Chapter 1
Vanian
Adrenaline floods my system as I run down the dark alley. No one is after me, at least not yet, but it’s critical I get away from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. In this city, there’s no telling how long it’ll be before the body is discovered.
A satisfied smile tugs at my lips as I slide into the front seat of my car and tear off, my tires kicking up dirty gravel as I exit onto the main street.
I really did it this time. Tonight’s victim has been on my list for a while after he was released from prison on some dumb-ass technicality. He’s a rich bastard, and they always get away with their crimes. Not this time though. I’m done letting the justice system fumble the ball.
Before long, I’m on the freeway heading west. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going until I pass the familiar signs for Wisconsin. Home. Sure. Why not? I can hide out for a few days with my sister and have the perfect alibi. If I’m not in town, I can’t be a suspect.
Not that anyone would guess that a mild-mannered child psychiatrist is Chicago’s most prolific predator ender. I prefer that term over serial killer. I don’t randomly kill people, I don’t target innocent people working or living their lives as best they can. No. My sole focus is taking care of those doing bad deeds and getting away with it. The rapists and abusers, the predators who prey on innocent children, the supposedly upstanding members of society with dirty little secrets in their closets.
It’s far more fulfilling than I ever imagined it could be. What started with some stalking and blackmail evolved quickly, and honestly, removing that kind of cancer from the earth feels damn good.
I scheduled a few vacation days so I could hunt my latest target. I knew where he’d be tonight, and that he’d be completely alone after meeting with his attorney. I followed him from the office building downtown to the place I instinctively knew he would go. Not even out of a prison a full week and he was back at it.
A lot of young teens hang out at the homeless encampment he visits. Even some children at times. He preys on their vulnerability, their desire for a warm meal, a soft bed, or the promise of fresh clothes. According to the evidence given during his trial, he doesn’t target sex workers. He doesn’t want their consent. He wants to lure someone in and attack.
I hope he saw the irony in his own death tonight. I sat under a tree with my hoodie on, slumped over, hoping I’d catch his eye. And I did. I knew I would. I was fresh meat to him. He lured me to his car with the promise of a meal, and I went more than willingly.
The lascivious spark in his eyes and his greedy smile as he opened the car door for me still linger in my mind. I couldn’t wait to wipe that smile off his stupid face. Weird thing abouthim, he was actually pretty good looking. He smelled nice. Not at all like some of the disgusting men I usually deal with.
But oh, that moment when the knife went into his gut was pure bliss. The look of shock in his eyes, his gaping mouth as he realized he wasn’t going to assault me. He got got.
I whispered that he had met his last victim and that my blade was the justice everyone he’d ever hurt deserved. I waited with him, smoking a cigarette as he gasped. He was taking too long to die, so I helped it along with a nice slice to the throat, then I unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down enough to expose him. He should be as humiliated in his death as possible.
Then I did what I always do—the cleanup. Wiping down everything I touched and slipping unseen from the car. I don’t leave a calling card. I don’t need to. The cops will know it was my work when they learn who the victim is. I always envisioned cutting the assholes’ dicks off, but it’s too messy and takes too much time. If I ever have the opportunity though…
Rolling down my window with one hand, I turn up the radio with the other, bobbing my head to the latest pop tunes. The air is pleasantly cool tonight. It’s still summer, but we’ve had one of those perfect weeks when cooler temps blow in. It’ll be gone in a few days, and the heat and humidity of summer will return, so I’ll enjoy this while it lasts.
After driving for a couple of hours, I chuckle, realizing I’m right outside of Madison. My sister moved to Janesville recently, so I’m not too far away now. Glancing at the dash, I check the time. Almost midnight. She’ll be asleep, so hopefully she still keeps an extra key under the mat for me. She’ll be excited to see me, and I can dote on my nieces and nephew for a few days before heading back to Chicago.
My phone beeps and I glance at it, seeing a news alert on the screen. I grab it, swipe the screen to unlock it, and play the video.
My chest tightens. That was fast.
“Predator serial killer strikes again,” the reporter says. “Police discovered the body of Edward J. Thomas just minutes ago near Humboldt Park. He was found in his car, his throat slashed, and partially undressed from the waist down. We’re reporting live from the scene.”
I swing to the shoulder and pull over so I can finish watching safely.
“Detectives wasted no time alerting the public to the crime, noting that the offender is likely dangerous and may attack if cornered.”
I shake my head. They don’t know shit about me yet if they think that’s how I work. Unless they’re using it as a tactic to get the public’s attention, who remain apathetic to my crimes.
“Any witnesses are encouraged to visit the nearest police station or call the number on the screen. You can remain anonymous.”
The male reporter is standing near the tree where Edward found me. Several teens and a few younger kids stand around, and as the reporter attempts to engage them, they scatter. Except for one—a tall, lanky kid I’ve seen around there a few times. His shaggy hair hangs in his face, and even though he’s a little too gaunt, his eyes are bright.
“Did you see anything suspicious?” the reporter asks him.
He shakes his head. “Nah, but even if I did, I wouldn’t say nothing. No one here will. We ain’t snitches, and whoever’s doing this is helping. The cops ain’t coming out here and checking up on us. This dude out here is doing the real work. Since he started, ain’t no one been attacked around here. He’s our hero.”
My heart pounds in my chest and my eyes well with tears. That’s why I do this. To keep him and others like him safe from assholes.
“Do you know the killer is a man?” the reporter asks. “Seen anyone?”
The kid scoffs. “Women don’t go around taking people out. Besides, this guy blends in. Sure, we have some girls around here, but that would stand out more. I’m pretty sure it’s a guy. I think he looks like one of us, a young guy living on the streets, looking like a victim waiting to happen. That’s what I think.”
