Female Novel
Chapter 18
Completely deflated, Bruin dragged himself past the murder scene on his way back into the living roomto find Fitzpatrick holding a tape recorder. He then watched as his partner pushed the rewind buttonand allowed the recording to play.
Everyone that was gathered in the living room stood and listened with disgusted faces as Cumminshuffed and wheezed to a Chicago song playing in the background. It wasn't too difficult for everyone tofigure out what the man was doing in the recording.
"Damn shit." Fitzpatrick growled as he placed the machine back down onto the glass table withoutstopping the recording.
"Hey, Jones," Bruin motioned to the floor, "there's a thing of Vaseline beside the couch there."novelbin
"Where's the fellow that he snatched yesterday?" One of the other officers asked.
"Maybe he's downstairs." Bruin miserably replied before starting for the bedrooms.
"I guess it makes sense in a way," Fitzpatrick mentioned while gawking about the sophisticated livingroom, "he's been using his own vehicles to snatch people."
"We've got a live one down here!" A voice gleefully shouted out from the basement.
Like little boys on summer vacation, both Bruin and Fitzpatrick raced through the living room, into thekitchen and down the basement stairs to see fifteen naked, dead bodies lying all over a bloodied floor,and one living, naked person curled up in a secure ball, holding her thin hands together as tight as shecould while her blue eyes bulged out of her head in a horrific manner.
"Someone get Donaldson down here, now!" Bruin feverishly screamed as he got down to his kneesand attempted to tenderly hold the woman in his arms.
"It's okay, honey. It's all over now." He gently reassured the girl while taking off his coat and wrapping itaround her shockingly warm body.
Right around the corner at the top of the stairs was a plump, blonde white female officer. The womancame rushing down the steps only to stop midway at the sight of the sadistic death that took hold of hereyes.
"Shirley, come here, we need you to take her upstairs!" Bruin yelled.
But Donaldson appeared too afraid to make another move forward. She slowly began to back awayuntil she stumbled against one of the steps behind her.
"Get your ass down here now, Donaldson!" Fitzpatrick furiously gestured with his left hand.
The petrified woman skittishly stepped down the stairs and approached the young lady on the floor.From there she coddled the woman in her arms like a child.
"Talk to her, Donaldson, she's a baby girl!" Bruin urgently ranted.
"Hold on...sweetheart, we're gonna get you out of here real soon." Donaldson stammered whilecaressing the woman's long, brunette hair.
With his hands shaking, Bruin stood back up and surveyed every corpse that was lying on the floor.Each body, including the young woman's, had deep puncture wounds to the stomach area.
Their pale, distraught faces told the story of their final moments of life. Handsome, young black menand pretty, young white women were all scattered from one end of the basement to the other. Even theoverwhelming stench of the room couldn't tear the officers and detectives away from the bludgeoningsight of all the death that stared ever so lifelessly right back at them. Every moment passed by insurreal slow motion.
"There's Calvin over there." Fitzpatrick pointed straight ahead.
Bruin turned around and watched as the medics helped the young lady from off of the floor and onto agurney.
Bruin was handed his coat back by one of the medics before turning and saying to an officer besidehim, "Smiley, contact the Cohen family. Inform them that we've found their daughter...alive."
Brice scurried his hefty girth down the stairs and began to examine the bodies one by one. After he hadoverturned each corpse onto its stomach, he coldly stated out loud, "Forced insertion wounds to therectal areas. Looks like our man raped his victims before killing them all. That would explain theVaseline."
"So where the hell is this fellow that Cummins took yesterday?" Fitzpatrick griped.
Ignoring his partner, Bruin noticed even more black fur that was located next to the steps. "Yep, it cameout of here alright." He remarked as he gazed deep at the fur. "Pat, are you sure this isn't bear fur?"
Brice stood up, retrieved the fur from out of Bruin's hand and sighed, "Linus, forensics fucked it all uplast November when their supposed bear attacked those Jamaican guys. Everyone down at the labwas in such a hurry to get home for the holiday that they would have said an elephant did it. This furresembles that of a wolf rather than a bear. You saw the bite marks all over Cummins; it even left atooth behind, for God's sake."
"So you're saying that a wolf did that to Cummins?" Fitzpatrick stepped up beside both men. "C'mon,Brice, you saw that faggot bastard, he was torn in half."
"Unless it was a pack of wolves, that's not too uncommon for these parts." Bruin said.
"There's only one set of paw prints tracked in the snow, Linus." Brice added.
"Well, let's only hope that this Mercer guy escaped while he could." Bruin exhaled.
"If he did end up escaping, he did so a naked man." Fitzpatrick said. "His clothes are still upstairs onthe couch. I'm gonna call back to—
Right then, the bizarre roars of an angry animal shot out from upstairs. Every officer and detective thatwas in the basement pulled out their weapons before racing back up the steps.
Once they made their way into the living room, to their stunned surprise, the sounds that they werehearing were coming from the tape recorder that Fitzpatrick left playing earlier.
Each and every officer stood in the middle of the living room and listened to the roars and growls of thebeast that was tearing a human being to shreds.
"Is that a bear?" Fitzpatrick's face turned up.
"I've never heard a bear sound like that before." One of the other officers chimed in.
They all continued to eavesdrop until the crashing of wood came into earshot, which was followed byutter silence. Bruin picked up the recorder and hit the off button.
"That's not all." Another officer pointed to the front window. "Look out there."
Every man inside peeked out the window to see news vans and reporters all descend upon theresidence like a swarm of hungry bees.
"Well, you're the big TV star here." Fitzpatrick sarcastically grinned at Bruin. "Go get 'em, tiger."
The very last thing Bruin wanted at that stage was to speak with nosey reporters, or anyone else forthat matter, but it was his case, it had been for the past six months, there was no turning back.
With cement feet, the detective stepped outside onto the icy porch with his hands slipped tightly into hiscoat pockets.
"Detective Bruin, is this the residence of the B.O.D. kidnapper?" A male reporter asked with a mini taperecorder pointed at Bruin's blushing face.
"Yes it is." Bruin bashfully exhaled. "We received an anonymous tip. The tipster described a black malein his early twenties accepting a ride from a man that fit our description. Upon our arrival here thismorning, Leroy Cummins the Third was found dead inside his home."
"Wait a minute, Detective, are we talking about the same Leroy Cummins that owns Cummins'Chevrolet here in town?" A female reporter questioned in a flabbergasted tone.
"That is correct." Bruin shook his head. "We discovered sixteen bodies located in Mr. Cummins'basement this morning."
"Were there any survivors, Detective?" "Just one, so far," Bruin stated. "One Gloria Cohen was foundalive, but in a shell-shocked condition."
"What about this person that Cummins abducted yesterday?"
"So far, we haven't been able to locate Mr. Mercer. We're only hoping that he managed to escape andis on his way back home as we speak."
"Detective, you mentioned that Cummins was found dead. What exactly was the cause of death?"
Bruin held his tongue for a few seconds before uttering, "We are not releasing that information at thistime."
"Detective, there are rumors that an animal, possibly a killer bear, murdered Cummins. Is this true?"
"Like I said, we are not at liberty to discuss Cummins' cause of death at this point, but, we are workingin conjunction with Cuyahoga Falls' authorities and informing residents to stay clear of wooded areasfor the time being, until we are able to investigate further. That is all for now."
Bruin turned and stepped back into the frigid confines of the house, leaving the ravenous reportersscreaming for more.
"Just how the fuck did the bear story get out that quick?" Bruin snarled at Fitzpatrick who was holding aTaser gun in his right hand.
"You know how some people are." He shrugged. "Someone else probably saw the tracks, too. Look atthis." Fitzpatrick said while holding up the weapon. "How much you wanna bet he used this toincapacitate his victims?"
"Where did you find that?"
"Right behind the sofa here," he said.
Ignoring the Taser that his partner seemed so proud to embrace, Bruin stepped towards the hallwaythat led to the bedrooms before an officer approached him and said, "We found more tapes inside hisroom, Detective."
"Thanks, Dudley." Bruin despondently replied, glancing past the officer and straight ahead at Cummins'bedroom.
As he made his way inside, Bruin began to stroll about the room that smelled of Old Spice cologne andunclean laundry. The unmade, queen sized bed was layered in nothing but dirty men's and women'sunderwear.
There were spots of blood sprinkled all over the tan carpet, along with dirty tampons and cut outpictures of famous black males, noticeably The Jackson Five and Jimmie 'JJ' Walker, to Billy DeeWilliams.
Pasted on the cream colored walls were photos of well-known white woman from Diane Lane andJodie Foster, to Linda Blair.
With a pen that he pulled out from his back pocket, Bruin picked up a pair of blue panties from off thebed before asking, "Hey, Al, what was the name of the guy from the diner again?"
Fitzpatrick stopped snapping pictures with his Kodak camera before saying, "Mercer, I believe."
"No, his first name," Bruin said. Fitzpatrick paused again and remarked, "The car was registered to aCharles Mercer. Fifty-eight years old, from Cypress."
Bruin dropped the panties back onto the bed and frowned, "Fifty-eight? I thought the waitress at thediner said he was a young guy."
"You're right, Detective." A young, black officer announced as he abruptly entered into the bedroom. "Ifound his I.D. in his pants pocket. His name is Isaac Mercer. He's twenty."
"Thanks, Smith." Bruin responded, securing the wallet from the officer's hand. "If he's from Cypress,what in the world was he doing all the way out here in the sticks of all places?"
"The waitress did say that he was arguing with a woman there before she got up and took off. Maybethey were lovers or something of that nature." Fitzpatrick clarified while slipping on a pair of blue rubbergloves.
"Christ, I feel filthy just being in this room." Bruin turned up his nose. "I'm guessing that Isaac is the sonof Charles, and Charles is probably wondering just where in the world both his son and his car are right
about now."
Fitzpatrick knelt down to the floor and said, "I think we need to head back to Cypress and quick, beforethis guy's family goes insane worrying about him."
"Not only that, but I'd also like to follow those tracks in the back as well. From the sound of it, I don'tthink this was the last place our furry friend visited last night." Bruin said as he turned and wanderedout of the bedroom and back into the living room.
He stood next to the sofa looking on in silent aversion. Everything he had expected, minus theslaughtered kidnapper, had come to vibrant and horrifying life.
Once the busy path of pacing officers and medics was clear, Bruin stepped lightly back into the slipperykitchen. There was still more evidence to collect down in the basement, but he was in no such rush toget down there anytime soon. Just staring off at the hole in the wall was jarring enough.
"Detective, we've got a report of a murder just a few miles west of this location." An older officerannounced as he stepped inside through the gaping hole.
"Just west of here, huh," Bruin cynically shrugged. "We get rid of one animal, we end up with another.Any more surprises?"
His conscience couldn't decide on what was more terrifying, a kidnapper that rapes and kills hisvictims, or a supposed animal that splits the kidnapper in two and leaves a seven foot wide hole in thesturdy wall as a calling card.
His beating heart wanted ever so much to grieve over the victims and their long suffering families.Bruin's hands at that instant began to tremble, even though his entire body was on fire.
Mournfully, Linus turned away from both the officer and the hole before making his waydownstairs.