Page 10 of Praying Mantis

“I am. I just got here. I felt like I was driving for days and needed a drink.” I smile at him.

“Passing through or moving here?” He keeps licking his lips.

“Passing through unless I see something I like.” I smirk at him. “What about you?”

“I’m from here.” I nod. There’s a loud noise near the jukebox which draws our attention, and I quickly drop Rohypnol into his shot while he’s not staring at the man punching the jukebox because it’s playing another Metallica song. Once he downs it, I wait a couple of minutes to finish my drink. My glass goes into my purse to leave no DNA behind.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask seductively. I train my breathing like the women I watch in bars as they pick up men twirling my hair. “I can get a hotel room for the night.” He nods while shaking his head, trying to shake the cobwebs from him. We leave the booth together and he’s running his hands all over my ass. “Which car is yours?” He points to it. I slowly take out the knife in the waistband of my jeans, in case he tries anything with me.

“Get in the car.” I lean into his ear. He’s so out of it he doesn’t even notice the plastic covering.

“Are you getting in, baby?” His words are loud and slurred. I nod. My purse holds my gloves and I throw on a garbage bag to cover me while I secure the goggles over my eyes.

“Do you know why I picked you tonight, Darren?” His eyes are glassy, and I know he doesn’t care because he’s so out of it. “Men who take the innocence of children make my blood boil. You’re a monster for touching your children. Parents are supposed to care, love, and protect them from the monsters of the world, not be the monsters.” I dig through the murder bag for my compact. “Someone paid me a lot of money to rid the world of you, and I’d probably do it for free. You’re a disgusting human being and I hope you rot in hell.” I pull the serrated wire from the compact and tug on this throat hard. “I’m only going to take your head from your body, but if I had more time, I’d slice your small dick off with a steak knife, so you feel every tear of your skin. As you would whimper, I’d make sure you knew how you were bested by a woman with a bigger dick than you. I don’t know why they always say shit like that because men get a kick or punch to the balls or dick, and they go down in a heartbeat. Vaginas are stronger than dicks any day, you know they can really take a pounding. I’m digressing. You still with me, Darren? After your limp dick is finally removed, I’m going to shove it down your throat.” Staring at his eyes through the rear-view mirror, I watch his go from glassy to terrified to dead. I feel the wire tearing through the skin, muscles, and bone. He doesn’t even scream, which is kind of disappointing but he’s too out of it. As the head falls from his neck onto the center console, his eyes open, void of any emotion, stare back at me, all I can do is smile. The medical box I ship the heads in is sitting out on the backseat next to me; waiting for the head makes me sigh. I almost want this one as a trophy. I despise men like this and especially those who help him get away with it. I put the head in the box and remove all of my toys before heading out. I look around, making sure no one is paying attention to me. I walk the three blocks to my car, toss my wig into the backseat, and drive away. Once my signal jammer beeps, I know I’m almost out of range and turn it off. I have to make sure all the surrounding cameras didn’t get a look at me. I continue my concert back to the city of Boston.

Sean

“We found this guy quickly.” The beat cop speaks to Tony about the call from the hooker and her John for the night. She’s being treated by the ambulance. I bet she’s going to have nightmares for months.

“Do we know why he was here?” I ask.

“He was probably at Mel's. It’s the local dive bar in this part of town. He smells of alcohol.” Not just alcohol, but of his own urine too. This wasn’t like the normal kills. Why are they deviating from their normal hotel killings? Are they getting bolder? Tony and I walk with the cop to the bar. “Is he the owner of the car?”

“Yes. Darren Hitchens.”

“Did you know him?”

“Not personally, but after calling in to run the check on him so they flagged things. CPS, child protective services, has called a lot on him for messing around with his kids, but the social workers always find nothing at the house when she spoke with him and the kids.”

“We’ll need to speak to the social workers assigned to this case. Who reported the abuse?”

“Doctors and nurses from routine visits.” I swallow hard. Jesus fucking Christ. Is this serial killer a vigilante? We walk into the bar, and they turned the lights on bright and everyone was drinking water or soda trying to sober up to talk to us. The cops are interviewing them and taking notes. I appreciate their help. Tony and I walk over to the bartender.

“Are you the only bartender on duty tonight?” Tony asks, pulling out his notepad.

“Yes. I sent Mindy home about three hours ago. Her kid has been sick.” His hands are cleaning the bar top. I can understand needing to stay busy.

“What can you tell us about Darren?” I question him.

“Son of a bitch. I hate the guy. He’s a mean guy, but I can’t do anything about him. He comes in every night after he clocks out of his data entry job, leaving those kids of his to fend for themselves, getting drunk, then going home to do God knows what to him. I’ve called the hotline so many times, but he knows how to charm people. I’m just glad the woman he was with tonight isn’t in the car with him. Of all nights for someone to talk to him.” I snap a look at Tony.

“Did you say a woman? Do you know her? What can you tell us about her?”

“I didn’t know her. We get a lot of new people here because of different festivals. She was tall, curvy, long red hair. She did a couple of tequila shots, then went to talk to Darren. She ordered a rum and Coke. They left shortly after and he was drunk but kept grabbing her ass.”

“Where was he sitting? Did you take his glasses away?” The bartender points to the booth in the back and the table is clean.

“Sorry. After they left, I cleaned up the table.”

“Fuck! We lost DNA here. Hey Tony, where is the crime lab? We can try to get something out of the booth.” Tony’s walking out the bar. I thank the bartender.

“Our first break in the case. She’s a Praying Mantis.” I nod. “You were right, man. A fucking woman the entire time. We need to find what drugs she’s using to subdue them.”

“I bet tonight it was a GHB. It did not paralyze him like the others. He felt everything. She wanted him to feel it. Is she close to the family? Were the other kills leading to this one? So many goddamn questions and not a single fucking answer!” I shout. It’s unprofessional and I know it, but this is damn frustrating.

“We got one clue. It’s a woman,” Tony reminds me, and I want to punch him, but he’s right. We stay at the scene for a few more hours looking over everything and going through statements. We get back to the police officer’s statement. I want to talk to the social workers and figure out how so many people knew he was scum, but they wouldn’t remove the kids.

The coffee in police stations, FBI headquarters are all the same, crap. I want some damn good coffee right now. I’m irritable, and it’s almost three a.m.

---