Hunting A Spider- A Whole Lot Of Killing Going On 46

   “A construction crew was bulldozing a site near Brookford, which is near the Minnesota and Iowa border, when they uncovered eight bodies in shallow graves; all women, probably in their twenties if the M.O. is the same.” Gustafsson began. “They found three more bodies in Iowa. Once again, all female and all thrown in shallow graves. It’s becoming a wholesale slaughter up there, which is why I’m down here.” “When did they find these bodies?” I asked. “They found the bodies in Iowa two days ago and the eight in Minnesota yesterday. It’s been on the news.” “I’ve been busy, Gustafsson.” The surly Swede gave me a weary look and then cracked a slight smile. “You have no idea where your mother is?” “No, sir.” “From what the feds told me, there might be a connection between the cases.” Gustafsson said. “They might be communicating on the net, in fact, The Unknown Traveler made reference to that.” “I guess my guy is The Vagabond Intellectual or something.” “That’s right, and he too was communicating with my uncle.” “My God, I’ve never seen anything like this. I mean I’ve dealt with some assholes, but nothing on par with this, and I’m afraid there’s more of those burial sites up there.” Gustafsson said.

   Eleven more bodies and with the grim prospect of more to come. Gustafsson was right when he said that hell had broken loose up there. If the Vagabond Intellectual is Bryce Koosman, then there could be a lot more hell to come. Koosman is his mid-sixties, which means that he’s had a lot of years to rack up a horrific body count. What I’m most curious about, and I’m sure investigators are too, is when and how The Unknown Traveler and The Vagabond Intellectual first started communicating. Doane and Donald Jackson were merely amusement for these two, who probably met online before they started chatting with assorted dingbats. I wonder how they broached the subject of serial murder? And how could they know that the other wasn’t just talk? How many people have they killed?

   And how many more are going to die?

Hunting A Spider- Something Wicked In The Great White North 45

   Hoover told me that my presence was requested at the police department in Fayetteville. I asked him what was up, and he just shrugged and said that it is just a briefing. Something told me that wasn’t the case, but it didn’t sound like I had a choice. When we arrived at the department we were greeted by a tall, well dressed man who looked to be in his late thirties. He introduced himself as Special Agent John Bruggins with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. “You mean the F.B.I.?” I replied, hoping a little levity would lighten the mood. It didn’t. Bruggins gave me a scowl and told Hoover and I to follow him. He took us to a small room where a chubby blonde haired man with a reddened face wearing an angry expression was waiting. Looks like I finally met Detective Max Gustafsson. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the smartass bastard in the flesh.” the asshole cop from Minnesota sneered. “I betcha ya ain’t so arrogant now.” “On the contrary, Gustafsson, seeing you only proves that Darwin was right.” I replied, which caused the Swedish Shithead to bust a vein. “I didn’t come all this way to have this no good rotten bastard insult me!” “Truth hurt, Gustafsson?” “Fuck you!” “Okay, knock it off, both of ya.” Bruggins hollered.  We all took a seat at the table and Bruggins informed me of the status with my mother.

   As the uptight agent rambled on about how my mother is now being considered a suspect, I detected a sense of desperation in his tone and Gustafsson’s sour face. It was clear that neither one of them had a clue where to look for my mother. “This is a very serious situation, Mr. Brookings, one that doesn’t bode well for your mother, so if you have any information about her whereabouts you need to tell us.” The F.B.I. Agent said. “I wish I could help, but I haven’t clue.” I expected Gustafsson to blow up, but he merely maintained his disgusted look. Bruggins, however, looked like he was going to lose it. “My God, Drayton, do you know what’s happening up north?” he asked. “A little,sir, but my attention has been focused on a sick asshole in Ohio.” “We heard.” Bruggins said wearily.

   Something equally bad is going on in the Great White North.

Hunting A Spider- Gruesome Souvenir 44

   “He’s got a physical deformity, and that is the catalyst behind all this.” I said to Hoover, who gave me a look of disbelief. “And that’s your final answer?” the profiler said in a dumbfounded tone. “You have to start somewhere.” “Jesus Christ, Drayton, did you see what he did to that kid?” “Yes, Hoover, his handiwork is on my computer.” Hoover walked outside muttering something, while Early wore an impassive expression. “Well, it looks like you’re asshole deep in this shit now.” he said with a facetious smile. “Why is everybody looking at me like I’m crazy?” I said. “Because this isn’t a game, Drayton. People are dying and you’re acting as if it’s nothing more than a puzzle.” “That’s unfair, Early, and you know it. I didn’t ask this sicko to kill those boys or e-mail me.” “Have you ever thought about the possibility that he just might come to North Carolina to make a house call?” “Let him come, at least we’ll know where’s he’s at.” Early stormed outside leaving me all alone, which suited me fine.

   I looked at the pictures again and tried to imagine how someone could do that without getting sick. Removing the parts from someone’s face required an unbridled hatred that superceded all other internal mechanisms that would normally send a signal to the brain telling you to stop. I’m not a psychiatrist, but it seems to me that cutting off a person’s face indicates someone who has lost all control, which means he’s falling apart emotionally.

   I was about to turn off my computer when I saw that I had another e-mail. I opened up the message, which was from The Unknown Traveler. It also included an attachment.

   Dear Drayton,

   Here’s one more souvenir for you.

   I opened up the attachment. I braced myself and saw the severed head of the young man whose face had been removed resting on a table.

   Quite a souvenir.

  

Hunting A Spider- Pictures From An Ugly Boy 43

   Dear Drayton,

   As you know, I captured my that pretty boy last night and he’s everything I could have hoped for and more. I know I told you that last night would be his last one alive, but I had a change in heart. He’s such a fighter that he earned himself another day of living. In this e-mail you will notice attachments that you need to open. Please don’t be afraid, they don’t contain any viruses. I think you’ll find these pictures rather interesting.

   I’ve got another one picked out, Drayton, and within a few days I’ll give you more details for you to pass on to investigators. For now, however, just enjoy what I sent you and always be in good health

         The Unknown(Don’t You Want To Know Who I Am)Traveler

   I braced myself and opened up the attachments. “Jesus Christ!” Hoover screamed. “Fuck.” Early said in a stunned voice. The ten pictures were of The Unknown Traveler’s latest victim from when he was first captured to him chained up in a basement. What was so horrifying is that with each subsequent picture the victim’s face became more mutilated until picture number ten when his entire face was surgically butchered to the point of being unrecognizable. The victims eyes, nose, ears and hair had been removed, along with the skin on his scalp and face. “You’ve got to get out of this, Drayton.” Early pleaded. “How, Early?” “This ain’t your game.” “Whose game is it?”

   How do you rate depravity? Are there different levels of evil? What’s this sick fuck’s point?

   My horror had quickly turned to disgust.

Hunting A Spider- Looking For Answers In Emptiness 42

   As expected, the frantic search for the young man The Unknown Traveler described in his e-mail to me turned up empty, and the grim prospect of finding him dead had already sunk in with the investigators. The sick game has taken on an even more sinister twist, with more surprises certainly to come.

   I then thought about The Vagabond Intellectual, who lurked in the shadow of The Buckeye Strangler. If my mother is in his company, then one has to assume that she herself is a serial killer, which unfortunately is consistent with the Hassey family history. My mother is a lot of things: cold, cruel and indifferent, but I never took her for a killer of women. For all her talk of independence and being her own person, mother has always been dependant upon men to maintain her fairly comfortable lifestyle, which includes coffee, cigarettes and a roof over her head that she is the master of. Bryce Koosman provided her with those comforts. It’s a relationship based on convenience; the kind my mother prefers, and the kind Bryce Koosman would need if he is a serial killer.

   How could someone tolerate the murder of young women for the sake of comfort? How could woman watch another woman being murdered and not see herself as a potential victim? What would happen to my mother if the government suddenly outlawed coffee and cigarettes? How could a person be so empty? These are the questions that are swirling in my head at the moment. Trying to figure out mother is an exercise in frustration, which is why I try to refrain from doing it, but this situation needs immediate answers.

   Too bad she’s a Hassey.

Hunting A Spider- Painful Reminders 41

   I found Early standing by the banks of the river gazing at the softly flowing water. His angry expression masked an unimaginable sorrow that constantly gnaws at him. “If this is too much for you to bear then you need to walk away and find some peace.” I said. Early shot me a weary look and then hung his head. “He killed those boys without thinking that someone loved them. How can people kill without thinking about the irreparable damage they inflict?” “He’s a psychopath, Early, and they don’t have feelings of remorse.” “I know all about that, Drayton, but it still doesn’t make sense. He kills because he’s weak, yet we make him out to be some sort of monster with super powers. That makes me sick because it takes no special power to kill if you don’t have feelings.” “You’re right, we glorify these guys horrible acts because we like staring into the abyss, which makes us culpable for their notoriety.”  “I remember telling Robert when he was about eighteen that there were bad people out there who would hurt him over something trivial or for no reason at all, and you know what he said to me? He told me that I had a jaded view of the world because of my job. Can you believe that?”

   There was no consoling Early at the moment so I didn’t try. I just let him feel bad and hoped that he would get his fill of sorrow and move on. Early loved his son, despite all the pain he caused him, which is the worst kind of love to have. Even in death, his useless son still wrecks havoc on his life. “Go home, Early. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” “No, it’s time to put an end to all this madness, Drayton; every last bit of it.” Early replied. “You sure?” I asked. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m tired of painful reminders and associating every act of senseless violence with Robert. It’s time to save another family from this kind of hell.”

   Sometimes it’s better not to love.

Hunting A Spider- Futile Race 40

   As the frantic race in Ohio began to prevent a murder, I focused on what The Unknown Traveler said about my mother. His reference to the north indicated that my mother indeed is in the company of a serial killer, which obviously reflects poorly on her presumed innocence. Could it really be that she is a partner in serial murder? I know my mother is disturbed and has lived a helter skelter life, but to get involved with a man who kills women seemed beyond the realm of possibility, but then again, I’m sure Ted Bundy’s mother thought the same of him.

   Hoover sat dejectedly at my kitchen table like a man waiting for the grimly inevitable to happen. “He’s already got him.” he said in a somber voice. “Maybe not.” Early replied. “He’s got him.” Hoover repeated. “Then call up the cops in Ohio and tell them just to wait for the body to turn up dead.” Early fired back with anger. “That’s just my opinion, Mr. Toles, it’s not personal.” “Of course not, they’re just junkies, drunks and faggots.” Early spewed. “I never said that.” Hoover shot back. “If this asshole was killing honor students you wouldn’t have said that it was a foregone conclusion.” “I was stating my opinion, not a fact.” Before Early could reply, I told he and the glum profiler to shut up. Early stormed outside, while Hoover gave me a weary look. “Those boys remind Early of his deceased son.” I told Hoover. “Some wounds never heal, regardless how much you tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault. Every one of those young men began life full of promise, only to see it wither away. That’s life, and no one ever said it was fair or rational.” Hoover said.

   Hoover was right, The Unknown Traveler has already captured his prey and is probably torturing him now as we speak, but I also feel that he’s getting too brazen to continue this game without getting caught. Murder is a crime best committed in anonymity, and even though he is still faceless, he’s got a nickname that humanizes him more than he deserves. He’s nothing more than a soulless killer who has spent his life eluding capture for his irrational self-hatred,and eventually he’ll run out of time and space.

   Of course, I could be wrong.

Hunting A Spider- Prelude To A Murder 39

   Dear Drayton,

   I’m sure you have shared my e-mail to you with investigators who told you to notify them when I write to you. I understand and I would expect nothing less at this point. I am writing you now to inform you that I’ll be going out tonight to look for another lost soul that needs cleansing. I understand that you know all about sin and its consequences. I’m very impressed how you trapped London Siler. Nice work, but he was just a course man with a self-serving agenda. I also hear that he was kin to you, so it seems all kinds of shady characters run in your family. How’s your mother? From what I hear she is a ruthless woman who’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants, but that’s just hearsay from someone up north.

   I see him, Drayton. He’s like all the rest, only he’s a tad prettier, which probably makes him more vain. He’s got light brown hair, blue eyes, and stands roughly six feet tall. His athletic build and perfect teeth really excite me, but I know in a few years he’ll look nothing like the beautiful specimen he is now, so I’ll spare him that indignity and allow him to be a beautiful forever. On the other hand, I hate him for what he represents and the filth he spreads, so perhaps I’ll erase his beauty altogether. Whatever I decide to do you’ll be the first to know, but understand that this young man is about to spend his last night alive. I won’t keep him like I do some because I have someone else in mind for that. I’ll let you know who he is.

                                                                                                              The Unknown(You May Never Know)Traveler

   Hoover’s eyes widened with horror as he called Lafferty.

   Things are getting mighty personal.

Hunting A Spider- Dragged Into The Madness 38

   “Alright, this shit has gotten out of hand and it’s time for you to distance yourself from all this.” Early emphatically said. “Too late for that, Early, I’m now asshole deep in it.” “Bullshit! This isn’t your investigation. Let the cops do their job.” “I couldn’t agree with you more Mr. Toles, but this maybe our best chance of catching this guy.” Hoover weighed in. “Are you serious? We’re dealing with a career serial killer here; one whose whole life is devoted to slaughtering innocent people. How the hell is that Drayton’s problem?” “Because his crazy uncle interjected him into this investigation.” “Drayton, walk away from this shit, because if you don’t you might wind up as one this sick assholes victims.” Early pleaded. Early’s advice certainly made sense, but there was no way I was walking away from this.” “Early, there’s a very good chance that my mother is in jeopardy and I simply can’t walk away from that.” “Your mother may be a serial killer, Drayton!” Early screamed. “She’s still my mother!”

   There was no doubt the situation has become extremely volatile, and my safety is an issue, but I couldn’t imagine being allowed to simply detach myself from all this when I am the best chance of catching The Unknown Traveler and The Vagabond Intellectual. I did decide, however, to put an end to Doane’s online fantasy life, which should be easy after this. “This bullshit needs to stop forever, and the only way for that to happen is to stop Doane’s access to the outside world. You think you can help me with that?” I said to Hoover. “We’re in the process of doing that now, Drayton, and furthermore, I think it’s time that you cut all ties with that piece of shit.” Hoover replied.

   Hoover went over the plan, which basically had me checking my e-mail  and informing them of any correspondence. He also prepared me for phone contact by The Unknown Traveler. “He might keep escalating this, but rest assured that you’re not in any immediate danger.” “I’m not worried.” I replied. “You should be.” Early said.

   Probably, but it’s too late for that now.

Hunting A Spider- Making Contact 37

   Dear Drayton,

   We’ve never met, but somehow I feel I know you. Perhaps that is because your uncle has told me so much about you. First, let me say that in no way do I associate you with the likes of Doane, who is truly a troubled soul. I know your uncle thinks he is somehow calling the shots in this whole affair, but you and I both know that he is merely a caged animal with a fair amount of intellect and a malicious spirit. I am the master of my destiny and I allow Doane a glimpse in to my world because his is so mundane. I granted him that priviledge with the condition that he not betray my trust, which he hasn’t, but in the end, a madman is unable to find clarity in this ugly world and now I can no longer remain in contact with him. The same goes for Donald Jackson, who is nothing more than a drunk with sharp computer skills. I am somewhat embarrassed that I ever associated with such a weak-willed man who would look better lying a metal slab in the morgue. I know you know what I am talking about and I am equally certain that you understand my motivations. I am not an aimless drifter addicted to the taste of blood, but rather, a shrewd purveyor of filth and sin that needs to be eradicated from society. It’s a cruel word and only the the people who have a plan survive. You’re a survivor, Drayton, because you have made a nice life for yourself despite your humble beginnings. We will meet one day, Drayton, and you will see that I’m not that much different from you.

                                               The Unknown(Soon To Be Known)Traveler

   I stared at the computer monitor and then called Early and Hoover.

   Contact has been made.