3. Thorn
CHAPTER 3
THORN
“... body of a female was found early this morning by joggers in a wooded area in Georgia. The unidentified victim was reportedly sexually assaulted, strangled, and then posed in a manner that’s consistent with the Phantom Strangler, who has been active in the United States since mid-twenty-fourteen. Police all across the nation have been thwarted by the serial killer, and despite the FBI’s special task force following up on every lead, no arrests have ever been made or suspects identified.”
The reporter’s solemn expression fills the screen as police work the crime scene in the background. I don’t need to watch the rest of the newscast to know what other details will be reported because every single detail will match all the others: no fingerprints, piece of jewelry taken, ligature marks around the neck, evidence of rape but no semen, and the body is posed against a solid surface with their right hand resting between their legs as if they’re masturbating.
Sick fuck.
I turn the volume on my TV down and toss the remote onto the mattress before crawling out of bed. Watching the morning news has become a ritual for me ever since I realized that Tamara’s murder was linked to all the others perpetrated by this guy. The police haven’t figured it out yet, but I know in my gut that she was his first. Everything lines up other than the fact that she wasn’t posed.
So, any and everything to do with the Phantom Strangler has become my obsession. I’m like some sort of twisted collector when it comes to information about the man.
As I walk toward the bathroom to take a leak, my cell rings. I ignore it in favor of relief, but as soon as the ringing stops, it starts back up within seconds and doesn’t stop until I return to answer it.
“What?” I bark without looking at the screen to see who’s calling.
“Damn, dude,” Jez comments.
I shove a hand through my hair and sigh. “Sorry, rough morning.”
“I take it you saw the news.”
“Of course, I saw it. You know I?—”
“Watch it every fucking day,” she finishes for me. “I’m aware.”
“It’s him, Jez,” I say. “This one hasn’t been officially linked to him, but it’s him.”
“I know. And I’ve tapped into the Georgia Bureau of Investigations system to monitor the reports on this murder, but you’re right. There’s nothing official yet.”
“There will be. It’s clear as fucking crystal that it’s the Phantom Strangler.”
“Agreed.” She takes a deep breath. “Thorn, there’s one detail that the news didn’t report on. I’m guessing it’s because the police are keeping it to themselves, but they can’t keep it from me.”
Hope flares for the first time since I stumbled upon Tamara’s body. “You could’ve led with that, ya know?”
“Eh, what fun would that be?” she snarks.
“Dammit, Jez,” I snarl.
“Fine, fine.” Another deep breath. “A map was found a few feet from the body with red dots indicating each location a victim has ever been discovered.”
“And that helps us how?”
“There were also six green dots on locations that can’t be linked to any unsolved murder.”
“Again, how does that help us?” I demand, unable to reach whatever conclusion she clearly has.
“Thorn, I think the green dots are locations of future murders,” she says quietly, like it’s a closely guarded secret.
“Why would he do that?” I ask, trying to make sense of it. “He’s been so damn careful, and now he’s giving the cops a literal road map to his crimes? It makes no fucking sense.” A thought occurs to me as all the information continues to sink in. “Wait a sec, Jez. Was there a red dot for Tamara’s murder?”
“Yes.”
“So, she’ll be officially linked to him soon,” I surmise. “Which means the police will probably wanna talk to me again.”
“Probably, but you have nothing to hide,” she reminds me. “Well, other than your entire existence. You might not be the Phantom Strangler, but you have?—”
“Taken many lives,” I gripe. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“Thorn, I think it might be time to read the club in on all of this,” Jez suggests.
“Soul knows about Tamara,” I say.
“But does he know that she was killed by an active serial killer?” she asks. “Or that you and I are still trying to track said psycho?”
“No,” I admit.
No one but Jez knows because it’s not the club’s problem. It’s mine and mine alone. Shit, Jez only knows because she’s got skills that I could only dream about.
“It’s time, dude.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“If the police are gonna be an issue, there’s no maybe about it. You can’t keep this to yourself anymore.”
She’s right, of course. I have to protect the club and our mission at all costs. Even if that means opening up my world of pain and rage for my brothers to see.
“I’ll ask Soul to call church and fill them all in.”
“Good. Want me to be there?”
“You know you’re not allowed in church.”
“Since when has that ever stopped me?” she counters, a smirk in her tone.
I chuckle. “If your brother says you can be there then yeah, I’d like you to be there.”
“Oh, Thorn. Your lack of confidence in my ability to bend my twin to my will is offensive. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Jez, you are one of a kind, ya know it?”
“I know.” Beeping sounds in the background. “Well, that’s my cue. Gotta go.”
The call is disconnected before I can ask her any questions about her ‘cue’, and not for the first time I wonder what Jez does when she’s not helping Saints Purgatory. Scratch that… it’s probably better that I don’t know.
Knowing that I can’t keep my secrets to myself any longer, I quickly shower and get dressed before heading out to the common area in search of Pres. He’s leaning against the bar, holding Harper, his daughter, and she’s giggling at something he’s saying.
I close the distance between us, and he must sense the seriousness of the situation because he passes Harper to Cece, his ol’ lady, and nods for her to give us some privacy.
“What’s up, brother?” he asks as soon as I reach him.
“We need to talk.”