After throwing the keys on the table, Richard sighed with satisfaction and began unpacking the groceries. He had chosen the Blue Line and the exit where the next murder would take place. He just had to wait until Monday night to take action. His heart raced in anticipation.
Richard thought back to the trashy redhead he had followed off the California Street stop last night. She was alone and walked several blocks before stepping up to the porch of a two-story clapboard house. He watched as she pulled keys from her purse and unlocked the door.
Now that he knew where she lived, he would keep tabs on her comings and goings for a while before striking. It had to be perfect, and he wanted her death to linger in his mind for weeks.
Richard would do nearly anything to record the murders, but that would require a partner. Just the thought of watching the killings over and over again nearly sent him into an excited frenzy, but bringing someone else into the fold would be a dangerous move.
I’ve got to think things through before I risk doing that. Even though I want more, maybe the still shots have to be good enough.
Richard set his laptop on the kitchen table and browsed the Chicago PD websites in the districts nearest the Ninety-Fifth Street Red Line station. Those four cops he’d taken pictures of had to work in that area. With a cold brew in hand, Richard scoured three separate districts until he found them, and all four were detectives who worked at the second district Wentworth station. “Gotcha!”
Clearly pleased with himself, Richard tapped the information into the Notes folder on his phone. He wanted their names, ranks, and the station they worked at available to view at all times. With further searching, he would likely find out where each one lived too. With their faces and information at his fingertips, he was set.
With a smile plastered across his face, Richard shut off his computer, plopped down on a couch that had seen better days, and pushed the cat aside. “Beat it. All you do is shed everywhere.” He swatted the cushion, and cat hair drifted through the air and gradually made its way to the floor. Getting comfortable, he clicked the remote and turned on the evening news. There could be coverage about Callie’s murder. “That’s odd, no mention of her.” As he rose to grab another beer, the breaking news caught his attention. “What’s this?”
Richard stopped in his tracks and returned to the couch. He leaned forward with concern, his elbows on his knees, and listened to the anchor talk about a murder several blocks west of the Grand Avenue and Halstead Blue Line subway stop. He stared at the facial sketches of two men who ran from the scene of a young woman’s murder late Saturday night. “No way in hell! I’m not about to let two assholes take over my turf. The subways are mine and mine alone.” He paused the TV and grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter. After returning to the living room, Richard took a picture of their images and the descriptions that included their height and weight. “I’ll find both of you and take you out. That’ll teach you not to mess with my ladies.”
Killing the women would be put on hold. First and foremost, he had to eliminate the competition. With a new plan in mind, Richard would ride the Blue Line day and night until he found those men.
They must live in that area. Either I’ll find them or the cops will, but adding two more murders to my plan isn’t the worst idea. I’ve never killed men before, but there’s always a first time for everything.