The Monsters that Kill the Nightmares - Part VI: June
June
They were the Winchester Brothers: the country’s most notorious serial killers and the bane of Agent Victor Henriksen’s existence. The trail of bodies they were stacking up seemed to have literally nothing in common. The statements he could glean from witnesses didn’t help much either, mainly because there never really were witnesses. Sure, there was the odd creeper in the corner who watched a woman leave with two big guys she probably shouldn’t have. There was the concerned friend who would only divulge information after she was sure she couldn’t possibly be blamed for letting her friend go partying by herself. But there was no substantial evidence; no one who could describe their faces, no one who could give him a name other than Winchester. He seemed to always be two or three steps behind them, but he knew they were there.
He was almost two years in and the body count had suddenly stopped. Now there were a couple of times when the body count would slow down or stop completely for weeks on end. But this was the longest dry spell yet. Two months had passed and not a single body that could be traced back to those boys had shown up. Part of him wanted to jump for joy at the possibility that things really had ended, but a black cloud loomed over his shoulder. He knew it wasn’t that easy. It never had been with these boys.
Around the same time, a new set of bodies started piling up. Similar in nature to the Winchester Murders but different enough that he knew they were dealing with a copycat.
The latest body had been found in alleyway behind a Stop-and-Go. Henriksen scrubbed a hand over his face trying to wake himself up. He hated getting calls at two in the morning - especially when a dead body was the reason for it.
“So what do we have?” He glanced around for whatever poor soul had been told to fetch coffee, hoping they would return soon.
“Caucasian, female, early twenties, stab wound to the chest,” said the Medical Examiner glancing up at the agent.
“Anything to suggest this somehow isn’t connected to anything to do with the Winchesters?”
“Well, certain bruises and lack thereof seem to suggest there may have been only ‘attacker.’” He made air quotes around “attacker” and that got an eyebrow raise from Henriksen.
“’Attacker?’” he questioned, mimicking the M.E.’s hand motions.
“Well look at her. Does she look like she was at all terrified at the time of death?”
Henriksen finally glanced down at the victim. The M.E. was right. She didn’t look at all scared. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she looked like she might have died from pleasure rather than pain - you know were there not an obvious stab wound in her chest.
“Do a rape kit, just in case. See if there was any DNA left on her.”
“You’re the boss.”
Henriksen sighed. Yeah, he was the boss alright, and this was gonna be a long night.