Stagnant Waters

Special Agent Thomas J. Beeman stood at the edge of the brackish green backwater, looking over his surroundings. Taking a deep breath of the humid, putrid-smelling air, he almost gagged. The Mentholatum that he normally used to cover crime scene smells didn’t seem to work here. It appeared the stench of death and decay was one he’d never get used to.

Turning, Thomas watched as his new partner, Timothy Purcell, tried to make his way towards the foul water without slipping in the slimy muck. At 6’8”, the agent whom the NOLA Field Office called Tiny Tim, looked like he was walking more through quicksand than on a path in the marsh. Thomas kept expecting his partner to slide into the mud, disappearing into the glop at any moment.

Arriving at the water’s edge, Purcell asked his partner, “You sure it’s him and not some copycat? He’s not been active in over a year now. Surely, he’s moved on to another city. Probably even another state. Besides, Tom, he’s never used a mass dumping site before.”

Grinding his teeth, Beeman watched as the body retrieval team slowly dragged along the bottom of the pond before replying. “I’m sure he's been somewhere else, Tim. I just know it’s time for him to come home, back to where it all started - to the place where he began his career. After twenty years, his life has grown static. He’s bored. It’s been too easy for him, all these years. Starting to take more chances, he has begun taking more girls and making mistakes. He’s here, I can feel him.” Clenching his jaw, he continued his watch.

Nearly nine hours had passed since the hunter had called in the skeletal remains that he’d come across at the edge of the swampy marsh, and the Special Agents had rushed to the scene, long enough that they had seen the remains of eight teenage girls being extracted from the soupy goop. Beeman’s gut was telling him they’d find more before the day was over. Pulling out a Tum’s package, Tom put two in his mouth and began to chew. This day was going to get even longer.

All the evidence had played through Beeman’s head throughout the day. The perp preferred teenagers with platinum blonde hair over young women and never chose older women. He always chose girls with busy parents and lifestyles, and on the fourth day after he snatched them, he’d send a note to a local reporter with a riddle on where to find their bodies. He never left evidence, not a shred. No witnesses had come forward, and they hadn’t gotten him on camera, so they didn’t even know what he looked like. All they had was what the profiler had put in the file about him, and now what was in an evidence bag inside Tom’s fist.

Now, after twenty years, Tom could feel he was close to the end of this investigation. For a change, he could smell his quarry and knew he was nearer to him than he had ever been before. It was as if his mind had risen from a dormant sleep, and for once, he was more awake than ever before. Once more, the agent scanned his surroundings. He couldn’t let his quarry know he was onto him too soon.

Til this morning, Tom wasn’t sure if his gut was right. He secretly hoped he was wrong, but now he had all the proof he needed. Opening his fist, he looked at the chain he’d found upon arrival at the scene. Rubbing the tanzanite gem, he remembered when he’d seen this necklace.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

While the rescue team continued dragging, the killer stood calmly to the side. Nonchalantly, he bent down, moved a stone, and picked up the gum wrapper that was underneath it. Looking over at the Special Agent to make sure that he didn’t see, he quickly slipped it into his pocket. He must have been harried last night to have left such a piece of evidence behind. Lucky for him, no one had noticed it yet or had thought it was trash.

As more remains were pulled from the bog, the murdering monster smiled a small smile. They’d found all twenty girls he’d thrown in this swamp over the last year, and according to the file, they were no closer to catching him than they were twelve months ago.

Tonight he would celebrate. He knew just the girl he would take, too. She was young and a little naive, but thought she was so sophisticated. Doing this right under the lead investigator's nose made it all the sweeter. He wished he had been able to do this sooner.

Everyone was busy collecting evidence. Beeman was busy checking out the evidence as it was bagged up. Each person had a job to do on the site. The infiltrator pretended to watch as the retrieval process continued and even helped out when asked.

Reaching up, the killer felt for his necklace, but not finding it, he panicked. Where had he left it? When was the last time he’d seen it? He couldn’t remember if he had it on this morning when he’d left his house to come to the scene or not.

Startled, he jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. Beeman was standing in front of him, holding a baggy in his hand. The killer knew it was over when the agent asked, “You lose something, Tim? It seems one of the investigators found this in the hand of the third girl pulled from the muck. As soon as I saw it, it tickled my memory. After all, there is only one of its kind made, being a custom piece. You made a point of showing it off on your first day at the field office, flashing it for everyone to see. Recall, I told you that your spree was over earlier. I’m placing you under arrest, Tim. ”