Chapter 12 #2
Sean set the plate of food on the dining table, strode over to the couch, and sat on the edge, leaning forward in anticipation.
He picked up the remote and raised the volume a few notches.
Grace came around and sat down next to him while Suki perched herself on the arm of the loveseat.
They waited impatiently through two more commercials before the newscast started.
The co-anchors introduced themselves and some of the upcoming stories before the male anchor announced, “But first, a Channel Four exclusive from our own Jessica Daly.”
The picture switched from the news desk to an outdoor shot of the blonde reporter outside the Dare County Medical Examiner’s Office. Sean immediately recognized her from the press conference. She wore a very serious expression as she began speaking.
“This is Jessica Daly for the evening news, reporting to you from the Dare County Medical Examiner’s Office with a Channel Four exclusive.
“Investigations into the strangling deaths of three county women continue. At this time, local law enforcement has very few leads. Sources inside the Dare County Sheriff’s Department report the Seaside Strangler mutilated the torsos of his three victims with a knife before killing them.
The word he carved into their abdomens is an expletive that cannot be repeated on television.
“Apparently, all three victims had been out partying with friends at different locations before encountering the vicious sadist who took their lives.
“This reporter has also discovered this is not the first time this savage has struck.
The FBI was called in last summer by the Philadelphia Police Department after three women in three months were found strangled and with the same expletive cut into their torsos.
That information was never made public, and no other homicides were reported.
The killer apparently went into hiding until a little over two months ago, when Becky Travis was brutally murdered.
Is this barbarian finished slaughtering the women of Dare County, or has he just begun?
“Channel Four is warning its female viewers to be extra vigilant and to use every precaution available to keep themselves safe.
“If anyone has any information regarding these brutal crimes, please contact our tip line at Channel Four or the Dare County Sheriff’s Department.
“This is Jessica Daly. Back to you, Ken.”
“Son of a goddamned fucking bitch!” Sean roared as Suki took the remote control from him and lowered the TV volume again.
After knowing him for over two years, she was surprised he waited until the end of the broadcast before blowing up.
He was usually cool and in control, but when something like this set him off, look out.
“Where the hell does this bitch get her fucking information?”
Since it was obvious the two women had no answer to his question, Sean stood and stormed into the kitchen to retrieve his cell phone.
Locating Brad Lynch’s number, he pressed send and paced back and forth in the small room.
The phone only rang once before the call was answered.
Without even saying hello, Lynch told him, “I just saw it. Who the fuck is she getting her information from?”
“That’s what I want to know!” Sean bellowed into the phone. “The Seaside Strangler? Is she fucking kidding?”
Taking a deep breath, he lowered his voice, but the angry tone remained. “Brad, this isn’t a slow leak anymore—this is going to cause a flood. The only thing not public now is the pennies.”
“I know, I know. Shit, Griffin’s cutting in. I’ll talk to you in the morning. There’s nothing we can do now.” The detective clicked off as he took the other call.
Sean stopped pacing and found Grace and Suki staring at him from the kitchen doorway.
As furious as he was, he realized Brad was right.
There wasn’t anything they could do about it now.
By 11:00 p.m., every other news show would repeat what Jessica Daly had already reported.
And first thing tomorrow morning, she would be getting a visit from the FBI—specifically Special Agent Sean Malone.
Running his hands down his face, he brought his temper under control and pasted on a wry smile. “I can’t do anything about it tonight, so we might as well go eat while it’s still warm.” Unfortunately, he’d lost his appetite.
That bitch! That slutty, little bitch! What had she called him?
A vicious sadist? A savage? A barbarian?
How dare she label him that way! The great George Wallace was none of those things.
He was just a man ridding the world of despicable whores—someone had to.
Those sluts deserved to die. Their promiscuous lifestyles had sealed their fates, just like that bitch on TV had sealed her own a moment ago.
If she wanted to call him a savage, then he would gladly show her just how cruel he could be.
He slowly brought his anger under control. Acting on impulse would only lead to mistakes. “Think, think, think,” he said out loud. “Take your time, think, then plan your revenge.”
Pacing the living room, it only took a few minutes for him to formulate a plan of action—a plan of retribution.
Grabbing a newspaper from the recycling bin, he carefully pulled out the sports section by the upper corner.
He hated sports and never read about them, but now that portion of the news was perfect for his plans since it wouldn’t have his fingerprints or DNA on it.
While his DNA wasn’t on file, his fingerprints were.
He retrieved a pair of scissors, glue, and a piece of blank paper from his desk in the spare bedroom and placed them next to the sports section on the dining room table he rarely used.
Finally, he pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from under the kitchen sink.
He usually used them when he washed the dishes, but tonight they would keep his fingerprints off the note he planned on sending to that blonde-haired bimbo who called herself an investigative reporter.
He’d show her! He’d show them all!