The Twins

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Chapter Five

What Isis saw was hideous. The victim’s body had been desecrated. The sight chilled her to the bone. Half of the man’s head--from his chin to the bridge of his nose—had been covered with duct tape. His eyes which were cut out and the sockets were stuffed with rubble that had been scattered all over the roof. The killer had also stuffed: a brick, a soda bottle, a potato chip bag, and one of the young man’s Nikes inside a gaping hole where the genitals use to be.

“Isis, how ya doin?” Forensic Pathologist and Crime Scene Technician Raymond Johnson asked as he stepped away from the victim’s body while removing his latex gloves. Raymond was a man that Isis had known intimately. Isis called the relationship off after her feelings for the pathologist had changed. Raymond stepped over to where Isis was standing and whispered, “Is he going to be all right?” He was pointing at Detective Taylor, who was still retching.

“That’s my new partner, Andrew Taylor,” she informed him as she stared at the corpse.

“Well, he doesn’t look too good. Anyway, how ya been?”

“I’ve been fine, Raymond. So, what’s up with this?” she said, pointing at the body.

“All business as usual, huh? Well, someone did a number on this kid as you can see. Come, let me show you something.” Next to the victim’s left leg was Raymond’s tech box. He reached inside and removed another pair of latex gloves. He took a couple for Isis as well. “Do you think I should give him a pair, or should I call the paramedics?”

Isis didn’t respond. She was transfixed by the disturbing sight before her.

“Taylor, are you going to be okay, man?” Johnson asked. Taylor used a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, then he nodded his head. “Here, put these on,” the pathologist suggested as he held out a pair of gloves. Isis walked over to where the body was sitting and knelt down next to the pathologist. Taylor stood behind them with his handkerchief pressed against his mouth. Johnson pulled a pointer from out of his pocket.

“Lookie here, the body is glued to the chair.”

Isis stared at the residue that seeped between the man’s thighs, buttocks and back.

“His tongue had been glued to the top of his head,” Johnson said. “Those pieces that you see dotted all along the duct tape are pieces of the man’s penis.

“Sweet Jesus!” Taylor shouted.

“What about the garbage that is stuffed inside… the hole?” Isis asked.

The forensic pathologist shook his head.

The refuge was stuffed into the victim’s body as if he were some kind of Thanksgiving turkey.

“Was he the old man’s son?” Isis asked.

“Yes, he was. His ID says his name is Anthony Jenkins Jr. and his address and apartment number are the same as the old man’s.” Isis stared at the black party hat sitting on top of the young man’s head.

“Is that party hat glued to his head, too?” Isis wondered.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why did he do that?” It must have some kind of symbolic meaning, she thought.

“I have no idea,” Johnson replied.

“Huh,” Isis mumbled.

“Why’d he glue the party hat to the victim’s head? I have no idea.”

“And the garbage that’s stuffed inside the hole, why did he do that?” she asked

“Again, I have no idea, but it’s definitely a sign of psychosis. The person who did this is in desperate need of help.”

Isis stared at the three empty duct tape rolls that were spewed around the chair. This is one sick bastard. “How long do you think he was up here?”

“Well, rigor has just started to set in, so I’ll say about three to four hours.”

“And what are those marks on his skin?” she observed.

“Those look like stun gun marks.”

“Stun gun marks?”

“That’s what they look like to me. I’ll find out once I get the body down to the morgue,” he assured her.

Isis continued to stare at the boy’s body.

“It’s going to be a little tricky getting him out of that metal chair with all the glue stuck to him. Taylor was quiet through all of this. He looked as though his stomach was still doing somersaults.

“Any latents on the tape?” Isis asked the pathologist

“None. In fact, we haven’t found any latent so far.”

“So, our killer was wearing gloves.”

“It seems so, Isis.” Johnson looked over at Taylor and whispered, “His feet are glued to the roof.” He flashed a smile at Taylor.

Taylor shot Johnson a look as if to say, You sick fuck.

Isis looked at her partner. “We’ve got ourselves a real mean boy, partner.”

“This looks like he was playing some kind of sick game.”

“No, this ain’t no game, dude.”

“What do you mean?”

“This here is rage...rage from a sick mind. The gluing of the body to the chair, the castration, the stuffing the hole with garbage...yeah, the person that did this was sick and mad as hell.” Taylor passed his hand along his own genitals as he turned away from the body of Anthony Jenkins Jr.

“And I don’t think that this guy is finished, yet.” Isis stared at the gaping hole where they deceased’s genitals used to be. Her eyes were glued to the garbage that was stuffed inside it. “Yeah, dude, the person that did this is definitely insane.” Isis squinted at the morning sun, then she said to her partner, “Let’s go canvas the neighborhood and see what we can find out.”

Taylor took one last look at the victim’s body. “God, I hope I never see anything like that again,” he mumbled to himself as he followed his partner toward the rooftop door.

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