For Naill Donnely, this would prove the toughest case he ever had to crack – very few clues, and worse yet, no viable suspect whatsoever. Unfortunately, the crime itself was all too familiar. The latest victim, a young girl, her life choked out of her by some psychopath. But, it was the circumstances that left him perplexed – practically nothing about it made sense. What’s more, he had an eerie feeling this case would end with him losing the only semblance of humanity he had left…
Soiled, matted hair purposely pushed away from blank, bloodshot eyes, skin tinged a lifeless grey, and the look of absolute terror frozen on her face. Deep, well-defined, purple-colored ligature marks around the throat made the cause of death all too apparent. This wasn’t just a murder. It was unmitigated rage. Worse still, this wasn’t the first and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Jane Doe number three and counting. And, those were just the known cases. There could be a lot more.
After all, there were at least a dozen open missing persons’ cases with the exact same descriptions – early to mid-twenties, small, petite frames, long flowing hair, and all disappearing from the same part of town – 3 Points or, as the residents called it, the Dark Triangle. A fitting name indeed. Narrow, dirty streets and slim, dank allies with little to no sunlight due to the oblique architecture that surrounded the neighborhood on all three sides. At night, a near void of shadows swallowed the sidewalks – the result of the many burned-out street lights utility workers dare not stick around to repair – even during the day.
Forensic investigators had already been through the crime scene, and so had the local homicide detectives. No fingerprints, no shoe prints, no hair other than the victim, no witnesses, and no weapons or abduction materials like rope, zip ties, or duct tape were left behind. And, no sign of sexual assault. In other words, no clues whatsoever. Just another innocent life smothered out and Detective Ryan desperately needed help or he’d be standing over yet another pretty, young corpse.
Frustrated to the extreme, Detective Ryan turned to an old friend with a long track record. One who could bring a fresh perspective and perhaps, an out-of-the-box take, “Her she is, Jane Doe number three, Naill. Who knows how many more met the same fate or will become another pointless statistic.”
“Forensics turned up nothing Dale?”
“Not a thing. Bupkis.”
“How about the other two? I take it zero?”
“Nothing there, either, Naill, not one single thing left behind.”
Naill Donnelly stooped over the third victim, while Detective Dale Ryan looked on, between them, well over forty years chasing down bad guys. Ryan joined the force straight out of college and now ran the homicide division, with just over ten years with the department. He even looked the part – almost a caricature right out of a canceled television series.
Naill Donnelly took a different route. He joined the military after earning his bachelor’s and spent the next twenty-plus years with the Naval Intelligence Service. Bored with a brief retirement that only lasted about a year, Donnelly joined federal law enforcement and worked another decade. Now, he worked as a part-time private investigator and case consultant – mostly with OU or Open/Unsolved Case squads – the toughest crimes to solve.
“I take it the other victims were killed the same way,” Donnelly inquired, stroking his short, well-groomed beard that had turned a mixture of gray and white.
“Yeah, Naill – nearly a carbon copy in all three.”
“Well, I suppose it’s time to take a good look at what isn’t here. Plus, really study the surroundings.”
“Long shots.”
“Very long, Dale, very long, but at least it gives us a start,” Donnelly observed, running his right hand through his still thick reddish, blondish hair as his blue eyes took in the entire scene once more. “Want to start with this side of the street?”
“Yep, let’s go right, then work our way left.”
Donnelly and Ryan spent nearly the entire afternoon canvassing the surrounding businesses, asking if anyone saw anything or noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the area. Door after door, person after person didn’t yield a thing. Unsurprising to the two investigators, practically none of the cameras pointing toward the crime scene worked. The couple that did work hadn’t recorded any footage.
Without a single witness and no photographic or video evidence, this would be a very tough case. Worse still, none of the victims weren’t immediately identifiable – the perpetrator took all their jewelry, purses, and wallets. As if that weren’t bad enough, none of the three victims had tattoos, so that meant having to rely on dental records for identification – a process that would take several weeks, time Donnelly and Ryan didn’t have. But, plenty of time for the culprit to strike again, maybe even twice.
They had to make progress much quicker. Otherwise, they’d have another unidentified victim on their hands – they were confident of that much – given the nature of the crimes and the space in between them. Whoever did it would strike soon enough and having nothing to go on left them totally in the dark.
“Let’s call it a day, Naill. I’ve got some leads to work on in another case and some reports to finish up. You know, the Chief has been on my back about getting that stuff turned in.”
“You go ahead Dale, I’m going to take another look at the other scenes; if you don’t mind?”
“Sure, be my guest. We’ve already got forensics files on them. Really, really thin files, but we’ve got them if you need to look.”
Donnelly did just that, going to each one of the scenes, taking his own pictures, and jotting down his own notes. This way, he could compare his stuff with the department’s. It wasn’t much, but it gave him more of a chance to find inconsistencies or pinpoint key details missed before. Hours later, he hadn’t come up with anything substantial.
Regrettably, this wasn’t a new phenomenon. Donnelly felt this way plenty of times before. On his walk back to his hotel, he started thinking about the toughest cases he’d worked on over the years. Strangely, this one was totally different. Sure, the victims had a lot in common in their physical appearances. But, that wasn’t unusual in what seemed like a serial killer’s work. If he could only identify one of the three, he’d have a real chance at solving them all.
The streets of 3 Points didn’t fail to live up to their nickname that night. As he walked through the Dark Triangle, freakish faces and perplexing behaviors were plentiful among the nocturnal denizens. Screams pierced through the air from the alleyways. Loud, angry verbal altercations seemed to come from every direction. Trash littered the sidewalks as shadowy figures disappeared into the park. No cab to drive him safely to his hotel because the drivers knew better than to pick up fares after sundown. Sadly, it reminded him of a case he worked about ten years ago.
It involved the stereotypic loner – a guy who all the neighbors said was “quiet” and “kept to himself.” He managed to claim five victims before Donnelly and his colleagues caught him. Steady, mundane job. No wife, no kids. No pets. No friends visited and he rarely went out. The perp would have probably gotten away with it if he hadn’t been so cocky.
This guy liked to change things up. Used a handgun with a suppressor first – worked like a charm. But that didn’t give him the twisted intimacy he wanted. So, he tried strangulation on his second target. That victim put up one good fight but succumbed to her injuries. The next victim he stabbed thirty-three times. Thirty-three different wounds exactly. One for “every miserable year of his rotten existence” he later admitted. By the time he got to four, he started leaving clues behind. And with the fifth victim, he practically left a roadmap right to his front door.
If only they were all that careless. But not this one. This one is patient. He’s detail-oriented. And, he’s definitely not in a hurry to get caught. So, the days slowly went by, each one making Donnelly more nervous that the current killing spree would soon continue. Nearly two weeks later, the next call came, “Hey Naill, it’s Dale. We’ve got our fourth Jane Doe, over on Ailesbury Crescent.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
Victim number four, a sinister clone of the previous three. Deep ligature marks around her throat, horror-stricken, petrified eyes lifelessly wide open, chapped lips and mouth agape with no breath escaping. Her chest was completely still, and her once pinkish skin faded to a stale gray. Just like the others, no formal identification, no identifying body marks. No purse or wallet, and nothing left behind. This one too wasn’t violated. Her body was all Donnelly and Ryan had to work with and that wasn’t nearly enough.
“Okay, so Dale, what we’re obviously dealing with here is a methodical killer.”
“Yeah, probably read every police procedure book he could get his hands on and watches those true-crime reality shows. However he’s done it, he’s educated well enough to cover his tracks.”
Donnelly stared at the victim, then took a hard look around the crime scene. He rubbed his beard as he took a step back. Suddenly, an epiphany hit, “No clues, right Detective?”
“Nothing physical, except the body, of course.”
“Maybe we’re looking at the wrong thing. We’re so focused on the victims, their similarities, that we’re not looking at the differences.”
“Okay, I’m with you. But what would you say those differences are? I mean, they’re all young girls, probably early twenties, with petite frames, no distinguishing body marks, long hair, and every one of them strangled. I’d say that’s pretty consistent, Naill.”
“Yeah, but what strikes me is at least one inconsistency – they’ve all been found in different parts of the city. More specifically, in different parts of 3 Points, right?”
“Right.”
Donnelly hurriedly pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his notes. As he quickly skimmed over what he jotted down, a pattern began to emerge, “All right then, same MO.”
“Same MO, yep.”
“But, take a look at this Dale. The first victim was found on Jerusalem Street.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Now, Jane Doe number two, the second victim, she was found over on Ulster Way. The third on Derry Road, and now, Jane Doe number four, on Ailesbury Crescent.”
“So? What’s that mean to you, Naill?”
“Take the first letter of each and it spells J-U-D-A. As in Judas. Look here!” Donnelly said, opening a map on his phone. “The location of the victims form the points of a cross!”
“Yeah, but Judas Iscariot wasn’t crucified. He hung himself from a tree.”
“I know, I know. But maybe, just maybe, these are some kind of revenge killings. Maybe whoever did this is getting back at these girls in a symbolic way. I’m not sure. Could even be an alias, a street name spelled out by the victims’ locations. I don’t know yet, but it’s more pieces of the puzzle than we’ve gotten so far.”
“Perhaps. But, I don’t recall anyone that goes by the street name ‘Judas.’ Still, it’s worth asking around the department – could be someone else has come across a Judas – I’ll check and get back to you either way.”
“Okay, because if I’m right, that only leaves the letter ‘s,’ which means there’s going to be a fifth victim.”
Jane Doe four certainly wasn’t the last victim found murdered in the Dark Triangle. The neighborhood had a long history of horrific violence. Muggings were a daily occurrence, stolen cars the same, only multiplied twice. Hold-ups practically every night of the week. And there wasn’t a week that went by without a homicide. Suicides were also common. But, this case was different. No indications of gang involvement. And it wasn’t done by petty criminals or drug addicts desperately trying to support their habits. This was someone on a personal mission and whoever was responsible wasn’t going to stop until that mission was complete.
Donnelly reached out to one of his former co-workers in federal law enforcement, “Judas, that’s right…Juliet, Ukulele, Delta, Alpha, Sierra. Let me know if there’s a hit, even a partial match.” But nothing came back – Judas was a dead end – at least as a known alias. Ryan’s inquiries proved that again on the local level. But, Donnelly wasn’t going to let that undermine his gut instinct – he knew he was on to something, although unsure what it was.
“I’m telling you, Dale, these murders have something to do with this Judas pattern. If it’s not an alias, it’s representative of something else. Could be the killer felt betrayed by those girls. I don’t really know, I’m just confident there’s a connection.”
“Well, that could be true, Naill. But it’s all still just a wild guess – we’ll have better luck when the dental matches come back.”
“That’s going to be weeks from now! How many die until then? One? Two? Maybe three? There’s no time to wait for dental identifications, I’m going to try another way.”
Dale knew Naill’s doggedness all too well. He worked with Donnelly a few times in the past and his record for breaking really tough cases. But, as a seasoned homicide detective, Ryan also knew the chances of solving even one of these four cases were very slim. Still, he wasn’t about to let his own doubts or statistics become an obstacle. After all, even the smallest chance was worth betting on, “Okay Naill. You do your thing – you’ve got the time to dedicate. I’ll help as much as I can, just got a heavy caseload I can’t ignore.”
Donnelly knew his only remaining option was to identify at least two of the four victims in order to establish a connection between them – other than being found in 3 Points. He immediately went back to the Dark Triangle, to the scene of the first victim. “There’s got to be something we’ve missed,” he thought to himself, “Just one thing- I just need one thing to go on, no matter how small or insignificant.”
Staring at the empty space where the first victim previously laid, Donnelly looked over his notes. “Judas, where does Judas fit in?” But, no matter how many times he asked the question no answer would present itself. “All right, let’s forget about the possible Judas connection and focus on what’s here, instead.”
Donnelly walked the scene back and forth, checking out its surroundings simultaneously. “Okay, no fingerprints, no weapons left behind, no sexual violation, no witnesses, and no identification on the victim or nearby,” he murmured to himself aloud. “Such beautiful girls and all we can do is wait on their dental records to hopefully identify them!” He shouted out.
“Wait..wait a second,” he thought. “Dental records – their teeth!” Donnelly suddenly realized all the victims had perfectly straight, white teeth. “These weren’t street girls. They weren’t transients or homeless. They all wore nice clothes, had manicured nails, barely any defensive wounds. That’s because they didn’t know how to fight back. They were young professionals, just happened to have some kind of careers that started them off in 3 Points – probably commuted in from the suburbs. Cabs are expensive, and parking garages are outrageous, so that leaves the train. It’s not the most glamorous, but it’s a straight shot, it’s quick and reliable, and it’s cheap, cheap enough to fit into a young professional’s budget.”
Donnelly spun around, looking up and down the street. Sure enough, a train station sign stood a block away. “Okay, all right. No young woman is going to commute into the Dark Triangle unless she’s got some type of protection. That means she needed to carry mace, pepper spray, a handgun, whatever, in her purse. Plus, she’d have to buy a pass to get on the train and then buy lunch, too. So, where’s the nearest deli?” He turned side to side, noticing a few different delis.
“Excuse me,” Donnelly said, walking into the deli closest to the first murder scene. “I’m working with the police and wanted to know if anyone who works here has seen this girl,” he explained, showing a picture of Jane Doe number one. But none of the employees recognized the girl. The same for the next deli. But, the third eatery gave him a possible break.
“Yeah, I think I’ve seen her a few times before…she used that ATM,” one employee recalled, pointing to the bank across the street.
“Okay, do you remember the last time you saw her?”
Donnelly asked because he wanted to know if the witness’ answer lined up with the time of death established by the coroner – it did. He rushed across the street and into the bank.
“Hello, I’m working with the local police department and we’re trying to identify this girl, can you see if any of your tellers recognize her?” Donnelly asked the branch manager.
The manager accommodated, asking her employees if anyone knew the girl. “Yes, I think so,” one replied. “I think she came in to have a document notarized once. I only remember her because she was wearing the same top as I was that afternoon.”
“Can you show me a copy of the notary?”
“Well, no. She took the papers with her. But I did record it in my log.”
The teller pulled up her file, scrolled through it, and found the entry, “Yep, right here.”
“Thank you, can you forward me a copy?”
“Sure thing!”
Now, Donnelly knew the name of the first victim – Taylor Byrne. He immediately searched for a matching social media profile and quickly found one. “Last thing she posted was only a couple of hours before she was murdered,” he thought.
Donnelly expressed his gratitude, “Thank you, thank you again, this is very helpful!” Now, he could dig into her past a little and maybe establish a connection with one or more of the other three victims. But first, he needed to fill Dale in.
“Looks like a spot-on match.”
“Yep. This is the part of the job I hate most. But, someone’s got to deliver the bad news. Let’s find her parents.”
Donnelly and Ryan went together, her parents naturally devastated, “We just knew something awful like this would happen,” her mother sobbed. “But she was so independent and refused to turn down the opportunity. I told her to find another firm to start at, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“You mean, she was a lawyer?” Ryan asked.
“No, no, not a lawyer. An accountant, a junior accountant,” her father replied, tears streaming down his face. “She just graduated and this firm agreed to pay for her master’s degree. That’s the only reason she would work in the Dark Triangle. I offered to pay for her graduate school myself, but as my wife said, she was very independent…told us she needed to do it on her own.”
“I see, great spirit,” Donnelly said, trying to lend some comfort. “So, did she commute into the city from here?”
“On and off. She rented an apartment with a roommate downtown, Sadie. When she stayed here, she’d take the train in. But, the apartment was close enough to walk to work,” her mother explained.
“I hate to ask you about this, but have either of you seen any of these girls before?” Donnelly asked, fanning out photos of the other three victims.
“No,” her mother replied.
That afternoon, Donnelly and Ryan went to Taylor Byrne’s apartment, “Hi, are you Sadie?”
“Yes, I am. I take it you’re Detective Ryan? I just spoke with Taylor’s parents.”
“Yes, I’m Detective Dale Ryan, and this is Naill Donnelly. We just have a few questions for you – if you’re able to answer them?”
Sadie agreed, nodding her head, “Yeah, I can do that. It’s been weeks, but I’m still in shock…you know…because I just got the news from her parents. We all knew something bad happened, just holding hope out against hope, I suppose.”
“That’s perfectly normal. We’ve been in law enforcement for a very long time and people don’t want to believe…”
“Yeah, it’s still unbelievable. I’m sorry, Detective Ryan, what did you want to know?”
“We’d like to know if Taylor was dating anyone – did she have a boyfriend?”
“No, she was single. I mean, there were a couple of guys she was interested in. But that’s about it.”
“How about an old boyfriend, someone who she still hung out with or who had trouble letting her go?” Donnelly asked.
“No, no one like that, either.”
“Okay, how about someone she turned down?”
“Yeah, I guess so. There was this one guy, kinda nerdy but also, kind of creepy…you know? I don’t know his name or anything – I don’t think Taylor did either.”
“So, how did you know about this nerdy, creepy dude?”
“Well, uhm, he left some flowers for Taylor outside our apartment door a couple of times…they were actually weeds. Taylor was allergic, so she just threw them into the trash.”
“Do you by chance know any of these girls?” Donnelly asked, showing Sadie pictures of the other three victims.
“Nope; can’t say I do. Sorry, but I don’t know any of them.”
“That’s okay. Do you or Taylor have any other girlfriends who we could talk to?”
“Sure, I can give you a couple of names, Mr. Donnelly.”
Ryan and Donnelly left the apartment, agreeing to meet up later to interview the people Sadie told them about, “I’ve got to get back to the office, Naill – brief the Chief on the latest. Let’s talk to these girls this afternoon.”
Donnelly was relieved he and Ryan could give Taylor’s parents some semblance of closure. But, it didn’t put them substantially closer to finding the killer. They still had a long way to go. Plus, his discouragement would only get worse when his phone rang a short while later.
“Hey Naill, Dale. I need you to meet me on Slievedarragh Park, we’ve found another victim.”
Donnelly rushed to the scene, Ryan and the department Chief were already on the scene, and Dale introduced the two.
“Does she fit the MO?”
“Unfortunately, yes she does, Naill.”
Donnelly scanned the area, then focused right on the victim, her hair seriously unkempt, a small tattoo visible on her right wrist. Just like the others, she was strangled, though the ligature marks weren’t as deep, but still somewhat consistent. And that wasn’t the only similarity. She was in her early to mid-twenties, and had a petite frame, and long hair. What’s more, her body was discovered on Slievedarragh Park – a street name starting with the letter ‘s.’ Moreover, no purse or wallet.
“I’m sorry, Naill, I know this case is getting to you. But now we’ve identified victim one, and we’ll be able to identify the others when the dental records come back. And maybe your Judas/cross theory is right. If so, this would be the fifth and last.”
“That’s true.”
Ryan could tell Donnelly didn’t share his optimism. Something was nagging at his friend and veteran investigator.
“What’s eating you?”
“I just don’t know if this makes the fifth and final victim, Dale.”
“She fits the other victims’ profiles and the killer’s MO.”
“For the most part. But…”
“But what?”
“She’s from the Dark Triangle – not the suburbs. She also has a tattoo.”
“Wait, wait a minute! How do you know she’s from 3 Points?” The Chief asked.
“Well, the tattoo is one indication.”
“Yeah, the other victims weren’t inked.”
“So, how do you know she’s from the neighborhood?”
“She’s not wearing the same quality of clothing – it’s inexpensive. The other girls’ clothes were much nicer, more fashionable.”
“Okay, there are a couple of inconsistencies but the MO is still the same. And, she’s on a street that starts with the letter ‘s.’ You can’t just ignore all that Naill!” Dale pointed out.
“Her teeth.”
“What about them?”
“They’re a little crooked, not perfectly white, either.”
Ryan realized Donnelly’s points were valid but argued, “Yeah, but does that really matter? I mean, this fits the MO, the body is here in the Dark Triangle. And, we’re on Slievedarragh Park.”
“Can’t disagree with that. But, Slievedarragh doesn’t form a cross. Her body would have to be at least a few streets over.”
Ryan’s demeanor changed instantly. Symbolism was obviously a huge part of the perpetrator’s psychology and the killer wouldn’t break his pattern. This was just a coincidence and the clock was ticking, “So, what do you want to do now Naill?”
“I’ll talk to the girls Sadie told us about. I know you two have still got a lot of work to do here.”
Donnelly methodically worked his way through the short list of names Sadie provided. But of the four given, three didn’t pan out – until he spoke with the last girl – she recognized the second victim.
“That’s Jess, I’m pretty sure,” she said, weeping.
“How do you know her? Miss…uh…Miss?”
“It’s Mrs., Mrs. Amber Kane. We lived together for a little while. But, she moved out when my fiancé moved in just before our wedding…I mean, I mean, my husband. Sorry. I’m still not used to being married and this news isn’t helping.”
“No, I completely understand, don’t worry about it. Can you tell me her last name and the last time you saw Jess?”
“Swift, her last name was Swift. But, as for the last time I saw her, that’s tough because it was such a crazy time. My fiancé, I mean, my husband, he and I were working on the wedding plans, I think. It’s really mostly a blur now. But maybe I saw her packing up some boxes in her room? I wish I could be more specific, but I think that was the last time I saw her.”
“Did you speak with her after she moved out?”
“No, not really. Well, a few text messages but we didn’t talk on the phone or meet up anywhere.”
“Do you still have those texts?” Donnelly asked.
“Yeah. My husband calls me a digital hoarder.”
Donnelly looked over the messages, seeing the dates were prior to the second victim, Jess’ murder. The last communication between the two former roommates was three days earlier.
“Let me ask you this – did she ever find flowers outside her apartment door?”
“Yeah, she did – maybe once or twice. Looked like they came from a graveyard or something. But that shouldn’t be surprising – after all, this is the Dark Triangle – a lot of strange stuff happens here.”
“Do you know who left the flowers?”
“Actually, I think they may have been weeds. But it doesn’t matter because she threw them out. All I remember about the guy was what Jess told me – nerdy looking but kind of creepy, too.”
“Nerdy but creepy?”
“That’s how Jess described him.”
“Thank you so much, you’ve been very helpful.”
Donnelly now had the names of two of the four victims – Taylor Byrne and Jessie Swift. And, he had the same description of the possible perpetrator, a nerdy but creepy male. It was a lot more than he had before but still not enough to make significant progress. The last victim only loosely fit the MO but Naill knew she wasn’t Jane Doe number five. He could chase down the other two victims’ identities but that wouldn’t necessarily mean he’d be able to identify their killer.
As he exited the apartment building, he thought about the first two victims’ connection. “All right, so they didn’t really know one another but they were both approached in some way by this ‘nerdy, creepy guy.’ A ‘nerdy, creepy guy’ who left both of them flowers – may even be weeds. Not just weeds, but looked like they ‘came from a graveyard or something.’ Let’s see, there isn’t a cemetery in 3 Points. In fact, the closest memorial park is quite a ways away.”
Walking away from the apartment building, musing over his only clues, Donnelly took notice of a small green spot where wildflowers and weeds grew. “Hey, maybe that’s it.” He hastily picked some of the plants, turned right around, and went back into the apartment building to Amber’s place.
“I’m sorry to bother you again. But do these look like the flowers left for Jess?”
“Yeah, yeah, they do. See how they’re all sad looking? Like they came out of a cemetery?”
Donnelly thanked Amber and quickly made his way back to Sadie, showing her the same flowers, getting the same confirmation, and thinking. “They did come from that lot but what does this mean to the ‘nerdy, creepy guy’ who picked them and left them for Taylor and Jess?”
Naill called Dale to fill the detective on what he’d learned, “That’s right, I’ve ID’d Jane Doe number two, Jessie Swift, might be short for Jessica. Go ahead and run her name and see if you come up with anything. By the way, do you know that empty lot just down the block and across the street from Swift’s last known address?”
“Oh yeah, I think I know the space you’re talking about. But, it’s been abandoned ever since I transferred over to my current station eight years, no, nine years ago. Sorry, Naill, you’d have to look through public records.”
Donnelly opened his laptop the moment he got back to his hotel. He combed through the public records but the address did not have any activity in the past twenty years – the furthest the search history would go back. So, he did an open internet search on the address, which returned just a few relevant results. One did catch his eye, a headline from a defunct newspaper, dating back twenty-three years reading, “Arsonist Arrested in Community Park Fire.”
Naill clicked the link, “3 Points – Police received a tip on April 23rd, leading to the arrest of a minor, who is accused of setting fire to the community park concession stand.”
He looked back up at the original dateline, “That’s twenty-three years ago.” Then, returned to the original internet street address search, “What’s this?” He thought, seeing another headline reading, “Community Park Slated for Total Demolition.” Clicking the link revealed a news article starting with, “3 Points – City officials have voted to raze the community park two years after its concession stand and bathrooms were badly damaged in a fire set by an arsonist.”
“Hmm…so it used to be a community park…interesting.” Donnelly thought, going back to the search results. “Wait, what’s this down here? ‘Dark Triangle Man Killed by Train in Apparent Suicide. A 3 Points man died Sunday from an apparent suicide. The train conductor states the man leaped onto the tracks in front of the oncoming engine at dusk as the train sped past a crossing.’”
Donnelly looked at the second news article’s dateline, it was published just a few months after the community park was demolished. “All right, let’s see if I can find the name of this poor guy,” he thought, searching through more news articles about the suicide. “Bleddyn Grave…now…let’s plug that name into public records and see what pops up.”
The first entry drew Donnelly’s attention, “‘Molly Grave v. Bleddyn Grave. That’s a dissolution of marriage certificate. So, Bleddyn’s wife left him. And, with two young sons – Dalton and Morfran. Okay, let’s search those two boys’ names.”
Donnelly knew he was on to something when Dalton’s name appeared in an article with an ominous headline reading, “Dark Triangle Toddler Tragedy.” An eerie feeling began to rise as he read the article, with one sentence standing out, “‘… three-year-old Dalton was left home with his older brother when the accident occurred, their father told police.’”
Naill immediately searched for the name Molly Grave, quickly learning she was a rising star in the modeling world when she divorced Bleddyn, leaving him with their two young children. After the death of the youngest, Molly died in an auto collision. Not long thereafter, Bleddyn committed suicide, orphaning Morfran. Donnelly continued on with his research, going through several public records and open internet searches, including social media. With every bit of new information, Naill became more convinced Morfran fit the perpetrator’s profile perfectly.
Donnelly promptly phoned Dale, “I think I’ve found our guy!”
“Okay, what have you got, Naill?”
“Name is Morfran Grave, born right in 3 Points. He’s in his late twenties and works as a self-employed tradesman.”
“I’m following you, go ahead.”
“So, he comes from a broken family. He’s a loner. Has no social media presence. And, I’m betting he doesn’t have much or any criminal record.”
“Is that a request to run his name, Naill?”
“I’d really appreciate it, Dale.”
“Hold on just a minute, I’ll ask the Chief to run his name – anything else?”
“Well, a lot more fits the typical serial killer profile. His parents divorced when he was young, around seven years old. He’s also an orphan, probably once a ward of the state. His little brother died under suspicious circumstances while under his care. Not long after, his mother was killed in a DUI and his dad couldn’t take it anymore, apparently got drunk and jumped right in front of a train.”
“What a childhood. But, how does that connect this Morfran Grave to the murders?”
“Before his mom left his father and before his parents divorced, the family lived right around the corner from that abandoned lot, you know, the one that used to be a community park, with a playground and concession stand? Well, it was a very popular spot before it was burned down and later razed – probably went there regularly with his family.”
“Uh-huh…”
“All right. I spoke with two girls, one who knew Taylor Bryne and the other who knew Jessie Swift.”
“Okay…”
“Both of them told me a ‘nerdy and creepy’ guy left flowers for the first two victims. Well, I found where they were picked and it’s right in the heart of the Dark Triangle.”
“So, you think this guy was infatuated with these girls?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Wait, would you hold on for a moment?”
“No problem, Dale, I can wait.”
Moments later, Detective Ryan resumed, “Hey Naill, Grave’s record comes back clean…not so much as even a parking ticket.”
“That’s what I thought. This guy is totally under the radar. He’s a loner. His childhood was a series of terrible tragedies, one after another. And, as I said before, the girls I spoke with all described him the same way, ‘creepy’ – all the makings of a serial killer.”
“What do you say we pay him a little visit?”
“No, we don’t have any direct evidence whatsoever and that could spook him, maybe even cause him to panic, pull a disappearing act – we’ll never see him again. Let me tail him, instead. I’ll follow him for the next few days and see if that gives us something. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“All right, Naill, let me know if anything turns up.”
For three solid days, nothing. Donnelly watched Grave’s every move but didn’t see anything else than just an everyday, working bachelor – not a thing out of the ordinary. Morfran left his apartment building every morning at 7 am with a brown bag lunch. Finished his jobs up by 5 pm, and stopped by the grocery store on his way home, picking up something for dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.
“I don’t buy this routine,” Donnelly thought, after tailing Grave home again and watching from the street as the light went out in Morfran’s studio apartment. “Something’s not right with this guy…never stops off for a drink after work. Never has anyone over or visits someone else’s place. Normal, healthy twenty-something-year-olds just don’t live in a vacuum. When he goes to work tomorrow morning, I’ll have a look around his place.”
Just before 7 am the next day, Donnelly waited for Grave to exit his apartment building. When he saw Morfran leave for the day, Naill waited about ten minutes before quietly entering the building and sneaking past the superintendent. Moments later, Donnelly was in Grave’s studio apartment. What he saw only caused more alarm.
“Hey Dale, Dale, it’s Naill,” Donnelly says over the phone while walking away from Grave’s apartment building. “I’ve just been inside Morfran’s studio apartment.”
“I’d like to remind you that isn’t legal but I know you already…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Listen. It’s bare. No television, hardly any food, just a mattress on the floor, and a little table with an unlocked laptop, equipped with a VPN. So, no browsing history. Oh, no bookmarks, either. He must pay all his bills and do all his banking online, because there isn’t a single sheet or scrap of paper in the place. No prescriptions in the bathroom or anywhere else, for that matter. The closet is almost entirely full of work uniforms, barely anything casual and nothing dressy or formal.”
“So, he’s a minimalist.”
“If all that isn’t enough, his name – Morfran — well, it’s from a figure in Welsh mythology, known for his hideous appearance.”
“Okay, so he’s an ugly minimalist – that’s still well short of him being a prime suspect, Mr. Donnelly.”
“No, this guy is hiding something…something big. I think he’s dangerous. He lives entirely in his own head, almost completely removed from society, probably reality.”
“What you’re actually telling me is that you’ve found a single guy with a steady job who likes his privacy. Oh, and privacy that was just invaded by someone who should know better. And, because he kinda fits the description of a love-struck dude who left flowers for a couple of attractive girls, that makes him the prime suspect?”
“Okay, Dale, you’re right. I’ll send over Grave’s address and you can send me a copy of his driver’s license. I’ll show his photo to the victims’ roommates…see if they ID him as a positive match. If they say ‘yes,’ we’ll have a viable lead on a likely suspect here!”
“All right, okay, I’ll get a copy of his ID. But, don’t say anything to the chief, he’s already fed up with me.”
“Okay I’ll keep it between us… but why so helpful anyway, Dale?”
“By the way, you were right on Jane Doe number five, Naill – I just found out. She was a working girl. Witnesses saw her in a physical altercation with a known gang-banger who’s got a long rap sheet. We’ve already picked him up – left plenty of fingerprints. So, don’t say…”
“I know, I won’t say I told you so. Thanks, Dale!”
“Good work, as usual, Naill, thanks so much for your help.”
Donnelly didn’t waste any time showing Grave’s picture ID photo to the victims’ roommates, getting a positive identification from both women, and sharing the news with Ryan. Now, they had a promising pathway toward solving these horrific cases. It may not even be necessary to identify Jane Doe three and four. If Morfran Grave was the culprit, they had a real chance of stopping him before he killed again.
The break came just in time. Sadly, way too late for four innocent girls but fortunately, they could prevent it from happening again. What’s more, it would give some level of closure to all the victims’ families. After all, they were the ones still suffering from a long nightmare and one that would continue to haunt them as long as the murderer remained at large.
The other two victims were still unclaimed because the dental records match was yet to come. Though bodies were carefully lifted from the crime scenes, their killer was out there somewhere, on the loose, taking his time to select yet another target. Donnelly knew the perpetrator would strike again and keeping a close eye on Morfran Grave was the only sensible thing to do.
Donnelly resumed his tail, monitoring his prime suspect. Like the first few days, nothing out of the ordinary. But, the next morning, Grave didn’t go to the same worksite, even though the work was unfinished at the last.
“What’s going on here?” Donnelly thought, watching Morfran walk into the general contractor’s office, then out, only to lose sight of his suspect as traffic obscured Naill’s view.
Without hesitation, Donnelly pulled an envelope from his pocket, one he kept handy for just these types of situations, and walked into the general contractor’s office, “Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got some papers I need to deliver to Morfran Grave. Any chance he’s checking in today?”
“I’m afraid you just missed him.”
“Don’t suppose you know where he’s going? These documents are very important and I’ve got to get them to him right away.”
“Sure, he’s starting work on a new site over on Shankill Parade.”
“Shankill Parade?” Donnelly repeated, quickly plucking his phone from his pocket and tapping on a map. “Shankill Parade, that not only starts with an ‘s,’ it also completes the pattern – he’s looking for his fifth victim!” he thought to himself.
“Thank you, thank you for your help, I’ll see he gets these.”
“You’re welcome.”
Donnelly hurried to catch up to Grave, positioning himself strategically to observe Grave on the new worksite. At lunchtime, a number of young, twenty-something, attractive females came out of a building opposite the job site. Donnelly couldn’t help but note the irony, “Shankill Parade, huh? It’s a parade all right. A parade of potential victims. What’s worse, just about any one of them could be his next target. Where are they all coming from, anyway?”
Naill searched the building address on his phone, “Let’s see. Not too many tenants for such a big commercial building. Now, which one would employ so many young females? Ah, ‘3 Points Community Legal Foundation’ certainly sounds like a match. Better give Dale a heads-up.”
“Hey Naill, got anything on Grave yet?”
“No, not yet. But, I need a favor.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I just saw a bunch of pretty young professionals on their lunch break. More than one fits Morfran’s tastes. He’s definitely eyeing his next victim.”
“You sure about that.”
“Yep. He’s perched with a prime vantage point on a new job site over on Shankill Parade, Dale.”
“Did you say ‘Shankill Parade?’ Naill?”
“Yep…it starts with…”
“With an ‘s,’ right?”
“Yeah; also completes the pattern.”
“That’s great Naill, but what can I do?”
“Why don’t you haul him in?”
“Haul Grave in – on what?”
“I don’t know Dale. Make something up. Give yourself a little time to ask him some questions.”
“Come on, Donnelly, you know I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can, Detective. Tell him there’s a witness who saw him leaving one of the crime scenes. Maybe he’ll panic, give something up.”
“The only thing that’s going to be given up is our case – if you can even call it that. We still don’t have any direct evidence connecting Grave to any of those murders. Tell you what, why don’t I come down there, warn the girls they should always walk to and from work and lunch in large groups.”
“Okay, but park a couple of blocks away. If he is picking out his next target and sees a uniform or squad car, he’ll think something’s suspicious.”
“Don’t worry, I’m in plain clothes. I’ll have a patrolman drop me off a few blocks down the street.”
Minutes later, Donnelly watched Ryan walk into the building. He impatiently waited for Dale to reappear, toe-tapping his way from minute to minute, keeping his eye on Grave’s worksite the entire time. Finally, the detective emerged from the office building, and Naill’s phone rang.
“I spoke with the whole group. Warned them not to walk alone at any time, be it coming in or leaving.”
“Good to hear; thanks, Dale. I’m going to stick around. See if I can get an idea of who Grave may target next.”
“Okay, Naill, if your hunch is right, he’s on the prowl again. Let me know if I can do anything else.”
Donnelly kept tabs on his suspect right through the rest of the workday and followed him home that night. When Morfran returned to the Shankill Parade worksite the next day, Naill situated himself in the same lookout spot. At lunchtime, Donnelly took extra care to pay attention – this could be his only shot at figuring out the next potential victim.
To his surprise, Detective Ryan showed up. “Good to see you here, Dale.”
“I really think you’re onto something here. Even got a marked unit waiting two blocks over. Since I’m in civvies, I’m going to hang out over there,” Ryan said, pointing to another spot perpendicular to the building. That way, we’ll have it well covered.”
As the women walked to lunch in a large group, they split into smaller groups, going in different directions. Naill quickly phoned Ryan, “You keep an eye on the ones headed south and have your patrolman watch the ones going north. I’ll stay focused on Grave.”
“Okay, Donnelly sounds like a plan.”
But to his surprise, Morfran wasn’t watching any of the women coming out from the legal community group. Instead, Grave looked off in a different direction, his attention fixed up the street from the job site. Moments later, a young, attractive girl in her early to mid-twenties, with long, flowing hair appeared on the sidewalk. Whoever she was, Morfran was clearly interested, Naill observed.
Donnelly’s phone vibrated with an incoming call from Ryan.
“Hey, Naill, I’ve got my patrolman on the line with me. I’m not seeing anything, neither is he, how about you?”
“Hey, guys – actually, I do. There’s a girl Grave is fixated on, headed in the opposite direction.”
“Shouldn’t we catch up to her, warn her sir?” The patrolman asked.
“Wish it were that simple,” Donnelly replied.
“What do you mean?” The patrolman inquired.
“First off, we don’t know if she’s the real target,” Ryan interjected.
“Yeah, and if a uniform approaches her right now, he’ll know we’re on to him – maybe even move on to a different target,” Donnelly added.
“Besides, this could be a one-off. He might have just noticed her this one time,” Dale observed. “So, stay in place.”
“I agree, Detective. Let’s wait and see if she returns. If she does, I’ll have eyes on Grave. We’ll know then. Better yet, why don’t you follow her Dale, let me know where she goes.”
Sure enough, just a little while later, when the young woman returned, Donnelly could clearly see Grave staring at her, with a deep scowl on his face. So, he phoned Ryan, “Where are you?”
“Hey Naill, I’m outside an apartment building, about five blocks away. I think it’s her place – probably part of her lunch routine. When she leaves, I’ll text you the address.”
Donnelly turned his attention back to Morfran. He was back to work but completely stopped when she reappeared. He focused all of his attention on the girl, in a very disturbing way. So, Naill followed Grave at the end of the day once again.
But this time, instead of going about his regular routine, Morfran followed the young woman from a distance. Although this made Donnelly more confident this was the right suspect, he still couldn’t be entirely certain. As Detective Ryan pointed out, all they had was circumstantial evidence – nothing solid. Sure, Grave might be a late bloomer, struck by puppy love, maybe even a stalker, but neither came close to a serial killer.
Still, Donnelly trusted his gut instinct – something wasn’t right with the guy and that intuition was given more validation the next day. Morfran didn’t leave his apartment building at 7 am per usual. Naill waited for a short time but his suspect never appeared. So, Donnelly entered the apartment building and asked the super, “Did you see Morfran Grave this morning?”
“Yeah, wish I hadn’t, though, the guy gives me the creeps.”
“What time did you see him?”
“Oh, he left nearly an hour early. I remember because I’ve never seen him go through the lobby that early in the morning.”
“Approximately 6 am, then?”
“I’d say so.”
“Thanks so much for your time, I appreciate it.”
Donnelly knew he had to act fast, thinking, “I’ve got to get over to the girl’s apartment. Hopefully, Morfran will make a move.”
But when he arrived, Grave wasn’t anywhere in sight. Naill approached the building supervisor, “Excuse me. I’m working with the local police department and we’re seeking some information. Do you know a young woman, about five-foot-five, small, petite frame, with long, flowing reddish, blonde hair? Works about five blocks down? I’ve got some documents for her.”
“Oh yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about – Chloe Derrand – lives upstairs on the fourth floor, halfway down the hall, to the left of the elevator when you step off the lift.”
Donnelly thanked the superintendent again and hurriedly made his way over to the elevator. He followed the super’s directions, only to find a bunch of flowers left outside her door – flowers that looked like they came from a graveyard. “Morfran,” Naill thought, “This girl is his fifth target!”
Donnelly immediately phoned Ryan, filling the detective in, telling him, “Her name is Derrand, Chloe Derrand. She’s in danger – Grave is already stalking her. I’m going straight to where she works!”
When Naill arrived, he asked the receptionist if Chloe was in the office.
“Chloe? Oh, she’s not here. Had to go out to run a quick errand. Actually, she should have been back by now.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“I don’t know – a pretty good while – enough time to run an errand twice.”
Donnelly hurried down the block to the work site across the street but Grave wasn’t there. He sped back to Chloe’s apartment. But now, the wildflowers left outside the door were gone. “Oh no!” Donnelly thought, knocking on the door once…twice…three times with no answer. “Come on, come on,” he murmured.
To his relief, Chloe finally opened the door, “Yes, can I help you?”
“Hi, are you Chloe Derrand?”
“Yes, who are you?”
“My name is Naill Donnelly. I’m working with the local police department. I’ve been sent by Detective Dale Ryan to escort you down to the precinct.”
“I don’t know any Detective Ryan.”
“That’s okay. He’s asked me to escort you to the department.”
“Oh? Has he? Then why aren’t the police here themselves?!”
“Short staffed. I’m a former federal law enforcement officer, we’re working together on a case and we have reason to believe your life is in danger.”
“My life is in danger?”
“Yes, we need to protect you, please.”
“Don’t you see where I live? This is 3 Points. You know, gang bangers left and right. Muggings, stick-ups, carjackings, rapes, murders galore!”
“I understand this is a dangerous neighborhood and you can take care of yourself. But this is different – there’s a man who’s been following you and he’s a genuine threat. Now, I need to go with me right now!”
“Look, I’ve lived in the Dark Triangle my whole life. I’ve heard just about every scam. And, if this is true, why aren’t the real cops here? I don’t need this! First, I’ve got some creepy nerd leaving weeds outside my door, and now, here’s some weird old man trying to run some hero con on me. Let me tell you what, I ain’t interested in any type of damsel in distress, May/December romance ruse. So, get out before I call the real cops!”
“Don’t you understand? This guy knows where you live – where you work, too. He’s killed at least four other girls that we know of and I’m warning you – you’re next!”
But Chloe refused to believe Naill, forcing him out of her door with a shove, “Get out! Get out of my apartment!”
Frustrated, Donnelly called Ryan, “She doesn’t believe me. How about you send someone up in uniform? Maybe she’ll take that seriously.”
“Sure, I can do that. But we can’t force her.”
“I know; just want to give her another chance. Someone dressed in their uniform with a badge and gun might convince her this is real.”
Naill waited as patiently as he could under the circumstances in the lobby of Chloe’s apartment building. A patrolman arrived a short time later. Donnelly told the officer what was going on, “She’s on the fourth floor, halfway down the hall, to the left of the elevator.”
But the officer returned just minutes later, “I don’t know what you told her or how you told her, but she definitely thinks this is some kind of sick joke or a scam. Not all that surprising – I’ve worked the Dark Triangle for almost seven years now – folks don’t trust anyone around here, not even the cops.”
“Yeah, I see that. Thanks anyway, Officer. Say, is it possible for you to wait here a little while, see if she comes down? Maybe she’ll chill out and be more practical.”
“Normally, I’d do it, but you know how short we are on uniforms. The Chief just isn’t going sign off on such a thing, especially after Detective Ryan pulled me off my regular patrol for this.”
“Good point.”
Donnelly couldn’t just leave Chloe there without any protection, so he asked the building super to text or give him a call if she left the building. “Meanwhile, I can try to track down Grave,” he thought while walking out to the street, looking over the notes on his phone and cross-referencing the murder scenes with a navigation app.
“Something just doesn’t sit right – there’s something wrong here,” Naill conceded, not being able to reconcile his cross pattern theory with his lengthy experience. Then it hit him, the pattern wasn’t a cross, it was forming the shape or points of an upside-down pentacle. “It’s a pentagram! I’ve got to tell Dale right away.”
“Hey, Dale, sorry to bother you again, but I couldn’t wait to call you later.”
“Already heard; she didn’t take the advice of the patrolman either. Oh, by the way, the Chief isn’t too happy, either.”
“I figured as much. But, that’s not what I’m calling you about. I’m actually calling you about the killing pattern.”
“The points of a cross, right?”
“Well, I think I misread it…it’s actually a pentagram, perhaps to represent the Sigil of Baphomet.”
“The grotesque goat head symbol? Come on, Naill!”
“No, listen, Morfran is bent on revenge against God. His mother left when he was young…left him with an alcoholic father. His younger brother died under suspicious circumstances when their dad was at work. Not long after, his father steps in front of a train. Then, instead of him being reunited with his mom, bam! She gets killed in a car accident. And, the girls he’s killed, he’s given them all unworthy sacrifices – the sad flowers or weeds – just like Cain. I thought he planned on putting a stake through the heart of Christ – right in the center of the Judas pattern. No, his rage is culminating and the most severe punishment will only do – crucifying his fifth victim upside down! We’ve got to do something!”
“Do what? What can we do? We don’t have a single shred of evidence against Grave. And this so-called fifth victim doesn’t even want to cooperate. Plus, the department can’t justify babysitting either one of these characters – we don’t have the manpower or the budget.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll see if I can locate Morfran. Meanwhile, have someone at least check in with the Derrand girl. Who knows, if she keeps getting the same invitation, she might accept. At the very least, that type of revolving police presence will help keep Grave at bay – she’ll be a little bit safer.”
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.”
Frustrated, but still determined to thwart the fifth murder, Donnelly went straight to Grave’s last worksite. But his suspect wasn’t on the job, “Excuse me, I’m with the city. I was supposed to meet one of the contractors here for an inspection – someone named Morfran, I believe?”
“Oh, yeah, I think I know who you’re talking about,” one contractor answered, “I haven’t seen him today, though. But, I know he’s been here because his tools are right over there. Probably went to get a coffee or a snack or maybe some materials.”
“So, he was here earlier?”
“I’m pretty sure I saw him when I first walked onto the site this morning.”
“But, you didn’t see him leave?”
“No. But so much goes on here, it’s difficult to know who is where. Some guys up and quit when they hear gunshots, you know?”
Donnelly understood. The Dark Triangle was a dangerous place, even during the day. While he contemplated his next move, his phone rang, “Donnelly here.”
“Mr. Donnelly, you asked me to call if that girl, Chloe, left the building?”
“Oh, yes, yes! Did she just leave?”
“Actually, she left a little bit ago. Sorry, I should have called earlier but I got busy with an unexpected situation over here. I’m sorry.”
“Do you know where she was headed, by chance?”
“Probably work. Looked dressed up. Plus, she had her work stuff with her. Again, I’m sorry for not calling sooner.”
“No, don’t be; thanks for letting me know.”
Although Donnelly was angry with the late warning, he knew it wouldn’t do any good to start an argument. He also knew that since he didn’t know Grave’s whereabouts, she was in real danger. So, he called Detective Ryan, “Dale, this thing is quickly spiraling out of control. The girl left her apartment and I don’t know where she is. Meanwhile, Morfran is also unaccounted for.”
“Do you have any idea where either one could be?”
“Well, not Grave, he left the job site this morning and the other contractors don’t know for where or why. But, the girl’s building super said he thought she was on her way into work.”
“Then, that’s our best bet. I’ll meet you outside where she works as soon as I can. In the meantime, keep your eye out for Grave.”
“My thoughts exactly! Thanks, Dale!”
Mere minutes later, Detective Ryan joined Donnelly, walking into Chloe’s workplace. Naill asked the receptionist if Chloe was in.
“Not right now. She’s out picking up coffee and donuts for everyone, but she should be back soon.”
“How long ago did she leave?”
“I’m not totally sure about the time, but she should have been back by now.”
Donnelly and Ryan immediately realized they had to act quickly and split up to search all the abandoned buildings on the street.
“There’s got to be at least half a dozen, we don’t have that kind of time!” Dale noted.
“Right. I’ll take another quick peek at Morfran’s worksite, then take that side of the street. You work your way down the other side of the street.”
“Okay, Naill, I’ll radio in for some help. Hopefully, we’ll get some uniforms down here to help us out.”
Donnelly and Ryan started searching through the abandoned buildings along Shankill Parade, desperately looking to locate Chloe safely. But, neither could find a trace of either Chloe or Grave in the first buildings they searched.
“Hey, Naill, have you found anything?” Dale asked Donnelly over the phone.
“Not yet…and I’ve only got two more to go.”
“Me too…keep in touch.”
Donnelly hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Where are you?” He whispered, as he carefully wound his way around the inside of the building, only slight bits of light gleaning in, creating numerous shadows and dark spaces. The place smelled like wet socks and decaying wood – mold grew everywhere.
Sparse light kept rats hiding in the corners and holes in the walls, but rodent droppings littered the floor, making the vermins’ presence known. Roaches fed on the insect excrement as bats, hanging upside down from the ceiling, occasionally flapped their wings and squealed.
Walking slowly and quietly into another room, Donnelly saw a faint outline come into focus as he approached it, appearing like a manikin laid prostrate on the floor. Suddenly, a muffled yelp pierced the silence, drawing Naill’s attention to its source. “Chloe?” He asked in a whisper, realizing she was tied to a cross, with a rope wrapped around the bottom, below her feet.
Abruptly, the rope drew taught, and a pulley raised the bottom of the cross into the air, causing her to scream through a cloth gag tied tightly around her head and covering her mouth.
Donnelly hurried to free her, frantically trying to pull the rope back through the pulley in the opposite direction. Just then, Grave leaped out of a shadow, hitting Naill across his back with a wood plank.
Donnelly fell, rolled, managing to get back up, charging Morfran, ramming his shoulder into the perpetrator’s chest, knocking him back. Grave retaliated, grabbing Donnelly’s shirt, striking him in the gut, then across the jaw. Naill fought back, delivering an uppercut, followed by a left hook. They locked onto one another, but Grave eventually overpowered Donnelly, violently shoving the older man to the floor.
Morfran wiped his mouth, smearing blood across his face, grabbing a cable. He stumbled over to his victim, who was still dangling upside down, strapped to a cross. He cinched the cable around her throat, tighter and tighter, and blood started to drip from her neck, as the barbs cut into her skin.
Donnelly struggled to come to her aid, trying to get up again but was too weak at the moment. As she started to lose consciousness, Ryan burst through the door and shot right at Grave – only to superficially wound the killer.
Enraged, Morfran charged Ryan – the two struggled for control of the gun. The firearm went off as they scuffled, Grave shooting Ryan through his liver.
Morfran then turned, pointing Ryan’s gun at Donnelly. “I don’t know how you found me or what you think you could do to stop me from completing my work, but this is my destiny – and I won’t be cheated of it!”
Grave angrily pulled the trigger, but Donnelly quickly rolled out of the way – the bullet ricocheted off the floor as Donnelly got back up on his feet, rushing Morfran, grabbing his wrists. The sudden counterattack caused Grave to squeeze the trigger, a shot narrowly missing Chloe, who attempted to wrestle free in vain.
Donnelly grabbed Morfran’s firing hand with both his left and right, slamming the killer’s wrist against his own knee, knocking the gun free.
Donnelly again struck Grave directly in the jaw with an uppercut. Grave fought back, hitting Donnelly in the gut with a straight punch. The two exchanged blow after blow, but Donnelly tired and was knocked down.
Grave picked up the cable again and wrapped it back around Chloe’s throat, choking her with all the strength he could muster. As her eyes rolled back in her head, her breathing nearly stopping for good, a gunshot rang out.
Morfran clutched his back, fell to his knees and grasped his gut, blood oozing down his legs. Grave gasped desperately for air before keeling over, falling to the floor dead.
Donnelly held Detective Ryan’s gun in his quivering hand, rose off the floor to his knees, throwing the gun off to his side before collapsing again on the floor in exhaustion, catching a brief glimpse of police and EMS lights strobing through the windows above him.
It was over.
A year later, Naill received a phone call from an old acquaintance, “Hey Chief, it’s been a while, good to hear from you! How is it going down at the department?” He asked, pausing to listen while sipping on a bottle of water. “Oh, that good, huh?”
Donnelly could sense the hesitation in the Chief’s voice, there was something he wanted to ask Naill but didn’t know how.
“Say Chief, I never did get to properly thank you for giving Ryan such a fitting send off – it was a beautiful ceremony. He definitely deserved it.’
“Thanks Donnelly, I appreciate you being there, and I know he would have definitely appreciated it, too. I hate to bother you, but unfortunately, we’ve got another one, kind of a copycat. He’s already left three bodies for us to find, all of them mutilated, posed in twisted positions and worse yet, younger than the ones from a year ago.”
“So, some psycho’s sick homage, commemorating the one year anniversary of Grave’s murders, eh Chief?”
“Looks that way from what we can gather so far. What would you say about helping us out?”
Donnelly took another sip from his bottle of water, rubbed his face with his free hand, then sighed, “Sure Chief, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
