Detective Taylor had to untangle himself from the four hookers that shared his bed. He stubbed his toe on a bottle of Jack Daniels and cursed as he headed toward the bathroom. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Ashamed, he covered his eyes and cursed himself. “I’m such a weak fool...stupid bastard.” Taylor sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “God, please help me…” He stood up and stared at himself in the mirror again. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face. A profound sadness overwhelmed him. Taylor felt himself slipping away. He wanted relief. He wanted freedom from his addiction. He wanted to place his gun into his mouth and blow his fucking brains out. His addiction has made his life unmanageable...to say the least.
If Taylor were sitting in a psychiatrist’s office, he would’ve told her that since his divorce, three-years-ago, he’d slept with over a thousand women and that he’d masturbated in public. That he’d hated being a cop, and that he’d had sex with a seventeen-year-old girl on more than one occasion. He’d would’ve told her that demons tormented him.
One of the hookers called out to him. The sound of the woman’s voice brought Taylor out of his daydream. He opened the bathroom door and peeked out. “Are you comin’ back to bed, baby?” the hooker asked. Taylor looked at the girl’s nude body; blood rushed to his penis. Taylor tried to fight his urge, but it was futile. Taylor ran back over to the bed, jumped in, and began pounding into the teenager.
Detective Williams arrived at the Double 0 twenty minutes late and Taylor was not there. She’d taken Toni’s advice. She’d placed a call to the Special Victim Liaison Squad-the Sex Crime Unit. At that moment, Lt. Stone walked up to her cubicle. “Good morning, Isis, where’s your partner?”
Isis hesitated. She was ready to lie for her partner, again.
“I don’t know sir, I guess he’s a little late.”
Lt. Stone tapped his New York Times against his thigh. “When he gets in, tell him to come and see me. So, what’s going on with this case?” Lt. Stone opened his newspaper before Isis could answer. He showed her the headline. SERIAL KILLERS LOOSE IN HARLEM...N.Y.P.D. BAFFLED.
Chagrin, Isis said, “Well sir, I was just about to call the sex unit so that I can compile a list of rape victims.”
“So, you think that our suspects were the victims of a rape?” Lt. Stone asked.
“Yes, sir. And I also believe that if they were raped, the rapist was never caught…”
“Good, that’s good. I’m going to need something to feed the captain,” Stone said as he turned to walk away. “And make sure your partner checks in with me.”
“Will do, sir. I should have something for you by noontime,” Isis said to Lt. Stone’s back.
“Hello, Detective Allen, this is Detective Williams, homicide.” Detective Flossie Allen was a rape crisis counselor. She also instructed detectives that were assigned to the Special Crime Unit on how to conduct a proper interview with a rape victim. Detective Allen asked Isis to come down to her office where they could talk face to face.
What Isis was looking for were victims that displayed any violent tendencies after they had been raped. She wasn’t looking for the usual “I hate men” sort of thing--a phase that many counselors hear after a woman had been raped. No, she was looking for victims that were actually seeking revenge. Isis tapped on Detective Flossie Allen’s door.
“Come on in.”
Isis stepped into Detective Allen’s office and looked around. It was small and cramped. One of the best counselors that the department had in the Sex Crime Unit, and look where they stuck her--jealous ass men.
“Hi Detective Allen,” Isis said as she extended her hand. Detective Allen shook it twice.
Detective Allen was Asian American and a little overweight. She was also a chain smoker. “So, what can I help you with, Williams?” she asked as she lit up a cigarette. Isis noticed that a cigarette was already burning in an ashtray.
Isis went on to tell Detective Allen about her current case and how she believed that the suspects were rape victims themselves. “Have you ever come across a case where the victim sought revenge?”
“You mean, actually go out and hunted their rapist down?”
“Yes, I have, many times. And on a few occasions, the victims were successful in their pursuit. You think that’s the case now, with your suspects?”
“Yes, I do. The suspects are destroying their male victims in such a way that I believe they were raped themselves. Witnesses have stated that they heard screaming from the suspects as they were committing their crime. I believe that this is rage. The screaming I mean.”
“Yes, this does sound like rage.” Detective Allen went on to explain to Isis the different kinds of rapists that were out there. When Allen spoke about the sadistic rapist, Isis sat straight up in her chair. “That’s our guy...I mean, I believe this kind of rapist attacked my suspects.”
“Oh, this guy is a monster. We don’t see too much of him but when he does show his face, it is truly, truly ugly. This guy isn’t driven by the sex act alone, oh no, this rapist is also motivated by his victim’s response to pain. He may torture his victims for hours before he kills them. This creep also preplans his rapes—”
“Detective Allen,” Isis cut the detective off. “Are there victims out there—in New York I mean—that survived this kind of rapist?
“Yes, sometimes this kind of rapist would accidentally leave one of his victims alive and sometimes, willfully so.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, could you make out a list for me? I need to talk to some of the victims that survived this kind of assault.”
“I don’t think that would be a problem. Last year we had five survivors of this kind of rape. Let me pull up their names.”
“I would really appreciate it, Detective Allen.”
Allen’s fingers danced on the keys of her laptop for a few seconds, then she slid her swivel chair over toward a fax machine.
“Here you go, and call me Flossie, please, or Flo. Either one will do.”
“Okay, Flo.” Isis stood and took the piece of paper that Detective Allen held out to her. The detectives shook hands.
“And you can call me Isis.”