The+Sterlington+Slaughterhouse

**The Sterlington Slaughterhouse** By Harrison Pyros

 Loud music sounded. Feet bounced on the floor as people danced. Frothy beer spilled out of a drunken college boy’s plastic red cup. The Sterlington house made a great place for a private party.  Mitchell Azlong laughed obnoxiously loud and tipped his head back for another long drink of alcohol. Twin streams of the liquid ran down his cheeks as he stumbled backwards over the wooden coffee table causing uproar of laughs and giggles from the five others in the house.  Delaney Murphy brushed a brunette strand of hair out of her face as her hips swayed to the pulsing music.  Chase Laurence watched as Brianna Fairstone aggressively locked lips with her boyfriend, Ryan Steel. He stifled a laugh and filled up his cup again.  Anthony Breen turned up the already blaring music and smiled at Delaney from across the room. He joined her in dancing. Mitchell tried to join, but couldn’t seem to figure out why the ground kept moving under him or why everything seemed to be so funny.  To step back and look at this type of scene, most people would draw the same conclusion: Typical college students having a good time. Some might say stupid college kids having a good time, or annoying or immature, but that really depends on who you’re asking doesn’t it?  But this scene will be far from typical by morning.  Ryan Steel, basically the leader of the six. He was the top-dog, the one who called the shots, and he knew it and loved it. He had it all: the sexy girlfriend, the rich parents, the cool reputation. He might have even thought he was invincible, untouchable. But he was wrong.  Ryan’s parents were wealthy, easily paying for Ryan’s college education without even a minor setback. They had friends, the Sterlingtons who lived in the area where Ryan and his friends went to school. He asked the Sterlingtons if they could spend the weekend there while they were away. They said yes, completely oblivious to the fact that their house was going to be turned into a party place, and then immediately following that: a crime scene.  But by about two in the morning, all six of the kids stumbled up the stairs to their separate rooms leaving the foul-smelling mess of booze, cheap takeout food, and plastic cups down stairs to be cleaned up in the morning by the maid service. They all lay down in their beds for a peaceful sleep. They would have far from anything of a peaceful sleep.

 Delaney Murphy suddenly woke up to the sounds of torturous screaming. She sat up in the bed that wasn’t hers and stared wide-eyed into the darkness, breathing heavily  What was going on? Had she just imagined that scream? And then there is was again. That same agonizing scream.  Delaney quickly slid out of bed from under the covers and stumbled almost blindly through the darkened room. Faint silver moonlight drifted through the window into her room.  She ran her fingers along the wall then the door, and when found, turned the doorknob and crept across the hall to Brianna Fairstone’s room. Had Brianna heard the scream? Was she all right? <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She opened Brianna’s door and flicked on the light. Delaney squinted at the bright lights in Brianna’s room and it took a few seconds for her blue eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> And then there she was: Brianna Fairstone lying face-down on the desk with the vanity mirror. Not moving at all. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Brianna?” Delaney asked hesitantly in a faint voice. “Bree?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She quickly got over to Brianna and laid a hand on her shoulder as if to wake her up. Something cold and sticky met the tips of her fingers and Delaney flinched and withdrew her hand. And then she saw it. The blood. Everywhere. On her hand, on the desk, and mostly: on Brianna. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> A long, jagged gash stretched from one side of the girl’s neck to the other. Fresh, red blood still dripped from the wound, across the desk and onto the floor. It make a faint //plink, plink, plink// sound as the small drops hit the ground. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Her eyes stared out ahead and her head was carelessly positioned on the desk, almost dropped, so her cheek lay in the wooden desk. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> A choked sound came from Delaney’s throat as she stumbled backwards, her eyes still locked on the sight of the dead girl. She couldn’t scream; she just couldn’t. Her chest heaved and her back thumped against the wall. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She slammed her palm against the light switch, engulfing the room in darkness again and stumbled out the door. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Run. Just run. Get the hell out of this house. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Her bare feet thumped against the carpet of the hallway as she frantically sprinted down the hall, her knee-length baby-blue night gown stuck close to her body. She was close to tears. Her mouth was twisted in fear. She could still feel some of Brianna’s blood on her hand. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Her foot caught onto something and she fell forward, face first to the floor. She gasped for breath, inhaling a foul stench. She pressed her hands to the floor to hoist herself back up, but she froze when she felt the damp carpet. Her arms were suddenly wet and cold and her nightgown stuck to her skin where the wet patches were. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney whipped around and saw the body of Mitchell Azlong lying dead in the hallway. His blood covered her arms and nightgown and small beads of it dripped off her index finger. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> This time, Delaney couldn’t hold it back. She let out a horrifying scream. It echoed through the house as she screamed at the terrible sight of her murdered friend. She stared at her arms covered in the boy’s blood in shock. Her eyes widened with fear, she didn’t know if she was going to faint or retch. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She hastily turned and got to her feet, the pressure making a squishing noise from the rug, the blood pressing against her bare white feet. Delaney ran down the hall sobbing, tears running down her face. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> How many more? How many more bodies were there? Where were Chase, and Anthony, and Ryan? Were they dead? What was going on? <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> And then Delaney came to a skidding halt at the end of the hallway near the staircase. On the banister was a cut rope, the end was crimson. But that wasn’t the thing she was looking at. She was looking at the person dressed in black with a mask over their face walking up the stairs, probably investigating her scream. In their hand, they gripped a dripping kitchen knife. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney choked on her own fear. Her breath caught in her throat and for a second she couldn’t breathe. Her knees felt weak and her head felt dizzy. Her eyes flashed to the side and caught a glance of a body lying near the fireplace, its face on the now cooling metal grates. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Finally, a gasp-like sputter escaped from her and the tears began to flow more rapidly. They splashed down her cheeks and neck and absorbed into her bloodstained nightgown. And then the person in black saw her. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> They rushed at Delaney and slashed the knife. It passed in front of her face and she literally felt someone else’s blood from the knife splatter her face. And that’s when she ran. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney Murphy sprinted back down the hall, back toward Mitchell’s body and Brianna’s room. She screamed at the top of her voice. The alarm of the sound could only describe one thing, and that thing was exactly what it was: bloody murder. Her foot splashed in a puddle near Mitchell Azlong’s body, but she kept going. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She could hear the footsteps and the breathing of the person behind her: Their feet thundering against the hallway, slowly closing the distance between them. Her heart sounded in her ears. Her breaths were quick and ragged. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She turned into her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Her fingers fumbled with the little lock as she struggled to barricade herself away from this psycho. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She backed away from the door, locked. But it wouldn’t hold for long. The person smashed against it. In response, Delaney let out an ear-piercing scream. She fell back onto the floor and crawled away from the door. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Let me in!” they bellowed. “Let me in!” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Help me!” Delaney yelled. Her voice was hoarse. “Someone help me, please!” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The wood splintered as the person rammed the kitchen knife into the door. The tip of the knife shone through the wooden door. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Go away!” she screamed. “Get away from me.” Another stab at the door. “I don’t want to die. Oh God, please.” The wood splintered some more. “No, no, no, no, no.” Delaney pressed her hands to her ears, her tears still coming, her nightgown still bloody, as she was curled up in the corner. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Open the door,” the commanded and a forceful thump rattled the damaged door. This time they were kicking. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No!” Delaney screamed one last time. She sprang up and grabbed a chair. She wound up and then through the wooden chair at the glass window. It shattered the glass and ricocheted off the roof before disappearing over the side. Delaney stepped out onto the roof and looked down below. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The swimming pool was placed below, its chlorine-filled water shimmering with the moonlight. Delaney neared closer to the end. The person was pounding against the door. She took on last look behind her and then jumped. Jumped for freedom. Jumped for sanity. Jumped for her life. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Her body crashed into the water below sending up a geyser of water as tiny bubbles surrounded her underneath the surface. Her head broke the surface as the water around her started to spread out with red from her nightgown and hands. Delaney looked up at the window and saw the masked person come into view. They stared at her with their eyes hidden behind a mask as she treaded water in the bloodying pool. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney then broke for the side. At the same time, the masked person disappeared from the window. Delaney’s wet hand slapped the cool cement as she hoisted herself out of the pool. Her nightgown stuck close to her lean body and her bare feet thudded against the pavement as she ran for the fence. She dug her toes into the small holes, slipping the first few times, and started to climb. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Each second she took, it gave another second for the masked person to catch up. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney Murphy then flopped over the Sterlington’s back fence into the bushes and went screaming down the street. Screaming murder.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet McKenzie stepped out of the car with Fred in Richmond, Virginia and looked at the scene that was already named by the news channels, “The Sterlington Slaughterhouse.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet walked along the winding walkway with Fred at her side. Police and crime scene officials already infested the scene, as the ones of top importance barked order at the others who obediently obeyed. People rushed every which ways, doing their jobs, reassuring others, and the Herculean task of keeping the news reporters off the property. Nothing like a quintuple homicide to get them all riled up. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “So how many bit it, again?” Janet asked as they neared the door. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Five,” he replied. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet raised her eyebrows. “Damn. Who’d they piss off?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “That’s what we’re here to figure out, right?” said Spencer Tang. He stood at the doorway and smiled in greeting at Fred and Janet. Spencer was the new detective as of one and a half months ago. He was a promising young man of about twenty-three, contrary of age to Janet and Fred who were both in their early forties, who thought a lot like Janet herself, but at least had the decency not to point out everyone’s flaws. Janet, on the other hand, could care less what people thought of her. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Hey, Spencer,” Janet said. “You beat us here.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Well you do drive like an old lady,” he replied. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I was driving,” Fred informed. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Spencer smiled. “I know.” Fred smiled and shook his head. “You know the details?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Not yet,” Janet replied. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “All right,” he said as he turned back into the house. “I’ll show you the massacre.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> An officer walked by and commented, “Watch out. It’s a bloodbath in there.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet rolled her eyes. “I think I can handle it.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Me too,” Fred put in. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I wasn’t talking about you two,” the officer corrected. “I was talking about Skippy over there.” He jerked his thumb over towards Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Hey,” Spencer defended. “I investigated the Schoolyard Murders.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh,” the officer replied surprised. “My apologies.” He retreated back inside the house as the trio of detectives followed a few seconds later. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet asked, “What were the Schoolyard Murders?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Are you kidding me?” Fred asked. “What, do you live under a rock?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Sorry,” Janet said unapologetically. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “There was this huge book about it,” Fred went on. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What’s so special about it?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> This time it was Spencer who answered. “It was a series of murders that ended in a massacre. In the end, there were over about twenty deaths.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh God,” commented Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “And the worst part is most of them were only teenagers.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet sadly shook her head as a mental image of her 16-year-old son, Joshua, popped up in her head. “Terrible.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> As they walked into the house, they were greeted with the overwhelming stench of blood. It shot up the nostrils and made you want to gag. Fred and Spencer coughed a little as Janet turned her head to the side. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What’ve we got here?” asked Janet with her head still to the side. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> When you entered the house you stepped into the elaborately decorated front room. The furniture had been moved to the side as if to make an improvised dance floor. Directly to the left was the open kitchen with granite countertops and expensive looking appliances. The countertops were littered with red, plastic cups and there was spilt liquid, most likely beer or hard alcohol, in tiny puddles in some places. And a little to the right of the center was the staircase leading upstairs. There was a hallway leading past the staircase to other rooms of the house. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> But it wasn’t the décor that caught the attention of Janet and Fred. It was the mutilated body lying near the fireplace in the front room. It was facedown, its arms spread out and one of its legs contorted at an impossible angle. The hair atop its head was covered with dried blood, probably due to the deep gash in the back of its head and the side of its face seemed to be severely burned. And scrawled above in what looked like blood and little pieces of ash was the words: burn in hell. Small lines dripped down from the letters onto the pristine white mantel of the fireplace. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “This,” Spencer said as he walked towards the body, “was Ryan Steel.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What the hell happened to him?” asked Fred. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “He was the last to go, and his death is probably the most gruesome in the house,” started Spencer. “This is what I think happened.”

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Ryan Steel ran down the hallway, not daring to look back at Mitchell’s body. The killer ran after him as he stumbled towards the staircase. His feet blindly trying to calculate where the next step was, and his hand trying to speedily guide him using the rail, he was bound to fall. But he didn’t fall. He was pushed. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The killer’s hand collided with his back, and Ryan fell forward, going towards the sharp teeth of the stairs. His shoulder collided with it first, then his head, as he rolled down the jagged steps. He thumped to the bottom, disoriented and in pain. And after a few seconds, he felt a pair of hands latch onto his wrists and start to pull him up. Back up the stairs. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The rhythm of the stairs bumped against his back as the killer quietly dragged Ryan back up. His lungs wheezed for air as his back bounced against the steps. One side of his face was starting to swell and finally the ground smoothed out and he was back at the top of the stairs. The killer slipped something around his neck and Ryan felt it tighten. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No. Please,” he whispered. “Please. I’ll do anything.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You’ve already done enough,” they replied with venom. With sudden force, they tightened the rope around Ryan’s neck. It pressed on his windpipe and cut off what he was about to say. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The killer forced him up and pushed him up against the short wooden banister. His frame hunched over and made him look down at the floor below. Such a long drop. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You will pay for your sins,” he heard them say behind him. Their hands grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved him over the railing. But Ryan Steel only fell for about half a second. And when that half second was up, that scratchy rope yanked him back up. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The rope propelled up and Ryan felt his teeth shatter as the rope forced his jaw closed. He could almost feel the skin and muscles in his neck stretch and break with the horrible tension. He was a squirming, wiggling figure suspended in midair by a brown rope, desperately searching for air. His legs kicked, his arms flailed, his eyes grew bloodshot, and he begged for it to end. He would not get his wish. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The killer, watching with satisfaction, raised the bloodied knife and cut the rope tied securely to the banister. As it sliced through the final fibers, Ryan Steel plummeted down. Down, down, down. Down until he collided with the solid floor, giving no relief. The killer heard the snap from where they were standing, but no scream reached their ears. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Ryan coughed and sputtered, holding his throat and staring at his leg in horror, it bent and twisted in ways not even a contortionist could perform. Tears spilled down his face as pain exploded from his leg to his brain. And past the rasping his throat uttered, he heard the person walking down the stairs. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> He desperately tried to crawl away, trying to get away from the nearing psychopath. The killer swiftly walked in front of him and looked down at him through their dark mask. They cocked their head to the side and stared at Ryan. They then retreated behind him and he felt the latch of their hands around his ankle. And once again, he was being dragged. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No,” he barely whispered. His leg throbbed with pain. Blood swam in his mouth. His throat felt like someone had stuffed wads of cotton down it. Part of his bone grated against the floor. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> They dropped his feet at the turned his body around. He was facing the fireplace. They twisted the silver knob and the gas-induced flames instantly popped up in the fireplace. The vertical blue flames heated the metal rack where the wood was laid. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Ryan wheezed. “Oh, no, please,” he begged. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> They didn’t even respond. All they did was grab a handful of his black hair, pull his head back, and press his face against the blistering metal. And suddenly, Ryan Steel had his voice back. An inhuman scream ripped itself from his throat as the metal scared away his flesh and its heat sunk into the marrow of his bones. His limbs and body flailed in agony as the killer leaned against Ryan’s head to keep it in place. Scream and scream and scream. That’s all Ryan could do. Burn and burn and burn. That all that happened. Pain sinking deeper into his body, intensifying, growing, taking over. He could feel his life ebbing away. How much longer? How much long till it’s all over? <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> And then it was ended when the blade entered his head.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet looked at the body with Fred by her side. She caught onto little details, but the most interesting to her was the message, written crudely above the fireplace and body. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What do you think?” asked Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Well,” Janet started, “Steel looks like he’s only about 5’8, 5’10 tallest. And he’s pretty lean.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Meaning he’d have been easier to control. And a fair match, if he hadn’t been pushed down stairs at the beginning, if the person were of his size,” Fred observed. Janet nodded. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “It actually could have been a taller woman,” commented Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “A //woman//?” sputtered Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Absolutely.” Janet looked him in the eye. “Not all of us are rainbows and ponies.” Spencer shrugged an agreement. “But what really nags at me is the message. Burn in hell… Religious, maybe?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Obviously a crime of passion, revenge.” Fred put in his thought. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet looked behind her. She pointed at the cut rope still attached to the banister. “You will hang for your sins,”—her finger moved down to the floor and it followed the small drops of blood—“and be dragged to hell,”—she pointed in front at the fireplace—“where you will burn.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Huh,” Spencer commented, impressed. “I never saw that.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Show us the rest of the tour,” Fred said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Obediently, Spencer Tang turned heel and led Janet and Fred up the stairs and down the hall. The first body they encountered was lying spare in the middle of the hallway. Mitchell Azlong. The body Delaney Murphy fell over. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Mitchell Azlong. He was the fourth,” Spencer said gesturing to the body. “Not to say here. Heard what happened with the other three, most likely Anthony Breen, went into the hall and the killer surprised him. Four stab wounds in the back. Same knife. Just left him here.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “We’ll see if they can get anything off the body,” Fred said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Spencer nodded and they moved to the next room, carefully avoiding the bloody foot and boot-prints in the hallway. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Chase Laurence,” Spencer announced as he motioned to the figure lying in the bed. The pristine white sheets were now deep red and the room reeked of the scent of blood like the rest of the house. “The third.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Literally murdered in his bed,” commented Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Fred hypothesized: “Killer came in, covered his mouth so he wouldn’t scream, and stabbed him through the sheets. And then moved on.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “That’s what I thought,” Spencer said. “They’re trying to get something off the bodies. Let’s move onto the next one.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> They walked some more down the hall, again avoiding the prints, and turned into another room. A body hung hallway out of a broken window, dried blood leaving stains on the wall. The corner of the dresser across the room was completely red. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Anthony Breen,” Spencer announced. “The second.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet knew what happened at first glance. “Killer came in, stabbed him once or twice while he slept, dragged him out and slammed his head into the dresser corner and through him into the window. Really hated this guy. Have you considered these murders could be the doings of a cult?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Spencer nodded, “Yeah. But the girl Delaney Murphy said there was only one person.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet’s brow furrowed. “Weird. Someone had it out for these kids.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Fred said, “Let’s get to the last one.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> They walked down to the last victim’s room. Brianna Fairstone was face down in front of the vanity mirror. The now familiar scent of blood met Janet again. Janet walked over to the body. Fred and Spencer followed behind her. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> There was a dried splatter of red across the mirror and on the desk. Brianna’ head was carelessly dropped back onto the desk after the murder. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “This is sick,” Janet said disgusted. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Sicker than what happened to Ryan Steel?” asked Spencer doubtfully. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No. Not even close.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Then what’s so sick. Her throat is cut. Terrible and nasty, yes, I agree, but with everything else that happened here, what’s so special about it?” asked Fred. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “The killer made Brianna watch as her own throat was cut,” Janet said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh, God!” exclaimed Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “They pulled her out of bed, dragged her over to the mirror, made sure the light was on, and cut her throat so she saw herself dying in the mirror. Then they just dropped her and turned out the light to go on to Anthony’s room,” Janet explained. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Fred shuddered. Spencer looked the other way, but Janet couldn’t take her eyes off the body. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Let’s go back to the police station,” she said without looking away. “I want to get out of here.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Fred nodded and covered his nose like he was just noticing the smell. Janet ripped her gaze away from the body and the trio was soon outside and in their cars headed for the station.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I want to know everything about these kids,” Janet said to Fred and Spencer. “I want to know why they were killed and who had it out for them. I want names. I want addresses. I want them here so I can find out why the hell they slaughtered those kids. Okay?” Fred and Spencer both nodded. In a lighter, nicer tone, Janet added, “And I want some coffee. Where do they keep the stuff?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I don’t know,” admitted Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Just use your coffee radar to lead you to it,” Fred replied. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet rolled her eyes. “When you get something, come to me. I’ll call you both if I find anything.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet swiftly walked out of the room, Fred and Spencer going towards the databases and computers. Janet, on the other hand, was getting her miracle-juice, also known as coffee. She was soon slipping on a steaming cup of Joe, the directions given to her by a passing by officer. Janet sat down at the computer, detailed notes about the five victims written down on a notepad next to her along with her coffee. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">As she searched she found out things about the victims. They all were attending the same college, and were old high school friends. Mitchell Azlong was suspended once during his high school career for flipping the chemistry teacher the bird. There were a few more unimportant, but interesting things that she read, but one thing stood out. There was a girl who was suspended for a week for being in a fight with Brianna Fairstone. The girl had apparently given Brianna a black eye and knocks out one of her back teeth, a tooth that was hurriedly fixed in the following days. The girl’s name was Naira Leonards. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Nay-ruh?” asked Janet to herself. “What kind of name is that?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">She read on. The girl, Naira Leonards, claimed to be the recipient to constant bullying of Brianna and the other five victims. She had told the principal she had finally snapped and decked Brianna. “She deserved it. Every last punch.” That was what she had told the principal. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet got up. Naira went to a college separate the five victims, but the place she was staying was close to their college. They could have easily run into each other on the street or in a coffee bar. The old hatred sparks again as taunting and the teasing starts, and finally Naira snaps. Janet would see what she had to say. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">As she walked down the hallway with the papers in her hand, she whipped out her phone and hit speed dial for Fred. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Hey, I got something,” she said when he picked up. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Me too,” he replied. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Good. Where are you?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Turn around, genius.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet turned around and Fred waved from the room they were in before. Spencer sat at a table with a small stack of his own papers. Janet snapped the phone shut and went inside. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“What’ve you got?” Spencer asked. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Girl who was bullied. Got into a fight with Brianna. She lives near here,” Janet said placing down the papers. “Her name’s Nay-ruh Leonards.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Nay-ruh?” Spencer asked skeptically. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Fred leaned over and looked at the papers. “It’s pronounced //Nie//-ruh.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“How do you know that?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Fred pointed at something on the paper. “The pronunciation.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh. That makes more sense,” she said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “So you think Naira Leonards, after two years, goes and murders five of the people who used to bully her?” asked Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“People hold grudges,” Janet said. “What have you got?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Back in high school,” Fred started, “the group of five was not very good people. In fact, they were horrible people. Bullies. Teasers. Rumor-spreaders. Just evil people. Basically sadists. They drove one kid so bad into depression, he went and hung himself. The five weren’t held responsible due to lack of evidence. There were just stories. The sister, Jordan Mendler, lives near here.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“So does the best friend,” said Spencer, sliding over his papers. “After the kid, Franklin Mendler, killed himself, Karl Heller, the friend, rammed his car into Ryan Steel’s. Ryan wasn’t in the car and Karl claimed that he lost control of the wheel. He is later to have said to the school consular, ‘I only wish Ryan was in that car at the time.’ Karl also is very close to where the Sterlington’s is.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Good,” said Janet. “I want them brought in. What about the Franklin Mendler’s parents?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Living up in New York,” replied Fred. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Well, we know that this has something to do with what happened in high school. We just have to find out exactly what,” Janet thought aloud. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Wait,” interrupted Spencer. “How do you know this has something to do with high school?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Well, it’s obvious,” said Janet. She took out a piece of paper, and aerial view of the hallway back at the Sterlington’s. She pointed as she spoke. “Delaney Murphy’s room was directly across from Brianna’s room, and Brianna was the first to go. From there, the killer worked their way down the hall. But why didn’t they go across the hall and kill Delaney? Because they didn’t care about her. She wasn’t friends with the five until college. She didn’t go to the same high school, correct?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“That’s correct,” replied Fred. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“So they had no score to settle with her. It was something that happened in high school and the killer didn’t want to kill someone who had nothing to do with it. That’s why they skipped her room.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Then why did they chase her later like Delaney said?” asked Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Maybe they didn’t plan on her waking up and coming out of bed,” Janet said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“With all the torture they inflicted on Ryan Steel? With all that screaming? The only way Delaney wouldn’t have woken up is if she was deaf or dead,” put in Fred. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Maybe they just meant to knock her out so she couldn’t call for help before they could get away,” suggested Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“But Delaney did get away and they had to book it out of there,” said Spencer. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“But not before burning the gloves and boots in the fireplace. And placing the knife back in the rack,” Fred said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“All right,” Janet said. “Let’s get the three. I want them here so I can talk to them. Let’s go.”

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Delaney Murphy sat in a chair across the table from Janet. She was slouched, her eyes directed towards the floor, and her brunette hair hung down in her face. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Are you sure?” asked Janet. She was trying to see if Delaney would remember anything else while Spencer and Fred were bringing in their three suspects. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Yes,” she responded in a weak voice. “I told the police everything that happened.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet gently laid a hand on Delaney’s arm. In response, Delaney jumped. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I’m sorry,” Janet apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“It’s okay,” she replied in her now usual weak voice. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">After a pause, Janet asked, “Are you okay?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Delaney looked at her with her blue eyes. “Physically: yes. Emotionally: I think you can answer that yourself.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet looked away and didn’t press any further. “I want you to go home,” she said at last. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“That’s all I’ve been asking for,” Delaney said thankfully.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet McKenzie laid five pictures, one of each victim before they were murdered, out on the table. Equally spaced for each other, she took a step back. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“They look familiar?” she asked. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Naira Leonards looked at the five pictures in disgust. She was an average woman of about 5’7 and had a daunting manner. But it was her rosy round cheeks and soft eyes that gave her a look of innocence and a non-threatening little girl, even though she was twenty. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Unfortunately,” Naira replied. “Why?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“They’re dead,” Janet replied bluntly. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Naira sat in silence for a little while and then broke it by uttering a small laugh. “Finally.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet’s eyebrows raised in interest at the girl’s reaction. “Are you glad they’re all dead?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Of course I am,” Naira said, showing no respect for the dead. “They had it coming for a //long// time.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I agree that they weren’t the kindest of people. And Brianna wasn’t the sweetest of girls.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Brianna was a bitch,” Naira said openly. “And all the rest were assholes.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“You have some strong opinions.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“You would too if you were harassed every single day until you finally had to knock the damn broad’s teeth out to make her shut up.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“High school is brutal, I agree. But some stuff just happens,” Janet said, not mentioning how she had “accidentally” dropped the shot put on the evil girl of the school: Hillary Ridgeway. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I doubt you had to deal with what I had to,” Naira huffed. And when asked, Naira Leonards explained the grueling strategy the five had used on her and so many others. It first started with the kind gestures, nicely accepting her into their crowd of friends. Of “somebodies.” How they would soon become your friends, not knowing it was all a lie. You would feel comfortable sharing secrets with them and gossiping. And then it all ends in a horrible public humiliation, followed by days, sometimes weeks of taunting the whole school plays a part in. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Because of them,” Naira continued, “a kid actually committed suicide. It was that bad. And then those five just got to walk away. Everyone knew they had caused it, but they couldn’t pin it on them.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Were you the only one who stood up to them?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“No,” she said. “There was one kid who beat the hell out of Ryan. Hilarious to watch. Grabbed his head and just kneed him in the face. He broke Ryan’s face in three places. He was suspended for like a week or something. But he said it was totally worth it.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Was it worth it for you to punch Brianna?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Without a doubt. But a lot of kids just broke down. One kid moved away, another didn’t really do anything, and then there was the kid who hung himself. It was so sad…” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">With a turn of subject, Janet asked, “Naira, where were you last night?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“What, am I a suspect?” she asked. When Janet didn’t respond, naira sighed and said, “I was at my place.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Can anyone confirm you were there the entire time?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“No. My roommate is visiting her brother in Ohio or something.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet sat down and folded her hands together. “So here’s what I think: You hate all five of the victims with a burning passion, if I’m not mistaken. Now say you ran into them, at a public place: the mall, a club, a place where a lot of your classmates and friends would be. The five see you and they say something. Something terribly embarrassing and infuriating. In front of all you friends. And then, that old burning hatred returns, hotter than ever. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“You follow them to where they are staying and wait until they go to sleep. Then you go to the house and slip inside. The doors are unlocked; no drunken college kid is going to remember to lock the doors. So you take a knife from the rack, the biggest one, the one we found later, and set about to your bloody business. You skip Delaney Murphy’s room; she wasn’t there for the harassment in high school. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“When you are finished, you find that Delaney has awoken. You decide, she probably is as bad as the others if she is actually friends with them. She deserves to die just as much as the others. But you fail and she escapes and you have to make a speedy getaway. You quickly set to lighting the boots and gloves on fire and putting back the knife, not even bothering to clean it. Then you book it out of there before anyone sees you.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Naira stared at Janet for a while. She opened her mouth and said, “I wish I could’ve done what happened to them. But I didn’t. I didn’t touch the bastards. I wish I could’ve done it, I really do. But I am innocent. I am not about to throw my life away because of some sadists I had to deal with in high school. Someone else could do that.”—she got up—“Are we done here?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Yes. You can go.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Naira Leonards walked to the door and turned around with her hand on the knob. “I hope they //suffered//,” she said and then left.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Jordan Mendler sat in the seat Naira was placed in not twenty minutes before. Her brown hair hung to her shoulders and her thin figure slouched. Her hands rubbed together as she waited for Janet to begin speaking. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet pointed to the five pictures. “Do you know these people?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">The girl’s pink lips barely parted in her response. “Yes.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Well, they’re all dead.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">This caught Jordan off guard. She sat up and quickly crossed herself, trying to recover from shock. She looked up at Janet. “And you think I did it?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I never said that,” Janet said truthfully. “But I want to know if you care if they are dead.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“You should always care when a life is lost.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I would have thought you would be glad your brother’s harassers are dead.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Jordan looked the detective in the eye. “It is a terrible thing to be thankful someone died.” She paused and looked down, avoiding Janet’s eye. She said after a silence and shaky sigh, “Yes. Deep inside I am glad they are dead. How—what happened?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“They were murdered. Brutally.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Jordan placed a small hand to her mouth. “My, God…Do you know who did it?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“No,” Janet said. “Not yet.” Janet sat down. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Why am I here? Am I a suspect?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Jordan, can you tell where you were last night?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I was in my dorm, studying.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Can anyone confirm that?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“My roommate. She was there with me the whole time.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet nodded. “Do you hate Ryan Steel and the others?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Hate is such a strong word. So carelessly tossed around. I don’t hate anyone.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“So you //don’t// hate the people who drove your brother to kill himself?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Are you //trying// to anger me, Detective McKenzie? Is that your plan? So you can see what I really feel?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“What do you really feel, Jordan?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Jordan stared at the detective for a little while longer, neither daring to blink. Finally, it was Jordan to turn away. “Relief. I feel relief.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Relief for what?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Relief that they are finally dead.” She turned to Janet again. “You are right, detective. I truly hate Ryan Steel, and Brianna Fairstone, and all the others. And I feel sick because of what I’m feeling. I don’t like feeling this way. I thought it was all behind me, that it had gone away. But it never left. It’s still there; the eternal damn stone in the pit of my stomach.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Did you kill them, Jordan? Did you kill them so you could feel relief?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“No,” she denied. “Never. I would never.” She shook her head. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“I was a horrible thing they did to your brother,” Janet said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Frankie took the wrong choice,” Frankie’s sister said defiantly. “What Ryan and the others did was terrible, but Frankie never should have done that. Never. He was wrong and he was stupid.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“What can you tell me about Karl?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Karl? Oh, poor Karl,” Jordan shook her head again. “It really got to him: losing his best friend. He took it harder than I did, if that’s possible. But unlike me, he acted in violence.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“He rammed his car into Ryan Steel’s.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“Yes. Karl, he was always so protective and nice and polite. And then Frankie hung himself and he just grew more and more distant, shutting nearing everyone out. I haven’t talked to him in two years.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet pursed her lips in thought. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “May I go now?” asked Jordan. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yes,” replied Janet. Jordan left and exited, and Janet didn’t even care she didn’t get to share her theory on how and why Jordan would have done it. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Spencer Tang came in about a minute later. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Why didn’t you say how she did it?” he asked. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I…” Janet paused in thought. “I don’t think she did it.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Not even a chance?” His dark fingers knitted together. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I highly doubt Jordan Mendler would slaughter five people. No matter what they did to her brother.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> All Spencer gave was a small, “Huh.” He had his own suspicions. “Do you want me to bring in Karl Heller?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Could you get me some coffee first?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Spencer chuckled. “Yeah, sure.” He left and was soon back with a steaming cup of coffee, prepared just how Janet McKenzie liked it. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Thanks,” she said as she sipped it. “You can bring him in.”As Spencer was leading Karl Mendler into the room, actions elsewhere were going on. Deadly actions.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Delaney Murphy was at her house. Two cops watched over the building day and night. They tried to convince her that she was perfectly safe and that the killer didn’t want her. How was she supposed to believe that when they were constantly guarding her? <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The clock on the wall ticked in rhythm. It was silent and the eerie ticking almost echoed in the house. The second hand ticked by, the minute hand going slowly at a pace. A number on a digital clock changed. A light bulb flickered and then regained normality. Silence. Everything was silent. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> And that’s when the flaming bottle of vodka crashed through her back window.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet stared at the young man across from her. He stared right back with his dark, almost bottomless eyes. Karl Heller was not one to be intimidated. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Once again, Janet laid out the five pictures of the victims. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You know ’em?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yeah, why? They kill another kid?” he said bitterly. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No. They’re dead.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Karl was silent for a second or two. Then he jumped out of his chair and howled at the ceiling. “Yes!” he cheered. “Yes, yes, yes! Finally! Thank God.” He laughed with glee and relief until his eyes watered up and tears fell down his face. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “So,” Janet said, “you weren’t fond of them.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What gave it away, lady?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Your reaction was not a usual one when you are a suspect in a murder. Especially murders like these.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh, so I’m a suspect?” Karl asked, more interested than surprised. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yes. Yes, you are.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “And just because I rammed my car into Asshole’s two years ago?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I’m guessing you are referring to Ryan Steel.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh, that’s right. You never met Ryan so you wouldn’t understand how much that name fits him,” Karl replied. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Do you hate Ryan and the others?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Absolutely. To no avail.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I’m going to ask this bluntly,” Janet said. “If you got the chance, would you kill them?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Karl’s dark face against his dark, Spanish skin was neutral. “Yes.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You do not lie,” Janet said. “Did you kill them?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No,” Karl said. “But I wanted to. I wished Ryan was in that car when I crashed into it. I hoped he was in there so I could hear him screaming for help and then I wouldn’t do anything. Just let him die. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Do you know how many dreams and nightmares I’ve had of killing them and them killing me? I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, and I’m screaming. I am screaming and I hadn’t seen them in two years. It’s haunted me ever since.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You saw them, didn’t you?” Janet said, completely interested in the young man. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yes,” Karl said. “Yes, I saw them. I was in my car. I saw them in the parking garage at the movie theater. It was empty. All I needed to do was press my foot down on the pedal and all those nightmares would be over. I could do what I wanted to do two years ago. Frankie would finally be avenged.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “But you didn’t.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No.” He looked away. “I wanted to. I wanted to so badly it hurt. It literally hurt my insides. I felt everything tense up and squish together like I was being compressed. I wanted to so badly, but I didn’t.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I think you did. You didn’t run them over though,” Janet said and slipped into the chair. “You waited for the night. You wanted to be close and you wanted to kill them by hand. You wanted to see their faces when you killed them.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yes, Karl. You snuck in, the doors were unlocked. You took a knife from the kitchen and you started with Brianna. You saved Ryan for last and made sure he suffered. Didn’t you, Karl? <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “But then Delaney put herself in the picture. She never did anything to Frankie. You didn’t want to hurt her. But then you realize she is just like Ryan and Brianna and all the others. She with them, she is them, and she deserves to die. That was your thought process, wasn’t it Karl?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “That’s not true.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh, but it is,” Janet insisted. “But Delaney got away and you realized what you’d done. You burn your gloves and your boots and ditched the knife. Then you probably went back to your place and burnt all your clothes. But you did it. I know you did.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You are a liar,” he seethed. “I didn’t kill anyone.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You can go now, Karl,” Janet said politely. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Karl stood up. “What is wrong with you?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I have my methods.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Karl turned around at the door. “Go to hell.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Same to you, Mr. Keller,” Janet replied in a nice tone. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Karl left in a fury.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Delaney stood, wrapped in a blanket, outside her house. The back room had been somewhat torched and the couch was half-way black on one side. The fire engines parked in front of her house caused quite a spectacle and the police told Delaney she was lucky she was alone and in the front of the house. They hadn’t caught who had thrown the vodka bottle. Janet, Fred, and Spencer were on their way to get to the tormented survivor.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">“No,” she said. “No, I can’t go in there.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You have to, Delaney,” urged Janet. “We need to know.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yes you can,” Fred said. He parked the car back in front of the Sterlington’s. “You’ll be all right.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> They all got out of the car, Delaney with difficulty, and started to make their way to the house. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> The bodies were gone; the crime scenes were in process of being cleaned. But when Delaney entered and saw the now-clean fireplace, she turned away and almost burst into tears. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Delaney, you’re all right,” Spencer comforted her. “We don’t need you down here. You don’t have to be down here. We need you upstairs.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> With her face buried into Spencer’s chest, all four made their way up the stairs and to the hallway. They walked down some and Spencer turned Delaney around. He gently took her face from him so she would look up. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Delaney,” Janet said, “when you saw the killer, where was their head? What height?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney’s eyes widened as if she could see what happened before replaying itself in her head. She quickly turned away. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Delaney, please,” Fred begged. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet heard the girl gasp and saw her slowly turn her head back. She was crying. “There,” she said pointing. “Right there. At the top of the picture frame.” She looked away again. “Get me out of here.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What was their voice like, Delaney?” asked Janet. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What did it sound like? What was it? You said they were screaming to let them in,” Fred said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “It was—It was gruff. And—And scratchy.” She waved her waved her hands as she tried to find the right words to describe it. “Get me out of here. Please. Now!” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Spencer hurried her out of the house as Fred and Janet followed behind. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Deep and scratchy,” Fred commented. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “That doesn’t match any of our suspects,” she answered. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “We have the wrong people.”

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Janet McKenzie sat in a chair reading over the transcripts of Naira Leonards, Jordan Mendler, Karl Heller, and the story of Delaney Murphy. She sipped a cup of coffee and placed down the last piece of paper. Something was off. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet’s brow furrowed. She reread again. She thought. She was confused. She was suspicious. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She researched; pulled up files, and then it all made sense. She had figured it out.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;">Karl Heller, Naira Leonards, and Jordan Mendler sat at a table in front of Janet. Janet stood across, Fred and Spencer over to the right. Delaney Murphy sat in a chair, waiting for Janet to tell who the murderer was. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Five kids, slaughtered in a house that wasn’t theirs. Brutal deaths, sadistic deaths. Crimes of passion,” Janet said as she paced in front of the three. “They were horrible people, I will admit that, but they are still people. And people get justice.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Frankie didn’t get justice,” Karl said bitterly. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Oh, yes he did,” Janet said. “He got justice when those kids were killed the way they were killed. And it is my job to figure out who gave Frankie his ‘justice.’ That’s what I’m here for.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet cleared her throat to get ready for what she was about to explain. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Well?” Naira said impatiently. Her foot tapped beneath the table. “Who was it? Who killed them?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “To answer your question, Naira,” Janet said. “It was you.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Me?” Naira stared in disbelief. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No,” Janet said and turned around. “You.” She pointed directly at Delaney Murphy. “You killed them Delaney and I know why and how.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney remained perfectly calm. She knew she was caught so why fight it? “Then amuse me,” she said. “Tell me why and how.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “That whole story about you being chased by the killer? That was made up. That was crap. You wanted to look like the only survivor. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “It all started back in high school with a boy named Franklin Mendler. You loved him, Delaney, didn’t you? You two were secretly dating each other, falling in love, making plans for the future. And then that was all ripped away from you when he killed himself. You were shocked and scared and angry and sad and everything in between. And then you heard of the rumor about the group of five. You swore revenge, didn’t you? Bloody revenge. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You forced your way into the five’s lives. Soon they accepted you, a pretty little brunette girl, she would fit right in. And then, during the night, you put on gloves and purposely too-large boots and took a knife from the kitchen. You killed them all in your little nightgown and then ran to the door, stabbed it and when downstairs and burnt everything. Then you went back and did all the things in your story you said you did. That way, there was a set of bloody footprints and bootprints and you had an explanation for all the blood you got on your nightgown. You threw the chair through the window and went downstairs and jumped in the pool and then screaming your face off. You killed them, Delaney.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I want to know,” Delaney said still calm and not admitting she had done it, “how you came to suspect me in the first place.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Well,” Janet started, “you said in your story, you ran barefoot. But then you crashed a chair through the window making glass go everywhere. And then you said you climbed out. Any person without shoes would have cut their feet up, and yet, your feet are perfectly fine. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “From there I went along and thought of the timing of the killer. The killer could have easily gone down the stairs and gotten to you in the pool before you hopped the fence, but you still got away. That’s what I found incredibly odd. So I went I did more of a background check on you. I found that you lived in the same area as Franklin Mendler, but different schools. I found that Franklin was given a parking ticket late at night at a place where it looked like he was headed for your house. He was fined extra for the passenger in the car. You were the passenger, Delaney. And in revenge for the five killing Frankie, you murdered them all. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “To avert attention from yourself, you went into your backyard, stuffed a rag in a vodka bottle, lit it on fire, and threw it through your window. Delaney, when I went to your house later, I noticed in the liquor cabinet there was one bottle missing. That’s when I knew for sure you had done it. And to top it all off, we found your DNA on a piece of the gloves that didn’t burn all the way. We have you so you might as well just confess.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney’s shoulders slouched at the mention of the gloves. Her face was still calm, but her body language was different. It was scared or frantic, it was disappointed. She was disappointed she had been caught. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I might as well,” she said. “Yes, I killed them. I killed them all and it felt good. It felt great. All of them got what they had coming. For what they did to Frankie. I loved him. He was going to ask me to marry him. They shouldn’t have done that to Frankie. If they hadn’t they’d still be living their miserable, pathetic little lives now. I did what someone should have done a long time ago.” She took a breath and regained her composure. “I must say, though. Bravo, Detective McKenzie. You did a fantastic job.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You aren’t mad you got caught?” asked Janet confused. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No,” she said and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You did your job and I can’t blame you for that. You got everything right. Perfectly. I am impressed. But what I did to the others. Those //demons//. For that, I will not apologize or feel the tiniest bit of regret.” She stood up and held out her hands to be handcuffed. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “But don’t you care?” asked Spencer. “You’re going to get the death penalty.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> She sighed. “I’ll be with Frankie, then.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Janet looked at her sadly. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “You think I made the wrong decision,” observed Delaney as the click of handcuffs was heard. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No,” Janet whispered. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney smiled politely at all in the room. Naira suddenly stood up, her chair speaking as it was pushed back. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Delaney,” she said. Delaney turned her head around to look at Naira. “Thank you.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Delaney smiled again. “Goodbye,” she said and was led out of the room. Janet would later hear about her death on the news about a month later. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> As Janet and Fred left the room, she didn’t say a word, just stared at the ground in front of her. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “That thing about the DNA on the glove?” Fred spoke. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Yeah.” Her voice was weak. “I needed her to confess.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You caught her. Why are you so sad?” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “//Because// I caught her. Those were terrible kids. They caused a boy to hang himself. What that girl did, it was…” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “Don’t tell me you think it was justice,” Fred said. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “In a way, it was,” Janet explained. “You won’t get it. In high school, I was Frankie. I was what Naira was. I was picked on because I would notice things and point them out and according to everyone else, I was a freak.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “So what happened?” Fred asked. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “I beat the girl’s face until she spit out her two front teeth. I stopped the harassment before it got really bad. But there are some kids who just can’t stand up for themselves and I hate it. It drives me crazy because kids like Ryan Steel will always be around and always get away with it.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “So you’re suggesting we should all just go around and slaughter all the bullies?” Fred asked sarcastically. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> “No,” Janet said. “We need the kids to step up. To fight for themselves. And we need others to fight for them. That’s what Delaney did for Frankie. She fought for him. She just did it the wrong way. But she still fought for something that is right, she just shouldn’t have ruined her life too by killing them. And that’s why I am sad I caught her.” <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%;"> Fred let the topic go as they walked to the car. As they drove back to their homes in Bucklenn, and Spencer to his home in Songsmith, the case was fresh in their minds. This all happened, seven deaths including Frankie and Delaney, just because she kids thought it was fun to screw with some kid. Seven lives ruined and ended all because of that. And Janet is right, it is a horrible thing.

<span style="display: block; font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 120%; text-align: center;">THE END