Chapter Four- The Research

A Chapter by The Doctor

16 September 2010

I wake up and look at my ceiling. Just starting into space, mind giving out to all that enters it.

"We need a new project. Something to get us out of work for a while."

"That we do Edward... That we do."

It's sad how I sit here and talk to him, yet i don't know what i have as a doctor. I'm stuck between some type of multiple personality disorder and schizophrenia. I'm some where in the middle, i have a little of everything but not all of it. You could say i don't know who I am. I'm a person I don't even know or recognize.

But he is right, I should find an other kill. The hunger is beginning to return with fierce. But i have no ideas. I'm at a lose for people. I guess it's going to be another run to John's for some more ideas.

I call in and tell my nurse I well not be in and to take care of my calls and have someone cover for me. Next I call John.

"Hey Jack, what can i do for you?"

"You wanted to visit and have a chat about some of your cases."

"Yeah."

"Day off today right?"

"Yeah."

"Mind if i come over? I need a little time away from the house and work."

"Yeah sure. How long?"

"Give me a few hours and I'll be over."

"Sounds good."

"Bye," I say and hang up.

Perfect, time off and I'll get a treat.

I get up for my morning routine, ending with my shower. I put on Arizona jeans, turtle neck, socks and matt tan Rockport Margin Oxfords. I slide my wallet into my right, rear pocket, keys in my right front and cell in my left front. Going through the kitchen i grab a bottle of water and I'm out the door.

John's Home

I park my car and collect my coffee.

"You sure this is a good idea? I mean he is on to you. We know he don't know it but it wont take very long."

"I have it under control. I'll mislead him. That's what is good about an investigator who has nothing, they are easy to mislead because they just want something very badly."

I get out of the car and walk to the door, I'm about to knock but the door swings open. John standing in the door way with a smile. He ushered me into his home. Now I like to call the mess he's in, the investigator's external mind. They put everything every where-- all over the floor and furniture, pinned to the walls, notes written all over the place containing possible similarities between victims and crime scenes. The notes may even contradict some other theories, thus I find an over flowing waste basket of crumpled up lined paper.

"John, it's messy."

He laughs lightly,"Well, this is only this week. I thought I had a break through with some victim connects, but it turned out to be false."

"I guess. What was the supposed break through and with what case?"

"Well, remember the display case i was telling you about?"

"Yeah."

"Well i think these were the killers of the scene they were put in."

My throat begins to tighten. "What do you mean?"

"Well the men killed all have their trophies laid out, giving evidence that they are the killers. Their prints are all over the baggies and we even find their hiding places wide open. So i think there is a killer out there punishing these guys in the killer's own style. Almost like giving them their own medicine."

"Almost sounds like you admire this killer," I look into his joy filled eyes.

"I do. I want to thank this man, but at the same time the cop side of me is telling me this is all wrong and that he should get the death penalty."

"I told you this is dangerous. I don't know about you but I'd rather not be tied down with a bunch of people looking at me behind glass and anticipating my death," Edward rushes.

I ignore him and take a seat on a free chair. John follows suit, sitting in the free space on the couch.

"Well you have to remember, this is a killer. You can't be praising this guy for the wrong that he is doing."

"I know, but part of me just wants to shake his hand and tell him the great job he is doing."

You just did the thanking part.

"Well I would to. But in the end he or she is a criminal. They don't have the right to choose between life and death."

"Just like dad," John chuckled,"Always preaching the right thing."

"And if it wasn't for him we wouldn't be the honest men we are today."

"True that."

John orders some chinese food as we sift through the papers. We tossed ideas of this and that from here to there. Before we knew it, our watches read ten o'clock. He had new ideas and directions to take and I have a new project.

This a hired killer. His employers are unknown, but several kills have been linked to categories ranging from business to something as small as gang rivalries. He is clean and never leave anything behind. John knows it's this man because he was caught once, gun in his house and documents showing money wired into off shore bank accounts. But the mob got him out of it. Scott free. But in my world, no way.

He is a six foot Irish man, likes to use a Walther P88. He kills in an execution style and leaves no trace behind. He kills his instructed target within the office place or their place of work. He is described as a ghost to security guards found unconscious at their station. No one sees or hears him. In the end the target is found dead without a trace of evidence.

"Well John, I'm going to call it a night. See you soon," I get up from the chair and shake his hand.

"Thanks again Jack for your help. Sleep well."

Oh I will.

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