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6M

p2

Mortal Sins

By

Sharon Chrystal

 

SYNOPSIS

A lawyer has been found brutally murdered in Pacific Heights during the hottest fall the city of San Francisco has seen in decades. Homicide detective Alex Hunter is the officer in charge of the scene, a scene that sparks off a series of horrific events. The temperatures are unusual, and the murders match. A mad man is on the loose, and the next day brings with it his next victim, a prostitute. She has been disembowelled in her own apartment. A lawyer and a prostitute show no pattern, but they have been united in their deaths.  The killer has drilled holes into the skulls of both women, and the Medical Examiner tells Alex and her partner, Jorge Jimenez, of the practice of ‘trepanning’, where, in centuries past, holes were drilled into the skulls of mentally ill patients in an effort to release their inner demons. These patients were deemed to be witches who required exorcising.  Is the killer attempting to exorcise his victims?

The third day arrives and the third victim is found. She has the initial signs of the signature hole in her skull, and her legs have been severed below the knees. The severity of this mutilation has lead to the killer being labelled ‘The Bay Butcher’. Alex is about to confirm that the murders have become serial when she is told of one major difference with victim number three - she survived.

In Alex’s efforts to bring justice to the victims, she is pulled deeper into a world of evil. The FBI have been drafted in to help, but this has become personal, not only for Alex, but for the killer. Alex is unaware that the clues she finds are all part of his game – a game that will lead her straight to him. It is the ultimate challenge for him – to ensure Alex is the final victim of The Butcher, only then will his mission be complete.

 

PROLOGUE

 

He stood in the shadows of the grand apartment block. She pulled into the parking lot and hurried into the building, as she did every night on returning from work. Just like clockwork she entered the apartment, leafed through her mail, checked her answering machine for messages and turned the shower on. He knew this as he could see the steam emerge from the bathroom, seeping into the bedroom. When it was hot enough, she stripped and washed. He was not bored while he could not see her, as he closed his eyes and his imagination took over. He had been doing this, every night, for three months. He knew tonight was going to be the grand finale. He was ready to take action. Three months is enough time to build confidence, to be sure that things would play exactly the way he planned.

 

She had a ‘guest’ who would normally arrive around eight and stayed for an hour. The filthy little bitch obviously had no self respect. As he thought of her, he could almost taste her. He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. He was salivating at the prospect of what was about to happen, a sure sign he was ready. He needed all to go as he had planned, to the letter, and more importantly, he needed to savour every moment.

 

He knew she would soon be out of the shower, so, he came out of his hiding place and headed to the building. He had made it to the hallway before, as he needed to know the ‘routine’ of her lover arriving. He had learned their ‘special knock’ and knew exactly how to get in. He keyed in the pass code, as he had seen her do many times before, and he was in. How easy it was. He kept his head down in case anyone were to come out of their havens and see him, but they didn’t. He looked at his watch, seven-fifteen. Perfect.

 

He rapped the ‘special knock’ combination on the heavy wooden door, and waited. The door opened but he saw no one. He couldn’t believe how easy she had made this. She had unhinged the door and was walking towards the bedroom. Naked. He walked in and closed the door. Just as she was passing the window next to the bedroom door, she saw his reflection in the glass. He caught her glance and the look of horror on her face. She didn’t know what to try and cover up first. He had the gun pointed to her head before she could speak. He watched urine trickle down her legs and he laughed as he pulled the trigger.

 

CHAPTER 1

It was a sunny October afternoon in San Francisco. Temperatures were in the seventies, high for this time of year, so the decomposition rate of the murdered woman I was on my way to investigate was going to be quicker than usual, depending on time of death. I gazed towards Golden Gate Park as we sped down Lincoln Way. I wanted to be like other San Franciscans, taking a walk or going for a run in the park. Instead I was on my way to a crime scene. All we knew was that a woman had been found shot in her apartment. Initial reports told us that she worked with the District Attorney’s office, so the press would be all over it. I knew some of the lawyers who worked with the DA’s office, well, knew them as well as you do get to know lawyers you work a case with. I had been working with the homicide department in San Francisco for five years, and this was my first lawyer.

 

We pulled up outside the apartment block on Fillmore Street in Pacific Heights, probably one of the most sought after locations in the city. Today it was more sought after than ever. The numerous police cars, the ubiquitous officers and the yellow crime scene tape which appeared to be holding the entire building together told us we had arrived. Homicides here are almost non-existent. Compared to its neighbouring cities, San Francisco is a relatively safe place to live. Homicides do occur, but are usually the result of gang warfare or drug deals gone wrong, and besides the brief visit of Richard Ramirez in the eighties, we hadn’t had our share of high profile serial killings - yet.

******

I saw the body for the first time. A mixture of emotions ran through my mind, but vomiting was the most prominent. I took in a deep breath to regain my composure. The plush pale carpet was saturated with blood around the area where the body lay, and the sandy coloured walls were sprayed crimson. The whole place smelt a little like death, violent death. Although she had not been dead long, the heat from outside combined with her gas central heating had sped things up on the decomposition front. The corpse smelt greasy and fatty, and it filled the air, like a rotting piece of meat. The smell combined with the vision of her mutilated body were not for the faint hearted. I concentrated on my breathing until I no longer felt the need to throw up. The victim lay facing upwards on the floor. She hadn’t only been shot in the head. She had been stabbed and mutilated. Her breasts hung down by her side where she had been opened up in her own lounge. When we got the call on this, I thought it may have been a burglary gone wrong, but it wasn’t. This was messy. The victim had basically been butchered like an animal. I diverted my attention to the spatters on the wall above the body, I crossed the room for a closer look, and could see small, white particles of what I thought to be bone, probably her skull, stuck to the wall. It was safe to guess that she had been shot while standing here, in this very spot.