Slenderman Read online

  “Excuse me,” a man called from the house next door causing Jo to jump again. “Can you move the vehicle? We need to get the street prepped for the trunk-or-treat cars.” The man walked to Redden’s SUV. “I can show you where to park, so you’re not blocked in.”

  “I’ve got this,” Redden said, pulling the car keys from his pocket. “You two go ahead, and I’ll catch up.”

  Ian hefted the backpack on his shoulder, and Jo followed him up the porch to the front door.

  “Jo,” Franklin said, opening the door before they knocked, as if he’d waited for them to appear on the other side.

  He matched Ian in height, but where Ian was muscled, Franklin was wiry.

  “Hi Franklin, this is Interpol Agent Ian Blair—”

  “I thought you were bringing an FBI agent too.” He peered around Ian.

  “We did, but your neighbor asked him to move our car so—”

  “Kyle,” Franklin hollered back into the cavernous house while motioning Ian and Jo into the den.

  The inside of Franklin’s house was nothing like the outside. An innocuous den with a television, sofa, club chairs, and tables scattered across the beige carpet. An archway behind the couch led to a large kitchen with a center island and an eating nook overlooking the back garden.

  She had been to the house several times over the last year, mostly during October and November when Franklin and Linda hosted their murder mystery nights. To the right of the den was a parlor with wingback chairs and a fussy couch. A dark gold and blue oriental area rug took up most of the floor. Down the hallway behind the stairs was the library, done in a more masculine tone of burgundy and navy. Leather chairs, an old globe, bookcases, and a heavy desk was another central location for their murders.

  Upstairs were three bedrooms, two baths, and another den with no television, all used for the murder mystery events. They even had VIP guests who would pay extra to sleep in the guest bedrooms, and the package allowed them to choose which character they wanted to be in the skit. The third floor was off limits as that was the family’s bedrooms. However, their true workshop was in the basement. The murder mysteries were just a side project, though they were renowned for the realistic stories they concocted for their guests to solve. From January until August they traveled the world earning a living as horror specialists. They dealt in bloodwork and special effects. Most of their work dealt with killing for horror movies. It began in the early 1900s with Franklin’s great grandfather and been handed down to Franklin’s father and now Franklin.

  Kyle’s soft tread drew Jo’s attention and broke the silence.

  “Yeah?” Kyle sauntered down the stairs, his skinny black jeans, black t-shirt and black unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt draped over it. Instead of black sneakers, he wore a pair of black socks. “Oh, hey Jo.”

  “Hi, Kyle. Still wearing the same thing as last year. I hope you washed it in between.”

  “Meh. I think Mom washes them when I hit the mall.” He shrugged like it was too tedious to think about while his eyes stayed glued to his cell.

  “Kyle, I need you to hang out here, there’ll be an FBI agent coming up.”

  Kyle blew a long sigh out of his mouth. “Fine. Where do you want me to take the feeb?”

  “The basement.”

  “Whatever.” Kyle spun in his heel and headed for the kitchen.

  Franklin shook his head and walked to a door between the kitchen and stairs. It released a high-pitched squeal when he opened it that caused the hairs on Jo’s arms to stand on end. She knew what was down there and shivered with dread. The family were professionals at setting a stage.

  “Jo,” Kyle called coming around the corner.

  Jo was glad she wouldn’t be going down the basement stairs first as Ian moved ahead of her. She wondered what would be down there this time. Would it be trays of prosthetic skin being dyed for upcoming films? Or dolls with jewel eyes set up as murder victims for this month’s events? Whatever it was it would be fun to capture Ian’s and Redden’s reaction. Digging out her cell, she turned to face Kyle. “Yep?”

  “You think Rian would let me come over for a gaming night? My friends are still in school, and if I have to do one more murder, I’m going to lose it—”

  “I can see how that could get old,” she teased.

  Kyle traveled with his parents and was home-schooled. Instead of time off for the standard summer break his parents set his time off to coincide with their own downtime, starting in October and ending December. These months were dead for Franklin’s and Linda’s industry. All the horror movies came out in October, and most cast and crew enjoyed taking off during the holidays.

  Ian’s eyes all but popped out of his head. “Murder?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean it’s only from September to December, but I’ve carted seventeen dead bodies and set up so much blood spatter I’m ready for a break.”

  Jo grinned as Ian looked to see if the kid was kidding. She left him to guess. “Sure, if it’s okay with your dad.”

  “It’s fine.” Franklin waved Kyle off. “Now go watch the door.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Murder?” Ian whispered to Jo.

  “Yeah, I probably should’ve mentioned . . . Franklin and his family are experts in killing people.”

  Ian stumbled down the last few stairs and released a high-pitched screech. He backed over the last step when he tried to escape the stabbed doll posed in front of them, which sent Jo into peals of laughter. Her cell caught all of it. Narrowed eyes focused on her. “What the hell, Jo?”

  Catching her breath, she held up a finger when she heard the heavy tread of Redden joining them.

  “What are you two—Jesus Christ!” His shout brought a smile to Ian’s lips.

  “Okay, that was funny.” Ian laughed at the gobsmacked expression on Redden’s face.

  Jo kept filming. This would be great fodder to be dragged out later. She couldn’t help but snicker at Redden. “I should’ve told you two that Franklin and his family are masters at horror film killing—”

  “It’s our blood and butter—”

  “Franklin.” Jo groaned at the overused line. One the man spouted whenever he could. She motioned to the basement of horror. “They make a lot of the effects for movies. I met him last Halloween when Sullivan and I almost arrested him for carrying what we thought was a dead body.”

  “This is why you wanted to use him to identify the weapon?” Redden’s hand moved away from his gun, and he joined Ian and Jo at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Well, your guys couldn’t do it. My guys couldn’t do it. I thought we’d come to a knife-wielding expert.” Jo moved deeper into the concrete and cinderblock area toward the big, beat to hell wooden worktable.

  The basement ran the entire length and breadth of the house. From floor to ceiling swords, knives, khopeshes, and numerous other stabbing and bludgeoning instruments hung, lay, and leaned on the shelves and hooks that covered the walls. It wasn’t dank and dark but brilliantly lit with strings of fluorescent bulbs. To the right sat several dummies with different types of kitchen knives stabbed into their arms and wrists.

  “What’re you doing with these?” She flicked a finger in the doll’s direction.

  “Oh, well Linda and I have a small gig in November teaching why sometimes it’s better to leave a knife in someone if they’re stabbed. Rhys asked us to help out with visual aids. He and a few residents will be teaching a class on medical training and safety to college kids at UAB. I think he has a speaking engagement at several daycares with the parents too. They’ve already had a good bit of knife involved accidents from people carving pumpkins, and it’s only the first week of October.”

  She nodded. “I remember him mentioning it. He said two of the people died.”

  “Yeah, i
t’s because they took the knife out when they should’ve left it in. One was in the wrist and the other in the arm.” Franklin gestured at the dolls. “We want to get the spray just right so it’s more realistic when we pull it out and explain why—”

  She was rarely squeamish, but Franklin could get detailed with his work. It was his passion. Holding up her hand, she stopped him. “I think we have the idea.”

  Ian and Redden jolted at how nonchalant Franklin was about what he did. They didn’t know the man was a perfectionist and one of the most well-known blood men in the business.

  “Sorry, you know I can talk about this all day. But that’s not why you’re here.” Franklin motioned to the empty workbench. “Did you bring the caste and photos?”

  Ian took the book bag from his shoulder and dug into it. Passing a box then a file to Franklin, Ian stepped to one side, his head tipped as his gaze roamed over the shelves filled with jars of synthetic blood and fake skin.

  Jo shook her head in amusement as Redden and Ian both explored the space Franklin and his wife, Linda, conducted their experiments in. She leaned on the bench across from her friend as he examined the cast.

  “Huh. Does your guy use something to subdue his victims before he stabs them?” Franklin pulled the pictures from the file and shuffled through them.

  She frowned meeting the others’ gazes before returning to Franklin. “Our Medical Examiners didn’t find any marks to suggest that.”

  Franklin grunted, took the cast and walked to the back corner of the basement. “Did your Medical Examiners say the wound looked like a stiletto? Maybe a shallow dagger?”

  “They suggested a type of dagger. The stiletto is too narrow and long for the wound. As for marks? Other than multiple stab wounds, no other marks were found. No bruising in a struggle and no defensive wounds,” Redden said.

  “Any chemicals in their system?”

  “No, and only the first home had a forced entry. It’s as if they knew the person,” she answered.

  “Maybe. But these wounds, it’s a larger wound like a slice but with the shortness of a dagger piercing when stabbed into the victims. I know this weapon because we did a horror movie a few years ago based around the Roman era.” Franklin returned carrying a satchel. “I think the first wound killed the victim.”

  Redden’s jaw dropped open. “Roman? Like Julius Caesar?”

  “Holy shit,” Ian whispered. “Like the play where Julius’s friend Brutus kills him?”

  “Exactly.” With a flourish, Franklin rolled out a soft leather case filled with daggers. “My bet is, your killer stabbed his victims in the back. Probably in the kidney so they didn’t bleed out right away, and he made the other wounds to hide a taser’s distinctive marking.”

  Jo touched one with an intricately twisted handle interlaced with yellow and pewter. “Gorgeous, and it would fit with the pattern we’ve put together. We finally have the full reports from the other murder sites, and the killer leaves thirty silver coins near the victim.”

  None of them added they had received confirmation on notes at each of the crime scenes as well. It pissed her off how slowly information was coming to them as if they had to beg for each individual piece. This was a serial killer for crissakes, all the jurisdictions should be sharing everything. The only discrepancy was the first kill. At Mark’s house, there were no coins, no note with ‘Betrayer’ in bold letters, but the weapon matched when they’d gone back through the medical examiners’ reports.

  “These are pugiones which were a Roman Soldier’s dagger. I think your guy is using one to kill. They’re not big, making about a two-inch stab wound.” Franklin trailed his hand across several, his gaze bouncing from the weapons to the cast before stopping on a matte gray dagger with a plain silver handle. “This looks like the length and width.” He picked it up and carefully pushed it into the mold.

  “Holy shit. It fits.” Ian took the knife and cast then passed it to Redden. “Why didn’t our examiners catch it was this dagger?”

  “Because no one uses a pugio as a weapon. Not for a long time. They are for stabbing, which is hard to get close to a person to do. Most killers use a knife, not a dagger to kill. Knives can stab as well as slash, or they use a gun. A gun is the most common weapon used to kill a person.” Franklin went to a different shelf and returned with an array of stilettos and more modern daggers in two leather cases. “Besides, most people who use a dagger would use these. They are close relatives to a pugio.” He held up a long stiletto. “And better known. But they’re too long and today’s daggers are a mix of a stiletto and a dagger, so much more narrow—”

  “Which was why our examiners were thrown.”

  Franklin took the dagger and cast back. “The pugiones daggers were very distinctive in Roman times and is why I asked if the killer was a man or woman. Because both wore this dagger strapped to their waists or their thigh.”

  Jo caught Redden’s gaze. “If the victims are being incapacitated and then killed, it could be a woman.”

  Redden’s eyes widened, and he pulled out two pictures. “But these wounds were made with such force the examiners didn’t think a woman could do it.”

  “If the victim is prone and the woman’s angry . . . ” Franklin waggled his head back and forth. “She could do it.” He pointed to the dolls. “My wife inserted all the knives into those dummies and Kyle had pissed her off at one point. She stabbed through the doll’s arm.”

  “It’s a doll,” Ian said.

  “It’s as lifelike as we can get it. The bone, skin, veins, and weight are in line with a normal person.”

  Redden and Ian walked to the doll Franklin had pointed to and lifted the arm, and sure enough, the tip of the knife peeked out from the other side.

  “Like I said, never underestimate a pissed off woman.”

  “I need to take this back to the medical examiner’s office.” Redden returned to the worktable.

  “What about your forensic lab?” Jo asked.

  “They’re months behind. It’s why we used the MEs information first and then follow up with forensics.” Redden rubbed his face. “It means I also need to reevaluate the profile.”

  Jo nodded. “Franklin, can we take this dagger?”

  “Sure. Can you make sure I get it back though? Those aren’t easy to come by. I had to have each of mine custom made. It’s another reason I doubt your ME would know about them. They’re uncommon.”

  Ian perked up at that. “I’ll research the dagger while you two take the list and MEs stuff. See if anything pings.”

  Jo held her hand out. “Thanks, Franklin.”

  “Will I see you next week with Rhys?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Oh, thank God because I don’t need you solving the mystery in a few seconds. It really makes the evening dull when that happens.” Franklin led them up the stairs.

  “It’s why I don’t come to your murder mystery events anymore. Rhys loves them, and so does Rian. Both said I took the fun out of the events.”

  At the door Jo found Kyle waiting as Redden and Ian thanked Franklin again, she turned to Kyle. “Did you get everything squared away with Rian?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming over this weekend. He and Evan promised to help me with the latest quests that came out in Legends of Stone.”

  Worried, she blurted. “Are you in their clan too?”

  “Oh, no. I’m a bosser, so I’m in a different group, but I hang in their clan sometimes.” Kyle lifted his cell phone to read the screen.

  She nibbled the bottom of her lip watching Redden and Ian step onto the porch. “Do you know anyone who’s left Rian’s clan that maybe hangs in the chat sometimes?”

  Kyle raised his face from his phone and nodded. “Sure. I have a friend who was in their group and joined mine last year. He’s a geek
who enjoys weed, so as long as you swear not to arrest him, I can put you in contact.”

  She smiled. “I won’t arrest him as long as he keeps the chat between him and me. You have my cell, let me know when and where.”

  “Jo, get a move on, we’re burning daylight,” Redden ordered from the door.

  “See you later, Franklin. Kyle.” She tossed a wave before darting down the porch steps and catching up to Ian and Redden. As they walked a block and a half to the car, Redden shook his head. “A Roman dagger and a killer who may be female instead of male. What the hell?”

  Jo clapped him on the shoulder. “It might still be a man.”

  But a woman would make a lot more sense. Especially as they seemed less threatening than a man. And gamers would be more apt to open their door for a lady than a man.

  “The weapon might be part of the Legends of Stone game,” Ian said from Redden’s other side. “We should ask Rian when we get home.”

  Jo shook her head. “Kyle’s setting me up with someone who left Rian’s group. I’d rather ask them than involve Rian anymore.”

  She didn’t want to drag Rian any further down this rabbit hole and piss Rhys off more than she already had.

  ~ ~ ~

  It took several days for their schedules to mesh. Jo had been called to a home invasion and then a jewelry store robbery in an upscale boutique. Both sent her and Sullivan all over the city chasing down leads while Rhys worked second shift and third shift. He knew it was childish to leave her after their argument. However, if he’d stayed in the house, he would have said something they both would regret. Maybe she would have left, or he might have asked her to leave if tempers flamed too hot.

  He was glad for the space to get his head on straight. It took him a lot of time to sort through his emotions so he could discuss Rian being included in Jo’s case calmly and rationally without losing his mind. But especially without losing her. He loved her, but he did not love her job.