“I needed a change of scenery,” she said.
“So you came to Loudoun?” Janus asked. “Boy, did you take the wrong train to Clarksville.”
“You don’t like it here?” she asked him.
“Well, I do, yeah,” Janus said. “But I’m a loon, so I don’t think that tells you much. I guess I got my mates here and they pay me to take lovely photos. But I don’t know what anyone else sees in it.”
“You should be in tourism, Janus,” Bill said.
“I just mean it’s a pretty boring place,” he said.
“That wasn’t the impression I had,” Kate said.
“Oh, you just wait,” Janus said, picking up his turkey sandwich and biting into it. “Wait till you have lived here for six years. Then tell me how exciting it is.”
“It isn’t that bad,” Quinn said quickly.
“Then why did you move away, bucko?” Janus asked through a full mouth.
“I moved back, didn’t I?” Quinn replied.
“Why was that, anyway, Quinn?” Bill asked. “I always meant to ask.”
Quinn shot a dark look in Janus’ direction, who held up his hands in a ‘What did I do?’ gesture.
“Just didn’t like it there, I guess,” Quinn replied.
“I would have thought it would be exciting,” Kate said.
For a moment, she saw an odd look cross his face and then it was gone.
“Maybe it was too exciting,” he said, and appeared to want to leave it at that.
“Speaking of excitement,” Janus said, finishing off his sandwich even as Bill got up to get another. “I think you and I need to get going, right?”
Quinn looked at him blankly.
“Where?” he asked.
“I thought Buzz told you-we have to go see that coin-sorting place for the profile, right? Remember? I take the pretty photos and you write your boring article?”
“Oh damn,” Quinn said. “I forgot.”
He looked at his watch.
“We are supposed to be there in 10 minutes,” he said. “We’ll never make it.”
“You know, if you had just set your watch 3 minutes ahead, Quinn,” Janus started.
“Get stuffed,” Quinn said. “Let’s go.”
He looked apologetically at Kate.
“I’m sorry to run out on you, but duty calls,” he said. “We’ll see you back at base, right?”
“Sure,” she said.
“And sorry to leave you alone with Bill,” Janus said, watching as the portly photographer wandered back to the table with another sandwich. “Don’t let him get too fresh.”
“I won’t,” she smiled, and watched Quinn wave before they walked out the door.
As Bill sat down and began to munch on his sub, Kate let out a small sigh.
She wondered again just what she had she gotten herself into.
LH File: Letter #2
Dated: Oct. 5, 1994
Investigation Status: Closed
Contents: Classified
Dear Mr. Anderson,
I confess that I’m disappointed. I wouldn’t say angry-not yet anyway-but disappointed. When I chose you, it was with the expectation that you would make me famous. Instead, you appear to be cooperating with the police in covering me up. Since Ms. Verclamp’s death, I’ve seen two articles on her murder, not one of which has even hinted of my existence.
There is no good reason for this. It can’t be that you don’t believe I’m the killer. I gave you the precise location of her body and I’m told you made the call yourself to police after reading my first missive. So what’s the hold up? Did the police tell you that you would be interfering in an investigation? Did they say my letters would only panic the public? Nothing like a serial killer on the loose to get the blood circulating, right?
So you wrote two very drab pieces, the first on the death and the second a profile of the victim. Though the profile was touching-I note with pride you used my suggested color-the whole thing feels pedestrian. I wanted to make a big splash with my first kill and now everyone is probably assuming Ms. Verclamp had an angry boyfriend. They don’t even know I’m out here.
This makes me unhappy, Mr. Anderson, and I wish to warn you upfront that a second mistake of this nature will not be tolerated lightly. Consider this my second gift to you-I’m letting you off easy this time. I’m not threatening you, Mr. Anderson-I have no wish to see you harmed-but you must understand my position. I aim to make a name for myself, and see you as my partner. And right now, my partner isn’t pulling his weight.
Let’s hope things improve this time around. The next body is lying on the outskirts of Ida Lee Park, in the woods behind the tennis court. The police will identify him as Michael Weissman, a promising 16-year-old who attended LoudounHigh School. So that police can be sure I’m the killer, I’ll offer the following tidbits. He wasn’t killed where his body is now located-and he tried to fight his attacker. He failed, of course, but I give him credit for trying. I stabbed him in the lower abdomen and watched as he tried to crawl away. He bled to death eventually, but I have to admit it took longer than I expected.
I’ll leave you to find out more about his background. We didn’t have much time to talk. Did he have a girlfriend? What did he want to be when he grew up? How hard do you think his parents will take it? I’m tempted to give them a call myself-that would really give you something to write about: “Killer Taunts Dead Boy’s Family.”
But perhaps that can wait. Fear is a contagious thing, but sometimes it’s best to let it spread slowly. I trust that in this next article, you will mention me properly. Feel free to quote from my letters to you-they are on the record, as always.
Oh, and you might want to get a move on. It’s only Oct 5 ^th, and I have a lot more killing to do before the month is up. I’d prefer it if my victims knew who was gutting them, so I’m trying to keep things slow until the word gets out. Please don’t disappoint me again. I promise you that you will regret it.
Yours Sincerely,
Lord Halloween
Chapter 4
“ As far as serial killers go, Lord Halloween was more flashy than scary. True, he terrified the area he haunted, but it seems impossible, when compared with some of the more famous killers of the 20 ^th century, that this person should stand out. Yes, LH murdered with impunity. Yes, LH tortured several victims. But his fetish with Halloween is so trite that I give him lower marks than many of his contemporaries. About the only thing that gives me pause is that he got away with the murders. Most killers secretly want to be caught. It’s clear LH didn’t. ”
— Arnold Cosgrove, “Stop Me Before I Kill Again: Serial Killers in History.”
Lord Halloween could wait forever. It was hard to say how long he had been standing alongside the road. He didn’t move or speak or show any other signs of life. He just stood there, looking in front of him. Patience was one of his virtues, he knew. Probably the only one.
He had waited 12 years. He thought that was long enough. There was some consideration, even as late as this morning, that he should wait one more year. After all, 13 had great significance among the superstitious. But everything was prepared and he didn’t have the heart to put away the tools of his trade for one more year. The truth, he knew, was that he didn’t want to wait another year-didn’t want to dream about this for another 12 months.
On the road, nothing stirred. Somewhere there was a faint rustling of leaves as the wind blew them around in the darkness, but everything else was still. He certainly did not move. He would wait for the right moment. He had waited this long, he could afford the time now. If today wasn’t the day, well…
