Page 55 of Unhinged Cain

“The exact same depth? How is that possible?”

The doctor gave a little shrug.

“Best guess it is a special tool, but nothing I can name. I mean, it’s possible that it is just a scalpel, as that’s the right thickness of the blade and sharpness of the tool that would be required. I don’t believe that, though. Making these lines perfect while someone is alive is nearly impossible unless they used a strong sedative or paralyzing drug, because no one could hold that still, regardless of the threat. The pain would be far too great.”

“We’ve never had any toxicology come back with drugs,” I said.

“That’s correct. So, if drugs had been used at some point to subdue them initially, then the Chameleon Killer is keeping the bodies long enough that the drugs are out of their system. The issue is that the bodies show up either the same day or the day after they’ve been killed, so there would be no time between the initial drug administration, the victim being killed, and when it is left for someone to find.”

“Okay, so this killer is methodical and possibly a trained artist and uses a tool to kill, but what about the mutilated bodies we’ve had? Can you tell if that has been a separate killer as well?”

“That, I’m not sure of. You’re aware of the differences you have between the two styles of kills before this one. The notes are already in your file, so you know what I’m talking about. This body doesn’t follow any of the other characteristics. In fact, there is not one identical thing. It’s all poor attempts to place the blame in another killer’s direction.”

The doctor held up the young woman’s hand and pointed at her dirty fingers that were caked with mud. Then he pointed to her face that didn’t even look like a face from the abuse she’d taken, and finally, he pointed to the marks that, at first glance, had seemed the same, but the doctor was right. They were vastly different from the other bodies.

“I believe that your Chameleon Killer is either a split personality, and you get either the artist or the more gruesome and violent kills depending on what personality is doing the killing at the time, or….”

He held up his finger.

“These bodies are from two different killers, but they are a perfectly crafted pair with the same passion for killing, and they have honed their craft over time.”

This killer…” The doctor pointed to the table. “Is a cheap copycat, and whoever it is may know how to kill, but they are not very good at making it look like the Chameleon. These bruises all along her body and arms tell me she took a beating over a number of days before she was killed. Some of the bruises are already yellowing and almost healed, while others beside them are brand new.”

“Okay, could it be that whoever this killer is didn’t mean to kill her and tried to pass it off for the Chameleon because of what has gotten into the media?”

“Also, a possibility, which is no longer my expertise, but I will tell you this much.” The doctor looked at the television screen and shook his head. “The Chameleon, whoever that happens to be, has a great deal of pride in their work, and they are not going to stand for a copycat running around town. If I were this copycat, I’d be very scared right about now.”

The door opened, and Hanson stuck his head inside. He covered his nose as he coughed. “Sorry, I’m late. Did I miss anything important?”

“I can fill you in,” I said. “Thank you, doctor. Have a good day.” I followed Hanson out of the door. “I need to make a call. I’ll meet you in the car.”

Hanson looked like he might argue and demand to know what had been said, but I didn’t give him the chance to argue as I turned and walked away. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I tried Kirby’s number again. The phone rang five times before it clicked to voicemail.

“Hi there, daughter. I thought you would’ve had the decency to tell me you arrived safely in London. Considering you took off without another word, it would’ve been the mature thing to do.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I said more of what I thought about this trip and her life choices again. “Give me a call when you get this message. We need to talk. It’s important.”

Hanging up the phone, I stared at the screen. Kirby had always been a hot-headed child, and now as an adult, I was at the end of my rope with how to keep her from making an ass of herself. On top of this ridiculous trip to London and going before she was done with school, Kirby had broken off her relationship with Peter, and the poor guy was a complete wreck over it. She was setting herself up to head down all the wrong paths once more, and one day her luck would run out. She would find herself in a situation she didn’t like. An image of Kirby jobless and sitting at the side of a road begging for money crossed my mind.

Sighing, I stuffed my phone into my pocket, made my way out to the car, and put my stubborn daughter out of my mind. If the Chameleon Killer could blend in so easily, he needed to work a job in the public sector. I’d already marked off the most likely hunting grounds on a map based on the locations where the bodies had been dumped.

We were closing in, I could feel it, and I was going to make sure that it was my name and not Hanson’s on the front page of the news.

CAIN

I whistled “You Are My Sunshine” as I wandered up the sidewalk, leash in hand. The homeless guy a few blocks back was nice enough to lend me the flea-infested beast for a twenty. The shaggy dog looked warily up at me as if sensing my true nature.

“Don’t worry, you’re not on my list for the evening,” I said as I neared my destination.Thanks to Kirby, I now had a key and the alarm combination for her mother’s home. A quick look at my phone showed the red dot on the tracker I’d slipped into her purse. It blinked. Margaret was still at work which gave me time to poke around her home.

Stepping under the large tree branches that hung over the sidewalk and shadowed me from the streetlights, I enjoyed feeling like I was one with them. Margaret had chosen a very manly look for her home, which spoke volumes about how she wanted to be seen. The woman in charge, one that couldn’t be pushed around, and someone aiming for the highest seat in her profession. It was a shame she’d never make it.

The door was dark blue with the lion head brass knocker, and white flowers decorated the front yard, but I was interested in the small camera tucked into the corner of the covered porch.

The fleabag and I continued around the corner of the block, and as I closed in on the backside of Margaret’s house, I dropped the leash and braced my hand on the wooden fence. Thankfully, I was able to leap over the five-foot structure in a single graceful movement. Crouching low among the bushes, I listened for neighbors or sounds of anyone on the street, but nothing much stirred at this late hour. Peeking through the shrubs, I opened the home security app on Kirby’s phone and looked at the images of the quiet house.

Hitting the stop button, I watched all the cameras go dark, sprinted from my spot, and headed for the back door. With a soft click of the lock, I pushed the door inward and punched in the security code. Now in the laundry room, I knew the other door straight ahead was the access to the garage. I’d already memorized as much as I could see on the cameras, so if one was planning on breaking into a home, then it was a must to research the area. The original neighborhood blueprints were on the builder’s website and what seemed like innocent information to promote their business was a treasure trove to me.

Opening the laundry room cupboards, I removed the handful of small bugs from my pocket. I’d managed to get enough for almost every room in the house, so I slipped from one room to the next and installed my little devices. Jogging up the stairs to the second floor, I started the process again and finally made my way to the holy grail spot—Sunshine’s room.

The room was painted a soft purple with a dark floral comforter to match. Nothing was out of place, not a book, pen, or even a dirty shirt that didn’t belong. Pulling the simple canvas bag from my pocket, I wandered the room and imagined myself in here as if I were Kirby. What spoke to me as her favorites? What did she love above all else?