but he just slapped her knocking her to the ground. And as Barry released him for that split second second, Carlos thumped him where it hurts, bringing Barry down like a ton of bricks. Carlos took this opportunity to race for the back door, but was stunned to find it was locked. He started to race back towards the front, but stopped dead when he realised Barry was up, not looking too happy.
Carlos backed off into the kitchen, pulling a knife from the rack, holding it up aggressively.
“Get back Barry” he said, his voice shaking relentlessly. Barry ignored him, rapidly advancing on him, pulling out his revolver. Carlos’s face was a real picture now, and he instantly dropped the knife.
“Don’t do anything stupid” pleaded Carlos.
“I’m not the stupid one,” replied Barry. “You are. Bye bye.”
Carlos closed his eyes and screwed his face up tight as Barry pressed the gun to his head. Barry held the trigger tight for a few seconds. He was never going to shoot him. Carlos just needed a lesson. He waited for a few seconds, savoured the moment of Carlos nearly staining his Latino pants, and then lifted the gun sternly telling him to “get the fuck out”. Carlos scurried out faster than he had ever moved in his life. Barry couldn’t help but giggle a little bit inside at the thought of a naked Carlos running across his lawn; He holstered his gun and turned round to his wife.
“How could you, you bitch” he exclaimed.
“You really want to know do you? Ok, I’ll tell you. I fucking hate you”
Barry was astounded by those words.
“You’re the biggest mistake of my life. I should have never married you. But I’m not going to make that mistake any longer, its over. I’ll be back in a week for the kids. After that, I don’t care if I ever see you again.”
After these final words, she picked herself up and just walked out. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care but he did. He cared a lot. And now it was over.

*********************



Tuesday October 27th LA 9 53 pm

Barry never showed. Barry was often late but never turned down beer. Mike had waited for about 40 minutes, and then decided he wasn’t showing and headed for the police station. He was desperate to interrogate Mary. What did she know? As soon as he saw her, sat on the chair, white as a ghost and totally motionless, he knew this was going to be a very difficult interrogation. She was 15 and had probably seen her dad butchered right in front of her. How could she ever recover from something like that?
“Hello Mary,” he said delicately, sitting down on the hard wooden chair.
She said nothing to reply; in fact she didn’t even move an inch.
“Mary, can you hear me?” he said, not holding up much hope for an answer.
Nothing again.
“Mary, please answer me. I need you to help me. I understand you’re scared but I need you to tell me what happened.”
She sat motionless for a few seconds but then, to Mike’s relief; she said one simple but painful word.
“Daddy?”
Mike didn’t know what to make of this.
“Daddy?” she said again.
Mike hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, but you’re Dad is…”
“Daddy!” she shouted at the top of her lungs this time, jumping up from her chair and running for the door. The two startled guards at the door quickly restrained her, while she kicked and hit at them, screaming her fathers name hopelessly. They dragged her out of the room, off to her solitary cell, the one where they put the dangerous and the crazy people, and Mary Turner was certainly not dangerous.
“I’m sorry,” said the third officer, a female. “She’s been through more than anyone could handle. She isn’t ready to be interviewed yet.”
“I know,” replied Mike. “I understand. It was a mistake.”
A mistake it certainly was, he thought to himself has he hastily exited the building. He was never going to get anything out of her this early. The image of her father’s insides wouldn’t clear itself that quickly. He didn’t know why he had bothered. Looking on the positive side, he knew what it was time to do. He was going home to ask his girlfriend to marry him. That thought was enough to cheer him up.

*********************************







Tuesday October 27th LA 10 04 pm

Barry had been sprawled out on his sofa since his wife had left. He had got up once to grab a crate of beer from the fridge and then sat back down and drank the whole lot. He had been thinking about his marriage. How happy they had once been. What had gone wrong? He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to think about the fact that his wife was gone, most likely for good. There was no way he was going to give up the kids without a fight. He loved them too much. 9 o clock had passed and he hadn’t even thought about meeting Mike. He wanted to be alone. He couldn’t face anyone right now. It was just him and his Budweiser for now.

***************************

Tuesday October 27th LA 10 08 pm

The key clicked in the door lock and the wave of excitement went though Mike like a hurricane. This was it! He couldn’t wait to ask her. He was positive she would say yes. They got on like a house on fire. They were two peas in a pod, meant to be with each other.
He noticed as soon as he walked in that it was totally silent. He couldn’t hear a sound. She usually had the TV on when he came home from work. He nervously opened the front room door and found that it was empty. He was beginning to worry. She should be home by now. She was probably stuck in traffic, or had to stay at Angela’s for a little longer. Angela was her sick aunt, dying of cancer, the cancer was in its final stages and Lisa wanted to spend some time with her favourite aunt before she passed. That was the obvious explanation. The vision of Doug Turner however, was causing him to think up more sinister scenarios. He walked over to the answer machine and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw there was a message. He bent down and clicked the play button.
“Hello honey, its Lisa, I’m going to stay here with Angela for a few more days. She’s really sick and the doctor says she only has a few months left in her maximum, and she’s begged me to stay a few days longer. I’m going to be home in a few days though honey, so don’t worry. See you in a few days. Miss you loads.”
The message stopped and Mike sighed, a sigh of disappointment and of relief. He had been really worried there. He couldn’t get Doug out of his mind. He needed a beer and a good sleep, he thought to himself. He would forget all about it in the morning.

**********************************

Wednesday October 28h LA 8 24 am

Bang Bang! Mike had been banging on Barry’s door for a good 5 minutes.
“Barry,” he shouted through for the letterbox for the 50th time. “Open up Barry. What’s wrong? What’s happened? Open up Barry, please. Barry!”
He banged the door again a few times but stopped when he heard the door chain being taken off. He waited for a few seconds, expecting Barry to open the door. When he didn’t, he assumed Barry had invited him in. Mike quickly opened the door, and raced inside heading for the lounge. Barry was sat down on the sofa with his head in his arms. He was in the same clothes he had been yesterday, and Beer cans littered the floor around him. Mike knew what had happened but he asked anyway.
“Has she left you?”
Barry didn’t answer, just kept his head in his hands.
“Barry?”
“Yes she has, ok!” Barry bawled, his head shooting up rapidly revealing his red bloodshot eyes. He had obviously not slept a wink and had done nothing but drink and smoke all night. A chilling silence ensued, neither man thinking what to say next. Then Mike asked the obvious question.
“What happened?”
“It was that foreign piece of shit Carlos” he said clenching his fist aggressively. “They were fucking. Have been for god knows how long. I could have killed him. I could have killed them both. Who does she think she is? We’ve been together all this time and then she throws it all in my face. Why Mike? Why the fuck did she do it? I loved her Mike. I loved her like I’ll never love anyone again. And now she’s gone. She’s coming back for the kids. Can you believe that? She thinks she can just march back and take them away. Take them right out of my life. I won’t let her Mike. I won’t let her take them from me.”
“Shit man,” replied Mike, like he was surprised when really he had known it was only a matter of time before Tracy left. “I’m sorry Barry. I don’t think there’s much you’ll be able to do. She is their mother after all.”
“And I’m their Dad” bellowed Barry. “Doesn’t that mean anything nowadays? Those kids love me. They won’t want to leave me. I know they won’t.”
“I’m so sorry” Mike said again.
“What are you apologising for” Barry replied. “It’s not your fault she’s a two timing whore and he’s a foreign piece of shit.”
Barry got up, grabbing his gun and his badge from table
“Come on then, I don’t want to talk about this any longer, I just want to get to work before the chief has our heads.”
With that he hurried out and Mike quickly scurried after him.

************************

Wednesday October 28h LA 9 03 am

The conference room was buzzing with excitement when they arrived. The murder of Doug Turner had stunned the hardest of police officers and they wanted the sick bastard who did it caught. Mike realised straight away that they had pretty much every detective they could get their hands on working this case. The reason for that was simple. It had been front page in the paper. That’s the way the police worked. If a case got into the paper, the LAPD would have to solve it to keep their image up. Mike and Barry took a seat and the Chief finished his coffee and began.
“Ok men, you all know by know about Doug Turner. He and his daughter were attacked in their house by an insane madman. He was mutilated but she was spared for reasons unknown. Maybe this guy does have a conscience. When he said that, one of the officers at the back let out a little snicker.
“Who the fuck was that!” shouted the chief.
An officer stood up immediately, a young scrawny guy with blonde hair.
“It was me sir”, he whispered shaking like a leaf.
“Do you think this is funny you little weasel.”
“Nnnnnnnnnn………..no sir.”
“Then sit the fuck down and shut the hell up” bawled the chief slamming his fist on the table. He sat down faster than you could say brown pants.
“Ok with no more interruptions, let’s continue. Firstly, we know Doug Turner was not a very nice man. He was horrible to his daughter, in fact, horrible to everyone he knew. The guy that killed him could be someone Doug pissed off one too many times, but the brutality of the murder suggests otherwise. I think what we’re dealing with here is a real psycho, who probably never even met Doug Turner or his daughter. We need to catch this guy and catch him fast. We don’t have any leads at the moment and Doug has no other family in the state. So, I want you on door to door. I want you and your partner to knock on every door within a mile of the Turners home. Someone must have seen this guy, or seen something a little out of the ordinary. Ok no more talking, let’s get moving.”
With that, everyone got up and scrambled for the door.
“Door to door, I hate door to door” sighed Barry.
“Cheer up bud, its not that bad” said Mike patting him on the back.

********************

Wednesday October 28h LA 7 36 pm

It had been without a doubt the most boring police day for any of them ever. Not one house they knocked on gave them anything useful and all Barry had done was moan about his ‘bitch of a wife’. They did get a cookie each from a very strange old woman but apart from that it had been the biggest flop since Vietnam. They were now driving to McDonalds for a much needed Big Mac.
“So Barry, answer me this one question. Are we going to catch this guy or what? We don’t have a single lead and he could be anyone.”
“Mike, Mike, Mike” Barry murmured. Mike readied himself for a lecture. “That’s the way a lot of these cases are. You don’t have a single lead and then bang! One comes flying out of nowhere.”
“But the only thing we’ve learnt in an entire days work is that crazy old women bake beautiful chocolate chip cookies.”
“Yes, but trust me. This time next month this guy will be someone’s bitch down at the county jail. Trust me.”
Barry certainly had a lot of hope for the police force, Mike thought. All those years there and his trust in the great LAPD had not shifted an inch.
They pulled into the McDonalds Drive-Thu and both of them breathed in, catching the lustrous smell. Nothing could beat a Big Mac after a hard days work in the force.
The guy at the counter was a pimpled faced lad with teeth that a horse would hate to own.
“What will it be guys” he said, his teeth knocking them sick.
“Well, we want a Big Mac meal each, but I’m not sure if any of us want one now” Barry said, trying not to laugh.
Mike was beetroot red trying to contain his laughter. The guy at the counter gave them a dirty look and then went to the back to fetch their food.
“We’ll check them for spit” Barry shouted. Mike finally gave in and burst into a fit of laughter.
“The poor guy.”
“Tell me about it. He hit a few hundred branches on his way down the ugly tree.
They laughed heartily for a few moments thinking of numerous things that made the poor guy so ugly then stopped when they realised he was back at the counter.
“That’ll be 8 dollars please” he requested, not looking too pleased at being laughed at, although Mike was sure this wasn’t the first time this guy had been laughed at.
Barry handed him the money and they hastily exited, before bursting into another fit of laughter.
“Haven’t laughed like that for a while” Chuckled Mike.
“Me too,” replied Barry. “And I needed a good laugh after these last couple of days.”
“So, what do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know. We could go the pool club for an hour if you wanted.”
“Sure, why not. Nothing else to do except go home to an empty house.”
“Same here”, sighed Barry. “Same here.”

***********************

Wednesday October 28h LA 9 24 pm

The wind was awfully strong, Frank Buxton realised and his jelly beans were nearly knocked out of his hand. He was sat at a bench in a park, waiting for someone. He didn’t know exactly who he was waiting for yet. He would only know that when he saw them. That was the way it always was for Frank. He waited at this very bench every time he got….a craving. Tonight he was especially on the lookout for a red head and she had to be younger than 14. He could settle for a blonde though. He remembered when he used to be blonde, many years ago when he was young and handsome. Now his hair was jus a dull grey ring around the side of his head. Even then the cravings had been there, but it was only recently he started to act on them. He would wait for a girl he liked, and then follow them for a while, waiting for the right time, and then he would swoop in on them. Usually he would knock them out with a blow to the head, and then drag them somewhere dark to show them his ‘love’. That was all he ever wanted to show them, love, but they never understood. They always tried to escape and Frank couldn’t let that happen, no matter what that entailed. He never wanted to hurt them. It just seemed to be inevitable. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a girl walking past whistling to herself. She must have been no more than 13, just the way he liked them. She was wearing blue jeans and a pink v-neck jumper. She had long brown hair, which would be ok as she was exceptionally pretty. She was tall and slim, and not too slim like a lot of the girls were nowadays. He quickly got up from his seat and slowly began following her. She stopped outside the gate, bending down to tie her shoelace it looked like. She hadn’t seen him. This was the perfect chance. He eagerly trotted over to her, making as little sound as possible. She was still whistling so there was no chance she would hear him. Plus, he couldn’t see anyone about to stop him. God she was beautiful. She was going to be the best girl he had ‘loved’ in a long while. She reminded him of his first. She had been tall and brown haired. She had startled him when he realised she didn’t want his love. He would never forget that feeling after he had done it. Seeing her lying motionless afterwards he kidded himself that it wasn’t his fault, if she had only accepted his love. He was only a few metres away from her now. He lifted his hand ready to strike her. Suddenly, he felt a huge thud on the back of his head and he let out a huge moan. Hearing this, the girl instantly shot up, and upon seeing Frank screamed as loud as she could before taking off as fast as her legs could carry her. She had been very lucky. No one left their house to come and investigate the scream of course. No body wanted to get involved. It was just another rape to them. That’s just how it was in late night LA. Frank shot round quickly, shaken at whatever had hit him. He was shocked to find there was no one there. There was however a large rock lying on the floor, stained with a little bit of blood.
“Who’s there” he stammered. “Hello.”
There was no reply, only from a nearby bird.
“Who’s there,” he stammered again. He stood, silent and still for a few moments, wondering what to do. He wanted to run but he was scared whoever was hiding would chase him. He wasn’t a fast man after all. He never had been. He had always been last pick at school and never had a single friend. He snapped out his childhood memories again when he noticed an orange glow emanating from the bush. The bush was on fire. Then he heard it. The footsteps right behind him. He had been so frightened he didn’t even see the figure slip out of the bush and creep behind him. He tried to scream and turn around but was silenced with a blow to the head before he had chance to do either.

Panic hit old Frank like a shockwave as he woke up. He was tied to a chair in a completely unlit room and had no idea how he got there. It started coming back to him very quickly though. His head throbbed with pain as he recalled being bludgeoned in the back of the head. The next image that returned was of the pretty brown haired girl. How he nearly had her in his grasp before his attacker intervened. He thought just for a second it could be a cop but he knew that idea was stupid because no cop knocks you out and ties you to a chair. They jus arrest you and throw you to the bloodhounds in county jail for a few years. Then you mutter a few lines about being better and they let you back out again. Dumb cops he had always thought them as. However, this guy was certainly not dumb. Lighting that fire to distract him was very smart indeed. And now he was at the mercy of his captor and he was close to pissing his pants. He struggled for a few seconds trying to free him self but to no avail. He tried the next thing he could think of.
“Help!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. He didn’t expect an answer but he got one.
“You think anyone is going to help you” he heard from behind him.
Suddenly the lights flew on blinding frank. The piss he had been holding in finally released itself when he saw the little table in front of him lined with numerous items that didn’t do very nice things to people: A drill and two nails, a pair of pliers, a hammer and a blowtorch. The panic in frank erupted and he began screaming and struggling as hard he could to try and free himself. He stopped after a minute or so and recognised it was no good.
“Are you done” the chilling voice behind him said calmly.
“Please” Frank pleaded. “Don’t kill me. I’m sorry. Honest. Please don’t kill me!”
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a piece of tape was suddenly thrust over his mouth. He mumbled for mercy as a blindfold was places over his eyes. He tried again to wriggle free but once again to no avail.
“Struggling will only urge me on” the voice uttered again.
He heard heavy footsteps walk toward to where the table had been placed.
“No one is going to help you just like no one ever helped the little children you molested and killed. But don’t worry this wont last too long.” Frank heard what sounded like his captive picking up and inspecting his items or torture.
“You Realise don’t you that no matter what people see what I have done to you they will feel no pity when they read what you are. How does that feel?”
Frank winced with pain as the tape over his mouth was ripped off taking half of his facial hair with it.
“Please don’t do this to me, I’m begging you. I don’t want to die, I’m sorry.”
The only answer was the sound of a drill being turned on and Frank instantly began trying to wriggle out of the chair again. He felt a sharp pain in his right hand and he screamed in agony while what he figured was a nail was drilled into his wrist. The second nail was then drilled into his left wrist and he screamed a little louder. When the drilling stopped he sat there screaming for a minute or so until he felt a sudden Thump on his left knee and he heard it break like a pane of glass. He had never felt so much pain in his life but unfortunately for him he didn’t pass out and had to endure it. There was silence again for another couple of minutes and all Frank could do was mumble the Lords Prayer but he knew the man upstairs didn’t look twice at people like him.
“I’ve had enough fun for one day” he heard the voice say. “I think you’ve had enough torture.”
Frank pleaded for him to let him go but his voice was drowned out by the sound of the blowtorch.
“I want you to think of the children” he heard over it as he felt the intense heat on his face. The last image in poor old Franks mind was of that first brown haired girl. And then, it was gone.


***********************

Thursday October 29h LA 10 45 am

Mike thrust his hand over his mouth as he stared down at what his first incident of the morning was, a naked fat man, minus his genitals, his hands and his face. Where his face should have been there was just a black smudge. That was the best thing he could think of. He was not having a good introduction to dead bodies in his first days as a detective. He looked across at Barry who by the look on his face was as astounded as he was.
“This poor bastard really got it bad” The CSI who was knelt down by the body remarked. “He’s got a broken kneecap from a heavy blunt object like a hammer, Holes in his hands where someone probably nailed him down, a face burnt to a crisp and no balls or hands. To top it off I think you’ll find this very interesting.”
He rolled him over onto his back and scratched into his back were three numbers ‘666’.