The Mantis

The sky cries, wet and humid. I’m making my way through the crime scene, wondering how the hell something like this happened and I never noticed. How was this right under my nose, this whole time and I never knew? I am the lead detective. I was the one who figured out the murderer’s motive, the twisted reasons why. I was the one who should’ve figured this out, too.

“Hey boss, you’re going to want to see this.”

My partner guides me through all of the yellow caution tape that lined the building’s exit doors. There’s blood spatter on the walls of the abandoned rooms and the analysts are trying to figure out what happened, too. Short of horrific, I would’ve said that this is the worst case I’ve seen so far.

She takes me to the back alley where there’s a homeless man sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth. I study him for a moment, wondering if this is what I’m supposed to be seeing. He looks ragged, like he’s been through more than my young, rookie eyes could ever see. Something about him says he’s seen worse than inside. He momentarily pauses to look up at me, then starts to rock again.

“What am I looking at, Evans?” My voice thick and dry, like this is the first time I’ve ever talked.

“He saw everything.” Evans says, as she brushes her dark bangs out of her face yet again. “He saw her do it.”

Everything inside me feels a rush of pain and intrigue. It’s wrong, isn’t it? To enjoy the mysteries, the hunt, the euphoric feeling when you finally catch another murderous bastard that’s been roaming the streets trying to find another victim. Maybe this man would have intel on the murderer and what direction she was heading in.

They call her The Mantis. Just like any other cold blooded killer, she had a specific motive on how she liked to handle her victims. She had her way with them- whatever that may be, it's different every time- and then she cut off their head, leaving it for us to analyze. She’s very particular, she never makes a mistake. Even on this dreary day, she left everything just the way she wanted it to be. I notice a speck of blood on my leather shoes and feel grateful for the rain- no stains.

“Sir, can you tell us what you saw today?” I ask, squatting down to his level. I hate feeling like I’m trying to intimidate someone.

“Blood, blood, there was so much.” The man doesn’t seem like he’s even in his right mind, traumatized from events that happened thus far. “He didn’t have a chance. He didn’t even have a chance.”

“That’s all he’s been saying all day,” Evans whispers to me as I stand back up, watching the man.

“Do you know who he is yet?”

She shrugs. “No identification.”

I rub my scruffy chin, wondering what I missed from before. I pull out my little black book, where I keep all information on each killer. I have a shelf at my one bedroom apartment that is filled with black books, since the day I started my job here in Chicago. I make notes, draw pictures, take the time to really go over and over the mannerisms and details about each killer. It’s one of the most important steps that other cops miss. It’s why I’m so good at what I do.

Today blindsided me. When I got the call at 4am, I was already up doing my daily routine. I had a separate black book for that. I logged my eating habits, my workouts, my sleeping(or lack thereof). I answered the phone with a sweaty face not expecting to hear what I heard: The Mantis is at it again.

It’s too soon. She had an agenda that she stuck with and now she’s changing it? It wasn’t like her. She killed every four days, the longest waiting time for a praying mantis to feed, another reason for the nickname. It had only been a day since her last kill and I’m starting to wonder if she’s changing things in the fear that I’m catching up to her. That I'm gaining on her, this marathon coming to a long end.

Would she kill again tomorrow? Would she make us wait another four days, making us sit on the edge of our seats? Just as thrilling as it is to be hunting, killers liked to be hunted. She enjoys this cat and mouse chase and too many lives were getting taken in her twisted, pleasurable fantasies. It's been too long for this to be going on, I needed to catch her quickly. There wouldn’t be much time if she kills again tomorrow.

I’m in the passenger seat of the cruiser, going over the notes I already have in my book. Evans gets in on the driver's side just the way we’ve always done things. She looks at me, her face quizzical.

“Why did she do this today?”

“Not sure, still trying to figure that out. These kinds of places are normal for her but not so soon.” I’m biting my thumb nail, still looking at the black book. I continue to flip through my chicken scratch trying to decipher what The Mantis’ end game is. “She’s unraveling. She knows I’m catching her.”

Back at my apartment, I pace my room, book in hand. I never left the house without it these days. Afraid that ideas or mental notes may get forgotten in my too small brain. Think, think, think, I told myself. What could she be trying to tell me? She’s killed over twenty-three- twenty-four- victims, all with their heads chopped off, all sexually abused in some way or another. It’s like she’s preparing for something big. Something that will change the game entirely.

“Oh my god,” I whisper to myself. I pick up my phone to call Evans, praying silently she answers. On the second ring, she picks up. “Evans, I need you to meet me at the abandoned hospital on the south side.”

“What for?”

“I have to show you.”

This building is damp and cold as well as the rest of the city’s old lonely buildings. It only takes Evans a few minutes to arrive after I get there, wearing her signature raincoat with red heels. For some reason she enjoys walking in them. Being a man, I didn’t quite see the point however, she did everything I did in those shoes. Including chasing criminals.

“Before we go in, I wanted to go over things with you.” I say, pulling out that worn black book. I start to pace again, trying to wrap my thoughts up into one. “Do you remember when we did research on praying mantises? Their mating pattern, diets?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I figured something out while I was home. When females mate, they try to eat as many males as they possibly can. Apparently it helps produce more eggs.”

“Gross,” Evans crosses her arms. “Marino, what’s going on?”

“I think she’s pregnant. I think she’s either about to have the baby or getting closer to the date. I think she needs more people to kill in order to feel better about giving birth. That the baby will be healthier or what have you.”

“How the hell did you figure this out?” Evans asks, impressed. She doesn’t argue with me for a second because she is just as much at a loss as I am. “This is worth looking into.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. This is where her first murder was. I think she’s inhabiting in there.”

Walking through the door frame that no longer has a door, we can immediately smell it. There’s a chemical smell, cleanliness. To think that a murderer was worried about her health wouldn’t have been the craziest thing we’ve seen. Guns out, safety off, we’re ready to find anything. When we clear the first floor, we decide to split up to cover more ground. We have our walkie talkies if we need to reach each other.

Evans takes the second floor and I go to the third where the smell gets stronger. There’s a set of double doors labeled “maternity wing.” I should’ve known. As I approach the door with a bloody handprint smeared on the wall, I can hear her inside, groaning in pain. It almost sounds as if she is in fact going into labor. I have to be quick, light on my feet and by all means necessary, careful to not hurt the baby. I open the door slowly, and there she is with her final victim. His head is chopped off, sitting in the corner. I may be wrong, but if everything lined up the way I think, he was the father.

The Mantis has her back towards me, hunched over in pain.

“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, making sure my gun is ready. “You’ve made quite an impact on this city.”

She laughs, standing up straight. She turns to look at me, her last victim’s blood on her face. It’s hard to see someone like her becoming a mother. Her eyes are hollow, sunken in. She doesn’t look like she’s been eating correctly for someone with a baby growing inside her but nonetheless, she looks smaller than I imagined. I wonder how she got to this point, where her life led her to end up here.

“I was hoping you’d find me a little bit later,” she murmurs. “You’re early.”

“I’m going to need to bring you in,” I say, inching toward her slowly.

“You think I didn’t come prepared for this? Do you think you’re the only one with a weapon?”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, my gun is up, ready to fire. She’s too quick and she pulls the trigger first. I’m on the ground before I know it, feeling a pain in my chest radiate to my shoulder. I’m staring at her last victim now, praying that I won’t be next. There’s another shot fired from behind me and I turn to look with my blurry eyes. It’s Evans, in her red heels, gun blazing. The Mantis is on the ground, silent. My mouth is dry and I’m afraid to move. Evans checks to make sure she’s down.

“She’s breathing,” she says, checking her pulse as well. “I’m calling the ambulance.” When she hangs up the phone she hustles over to me. My chest feels tight but I feel no blood. “Are you okay? Can you move?”

“We did it,” I say, letting out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

I try to pull myself up to prop myself on one elbow. Evans is trying to sit me upright as I search around for the bullet with my free hand. My jacket is wet from the rain but still, no blood. I’m trying frantically to find the source but all I can find is the one thing that helped me catch The Mantis: The little black book. I pull it out and sure enough, there’s a bullet lodged in the middle of the pages.

“I’ll be damned,” I smirk to myself.

This black book would fit quite nicely on the shelf, retired just like the rest.