Chapter 5 (Part II)
Since it first came online in 1969, the Internet became a worldwide phenomenon. Only a virus or plague matched the speed and length of reach the Internet had into even the most unpopulated areas. The Internet had become a place where one could hide from the world, and yet be seen by everyone.
That was exactly what Blaine Juhl counted on as he hit record on his Panasonic PV-GS320. The camcorder was equipped to record his feed live to his server somewhere else in the building he had chosen, but the image had all the qualities of an amateur – shakiness, uneven lighting, and mono sound. For now. That was going to change, but he felt it was the best way to start his newest movie – his first movie that would share with the world his favorite hobby – murder.
Blaine smiled into the camera, cleared his throat, and began, “Welcome to my newest horror movie I call, Things That Go Bump in the Night. Over the coming days, I will treat you to the best horror movie you will ever witness. If you have small children, you should make them watch.”
Blaine cackled as he pulled the camera back.
“My two victims asked, nay, begged their supervisor, not to send them on a job together. Their co-workers should have believed them when they said they didn’t know anything about the contaminated evidence or questionable pictures. It made it easy for me to grab them right from under their co-worker’s noses. My unwilling participants should be waking up about now—” Blaine looked at his watch. “And realizing they are… Well, going to die. But how, you ask? Let me show you the limitless possibilities of how to kill a person.”
Blaine hit a button on the switchboard next him and looked up at the bank of a dozen monitors. He had wired this place himself and had seven different angles to choose from for his victims. The rest were surveillance of the grounds. Petra had always warned him to be overly cautious because occasionally the police actually hired people with brains, and they might solve his puzzle before he was ready. He smiled, watching the one that showed a side view of Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders. They were just starting to come to and it made Blaine giddy that his pleasure would soon began
Two Weeks Earlier
Greg and Warrick entered the home together. Police had already secured the area and reported a possible murder-suicide. If only these were so simple. They could see the first victim, a woman, lying face down in a pool of blood in the kitchen. Greg guessed there were three bullet wounds in her back.
Assistant Corner, David Phillips, knelt next to her and looked up as the two approached.
“I finished the body in the backyard if you want to get started on him.”
Warrick and Greg went through the sliding door in the back and found the body. A man shot through the head. Right away, both CSI saw a problem with the murder-suicide theory.
“Don’t most suicide victims shot themselves in the temple or under the chin?” Greg asked.
The shot that killed the man was dead center in his forehead.
“Yeah. Most.” Warrick sat his kit down and slid the strap of his camera over his neck. “So either he’s double jointed, or he was murdered.”
“Uhm… Guys. I think we have a problem here. Again.”
The two looked back at the house. David was standing in the doorway.
“There’s something you need to see.”
The two went back in, following him back to the woman. David had rolled her onto her back and there was something sitting on her chest. He handed it to Warrick, trying not to look at Greg. Warrick’s eyebrows lifted high. He looked at Greg.
Warrick turned the photo around for Greg to see. Haughtily he asked, “Another girlfriend, Greg?”
The photo was a fake, but no one else could tell that. It was of him and this dead woman walking through the Tangiers, holding hands.
“You know,” Warrick started as he pulled out a baggie to put the photograph in.
Greg watched the photograph, glaring at it. He wished he had Superman’s ability to shoot heat from his eyes and burn it before it could be bagged.
“This is what…” Warrick looked at him. “The fifth photograph of you with a recently murdered female. Then you’re going to say you don’t know the victim, you don’t know how the photo got here, and you’re going to tell me to mind my own business. Am I right?”
Greg looked up into Warrick’s eyes. “I have a crime scene to process.”
Greg turned and walked back outside.
He could hear Warrick call after him, “Yeah, Nick keeps telling me the same thing when I find photos of him. Maybe you two should stop sleeping with Las Vegas!”
Greg’s fist tightened around his kit handle. He wasn’t mad at Warrick or anyone else that was questioning these photographs. It was his and Nick’s stalker that he imagined he was strangling, as he demanded answers from the man.
Greg knelt down next to the body outside and opened his kit to pull out a pair of gloves.