“I’m going to canvas the rest of the house. Let me know if you find anything else.”
Standing up, I scan the room and notice a blood trail on the white satin carpet, leading from the hallway into the living room. The bloody road leads me to a door at the end of the hall. I slowly, open the door and switch on the bedroom light, revealing a pool of blood in the center of the bed, and the calling card I was looking for, written in blood on the wall above the bed.
James 5:1
Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming on you.
He killed her here, and then dragged her into the living room just like the kids. He wanted to make sure the bodies were the first thing we saw when we entered the house.
I leave the bedroom and head to one of the children’s rooms, which is a few paces from the parent’s room. There’s a significant amount of blood spatter mixed with hair on the headboard and walls. The child’s... sleep was interrupted by the intruder creeping into her room, judging by the spray angle. And the size of the bedroom made the shot near point-blank. I wipe my tears on the sleeve of my jacket. Shit like this is why I question the existence of a loving God. Scanning the floor for shell casings, I find a piece of brass in a dollhouse at the foot of the bed. I pick up the cartridge and examine it before sealing it in a baggy. The killer used a 9mm on the kids. This is all wrong; he usually sticks to knives or strangulation. Why the significant change all of a sudden? I step into the hall. “Martinez!”
“Yes, Lobos?” He leans around the corner.
“Did any nearby residence report any gunshots?”
“Nope. Neighbors said it’s been quiet here all night.”
“So he knifes the mother and pops the kids with a silenced nine. He came in here like a ghost and snatched the life from them.”
“If he only targets the rich, why kill the kids?”
I swallow deeply, trying to force the bile down. “The two daughters were a bonus for his twisted artwork. A heavier impact.”
“I don’t follow, Detective.”
“Well, look at it like this, a murder gets people’s attention sure, but nothing gets people’s attention like the murder of children.”
He curls his lip. “You mean this asshole did all this for attention?”
“Sadly, yes, and the fact these kids are a cop’s only further fans the media fire, thus catering to his ego.”
He shakes his head in disgust. “Damn, this world keeps filling up with psychos. Makes you want to crawl in a damn cave and hide.”
“Where did the intruder enter the house from?” I ask.
“The killer picked the lock and snuck in through the back door; no alarm triggered.”
Shit Jason being a cop, you should’ve known better.
“I’m assuming there are no prints to be lifted, and none of the neighbors saw anything?”
He furrows his brow. “Good guess.”
“Figures. This bastard has been smart so far.”
Twelve people dead, two of them children, and we got nothing to go on other than how he killed them. The shell casing could be something to go on, but I’m not getting my hopes up. I’ve done that too often with this guy, and it’s been a letdown every time.
“One more thing who called 911?”
“The 911 dispatcher said there was no voice. They called and left the phone off the hook.”
“The dispatcher heard nothing, not even sounds of a struggle or screaming?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
I turn my gaze to the bodies. “The Moonlight Killer called 911 after he killed them it looks like. Alright, Martinez. Let me know if you find anything else.”
He clears his throat. “Uh, Moonlight Killer? I thought you had a name? Why keep using his title?”
I stop short of the door and turn around. “Until we confirm the David Drake is the Moonlight Killer, he remains a possible suspect, not a confirmed one.”
“What the fuck? You saw all the fucked up shit in his house how can you say it’s not him?”
“Martinez, for all we know, the Moonlight Killer could have killed Drake and set up shop in his house.”
He sighs. “Fine. I will be in touch if I find anything.”
I gotta good hunch its David Drake, but I need more evidence before I bestow the title of Moonlight Killer on him.
I step out of the front door and head back to my car. Time to see if I can trace the real owner of this gun. Because as smart as Drake has been, I highly doubt he acquired this firearm through the legal channels.
I sit down behind the wheel and see Jason is leaning his head against the window in shock. “Hey, you gonna be okay?”
He exhales. “I lost my family tonight. What do you think? It’s funny… I brought them to this country to keep them from getting killed in the fighting, but they were killed anyway. I begged Allah, please just let me get my family to a place where they can live in peace and in safety; without fear of a bomb falling on them. Or getting caught in the crossfire between IDF and Hamas Fighters and after all, is said and done with, he fucks me over.” His voice low with anger.
“I told you to knock that shit off! Your family getting murdered is no one’s fault, but the killer’s. Not Allah or yours!”
“Whatever, Devi. My life is fucked, regardless.”
“You’re right. Your life is gonna be shit for a while. But eventually, you’ll find ways to cope with their loss.” I take a drag from my smoke. “Do you have some other place you can stay? Your house is
