Unsettled: Episode 78

Donahue pulled to a stop outside Green Harvest, a small shop near Greenway Park.

“What is this place?” Randi asked.

“A health food store,” Donahue said. “They don’t sell junk food or anything processed. All healthy, all natural.”

“You’re sure the juice box came from here?” Randi asked.

“This is the best place to buy healthy organic snacks, herbal teas, gluten free and low sodium food. They don’t sell meat. Only vegan food with no animal testing and all natural,” Donahue explained.

“Sounds like a fun place,” Randi said.

“My wife loves it,” Donahue said, getting out of the car.

Randi winced for a moment then slipped out of the car and followed Donahue toward the shop.

“Plus I’m pretty sure this is the place where our killer bought that juice we found,” he added.

The detectives waited for traffic to clear then crossed the street.

When Donahue pulled open the shop door, Randi was hit in the face with the strong smell of patchouli.

No one was minding the cash register.

“Wait here,” Donahue said and started searching the shelves.

After a few moments just as Randi was about to hit the bell, Donahue said,

“My wife has been looking for this. She is going to be so happy.”

“Is anyone here?” Randi called out.

“He’s probably in the back,” Donahue suggested. “Ring the bell on the counter.”

Randi tapped the bell once and waited. When no one appeared, she rang it again.

Suddenly the door to the back opened and a tall thin man with a long braid and bushy beard walked out. The hem of his faded t-shirt didn’t quite reach the waistband of his shorts, and his bare feet slapped on the tile floor as he made his way up to the counter.

When he reached the counter, he looked at Randi for a moment then said,

“You are not like the other children Mother Earth sends to me. You must have just begun your journey to healthy eating. Let me be your guide to a younger happier you.”

He reached out and took Randi’s hand.

“I am Rain. What is your name?” he asked.

“Detective Miranda Lawrence,” Donahue said, stepping out from behind the shelves.

Rain’s shoulders dropped. He looked out the window then back at Donahue.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his demeanor changing along with his voice. Hunching over, he spoke with an aggressive tone.

“Meet Kevin Two Toes Foster. Former accountant for the Drakos crime family.”

“Two Toes?” Randi asked.

“Birth defect,” Foster said.

“What are you doing here, detective?” he asked Donahue. “I ain’t done nothing wrong. I’m clean. Swear on my mother.”

“Kevin, your mother shot at officers who came to arrest you,” Donahue said.

Foster shrugged and answered,

“What can I say? She’s got spirit.”

“I need your help, Kevin,” Donahue said.

“I’m way ahead of you,” Foster said. “The special soap your wife has been waiting for finally showed up. It’s in the back.”

“Already got it,” Donahue said. “I’m here for something else. You let a killer in here.”

“Whoa!” Foster said. “I ain’t got nothing to do with no killer. I’m clean.”

Donahue stared at Foster for a moment then said,

“I believe you. But I’m almost certain he came here.”

Randi held up the juice box.

Foster took a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket and examined the box.

After a moment he said,

“Yeah, I sell this stuff. It’s a rip off. Ninety percent apple juice.”

Foster handed back the box and added,

“That was my last one, too. I got more on the way.”

“I need to see your security footage,” Donahue said.

Foster raised his hands.

“I don’t have security cameras in here. My customers prefer their privacy.”

Donahue looked over at Randi and said,

“You know I hear Carl Costigan took over as head of the family when Mr. Drakos retired. I wonder what he’d think if he found out that Two Toes Foster was still alive.”

“Big Carl Costigan?” Randi asked. “I hear he fed some guy’s family to a wood chipper. Made the guy watch.”

“Seriously?” Foster said.

“I need to see that footage,” Donahue repeated.

“Look. The footage ain’t going to help you. Someone broke in and wrecked the system a week ago. But good news is, I remember your guy. He bought some Kava tea and my last juice box. Paid ahead for more. Said he wanted them shipped to his place,” Foster explained.

After digging around under the counter, Foster came back with a piece of paper.

“In fact, he called this morning and changed the address,” Foster said.

When Donahue and Randi saw the address, Donahue said,

“This is the address for a warehouse.”

Foster raised his hands,

“Look, I got people who literally buy imported dirt. I don’t ask no questions.”

Donahue considered the address again and said,

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Foster said. “Hey, next time don’t be so loud. Last thing I need is somebody from my old life finding me. I hear things about Big Carl, and he scares me.”

* * *

Across the street in the darkness of a narrow alley, Truman Wicker watched the two police detectives following the clues his father had told him to leave.

There had been no sign of the vigilante, and these two detectives were close on the trail.

Just then his cell phone rang. He removed it from his pocket and answered without checking the id.

“Yes, Father?”

“How is the hunt coming along?” Thaddeus Wicker asked.

“No sign of the vigilante, but two detectives are close on the trail,” Truman said.

“We weren’t hired to kill two detectives,” Thaddeus Wicker pointed out. “If they get too close, deal with them. We’ll blame it on the same person. Let me know if it comes to that. I’ll have to rework my killer’s profile.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Truman said.

The call ended and Truman Wicker put away the phone.

As he watched the detectives for a moment longer, he heard a voice behind him say,

“Don’t worry.”

Truman felt a cold shiver run down his back. The voice was his own. As accurate as if it were a recording.

He slowly turned around. Standing behind him was a figure dressed in dark clothes with a black hood covering his face.

“I’ll take care of it,” the figure said in Truman’s voice.

His hands trembling, Truman reached for his gun, but before he could get it, the figure lunged at him.

When he tried to scream, the only sound was a whimper just before everything went dark.

Unsettled: Episode 77

As the sun slowly awoke to the new day, its glorious colors of red and orange spread through the morning sky like wildfire. Sunlight broke through the clouds and bathed Coldwater in light, driving away the darkness. On a rooftop nearby, Nick Woodman smoked a cigarette and watched the Ambassador Hotel. His orders were clear. Find and eliminate the members of the Freedom and Family League. Locating them had not been difficult. Woodman had spent most of the night studying the layout of their hotel floor. The open windows and floor plan would make his job quite easy. He had set up his equipment on top the building opposite the hotel’s north wall.

While he watched the sun come up, he decided to challenge himself. He would wait until all the league members woke. He ground out his cigarette, dropped the butt into a plastic bag and picked up his rifle.

Getting on his knees, he propped the rifle on its stand just as one FFL member rose from the bed and walked over to the window.

Lights inside the hotel room began to come on as more guests awoke. Woodman counted twelve FFL members moving around in the room. Just as he took aim on the first of his twelve targets, the lights in the building suddenly went out and the room was swallowed up in darkness.

He looked up and down the street and saw that the only lights out were those of the Ambassador Hotel. Woodman reached inside his bag and removed a night vision scope. In a second, he had attached it to the rifle and was once again watching the FFL members in the room.

After he counted all twelve members, he spotted something in the room he couldn’t identify. Standing perfectly still in the corner was a figure. Judging by the build, it was a man. He wore a jacket with a hood that covered his face.

“Who is that?” Woodman thought.

No one else in the room seemed to notice the mysterious figure. Some of the FFL members shined their cell phone lights around the room, but every time the beam came close to the man in the corner, he moved just out of the way.

Although Woodman had heard rumors of a vigilante called the Black Dog, he figured they were just urban legends. Pushing the question out of his mind, he took aim on a member who was looking out the window.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the man in the corner grabbed the FFL member and pulled him back away from the window.

“Is he protecting them?” Woodman wondered.

Putting down the rifle, he switched to the laptop connected to his remote rifle and positioned it for a clear shot. But just as he pulled the trigger, the shadowy figure grabbed the man and moved him out of the way, sending the shot into the wall.

Hysteria broke out and Woodman tried to get a clear shot as every member of the FFL panicked. While some hit the floor, others began running in circles trying to escape, but to no avail. During his surveillance, Woodman had sealed the doors and windows shut so they couldn’t get out of the room.

He put down the laptop and sent a message to Heath.

“About to complete the FFL job when some hooded figure started taking them down.“

Woodman waited a moment before a text came back.

“That is the Black Dog. Get out of there at once! Return to original assignment.”

Woodman dismantled his rifle and put away his equipment. Leaving the rooftop as clean as when he arrived, he quickly made his way down the stairs and exited the building.

* * *

The light from the morning sun slowly dried up the glistening dew formed from the night before.

Standing in the middle of Greenway Park, Donahue looked at the thin stone walkways running through the park, weaving artistic patterns through the grass. The centerpiece of Greenway Park was the large live oak with branches large enough to walk on. Each tree spread its branches far across the park, sometimes touching the ground before rising again.

Tied to the trunk of the oak was another dead body.

Crime Scene was already busy at work while Donahue looked over his notes and considered a possible connection between this victim and the previous one.

Both were college students. Both were blonde and attractive.

Coldwater was a place where the rich and famous built their summer homes. Most every citizen of Coldwater was considered beautiful, well beyond the standards of mortal men.

While his partner Detective Randi Lawrence talked to onlookers, Donahue examined the note left by the victim’s killer.

“The unrealistic beauty standards are killing our children and our futures. Kids starve themselves, pour garbage into their bodies, and spend thousands on products that can’t do much for them. All so they can look like some celebrity who has spent hours in a chair being primped and dolled up by professionals. I will not stop my crusade, my mission, to free our minds from the ball and chain ideals set forth by Hollywood and by the modeling industry of glamour magazines. Our children are depending on us to save them so they can have a future. I won’t stop till the world changes.”

“Same old drivel,” Donahue said.

He didn’t believe for a moment that this was some beauty obsessed serial killer. There was a connection. He just wasn’t seeing it yet.

Detective Randi finished her questioning and hurried over to Donahue.

“Her name is Joanna Fullmore,” Randi said. “Full time student studying Molecular Biology. She was grabbed leaving class, strangled, and strung up here on the tree.”

“Anything else?” Donahue asked.

“We got the killer on security camera,” Randi said. “Not enough to id him, but we got the murder on video.”

Holding up an evidence bag containing a juice bottle, she added,

“The killer dropped this into a trash can at the edge of the park. Guess he figured no one was watching.”

“The cameras are new,” she continued. “The killer probably didn’t know they had been installed.”

Donahue studied the bottle then said,

“I know this bottle. It’s a unique blend of 100% fruit juice sold only at a few stores. There’s one nearby. My wife loves the stuff.”

“What do you think about the security video?” Randi asked.

Donahue looked at her and asked,

“What do you think?”

Randi thought for a moment then said,

“I don’t know. Something feels off.”

“Exactly,” Donahue responded.

“It feels almost like we’re being told a story by someone who wants us to think this is a serial murder when it’s really something else.”

“What do you want to do?” Randi asked.

“Until we have more to go on, I guess we follow the breadcrumbs.”

Donahue held up the bottle and said,

“Let’s head over to the place nearby that sells this.”

Unsettled: Episode 76

Holding a large suitcase in each hand, Nick Woodman stood alone in the empty room on the seventh floor of Excalibur Hotel and Spa. He put down both suitcases and walked over to the window.

Moving the window shade a little to one side, he looked over the park to the spot where Willoby would be giving his speech.

Near one of the larger oak trees, a small boy was playing Frisbee with his dog. With each throw of the toy, the boy laughed with delight when the dog jumped into the air and caught the flying disc. Suddenly a gust of wind caught the Frisbee, pulling it into a tight arch and causing the dog to change its path quickly to catch it.

Woodman took out his note pad and read over his notes. Removing a pen from his pocket, he scribbled a small note then put away the pad and pen. As he let the shade fall closed, he stepped over to the suitcases he had brought with him.

Woodman picked up one suitcase, positioned it sideways on the table, and opened it. Inside were a collapsible tripod and rifle mount. He removed one piece at a time and began assembling the equipment. Halfway through, his cell phone rang. Woodman checked the caller ID and tapped the button for speaker. Knowing Woodman wouldn’t speak, the caller began talking.

Woodman listened as the voice of the caller came through the phone speaker.

“We have a problem,” Charles Heath said. “I just received word that Freedom and Family League, some save the environment group, started trouble at the park where Willoby is speaking. Word is he’s already considering moving the event to a safer location or canceling it all together. I shouldn’t have to explain why this will be a problem. If Willoby backs out and you fail to complete the contract on him, the client will have no reason to pay. I need you to take a detour and deal with the band of domestic yahoos threatening Willoby. All of them! No one left behind to pick up the cause.”

The phone went silent as Woodman stared at it, waiting for further instructions.

“Are you there?” Heath asked. “Are you even listening? I know you don’t talk, but grunt or something so I know you’re listening.”

Woodman stared at the phone for a moment longer.

“Anything?” Heath pressed.

Woodman freed his hand and snapped his fingers twice.

“I’ll take it,” Heath said. “Get it done.”

The call ended and Woodman began breaking apart the equipment.

Once he returned the tripod and mount to the suitcase, he took out his note pad, flipped to a new entry and began making notes.

* * *

As the news played in the background, Thaddeus Wicker sat in a plush barrel chair and studied newspaper clippings, copies of police sketches, articles printed from conspiracy websites, and grainy photos. He had collected everything he could find about the Blackdog Vigilante and affixed it to the hotel wall.

“He’s a hunter,” Thaddeus said, “and if I were a hunter like him, where would I feel the safest?”

“Daddy?” Teresa called out.

“Not now, pumpkin,” Thaddeus replied.

He stared at the wall a bit longer then said,

“I wouldn’t feel safe at a police station or any other emergency response office. But homeless shelters would allow me to slip in and out without being noticed.”

“Daddy?” Teresa called out again.

“Not now, my sweet,” Thaddeus replied.

His attention returning to the wall, Thaddeus said,

“A newspaper or other published media would provide information but might ask too many questions.”

“Daddy!” Teresa finally snapped.

“What is it, my dear?” Thaddeus asked, rising from the chair.

“I’m bored!” Teresa said. “When are things going to pick up?”

Thaddeus removed his glasses, folded them, carefully slipped them into his pocket, and filled his glass with water.

“Patience, my dear,” he said. “You must be patient.”

“But I’m tired of waiting,” Teresa whined.

“My dear,” Thaddeus said, “when you hunt a deer, you must either wait for one to cross your path or you must find it and kill it. The same may be said for killing a mouse or a raccoon. You cannot rush these hunts. You must set your trap with the proper bait and wait for the innocent to stumble into the trap. If you are fortunate, they will become aware of the trap just before the spring triggers and the trap slams shut.”

Teresa smiled at the thought.

“However, when you are an alpha predator, you must operate differently. You cannot hope to catch him unaware, and you cannot bait the trap with just anything. You have to find something that appeals to him. Something that tickles his predatory senses. He has to believe he is the hunter, not the hunted.”

Thaddeus Wicker walked back to his chair and put on his glasses.

“And that requires timing and finesse.”

He continued starting at his wall of collected information on the Blackdog.

When the hotel room phone rang, Teresa reached over and lifted the receiver.

“Hello?” she answered.

After listening for a few moments, Teresa held out the phone and said,

“Daddy, it’s for you.”

“I’m busy right now, sweetie,” Thaddeus said.

“It’s that Barnett guy,” Teresa said.

Thaddeus let out a sigh of exasperation and stood up. He put his glasses away and walked over to take the phone from Teresa.

“I do not wish to be bothered when I am on a hunt,” Thaddeus scolded.

“Things have changed,” Lawrence Barnett explained. “I need the vigilante dealt with now.”

“This is a serious predator we are talking about, and my process must be taken seriously in order to be successful,” Thaddeus said.

“I don’t have time for you to dance around the subject,” Barnett said. “Deal with the vigilante soon! I’m running out of time, and I don’t want any delays.”

“You cannot rush perfection,” Thaddeus said. “If this is going to be done right, I need time to set up properly.”

“I don’t have time for your garbage. If you can’t handle this, I’ll pay someone else to do it,” Barnett said.

Thaddeus squeezed his eyes shut and yelled silently in frustration. After a moment, he exhaled and said,

“Fine. I will move up my timetable.”

“You do that,” Barnett said.

When the call ended, Thaddeus looked at the phone and said,

“Spare me from troglodytes and philistines.”

Returning to his chair, Thaddeus said,

“Dear, get with your brother and inform him that our schedule is being accelerated. We need to go ahead and set the second part of the trap.”

Teresa smiled and said,

“All right, daddy.”