“Do they have an idea who’s doing it? Not a suspect, I mean, but a profile.”
“Sure. That’s what the article was about, actually. They’re talking to the therapist in my company who met with the victim. The article says the FBI is getting involved to provide a profile of the possible killer.”
“Double-edged sword, right? On the one hand, these creeps deserve to die, but I guess law enforcement has to at least look like they’re doing something.”
“Yeah, for sure.” He sets his phone down. “It’s high profile enough that a new detective could make a name for themselves if they solved it.”
“Right. Seems to me like whoever is knocking these guys off is doing the city a favor.”
Van nods, seemingly staring straight through me. “Yeah.”
“We had this case about a year ago, I think.” I walk over to the counter to pour some coffee. “It was a pastor at a church in Milwaukee. When he was busted, he had mountains of child sexual abuse material in his possession, and it turns out he was abusing his authority at the church and as the youth group leader. The last I heard, he’d been accused by over twenty kids. This has been going on for years. Some of those kids are adults now.”
A muscle in Van’s jaw twitches. “That’s disgusting. How did he get found out?”
“His son was suspicious and did some digging. It was all over the news. And the worst part is there wasn’t any real evidence about his crimes with specific victims, so he was busted on the CSAM, removed from his position in the church, and of course he got prison time, but he had some high-powered attorneyswho appealed and got the case thrown out because more than one person had access to the computer where he kept his smut. It gave the jury reasonable doubt.”
“He got off?”
I nod. “Yeah. Fucked up, isn’t it? I mean, his life is still ruined. He can’t get another clergy position, and he had to move away. If he fucks up again, I’m sure it would be easier to convict him.”
“He’s living his life as a free man while his victims get no justice.”
“Yep. It’s maddening. Fetterman, that’s his name. Alex Fetterman.”
Van exhales slowly, scratching the scruff on his chin. “I hope he gets everything he deserves.”
“Me too.” I sip my coffee. “If you get hungry, come over to the house. We have fresh pastries every day.”
He smiles, seemingly shaking off the heavy convo we just had. “I’ll do that.”
“Good. Nonna will be excited to see you, and we can figure out how to spend the afternoon. Until then, do whatever.”
“Thanks, Nan.”
“No problem.”
I take my mug with me to my room, my head buzzing with thoughts. It must be so frustrating for him to work with victims of people like Alex Fetterman and see them more or less get away with it. Maybe one day that douchebag will come across the wrong person and get his ass handed to him. When the system fails, I’m not against a little violence to make things right. Seems like Vanian agrees.
Chapter 7
Vanian
After a shower I lie on the bed in the guest room with my phone in my hand, already looking up information about Alex Fetterman. Hearing the story made my blood run cold, and set off a trigger response in my brain. There’s no way I can rest easy knowing an asshole like that is running around free in the world. No doubt he’s already got new victims.
Fortunately, he hasn’t exactly been lying low since his acquittal. I found him easily, just a short drive across the Illinois state line. Looks like he’s working for a small non-profit agency doing… Are you fucking kidding me? I rub my forehead. Counseling young homeless people at a community center. Un-fucking-believable. Do the people who hired him not know about his past? Because it wasn’t exactly hard to find. Or are they a bunch of predatory douchebags too? There’s one way to find out.
I click out of the article and check the time. If I time it correctly, I could get to Illinois, take care of business, and make it back before Nantes is done with work for the day. I’d have anice alibi too. I wasn’t even in the state when the next murder occurred.
It’s risky though. I typically work at night, and only after casing my target for weeks, sometimes months. I have no idea what the situation is or how to find Fetterman. Fuck. I’m just gonna have to sit on this for a while, I think. Maybe on my way back to the city, I can swing by the town he’s in and get a feel for things.
I’m startled when my phone buzzes in my hand with an incoming call. It’s Kerry, my coworker.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Vanian. It’s Kerry. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Nope. Just got out of the shower and hanging out. What’s up?”
