Hunting A Spider- Too Crazy Not To Be Real 32

   Hoover’s theory that the murders in Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky and West Virginia were committed by the UNSUB in St. Louis was based purely on conjecture, but that doesn’t make it any less plausible or probable. Despite his years of training and following procedure, he still trusted his instincts, which no amount of book work can replace.

   Now it was my turn for a little conjecture.

   “This is going to sound crazy, but I think there might be a possible connection between the guy you’re hunting and the one in Minnesota.” I said to Hoover, who remained impassive. “Go on.” He implored. “The killer in St. Louis headed out-of-town and continued killing in the successive states, just like the killer in Minnesota. He’s changed his method of killing from time to time, so has the one in Minnesota. One kills men, the other kills women, but there patterns are similar, which means they may know each other or be corresponding.” I could see that Hoover was considering my theory, but I could also feel his suddenly piercing eyes sizing me up. “You think the UNSUB in Minnesota might be one of your uncle’s chat buddies?” “Why not? Every other dingbat seems to be.” The profiler cracked a slight smile. “I’ll call the team in Virginia, and tell them to go through all of your uncle’s online friends again.” “It’s too late.” I said. “Maybe not, Brookings.” “You don’t know my uncle, sir. He was sloppy killer while free, but he’s become very cagey while in captivity.” Hoover arched his eyebrows and gave me a quizzical look. “You talk about him like he’s an animal.” “No, he’s not an animal, he’s a monster who uses others for his own amusement. It’s too bad that there isn’t a way to keep Doane out in society without him hurting anyone, because he wasn’t this cunning on the streets.” “Normally, I would have dismissed your theory and never thought about it again, but the crazier this gets, the more real it is, if that makes sense.” Hoover said.

   It sounded logical to me.

Hunting A Spider- Brutally Prolific 31

   As I expected, the locations where the Unknown Traveler sent his messages from came back to numerous public sites, which made it impossible to track him. “We’ll get his ass.” Lafferty sneered. “Perhaps.” I thought, but not by IP address alone. “That drunken asshole is gonna answer some more questions, and he better not tell me any bullshit.” The young detective continued, referring to Donald Jackson. With the promise of a quick arrest down the crapper, Lafferty knew it was going to take more grueling man hours, and possibly more victims for more evidence to surface.

   While Lafferty fumed, Hoover studied reports that he freely shared with me. “Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky and West Virginia.” The profiler said wearily. “The bastard never stopped, in fact, he accelerated his slaughter.” “He’s killed in those four states, too?” “I’m certain of it.” “How?” “They’re all men who were found in fields or near water. The majority were strangled, but some were shot or stabbed, which contributed to the confusion.” Hoover droned. “What confusion?” “That he’s responsible for all these murders.” “How many murders are there?” “Thirteen, between late 1985 to the present.” “But you’re not sure that all those victims are his?” I asked. “No, I’m not certain, but I firmly believe they are.” “Does anyone else?” Hoover gave me an angry look. “It’s not that they don’t believe it, it’s what they can do about it at this juncture.” I decided not to push it any further, but I did have one more question. “When you said it was going to get worse did you mean that he was simply going to keep on killing or that he was going to up the ante?” Hoover stared at the table as if he were in a trance. “This guy kills for the fun of it, and boy does he like to have fun. He’s brutally prolific without being sloppy, which is a very bad combination. He’s got a world-wide audience now and I fear he might just put on a show for them, or at least give us more bodies to sift through.” I guess Hoover answered my question and I was about to go find Early when a terrible feeling hit me gut jarring force.

   It was too horrible to think about.

Hunting A Spider- Working South In The Upper Midwest 30

   There is a striking similarity between the murders in Iowa and Minnesota that cannot be denied. All the victims were white women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five who came from small towns and supportive homes. None of the victims had a criminal record and all of them worked in the retail or service industry. All of the women were found in shallow graves in isolated areas, and all of them were bound and gagged. The only difference is that the victims in Minnesota were shot and the ones in Iowa were stabbed. The obvious conclusion for me is that all seven murders are the handiwork of one man, which means the killer also hunts out-of-state. “Remember what I said about assumptions.” Early reminded me. “Point well taken, but this looks pretty clear to me and I think that’s what the killer intended.” “Now you can read his mind?” Early shot back. “No, but what good is killing people without recognition?” “Maybe he doesn’t care about fame.” “He’s killing a particular type of woman, the kind whose murder draws a lot of media attention, but these murders didn’t create that media buzz. Why is that?” “Because there so much murder and not enough air time to cover it.” Early replied. “I don’t think so.”

   I looked at the map of Iowa and saw that the murders in question occurred in the northwest part of the state, which borders Minnesota to the north and South Dakota to the west. I studied the counties in the northeastern part of the state and followed them down. “He’s working his way south.” I said. “What?” Early asked. “The killer, he’s killing women in southwest Minnesota, northwest Iowa and I bet in northeast South Dakota.” “More assumptions.” “They’re only assumptions if I’m wrong.”

   And I know I’m not.

Hunting A Spider- Immersed In Murder 29

   Just as Lafferty said, I got a call from Gustafsson, who was his usual prick self. “Three dead women in Iowa  and counting, and guess who frequented the part of the state where the bodies have been found?” “I’m going to take a wild guess and say Bryce Koosman.” I replied. “Very good, Brookings, sounds like you got this serial killer thing down pretty good. Who’s your suspect in Ohio?” “Don’t have one, but they’re working on it.” “Gee, I thought it might be someone you know?” I really couldn’t stand the asshole detective with a clipped accent and miserable personality, but I refrained from comment. “We got a BOLO out on your mother, so I’m hoping we’ll apprehend her shortly, preferably with her boyfriend.” “My mother is still innocent, Gustafsson.” “And I’m a law professor who gives a shit about niceties.”

   I now hated Gustafsson, and I to decided to forego pleasantries, which seemed to delight the Great North Dickhead. “I’m really hurt that a shady shithead like you despises me, Brookings. Does this mean that I shouldn’t expect a Christmas card?” “It means that I think you’re an insufferable prick.” “And I think you’re a lying asshole who’s playing a sick little game with your mother!” “I’m the one who called, asshole!” “Yeah, to cover your ass! I know about you, Brookings, and how you manipulate your crazy uncle, so cut the shit.” “Up yours, Gustafsson.” “Do you know where your mother is?” “No.” “Too bad, some poor girl is depending on ya.” Gustafsson said before hanging up.

   I called Early, who was talking to Hoover, and told him about my conversation with Gustafsson. “Meet us at Millie’s Diner and we’ll talk about it there.” “There’s three more bodies in Iowa.” I said. “Shit.” Early said wearily. “Just meet us there, Drayton.”

   As I headed to the diner, I began to wonder about my mother’s innocence. The bodies are piling up and she’s being awful elusive. Perhaps there’s an explanation–other than murder.

Hunting A Spider- Do Serial Killers Dream Of Slaughtered Sheep 28

   When the Buckeye Strangler closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, what does he dream about? Does he dream about his murderous deeds, or does he dream about his troubled childhood? Does he relive each of his murders in vivid detail or just the part where his victims die? Perhaps his dreams aren’t dreams at all, but rather, a continuous nightmare that reminds him that the evil he perpetrates is an admission  of his own inadequacies. How does a man with so much blood on his hands sleep?

   The answer to my last question is simple–or is it. The lack of a conscience allows the Buckeye Killer to feel no remorse, but how did he get that way? If he was born that way than once again the answer is simple, but he still lives in society and he must know what is and isn’t acceptable behavior, so to engage in his deadly endeavors he’s forced to deceive, which probably gives him a sense of power, but to stay free he has to remain in deceptive mode, which means he can never be himself. He lives in a world of secrets that only he is privy to, and if living a solitary life doesn’t bother him than why does he feel the need to seek human contact? If a serial killer murders for the sense of power that he derives from taking a life then it stands to reason that he feels powerless when he’s not killing, which makes him mostly weak.

   The serial killers world is one of rage and self-pity that can never be quelled regardless of how many people he kills, and it’s this torment that propels him through his murderous journey until he’s captured or dies. Turmoil is his constant companion, and that probably makes for fitful sleep.

   Or at least I hope is sleep is fitful because it’s truly terrifying to think of someone so empty being so content.

Hunting A Spider- Midwest Madness 27

   As Lafferty prepared the paperwork necessary for obtaining the exact address of the Unknown Traveler, Hoover asked me a battery of questions about Doane. “If he thinks you’re on to him he’ll just close up shop and it’s my guess that he already knows you are, so talking to the fool will be an exercise in frustration.” I said. “How much influence you have on him?” Hoover asked. “In a matter like this, none. This is what my uncle lives for and he isn’t going to let us ruin his twisted fantasy.” “Perhaps we should just take his computer away.” “I think that’s a grand idea. I mean try to reason with him, but I doubt he’ll cooperate.” “If we take away the Unknown Traveler he doesn’t have a fantasy.” Hoover said. “Correct, and if you take away his computer he has no more online fantasies.” I added. ”We’ll just do it another way.” Hoover said. “We can monitor your uncle’s online activity without him knowing it and maybe we’ll get lucky.” “There you go, the less contact you have with the fool the better, but I’ll bet you these assholes have a code that let’s all the players know that they’re being watched.” I said. “We have to try, Drayton.”

   My cell phone went off and it was Lafferty, who told me that he talked to Gustafsson about my mother. “He really doesn’t like you, Brookings, but I told him that you were cooperating with us.” “What did he say to that?” “That you’re still a world-class asshole, but he did tell me to ask you if you knew anyone in Iowa.” “Not that I know of. What’s going on in Iowa?” “Gustafsson didn’t tell me, but I imagine he’ll get around to asking you.” Lafferty said before clicking off.

   Minnesota, Missouri, Iowa and Ohio: four midwestern states that I’ve never even been to, but now seem like my old stomping grounds. They’re all  so far away and irrelevant to me, except for the fact that all the shit going down now is emanating from them, and with each passing day, another innocent or lost soul goes about their life, not knowing that someone is watching and waiting to take them away–forever

Hunting A Spider- Dreadful Hunch 26

   After an unsuccessful attempt to contact the Unknown Traveler online, Detective Lafferty walked outside of Donald Jackson’s house wearing a disgruntled look. “I’ve been in crack houses cleaner than this shit hole.” he sneered. A tall, lanky man probably in his early thirties, Brady Lafferty personified the uptight, gung-ho cop whose mission is to rid the world of scum. “You really think that this guy could be the killer in St. Louis?” Lafferty asked Hoover. “I’m almost certain it is.” I could see Early’s unease with the profiler’s assertion by his stoic expression and rigid body stance. “That’s an awful big leap, Hal.” Lafferty said. “I know, but that still doesn’t change how I feel.” Lafferty then turned his attention to me. “I’d like to talk with you in private, Mr. Brookings.”

   Lafferty and I got in his car where he immediately began to ask me about Doane and my mother. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, Mr. Brookings, and I can’t help but feel more than a little uneasy about your family.” “I understand, but that’s the way it is, sir. My uncle is a dangerous psychopath who spends his days dreaming up weird shit and it’s very possible that he’s found an online playmate to act out his twisted fantasies.” “And I thought this sick shit was only on television. What’s this with your mother?” “From what I can tell she’s hooked up with an unsavory character who may or may not be a serial killer. If you want more particulars, call Max Gustafsson, here’s his number.” “What the hell do I tell him?” “That I’m assisting you and to stop threatening to arrest me.” “Shit, I might be doing that before the night’s over.” “Okay, but I don’t really see what that’ll accomplish.” I replied. “Satisfaction.” Lafferty shot back. A moment silence fell between us before the lanky detective asked me about Donald Jackson. “What do you know about Mr. Jackson?” “Not much, other than he’s a drunk who’s managed to teach himself computers very well.” “He’s got no felonies and only few misdemeanors that were non-violent, but something tells me that the slimy bastard knows more than he’s letting on.” Lafferty said. “Probably, but I don’t think serial murder is his thing.” “Did you think computers were his thing?” the uptight detective snapped. “Point well taken.” I replied. “Tomorrow I’m getting a court order to track down the exact location of the Unknown Traveler.” Lafferty declared. “I bet it comes back to someone else’s residence.” I replied. “What?” Lafferty asked. “Just a hunch.” I said.

   A dreadful hunch.

Hunting A Spider- St. Louis Ghost 25

   While Hoover and Detective Lafferty watched Donald Jackson attempt to contact the Unknown Traveler, I told Early what Hoover relayed to me about the murders in St. Louis. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Early said. “I wish I was, but at least it’s another lead to go on.” “Perhaps if they catch him, but from what it sounds, they never even got much of a description of him.” “Yeah, but it according to Hoover, it was probably the Buckeye Strangler.” “What year was this?” Early asked. “1985, which made it two years before the murders in Ohio began.” “It’s possible, but then again, it could be another sicko who simply got away and is killing God know where.”

   Having spent many years in law enforcement, Early learned that assuming anything can lead you down the wrong path, which is the proper attitude, but my gut told me the killer in St. Louis and the Buckeye Strangler are one in the same. I have nothing to base that assumption on other than what Hoover told me, but it made sense to me that once he felt the heat in St. Louis, he merely picked up and moved on, which fit nicely into my theory that he is a tradesman who is able to secure work easily. I then realized that Hoover made no mention of the suspect’s car, which would have been another way for investigators to track him down; perhaps he didn’t have one or maybe he kept it concealed from view. Whatever he did, he managed to elude the cops and leave very little behind, which wouldn’t seem possible if they knew where he lived because if he was a strong suspect they would have dusted for prints and ran them through the system, but something tells me that they did all that and came up empty.

   Early and I drove to Donald Jackson’s house to see if he had been able to contact the Unknown Traveler. I saw Hoover standing outside the rundown house looking pensive. He saw us and greeted us on the sidewalk. “Any luck?” I asked. “No, and I don’t expect there will be.” Hoover replied. “In St. Louis, did they dust for prints or get a description of his vehicle?” I asked. Hoover smiled. “No prints found and no vehicle description.”  “Not one print?” “Nope, not a single one. All these years I never gave that case much thought until I saw those quotes, but now I realize that I was blind to evil.” Hoover said. “It may be a different killer.” Early offered. “No, it’s our guy.” Hoover replied. “How can you be so sure?” Early pressed. “He was like a ghost: we knew he was there, but he left nothing behind except those quotes, which I believe was on purpose.” “Why would he do that?” I asked. “Because even a ghost wants a little recognition now and then.”

Hunting A Spider- Past Quotes 24

   Anarchist Superman: No smaller package than a man wrapped up in himself.

   Unknown Traveler: What are you implying?

   Anarchist Superman: Promise of power attracts the weak.

   Unknown Traveler: Weakness comes from lack of ambition and timidity.

   I couldn’t imagine how grown men could derive any pleasure by sending quotes to each other, but then again, how can people became addicted to reality shows. If Doane and this Unknown Traveler are speaking in some sort of code that relates to the murders in Ohio, then I would assume that the code and method of operation will change, if it hasn’t already. My gut feeling tells me that Donald Jackson knows more than he’s letting on, and he probably has a code to warn the other dingbats in the group that their secret code was no longer a secret.

   I took a seat on a bench outside the police department and enjoyed the crisp night air. It appeared my plan of going to Ohio had been nixed and it was now time to cool it for a spell. I thought about Doane and decided that if he is communicating with serial killers then it’s time to disconnect him from the outside world. I always found it somewhat troubling that he has computer access to begin with.

   “I got it!” Hoover screamed. “What?” I asked. “St. Louis, back in 1985.” Hoover began. “The bodies of three men were found along the banks of the Mississippi over an eight month period. Investigators got a tip about a suspicious man staying in a hotel in the outskirts of the city, and when they searched his apartment they foundal pages of quotes like the ones that these assholes send to each other.” “What did the guy say?” I asked. “They never talked to him because he left before they searched his room.” “Did they get a name?” “It was a fake name and they never found him, but I’m certain some of those quotes were very similiar to the ones there passing to each other now.” Hoover said. “So I guess they never found the killer in St. Louis?” I asked. “That’s correct, but I know he didn’t stop killing because they never do.” “Well, they must have at least gotten some sort of description on him.” “Only that he was tall and probably in his twenties or early thirties.” Hoover said. “Clerk said that he only saw him a couple times.”

   And then he was gone.

 

Hunting A Spider- Deadly Gibberish 23

   Like the previous entries I read between the Doane and his online wackos pals, the exchange that troubled Hoover seemed to be the rantings of computer nerds trying to flex their intellectual prowess by quoting great philosophers in random bits.

Anarchist Superman: What is the function of wisdom?

Unknown Traveler: A thousand hackers whacking at the branches.

Anarchist Superman: And only one striking the root.

Unknown Traveler: Neither angel or brute.

Anarchist Superman: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Vice and virtue.

Unknown Traveler: If left unabated you command it to be done.

   “Sounds like the bullshit to me.” I said. “No.” Hoover snapped. “I’ve seen this nonsense before.” “Where?” I asked. “That’s just it, I can’t remember offhand.” “It couldn’t have been all that serious.” I remarked. Hoover shot me an angry look. “I don’t deal with petty criminals looking to score a high, Mr. Brookings.” “Okay, no offense, but how can you decipher code out of gibberish?” “Because I’ve seen this before!” Hoover bellowed before running out of the room.  Early and I exchanged puzzled looks and then re-read the exchange between Doane and the Unknown Traveler. “This is crazy, Drayton.” “Tell me about it.” “No, this is really crazy, like evil crazy.” “No shit, Early.” “It’s about to get real nasty.” “Isn’t it already nasty?” “Not like it’s gonna be.” Early replied.

   Between Hoover and early, I was becoming a tad uncomfortable.