When the call came in, my stomach churned, bile rose, the throbbing pain in my head started to gain momentum. Victim number four. I didn’t want to look, I already knew what I was going to see. This time, there was a difference, a note, for me. My face was hot as I walked through the throng of police and detectives. One question entered my mind, why me?
A note. For me, without reading the darn thing I knew it wasn’t going to enlighten me, I knew it was going to be a game, created by a sick mind, I would be expected to play, incinerate my brain and then be exposed to the derisive criticism of someone playing god. I didn’t want to play. I didn’t need this crap.
Sometimes, I found myself thinking... Why didn’t god just strike them dead, course, in my burning brain, I could picture one of the sleazy, bleeding heart lawyers trying to put god away, it was almost funny, almost.
The note was an education in biblical literature, it spoke of the “Samaritan harlot” the “religious harlot” it spoke of Rahab which obviously was a good harlot, ending with a detailed explanation of HIS WORK and why HE was ASSIGNED this job.
The explanation also included a name, “AMELIA” his mother, a sister? Then, a word that had so many meanings,, “porneia” (Greek), any unlawful sexual act. He narrowed it down, he was doing the work of GOD,, eradicating the earth of the filthy harlotS, he felt, the harlots did not deserve the gift of life. They did not appreciate Jesus blood gift to them. And he ended all of this with the signature, THE MESSIANIC AVENGER. My headache had intensified.
I sent the note to the lab. He had signed it, I wanted to have it checked for prints and get a profile on the handwriting. Instinctively, I knew he would never leave any prints. So I sit down to eat dinner, “VICTIM NUMBER FIVE”