It seems funny but I never seem to read the first book in a series. So I finally managed to find both of the first book in each series. It is always interesting to see how a series progresses.

I think Ms. Perry uses strong characters and also creates sympathy for some of the murderers, as well as the victims. You begin to feel an interest in the lives of the recurring characters who tend to make appearances in each of the books.

She uses the right amount of suspense to keep the reader's interest and keeps the endings a surprise.

My favorite books of hers in each series so far is:

"The Whitechapel Conspiracy." for Thomas Pitt.

"Slaves of Obsession," for Monk.

So, if you like mysteries you may like these series too.

Kari is hired by the most notorious family known to date… Yavich, a family that takes pride in ruling over others, even certain parts of government.

Jade like Kari; is also hired by a well known family… but they are not known by the wider public well enough to be totally feared. And in any case this is how they would prefer to be noticed. They are the Шатия Alkulstik (Alkulstik Gang).

The target is carrying something of very great importance to both families, but only one of them will retrieve it… and have the honors of eliminating the target.

Who will it be?

Chapter 1

The Target

2007, Kikino, Moscow, Russia

'Your target is here…' A man said dressed in a very expensive business suit, he was Russian and he smoked very heavily.

'Is that all?' Kari the hired assassin asked, politely, but at the same time with some degree of disgust towards the man.

'No. You are to kill this highly classified family member and bring back proof that he has been eliminated… we preferably want to see a photograph of the corpse.'

'That's not a problem at all… however, I'll need half of my payment now.' The man, a member of the Yavich family signaled another to come forth. He held a small silver briefcase… then he slowly placed it on the coffee table on their immediate right.

'As promised, your fifty thousand euro collateral… the other half will be waiting for you once you have the object in your possession. And your one million euros upon seeing the corpse will be presented immediately in cash.'

'Well, you can expect to see me in two days time. This job requires careful planning… and it also calls for being very observant.'

The man wondered why she said what she did.

'Why did you say that?'

'We all do respect, but do you really think that I'll be the only one being sent after such a highly sought after family member?' The man laughed, and put his hand up to his mouth while he coughed, Kari could tell that his lungs were very badly damaged.

'Point taken… but the fact of the matter is that you should just do the job at hand. From what we've heard you're supposed to be the best there is.' Kari laughed as she took up the briefcase.

'That maybe what you heard, but there's one more out there that's practically equal to me and my style, but that's a another subject for another day.'

The two men walked Kari to the front door of Yavich's residence. Before she could get out of the mansion, he said his final words.

'Ms. Kari?' She stopped and look at him. "If you screw this up, my neck will be on the line… therefore your neck will be on the line as well."

'Mr. Yavich, you seem to be uncertain about your choice in offering me the job. You still have time to change your mind about me.'

'No, no… I'm just saying.'

'Okay, well I can assure you that I'll have the job done.'

          Dean Koontz is a master of his craft, though he took some time to get the recognition he deserves. I know the suspense genre is not for everyone, but I believe there is a story in his works that would fit any readers interests. Koontz has many books that cover the typical good vs. evil, yet his incredible ability to weave intricate tales hide the true intent until you least expect it. The thrills will keep you reading.

          I have quite a collection of Dean Koontz books and I never pass up the chance to grab one up I dont already own. After reading so many of his books I found it hard to read other authors material. The level of intensity that you will find in a Koontz novel is first rate, and second to none. There are so few writers that have such creativity and the ability to reach readers on a a very unique level. His characters are always exceptional, and some have grown to almost "cult" status with popular lives of their own, to be honest, I have one of his most popular characters "Odd Thomas" as a Myspace friend, as this character is so believable yet extraordinary. 

         I have only read one I didnt like, and that was due to the ending I didnt expect, but thats the beauty of his skill, what you think you are reading is only a small section of the web. His work rarely ends on the same path it starts and always leaves you hungry for more. Koontz novels usually dont get the promotion they deserve mostly because only few of them have been coverted in this "movie title" age of novels going hollywood. Koontz stopped selling the rights to his novels because the few he sold were not given the full focus they should have been and the movies did not portray the stories very well.

If you are unfamiliar with what I mean, allow me to elaborate, Adam is a vampire. According to the description found on the back of the book he is " living embodiment of rebellion. A creature in search of the reason for his terrifying existence--rushing through the centuries in search for the courage to embody evil, yet somehow obtain love and goodness to all."

I would like to make a comparison, if I may to the plight of Adam, an Immortal of Darkness and the basic human frailty that defines the human condition. We are all flawed,we all suffer weakness and moments of desperation. It is how we deal with those moments that define us.

In Adam's case, being a Vampire, his darkness is far more pronounced than a mere human. It is his nature, it is his curse, and yet in spite of it all he also seeks that which is an all-too-familiar part of the human desire, Love.

I do not want to give away the entire story. but I recommend Eyes of Blue to any and all that want to know more about Adam Gold, or anyone who likes intrigue,Romance,gothic literature,and horror. It can be found here.

   Here is what I am trying to get so many people to understand.  If you open that book, relax, and read, you can actually see in your head what is going on.  There are so many places you can visit and so many exciting adventures you can go on with out ever having to leave the comfort of your home!   Fly along with Eragon and Saphira as they battle the Empire, help Harry Potter in his fight against Voldemort, ride along with Alex Cross as he works to catch a serial killer.  Meet Huck Finn and his friends, enjoy life with Penelope Keeling in the Shell Seekers, the possibilities are endless.  Look around you, there are books written on just about any subject you can imagine.  Tried reading before and couldn't get involved? Maybe it was the author, or the genre.  Try something else.  My husband never liked to read until he picked up one of James Patterson's Alex Cross books. Now he reads whenever he gets the chance.  My dad and brother started reading more after reading Jurassic Park.  The most exciting thing for my right now is that my oldest son, who complained every time he had to read, has developed a love for reading and is now hooked on Harry Potter! I have always said that I am addicted to the written word.  I always have to have something to read and am usually reading 2 or 3 books at any given time.  I have found several books that could not hold my interest.  For instance, I loved Eragon, but Eldest could not keep my interest, I finally finished it several months after starting it, now I can say, with out a doubt that Brisingr is the best of the entire series so far. 

    There are authors that I truly love to read and buy just about everything they publish, and others who I enjoy but I can live without their books.  A great author is one who can capture your imagination and draw you into the story, leaving you breathless and wanting more when it ends.  I believe that it is very important for kids to learn to read and enjoy books.  It is not enough for them to read it as an assignment for school and then forget everything they read.  I think more kids would read if they could read books that capture their interest and keep them wanting to read until the end, and still be able to say, " WOW! What a ride!"

    So go ahead, pick up that book, encourage your kids to pick up that book, and come along for the ride!

The experiment basically consists in “trying to synthesize an artificial bacterium in the lab - for scientists to create life from non-living chemicals”. The scientists implicated in the experiment agreed that they would not proceed to start with this experiment until a publicly open debate about the moral and ethical side of the issue is discussed, and also until all the consequences that the same could bring to the whole world are taking into account and consideration; as said by Dr Craig Venter, the founder of Tigr and now head of the Celera Genomics Corporation: "We are not going to carry out this experiment until there has been a broader debate on the issue." But when interviewed, he also admitted the following to the BBC News Channel: "Will we eventually get to a molecular definition of life? I hope that will happen, yes,”

The connection between these two works of literature and writing is very transparent. They are both at the same time proof and an example of that curiosity humans have demonstrated to have throughout history. One might call it a thirst for knowledge. Trying to discover the unknown. Looking for the explanation of why do we exist, or more exactly how do we exist. We have come up with different believes through the years regarding our creation, such as the Big Bang, and all the different religious believes as well. But still, we don't yet know what exactly is it that gives us life. What is it that makes our organism function? What makes us think and have feelings? Some call it spirit, and others call it soul. But no matter what you call it, and regardless of religions or believes, it exists. It's in you, it's in me, and it's nature. It's part of the world, and for me that all that there is to it. But for others, well I guess humanity will have to just wait and see. See what experiments like this one leads science to. See where books like “Frankenstein” leads literature to. See where they both lead cultures and humanity to. And until then just keep thinking, writing, discovering and living.

Disclaimer: In no way do I condone the act of murder. This story is purely a work of fiction based on what I have studied and researched. It is simply an amateur study in to why certain people become serial killers/murderers etc. All characters/locations/events within this story are fictitious.

Foreword:

What goes through the mind of a man who is about to kill someone? What goes through the mind of a man who is killing someone? What goes through the mind of a man who has just killed someone? What are the motives, if there are any? What is the description of the character of someone who would do such a thing? Is it a delayed reaction of their past? Is it a reaction to something that is just not working correctly in their brain? Have they been tempted by the devil himself? Or are they just crazy? Sick? Evil? Is anyone actually born evil? This story is fictitious to the point where the main character doesn't exist, but it is true to the fact that people like the following character description Do exist. What goes on inside the mind of a serial killer?

Chapter 1:

Alone, I Stand Here

The blood dripped from the knife, it was too late. There was nothing that he could have done. It was all over. It would be the last time that anything like that would ever happen again. He knew it was the end... there was no turning back now. A tear rolled down his cheek and he picked up the red sweater that lay over the young man's computer chair, and kissed it immediately before placing it over his lifeless face.

“I know that your soul will not believe me when I say that I am sorry, but I hope that the tears I cry, fall upon the hell that is surely beneath me and prepare an ocean for me to drown in.”

Henry Sylvester Norton was born in Chesterfield, Georgia on a summers day in 1965, a small community that contained nothing but Christian book stores, “perfectly run” coffee shops, and immaculate streets with less trash than the inside of the White House. Pretty houses, stone cladding drive ways and women with the longest skirts that you have ever seen in your life. Barely able to see their ankles, these women would march around, with their bibles in one hand and a handkerchief in the other, just in case a garbage truck was to drive by, or a young school boy had a cough.

Henry was brought up by an overly religious Christian mother and a heavy drinking abusive father. The signs showed very early on that Henry was not your average child. Although he was a smart kid at school, and was often envied by his peers, his character outside of the school environment was far from perfect. Most would say that his character was triggered by his strict overbearing mother, or his abusive drunken father, or probably both. As soon as he would arrive home from school, Henry's smart, perfect school boy manner would change to that of a mouse, that would only eat the cheese if his mother put it to his mouth first.

“I remember Henry Norton very well indeed! A shy young man, but very polite... whenever one was lucky enough to hear him talk that is. By God, when he spoke, you had to listen too darn carefully though, that mans voice was so... well... so soft, I almost started to believe that if he spoke any louder he would just collapse from exhaustion! I kid you not Sir!” a local from Chesterfield spoke to the Channel 12 news as they covered the story of the 19 year old college student murdered two days ago by Henry Norton. The town was full of tourists wanting to know what happened to this once perfect community. People from all over the state flocked to take pictures of this man who had just confessed to killing an innocent preacher's son. He was dragged from the scene covering his eyes with his left hand. A hand that still had fresh blood on it. He sobbed as the police escorted him violently to the police car, they pushed him in to the car, not even ensuring that his head didn't bang on the door frame. Locals were in shock to discover that one of their neighbors had ruined their precious reputation. The streets that were once free of trash, were now marked with the fact that one of their neighbors.... was a serial killer. But not your average serial killer. This one, once had a heart... a heart that had stopped beating, several years prior to the events of this warm Sunday morning.

“No mom, please, not again!” eleven year old Henry backed up against the corner of his bedroom as his mother approached him with his fathers thick, brown, leather belt. The golden colored buckle upon the belt seemed larger than usual. He often admired the belt and had always wanted one like it. It was the only thing about his father that he actually liked. He would sometimes sneak in to his parents room at night just to take the belt for an hour or so and wear it and pretend that he was a grown man.

“You blaspheming little bastard child! You are going to regret ever going in to that devil worshiping candy store!”

“But mom, I just wanted some candy like the other kids!” Henry covered his face and fell to his knees as his mother started striking him with the belt. He could hear the snapping sound of the belt before it even struck him. He heard and felt the breeze of it as his mother threw it back behind her head before allowing it to fall upon his small innocent body.

“No son of mine will enter the devil's store! Do you realize what the neighbors will think if they know that you have been in to that store?!” The store in question was owned by Reginald Fairweather, an elderly man who simply did not attend church on Sundays. So most of the town shunned him and resorted to calling him the devil's helper. Fact is, Reginald was a nice old man who often gave Henry free candy and a shoulder to cry on. Most of the parents in Chesterfield called him a pedophile and would never allow their kids to go to his store or near his farm. Henry enjoyed visiting Reginald and even after the events of being beaten black and blue by the belt, he still secretly went to visit Reginald on a regular basis.

“Henry Sylvester Norton, you will be severely punished each time that I find out that you have been anywhere near that devil's store. You ignorant little bastard child!” She struck him a total of twenty-five times before dragging him to his feet to strike him across the face with her bare hand. He refused to cry and simply re-positioned his face and awaited the next slap, which she continuously did, simply awaiting his cries. When he didn't cry she started beating him with the belt again. He never did cry that day. She finally gave up and proceeded to lock him in his room until he cried from boredom. She then unlocked the door and beat him again specifically because he started to cry. Henrietta Norton would find any small reason to beat her son. Whether it be for going somewhere that she did not want him to go, or whether it be for crying due to beatings, or for not after the beatings. She would stop at nothing to make his life a living hell.

“I will make sure, boy, that you obey mine and your fathers wishes, and God's wishes. You will be a clean and pure boy by the time I am finished with you, just mark my words bastard child! That is what you are, you are, a bastard child! And until you start learning to obey our wishes, you will remain a bastard child!” Henrietta finished beating Henry and then dragged him down to the kitchen to eat. He sat at the table and was greeted by a plate with just one slice of bread with no butter and a half-filled glass of water. He said his prayers and began eating without complaining. His face was cold, and still bleeding from the beating. He had no emotion in his eyes, no tears, and no sorrow. He looked over at his parents who were eating their full plates of roast potatoes, chicken, carrots and all the trimmings. He felt no jealousy and no envy; he was just glad that he wasn't getting beaten again. The only thing that went through his mind was the wondering why his mother never damned his father for his abusive and drunken behavior. Was she scared? Most probably not. Was she just a desperate woman that didn't want to be alone? Did she know the feeling of fear? The answer to these questions is most probably no. How could a woman like her know what fear feels like? Any mother than can treat their own flesh and blood in the way that she treats her son has got to be pure evil. Why would God want any human to act that way to another human, especially their own child? It was definitely not normal.

That night, Henry sat on his bed and watched outside of his window as the moon began to appear from behind the clouds. He started wondering what it would be like to live on the moon. Was it cold? Was it warm? Was it peaceful and hate free? Would his mother and father find him there if he decided to run away? One thing that Henry had never done was run away from home. He was too scared as to what might happen to him if he were ever caught. The thought had of course gone through his mind, how could it not have? Everyday was the same, there was always something that his mother or father would beat him for. It might even be a small thing like not using the right towel to dry his hands before dinner. It didn't matter to them what it was for, they just always found a reason to make him suffer.

Henry got up from his bed, making sure not to step on any of the floor boards that creaked. He stood at the window and tried to feel the light of the moon upon his face. He closed his eyes and reached out.

“Alone, I stand here dear Lord. Do not forsake me, for I have not prayed to you in so long. I have not forgotten you, I have simply been afraid of you. The people downstairs say that you will throw me in to an eternal hell for the things that I do. Oh Lord, forgive me, for I am just a mere boy, and I know no harm, I mean no harm, and I can cause no more harm than these people cause me. Lord.... alone I stand here awaiting to be judged by you yourself. A God of Love, a God of Mercy. Please God, save me from this place that I call hell, before I have to save myself.”

The following morning was bright, sunny and appeared to be full of promise, or at least full or promise to anyone that was not called Henry. He grabbed his bike from the garage and began to cycle down the street. He headed past Reginald's candy store, which was closed for Labor day, so he decided to sneak down Old Oak Lane to his farm. He knew Reginald would be pleased to see him, and just as Henry had figured, Reginald was tending to his chickens. He was wearing his usual old overhauls and smoking his rolled cigarette.

“Hey boy, how is this fine morning treatin' ya?”

“Treatin' me fine Mr. Fairweather, hows about you?” Henry got off of his bicycle and ran over to Reginald for a hug.

“Now you know better than to call me Mr. Anything, just call me Reg, as I have told ya many times!” Reginald took Henry by his shoulder and escorted him in to the house. He pulled down his old cookie jar that his late wife had given him for their 45th wedding anniversary. He took out a hand full of cookies and handed them to Henry. His eyes lit up, probably for the first time in years. He smiled, he laughed and he hugged Reginald yet again. Reginald giggled and was proud that he had made Henry's day. Henry often wanted to tell Reginald what life was like at home, but he was the type of boy that was too scared to tell anyone what it was like for him. He mostly feared that no one would believe him. But if the truth be known, Reginald was probably the only other person in Chesterfield that knew what these Christian hypocrites were really like. Reginald was Spiritual. The only reason he remained in Chesterfield at all was because of memories of his wife. They had moved to Chesterfield when it was not so religious and when it was actually a peaceful and friendly town, with plain old Country Folk who welcomed anybody. But the time was coming where Reginald was just ready to up sticks and move, but he knew that Henry needed a friend. He could tell that he was a troubled boy and would probably stick around simply for that reason. Reginald adored the towns kids and always prayed that they didn't turn out like the rest of the folk in Chesterfield.

“Henry, let me ask ya somethin'. How are your parents? Your daddy, Drake, hows he doin'? He still workin' at O'Riley's Gas station?”

“Erm, yes Sir, he is still there. He's OK.”

“And your momma, Henrietta, how's she these days? Still workin' her buns off at Rita's?”

“Yes Sir. Doin' just fine and dandy.” Henry's smile went away and Reginald knew that something must be wrong. There were still scars on his face, which were clearly being covered by his mothers make-up.

“Henry boy... why are you wearing your mommas make-up on your face? Looks to this old fool like you may be tryin' to cover something up?”

“No Sir, I .... I.... its nothin' and I best be headin' off now. Thanks for the cookies and stuff.”

“No Henry, wait I...” But Henry was already out of the house and on his bike before Reginald even got the chance to get out of his chair. He knew something was wrong, and it didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what it was. But what could he do about it? An almost 70 year old man, who was clearly not liked in his own town. Who would listen? Even the police were on the sides of the Christians. Where would it get him?

Henry cycled around town for a few hours before finally arriving home at 7:00pm, an hour late for dinner and with the knowing in his heart that he was about to get either told off or beaten. But what happened next was far from Henry's expectations.

“You, dirty, lying little bastard!” Henry's angry mother walked towards him, with the same belt in her hand. She stopped half way as his father grabbed the belt.

“The belt is too good for him Henrietta. Try the tea kettle. Its just boiled, and he needs a good warming up.”

“Thats right... lets show him what Hell is going to feel like. Maybe that will teach him not to be such a lying little bastard!” Henrietta took the tea kettle from Drake and headed towards Henry. He sat himself down on the chair and began praying. His words were mumbled and spoken very quickly.

“What in God's name do you think you are doing boy? How dare you plead to God for help after your lies and deceit! You shut up this instant!” Henrietta beat Henry upside the head but he continued to pray. The last words of his prayer were that God forgive his mother and father's actions. This infuriated them both and they proceeded to pour the scolding hot water over their sons head. Henry let out the most fear filled scream that anyone had probably ever heard and jumped up from the chair grabbing the first thing that he laid his eyes on. A butcher's knife. He lunged it in to his mothers stomach and then ran at his father. Filled with shock, Drake was unable to move as the knife plunged into his chest. Henry stepped away from the kitchen and walked backwards in to the dining room, watching as his parents collapsed to the floor, laying in their own blood.

“God forgive my hateful actions, I fear not what you lay upon me for the things that I have done, for I know that I deserve them.”

Henry sat in the dining room watching as his parents lay lifeless. He stood up after twenty-five minutes and stumbled through the kitchen, still in pain from the burns caused by the scolding hot water. Henry's pain filled body crept around his parents bodies, he knew they were dead, but his mind had not yet registered it. He tumbled down the steps to the back yard and reached for his bicycle. He rode around in terror until finally realizing that he had nowhere to go. He pulled up at the park and sat on the bottom of the slide, wondering where his life would go next. Would the Lord strike him dead? Would he wonder in to a self created hell? Or would he simply wonder around in an eternal night time. Was it all a dream? His thoughts continued to lead him in to a deeper terror until he finally decided that Reginald would probably still be awake and willing to let him stay for the night. But surely he couldn't tell his friend what happened? He cycled to his farm and stood outside on his porch watching through the window as he sat at his kitchen table rolling a cigarette while listening to old Rock "n" Roll songs. Buddy Holly's “That'll Be the Day” played on the radio. Reginald was singing along softly while he got ready to light his perfectly rolled cigarette. Henry leaned on the window sill watching Reginald.

“I know you're out there boy. Come on in, there is room for a little one at my table!”

Chapter 2:

And So it Goes...

4:00am, September 17th, 1986, Henry awoke from his sleep. A typical reason for waking up for Henry as usual, a nightmare. His mothers hands cruelly pouring scolding hot water over his head, creating the burns and scars which still marked his face. He jumped out of bed and headed to the window. As clear as the morning sun, the moon shone down upon his face, just as it had done all those years ago. Again he prayed and asked God to forgive the murder that he had committed ten years ago to that very day.

“Henry, are ya ok in there son?” Reginald called in after hearing Henry moving around.

“Yes Reg, I am OK, just another bad dream. It's OK, go back to bed.”

“Well I was gonna make some coffee with a drop of whiskey, ya want some son?”

“Sure... OK, but minus the whiskey for me Reg.”

Henry watched the moon for a few more minutes before heading downstairs to join Reg for some coffee. He sat at the table and smiled at Reg as he watched him pour the coffee. Reg smiled back and started to pour whiskey in to Henry's cup before he quickly reminded him that he didn't want the whiskey. Of course, he didn't touch alcohol due to his fathers heavy booze in-take.

“Ten years son. Since you started living with me. And, erm., there is something that I need to ask ya boy. Somethin' that, well.... has kinda rattled my old bones for a long time.” Reginald sat up straight and attempted to come right out and asked Henry what he wanted to know.

“Son... now you know that you can tell me anythin' right?”

“Yes Reg, I did kill them. I ain't about to deny it. OK I never told ya but, it was not an easy thing to come out and say, but after all you have done for me, I am not about to lie to ya when you ask me out right. But then again, you already knew didn't ya?”

“Yes son, I did. Actually, that was not what I was gonna ask ya. I was gonna ask ya why you came to me after you did it?”

“'Cause you care, and I knew that you would look after me. You wouldn't let anyone hurt me again.” Henry took Reginald's hand and kissed it. Reginald had a tear roll down his face and assured Henry with a smile that as long as he had breath in his body, he would never let anyone hurt him ever again.

Henry sipped his coffee and the pair started talking about different things.

Soon after, the sun started to rise and Reginald headed to his candy store to open up and start doing business. It would be his last day before retiring once and for all. He had plans for Henry to take over the shop but due to the circumstances and the fact that Henry had been hiding from the community for so long, he had decided against it. While working, Reginald came up with the idea that Henry would not even be recognized after ten years of hiding. His features were different, his appearance was different... no one would know who he was. Could this plan work? Or was Reginald fooling himself and just setting himself and Henry up for trouble? As he continued his last day at the store, he started to get uncomfortable with the amount of locals that were entering his store that day. His usual customers were out-of-town people who simply visited his store because they enjoyed the classic candy that he sold. But suddenly he started seeing all of the locals and he became some what suspicious. They were even being polite and kind. Was it because they were glad to see him retiring and closing down the store, or were they simply just starting to like him? What was going on? Despite the suspicion, Reg continued to serve them as though they were regular customers and put the thoughts to the back of his mind. It was the end of the day two men entered, Len and Larry Stokes, two local brothers who worked at a commune that gave shelter to local Christian children with no families. As soon as they entered the store, Reg knew that something was not right. They stood at the counter, staring at Reg for a whole minute before saying anything.

“So, Mr. Fairweather, you are finally closing this joint, eh?”

“Yes. Thats right. Now what can I do for you gentlemen?” Reginald stumbled over his words, feeling nervous as the two strange men glared at him for another minute before responding.

“Do for us? Well... can a man not simply come in to see how an old friend is?” The scruffy men grinned and continued to stare and mutter things to each other.

Reg sighed and then wondered to the hook where the door keys were hung. He took the keys and walked to the door.

“I am actually about to close now gentlemen so, if you would be so kind as to exit the store, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Exit the store? Now that isn't very polite now is it Mr. Fairweather?” The brothers laughed and wandered out of the shop, frequently looking over their shoulders at Reg. He quickly closed the door and started to gather his things to leave the building. He took his bag, gave one last look around the shop before leaving. He locked the door and headed towards his truck which was parked at the side of the store.

As he approached his truck he was jumped by six people dressed in black, all of whom were wearing masks. He was thrown into the back of his truck where he was tied up and gagged. Someone then placed a bag over his head. Three of the six people sat on top of him so he couldn't squirm. The other three people jumped in to the front of the truck and started to drive off. The truck was not being driven very well and they were hitting trash cans and other objects during the journey. They finally pulled the truck over at an abandoned church close to Reg's farm. The people pulled him on to the ground and removed the bag from his head. They dragged him to the church building and placed him face down in the dirt.

Three of the people removed their masks, two of them were the Stokes brothers. They laughed as they watched Reg squirming, trying to get free. There was no hope for him.

“The Lord gave us lives to use them and make the most of them, Mr. Fairweather. What have you done with yours? Never once do you ever preach the word of God, never once have you entered our churches. You simply supply the innocent children with candy and promises. I think I am quite sure that you supply these children with the subject of your sexual fantasies, don't you Sir? You my friend... are the devil! And you are about to be punished.”

Reg tried screaming through the dirty rag that was placed in his mouth. His screams were in vein, and his life was about to end, as the men continuously stabbed him, until he no longer moved.

From within the trees and bushes, Henry watched, as his only friend was brutally murdered. He had heard the screams and ran to see what was going on, but it was too late. Reg lay lifeless on the ground, until the men picked him up and placed him back in to the truck. He watched as they doused the truck with gasoline and set it on fire. He wanted to chase the men, but what could he do against six people? As they ran away from the scene they removed their masks. Henry looked on and couldn't believe that yet again.... he was alone. Yet again, God had failed him and left him believing that there are no good people left in the world. Why must it be so difficult, why must we bare so much torment? Was there anything left to live for? Was there anything else left to wish for? Or had it all just ended there and then?

“As You God, are my witness... do not forgive me for what I do from here on, because I do not want your forgiveness any longer! I am not sorry! Brutal are the words I speak, brutal are the souls I seek, hear my hate, and feel my spite, and give me now, my given right!”

“Its 9am in Chesterfield and here is a classic from Buddy Holly... “That'll Be the Day”. The radio played in a red Ford truck that Henry just stole from a local gas station. He sped down the streets and headed in to the town. Pulling up outside Rita's coffee house, he got out of the truck and headed inside. His cowboy boots made a loud noise on the marble flooring of the posh establishment. The locals looked as the scarred faced young man wandered to the table nearest the rear of the restaurant.

“Can I ... get ya anything stranger?” Rita, the owner sarcastically requested Henry's custom. Her eyes as wicked as the devil's laugh. Henry stared at her with hate in his eyes.

“You can get me a fucking coffee and you can wipe that fucking smart ass fucking look off of your bitch ass face!” Rita was stunned, and you could see by her face that no one had ever dared speak to her in that way ever before. All of the locals stood up out of their seats and were ready to throw Henry out of the restaurant.

“Its OK fellas, let the guy be, I guess he is just a real thirsty guy. We can fix that can't we... Jane, get your lazy ass in there and get this man a coffee.” Rita grinned at Henry as he sat there with closed fists. He wanted to reach up and punch her and everyone else in there, but instead he awaited his coffee. He leaned back and looked at the reflection of the other locals in the mirror on the back wall. They were all staring at him and mumbling under their breaths.

“Here ya go stranger. The coffee you.... ordered... do enjoy now, won't ya!”

“Thanks... now where is the fucking creamer for this shitty excuse for coffee, or do I have to fuck ya first?” Henry smiled at Rita's reaction. She stood there trying to pretend that it was not bothering her. He happily saw in her eyes that she was more insulted than she had ever been before.

“Now Sir. I don't know who you are or where you come from but....” Henry stopped her mid sentence.

“Remember your favorite staff member, Henrietta Norton?... I am her son, Henry.” Rita's face turned in to that of a shock filled one. Her eyes were wide open and her chin was almost touching the floor.

“Little Henry? Oh dear Lord, this whole town has been searching for you for.... where in God's name have you been and where did you get the filthy mouth from, cause you sure as hell did not get it from your momma or poppa... well maybe your poppa but...” Again, Henry stopped her mid sentence.

“Shut up... and why don't you let me do the talking for a change. Do you know who killed my parents?” Henry stood up and awaited Rita's response. Her eyes appeared sad and she leaned in close to Henry's ear.

“They say it was Reginald Fairweather. He kinda disappeared for a long while after they were murdered. There was never enough evidence but. Anyway, where have you been? You went in to care or something they said?” Rita put her hand on Henry's shoulder and tried consoling him. He looked at her hand and pulled away.

“What the fuck do you care? And fuck your coffee. I will go make my own.” Henry walked away and slammed the door on his way out. He made his way to the truck and sped off in to the distance.

“Hey everyone, that was Henry Norton! Henrietta's boy! My God, he has turned in to the most unholy little bastard! Steer clear of that one! He ain't the sweet little Angel that he used to be, God forgive me.” Rita announced Henry's return and went back to her business, shaking her head and mumbling things about Henry's language and rudeness.

Henry made his way to the nearest motel and booked himself a room. He booked in with his own name and yet again got strange looks and comments about where he has been for the past ten years. He ignored the remarks and went to the room, unpacking his bag, which only held a few books, the bible and some clothes that Reg had gotten for him over the years. He took the bible and placed it under the bed.

“I won't be needing that again...” He fell on to the bed and closed his eyes, suddenly having flashbacks of the past. Beginning with his parents deaths. Suddenly he wasn't sorry anymore. He felt no guilt, he felt no remorse and felt no shame. He insisted that God need not forgive him. He did not want forgiveness anymore. He wanted the punishment and he demanded the right to do what he wanted and what he felt was his right, from here on. He opened his eyes again and looked towards the window. The moon was not visible... for the first time, he didn't see the moon shining. Maybe it was a sign? Henry believed that it was surely a sign that things had changed, he wasn't the same man anymore, and life was not the same anymore. It was time to move on and start a fresh. Nothing could stop Henry anymore. It was too late, he had gone too far, and there was no turning back. This was the way it had to be. There were no alternatives anymore.

“Alone, I stand here... there are no consequences.”

Rita was the only person left at the coffee house. She was getting the money together and removing her apron, the door had not yet been locked,. She usually forgot to lock the door until she was ready to go upstairs to her apartment to sleep for the night. Henry walked in, startling her.

“Oh dear Lord you scared the living daylights out of me there! Listen son, we are closed, I am about to lock up for the night. Come back tomorrow, and I will get you a better coffee...” Rita grinned and tried escorting Henry out of the shop.

“Shut up... I ain't goin' anywhere... and I ain't your SON!” Henry dragged Rita back in to the main section of the restaurant, pulling her by her hair in to the back room. She cussed and tried escaping his grasp, but he had a tight grip.

“What in God's name are you....” Henry slapped her across the face.

“Shut... the hell... UP! You fucking whore. Now you listen to me, and you listen good. You are not going to get out of here alive is that understood BITCH!?” Henry scared Rita to the point where she urinated in her pants. The urine flooded the area beneath her feet. She sobbed and was about to plead for her life, but Henry grabbed a knife and slowly slit her throat. She gurgled and fell to the floor. Henry watched and grinned.

“Brutal are the words I speak, brutal are the souls I seek, hear my hate, and feel my spite, and give me now, my given right!”

Rita opened her eyes once more and gurgled until she took her last breath. As she did, Henry took a deep breath and smiled, wandering out of the restaurant.

“Well... have I made myself clear yet?”

Chapter 3:

When the Wind Blows

Horrified, he lay on the bed at the motel. Disgusted, filled with guilt and total and utter remorse. But what really terrified Henry is that part of him enjoyed and thrived on what he had just done. His mind cast back to the moment that he coldly sliced Rita's throat with the knife and he recollected the feeling of joy and happiness. It was a buzz; a buzz that he had never felt before. Would he seek that buzz again? Would his life now become that of those whom he had watched on the slasher movies on TV when he was a child. He recalled watching those movies in terror, praying that he would never be a victim of somebody like that... but now, he had to pray that someone wouldn't become his victim.

The street was silent. Busy but silent. Police were everywhere, the wind was blowing hard, leaves being scattered furiously across the road. Henry watched from his motel room window, knowing that he was the cause of this commotion. His cold blooded murder of a popular resident had created this fury and upset.

“Wait a minute... why should I feel guilty? This woman was evil! She was a Christian. The type of person that damns others to hell just for not thinking the same way that they do!” Henry laughed and cussed while he watched the towns people flock together wondering who would do such a terrible thing.

“Who would do such a thing... thats what they are probably saying right now, ha! Like they will ever know. Like they would... ever really understand.” He pulled the curtain to the side and looked down on the street. Rita's coffee house was now the center of attention. People were glaring at the front window of the towns hot spot. Suddenly Rita's cold, bloody body was inside of a body bag, being carefully brought out in to the street to be placed in to the coroner's vehicle. Henry's smile disappeared as he realized yet again that he had taken someone's life. One moment happy, the next moment sad. He truly didn't know how to feel right now.

The strong winds picked up and they became even more fierce. The window pane started to shake in Henry's motel room. The people down below started to be thrown around, ladies were having to hold their hats on their heads. The coroners almost lost the body from their grasp as the wind started throwing them around. A hurricane was heading for sure. Henry stepped away from the window and could almost feel the wind. A tear rolled down his face. Not for what he had done, but for the fact that his past had turned him in to such a man. This was not the type of man that he wanted to be. He wanted to be loved, he wanted to be able to love someone. Reginald was the only person he had ever loved and now that he had gone, there was no one else left for him to love. Perhaps Henry was not supposed to be a normal man. As these thoughts continued to flow through his mind, he sat upon the bed and closed his eyes hoping that he would fall asleep. Laying back on to the bed he kept his eyes closed and muttered some words to himself, praying that sleep would rescue him from any harm.

“Its peace that you need Henry. Peace. Love will not find you, you have to find IT. And you won't find it in this town. Leave now, or forever be damned.” Henry talked to himself as he prepared to exit the town that caused him so much pain. It was now 1989. Three years since all of the drama.

He stepped on to the bus and prepared to leave Chesterfield for good. He looked over his shoulder one last time and saw a young lady running for the bus. She called out his name to which he first did not reply.

“Henry! Wait!” The young lady banged on the side of the bus and demanded that the driver stop. Henry walked to the front of the bus to find out what the woman wanted.

“Henry. Don't you remember me? Its Macy. Macy Green. We went to school together. Father Paddington just told me who you were.” Henry stared at Macy and finally realized that she was his friend from school. One of the only people that he ever really got along with. A true friend.

“Henry, please don't leave. You have no idea how much I have missed you. After all these years. I thought you were dead.”

“Macy, I... I can't stay here. Not now. I have to leave. Its too late.” Henry started to walk away, till Macy grabbed his arm.

“Please... just for a little while. Stay. Talk to me, lets reminisce about the good times.” Henry finally got off of the bus and walked with Macy to a bench. They sat and talked for a good hour and Macy finally convinced Henry to go to her house and stick around for a while.

“I have nowhere to go Macy, nowhere to live, Its time for me to leave.”

“Henry, you can stay with me for a while, at least until you get your feet on the ground. OK?” Henry nodded and agreed to stay for a while. They walked to her house and Henry felt strange having someone from his past at his side. He was partly scared but partly intrigued and excited. Wondering if maybe he now had someone to confide in may make his life a little better. Maybe this is what he needed.

That night, Henry and Macy sat together and watched TV. Macy was laughing at a sitcom that was on the TV. Henry couldn't laugh or smile, but inside he was excited and happy. His trust seemed to be coming back. Part of him felt for some reason that he could trust Macy. Even though he had not known her as an adult, he felt close to her and felt safe in her company.

“Henry, you are an attractive man ya know.”

“Um... thanks. You are very pretty also. You always were.” Henry managed to show a slight smile and Macy took his hand. Henry some how knew that they would end up being intimate. His heart started to beat quickly and he was unsure if this was the right thing to do. Macy stood up and enticed Henry to follow her to her bedroom. He followed her but was shaking.

“You don't have to be scared Henry.”
“Macy, this is... well I'm... I haven't done this before.” Henry felt safe in admitting that he was a virgin, but Macy smiled. She didn't care. She just knew that she wanted to be close to him.

They arrived at the bedroom and Macy convinced Henry that he didn't need to be scared. He finally let himself go as they became intimate. Suddenly, his worries faded away.

“Its 9 AM in Chesterfield and we are gonna start the day with an old favorite of mine, Buddy Holly with “That'll Be the Day”. The radio played a familiar sound as Henry awoke from sleep on a bright Saturday morning. Some time had passed and Henry had remained at Macy's house. They had become close and things were finally starting to look up, but part of Henry's past, never left.

“Henry! Henry! Come quick, there has been an incident in town!”

“What happened darling?” Henry rushed downstairs to see what the commotion was about.

“Its Father Paddington, he has been murdered! The police are everywhere!” Macy rushed outside to join the crowd. Henry sat down on the door step. The look of concern left his face. The worry that first hit him disappeared. A look of relief entered his eyes... he did it. He took another life.

Henry wandered outside and joined the crowd. He watched as Macy covered her face with her hands as an elderly lady claims that his throat had been cut by a bucther's knife.

“Who could have done this? That was how Rita Stringer was murdered too! What is happening to this town!” Macy ran to Henry and hugged him. She was scared, and she felt close to Henry knowing he would protect her. His safe and sincere arms would save her from harm.

“I will look after you darling. You have no need to be scared with me.”

Everybody flocked as a familiar scene took place. Father Paddington's body was escorted away in the coroner's car. Yet another local was leaving Chesterfield for good, never to be seen again.

Henry and Macy sat at a coffee shop that had recently opened up in memory of Rita. Henry felt uncomfortable being sat there, but just decided to put up with the memories for now so not to let on his feelings to Macy. They looked at each other, smiling. Despite Henry's uneasy feeling of being sat anywhere in the town that he do despised, he some how felt OK when he was with Macy. Something made him feel at ease and there was nowhere else he would rather be when he was with her. The love of his life. The one true reason to be alive and be happy. Macy took Henry's hand and vowed that she will love him always.

“I want you to know Henry that the past few weeks have been so special to me, so extremely special. I couldn't have imagined spending them with anyone better than you. I feel like I could share anything with you.” She smiled as she peered over in to Henry's eyes.

“I feel the same way darling. You have made my life complete again. I never thought anyone could make me this happy.”

“Henry, there is something that I have to tell you baby. I'm not sure how you are going to take this.” Macy looked down as she started to give Henry some news. Henry feared that she was about to tell him that she wanted them to separate. His mind wandered through the past, thinking of all of the times his life has let him down. She looked up and appeared to be scared.

“I'm pregnant Henry. I am pregnant with your child.” Macy covered her face and awaited Henry's response. She heard the door closing and looked up to find that Henry had gone. She jumped up from her seat, spilling the last of her coffee. Wandering outside she looked up and down the street to see the side of Henry's jacket disappearing around the corner of Old Jack's Hardware Store. She ran down the street but it was too late, he had gotten in to his truck and was already driving away at an ungodly speed. She sat on a bench and began to cry. What must be going through Henry's mind? Why would he have taken it so badly?

Macy entered her house and threw her keys on to the table. She entered the dining room to find Henry sat there staring at her. She eased towards him and put her hand on his shoulder. He stood up and grabbed her arm forcing it behind her back. He flung her face down on to the counter and pushed her face down.

“You stupid bitch, what the hell were you thinking? We can't have kids! Who in their right mind would bring a child in to a community like this... a world like this? Are you fucking crazy?” Macy struggled but was too scared to scream. She softly whimpered hoping he would stop.

“But... this is a nice town Henry. We grew up here.”

“You stupid idiot, are you just like the rest of them? You fall for all of their lies and their evil ways. This town is twisted, do you not see that!?” Henry let go of Macy and dragged her through the living room and to the front door. He flung it open, still holding her tightly by her arm.

“Look outside Macy. Look at this town. Every single one of these people believe that people like me and people like you are going to burn in hell. Anyone that doesn't follow their rules, will be damned. Is this the kind of place you want to bring a child in to?” Henry slammed the door and threw Macy on to the floor.

“Lets get one thing straight Macy. You go ahead and have the kid. I don't believe in abortion. But get this... I want no part of this child's life, and I no longer want any part of yours. Do you understand me?” Henry walked to the window and awaited Macy's response.

“Henry what is happening to you, what is wrong? I... I thought you loved me?” Macy began to cry. Her tears rolled down her face and she carefully stood up. Henry raised his foot and pushed her back down.

“I loved you! I did! But now... I want no more to do with you. Have the child, have the bastard child, but don't ever think that I want anything to do with you or it. Ever!”

The following year, Macy gave birth to their child. She named the baby boy, Henry and he bared her last name, Green. She was too broken hearted to keep the boy, and decided to let her uncle Robert a local preacher, raise him as his own. Macy learned that Henry had moved to a town 45 miles away and wrote him a letter letting him know of her decision. She never got a response.

As the wind blew at strong and furious speeds, Henry wandered down the street reading the letter that Macy had sent him. Anger entered his face that he was now the father of someone who would be bred in a town that was full of hate and lies. How could he live with the fact that his decision to fall in love with Macy would bring on such consequences. He was now the father of a Chesterfield mistake.

Chapter 4:

45 Miles From Chesterfield

Five years later and 45 miles away from Chesterfield in a run down coffee shop, Henry was handed the morning newspaper. Dated December 21st, 1994, the headlines read “Chesterfield local Macy Green murdered outside coffee house. - 29 year old factory worker Macy Louise Green was murdered last night outside of a Chesterfield Coffee House. She had several stab wounds to her chest and one stab wound to her face. Her body was discovered by her uncle Robert Green, a local preacher. A memorial service will be held tomorrow at 3:00 PM at St. Agnes' Church, Maple Lane. ” Henry rubbed his forehead and slung the paper on to the seat next to him.

“Want some creamer for ya coffee Sir?” A middle-aged lady with a cigarette hanging from her mouth approached Henry.

“Yeah go ahead.” Henry slid his mug towards her awaiting for the creamer. He nodded a thank you and started to sip on his coffee. The rain poured heavier than usual, though the sun was still shining. Strange time of the year for the sun to be shining. Late December, almost Christmas. Henry paid no attention to the fact that the weather was different. He was used to strange happenings and nothing phased him much anymore. Since moving to Grove View, Henry had settled down a little more and became much more quiet. He had not killed anybody in the last five years and had not really associated much with anybody. His new home was an apartment about three blocks from the coffee shop that he was sat in.

Henry took the last sup of his coffee and was about to head to work, when he was approached by two men.

“Henry Norton? I am Det. Sgt. Paul Hatchett, and this is my colleague Det. Shaw. We would like to talk to you for a few minutes if thats OK?” They sat down at the table and ordered their coffees, and Henry sat back down.

“OK, what is this about detectives, I um, have to get back to work.”

“Where do you work Mr. Norton?”

“Firstly, I work at Dennis' Auto Parts, and secondly how do you know my name?” Henry leaned forward and took a sup of the detectives warm coffee. He leaned back and crossed his arms awaiting their response.

“Firstly... Mr. Norton, get your own coffee. Secondly, we found a photograph of you, along with your address, in the pocket book of the late Macy Green.” Henry became a little less comfortable and became sad.

“Yes I um... read in this newspaper about what happened to her. She was a good friend of mine.”

“Very good friend it might appear. We heard that you are the father of her 5 year old son. Who is now living with her uncle. The preacher.” The detectives grinned and it was obvious that they suspected Henry. Maybe not for the murder, but they suspected him of something.

“Yes. Thats right. What of it detective? I am not sure I understand what it is you are wanting from me?”
“Just your co-operation Mr. Norton. Thats all. How long have you and the victim been apart?” Henry slumped down and shook his head. He was apparently furious at the way the detectives were treating him.

“The victim has a name Detective Hatchett. Her name is Macy.”

“Was Macy, Mr. Norton. Past tense now. She is deceased. Now we just need to ask you a few questions. Where you on the night of December 21st?”

“What is this?” Henry stood up and went to the counter to order more coffee.

“Mr. Norton, we just need you to answer the questions, you ain't the only person we have questioned. You are the father of the child she gave up and the child that you gave up. You are of course going to be one of the first people that we question Sir.” Henry took his coffee and sat back down. Awaiting to hear what else they had to say.

“Just answer the question Mr. Norton.”

“I was at my job from 5am, until 5pm, I then went to my apartment and showered and ate dinner. I left my apartment at around 7pm, came here, then went back home at 11pm when this place closed, and then I went to bed so I could get up for work the next morning.” Henry sipped his coffee and leaned back in his seat.

“Do you have anyone that can clarify that for us?”

“The guy working on the grill over there was here that night. He could probably clarify it for you.” The detectives approached the cook and softly asked him if he remembers seeing Henry. The man nodded yes with a smile. The detectives were clearly shocked.

“Well, you are lucky Mr. Norton, the young man said that you were here. Which pretty much puts you in the clear. Ms. Green was murdered at around 8:45pm on the 21st. But you were here... but I am sure we will be seeing you again. We will need to ask you more questions in time. Till then, you make sure you have a pleasant day now ya here?” The smug sarcastic detectives left the coffee shop and Henry sighed. His heart was beating and his brain was working over time. Did he kill Macy? Was the cook merely an alibi? Henry wasn't even sure if he did it or not. His mind was a blank. He knew nothing anymore.

Henry wandered down the street. It was getting dark, hardly any of the street lights were working and Henry was getting tired and desperate to get home. He was about one and a half blocks from the apartment building when he noticed a young man running down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. The man was about mid 20s and looked scared. Henry followed him and eventually caught up with him.

“Hey buddy whats wrong? You look like someone is after you.” The man tried catching his breath and held on to Henry's arm for support.

“This guy at the gas station, he... OK, OK, I left without paying for my cigarettes and he had started to run after me. I think I lost him.” Henry laughed and offered to escort him home. The pair walked and finally reached the mans house. Henry watched as he entered his house. He stood outside and watched the lights go on in the bedroom. The night grew colder, and darker and Henry was about to cross the street and head home. Suddenly he turned around and felt the urge to go back to the mans house. He didn't know why he wanted to, he just did. He crossed the street approached the house and rang the door bell. The man came to the door and looked some what confused.

“Um, you OK buddy, what you doin' here?” The man continued to look confused and stepped outside.
Henry put his hand in his pocket, took out a knife and showed it to the man.

“What the... man who are... what the fuck?” He stepped back in to his house and tried to close the door but Henry jammed his foot in and forced his way in. He grabbed the man by the throat, strangled him a little and then got him in a head lock and slit his throat. As the man bled, Henry quoted some very familiar words.

“Brutal are the words I speak, brutal are the souls I seek, hear my hate, and feel my spite, and give me now, my given right!” Henry stepped away from the man's body, and quickly exited the house. He ran down the street and hid in the bushes for a while to make sure that no one had seen him. The coast looked clear and there didn't appear to be any witnesses. He crossed the street and headed back to his apartment.

As Henry arrived at his apartment he was suddenly fueled with guilt, regret, horror and terror. Yet again his actions led to an anxiety attack. Why did he do these things? He sat down and held his head in his hands, realizing that this life that he had created for himself would eventually bring him down, not to mention the families of the victims. But this time was different. Now he had killed someone that he did not even know. An innocent young man who had probably never harmed anybody in his life and now his life was taken for no good reason.

A silence swept over Henry's apartment. His eyes opened and he looked up at his window. The moon was out, but it wasn't white... it wasn't yellow... it was red. For the first time in his life Henry saw fury looking down upon him. Pushing himself up from his seat he stood up and walked towards the window not knowing what to expect. The red moon appeared to be something that only Henry could see and he knew it. No one else was seeing this red moon, or at least he assumed that they weren't. Was this God's fury? Henry felt no shame, no anger and no sadness. For the first time in his life all guilt and remorse had disappeared from Henry's heart. The red moon came closer and before his very eyes it exploded in to a ball of flames. The sound was almost unbearable but Henry laughed at it.

“Ha! Throw it all at me. See if I care! These pathetic exploits of anger do not scare me no more! For the anger in my heart will over shadow anyone and I shall bring them all to their knees!”

*****

The news interrupted all of the popular TV shows in the area of Chesterfield and the town where Henry now resided. Reports of a serial killer spread like the plague and the area was in panic. Police searched high and low for the person responsible for four deaths over the past few years which all seemed to be linked and all but one were murdered in the same way. A slit throat caused by what appeared to be a butcher knife.

“I don't care Gates, just bring me a damn turkey sandwich now!” Detective Sgt. Paul Hatchett sat in his grungy office flicking through paperwork. His squinting eyes searched for whatever clues he could find to try and unmask the serial killer. He had been searching for years ever since the murder of Rita Stringer. The clues were there, all murders since Rita were committed in the same way. With a knife. The victims were always left at the scene and the knife was always taken and never left behind.

“This is too close to home for my liking Shaw. All of these murders have taken place in Chesterfield, they are all loving Christian people.”

“All apart from the guy in Chalk County.”

“Yes... thats the part that gets me. This killer must be on the road.”

“Or on the run...” Shaw sat down in front of Hatchett and sipped on a can of cola.

“On the run... the last person to be killed in Chesterfield was that girl. Macy Green. The next person to be killed was the guy in Chalk County. Dean Grant.” Hatchett rubbed his head trying to piece it all together.

“Hatchett. Macy's ex... Norton. The shady looking guy in Chalk County. He used to live in Chesterfield didn't he?”

“Yes... yes thats right, he did! But he couldn't have killed Macy Green. But... that doesn't mean that he didn't kill the others. Rita Stringer, the priest, and the guy in... Chalk County...”

“No, no... I didn't mean that he is the killer, just that it seems odd that the killings took place in Chesterfield and then they stopped and now its starting in Chalk County...” Hatchett stopped Shaw mid-sentence.

“... which is where Norton is now residing. A little fishy if you ask me. Bring him in. I'm gonna ask that Mr. Norton a few questions.”

*****

Henry sat in the local coffee shop eating a pie and sipping coffee. The rain was coming down hard. Thunder was rolling in the air. Henry knew God was mad at him. But he grinned at the sky through the window. He didn't care anymore.

Past the window was Detective Shaw. He approached the door and stopped and looked over at Henry. Henry stood up and looked over at Shaw.

“This town ain't big enough for the both of us Detective. Gonna get ya pistol out?”

“Norton. I need to take you in to the station and ask you a few questions... just settle down.”

“Questions? Well I need to ask you a question Detective...”

“And what's that Mr. Norton?” Henry grinned and stared at Shaw with all of the hate that he had in his body.

“My question is this... how long do you think it would take you to walk across this room and be stood in front of me?”

“Mr. Norton, I ain't here to play games...”
“Do it!” Henry shouted and beckoned Shaw with his index finger.

“OK Mr. Norton I'm coming, just calm down.” Shaw casually walked towards Henry, feeling a slight fear. He didn't know why Henry was angry but he could smell it in the air.

“OK. So it took you 5 seconds to approach me. How quickly do you think I could remove the knife from my inside pocket and kill you before you get the chance to remove the gun from your holster and attempt to kill me?” Henry's voice was low and raspy. Shaw's eyes opened wide and his hand slid towards his side.

“Ha ha! You are too easy. OK, OK, come on, take me to the station for these questions. Haha!” Shaw grinned and looked relieved. He started to walk towards the door.

“You had me there for a minute Mr. Norton. But you shouldn't have done that. I am pretty quick on the draw ya know, my daddy taught me a lot before he died!”

“Is that right. Well I'm sorry.” Henry winked and followed Shaw to the door. Henry looked back at the waitress and winked.

“Switch on the jukebox honey. Play the first song that comes to your head.” The waitress smiled and headed to the jukebox. The first song that came on... was “That'll Be the Day” by Buddy Holly.

“Hey Detective...”

“Yeah?”

“Are you cold?” Shaw looked back and appeared puzzled.

“Um... just a little yeah, why?”

“I hear its pretty warm in hell.” Henry grabbed Shaw and quickly slit his throat. Without a moments care of who had seen him commit this murder, he quoted his killing words.

“Brutal are the words I speak, brutal are the souls I seek, hear my hate, and feel my spite, and give me now, my given right!” The waitress could see it all through the window and dropped the coffee pot on the floor. The sound of the smash seemed to echo on forever. Henry grinned at her and walked casually around the corner pulling up his jacket collar around his face.

“Allow them to find me if you will... lets just see who is the quickest. Them... or me...” Henry's evil laugh echoed through the alley way as he casually strolled in to the distance. Where was he going? Who would be the next victim?

Chapter 5:

To Find the Truth

Thirteen years had passed. Henry Norton had not been seen or heard since the killing of Detective Shaw. Where did he go? What happened to him? Paul Hatchett had by now of course realized that his suspicions about Henry were correct. Or at least they appeared to be. Thirteen years ago outside of the little coffee shop in Chalk County, Henry slit Shaw's throat and left him there for everyone to see. The ambulance arrived at the scene to find that Shaw was still alive. Barely breathing but he was alive. Hatchett rushed to his side and Shaw lived long enough to moan Henry Norton's name before he passed away. Hatchett has spent the last thirteen years trying to piece it all together and swore that he would one day find Norton and discover the truth. The past five years have been spent looking in to Norton's past. Discovering even the most secretive details such as the abuse he had suffered from his parents... only one person ever knew this, and that was Henry himself. How did Hacthett possibly find this out?

Three years ago, Hatchett sat outside Henry's old house where he once lived with his parents. He approached the house which had not had any residents since the killing of the Nortons. The door was boarded shut and there was a feeling of tension and hate surrounding the entrance.

“God... what the hell happened in here?” Hatchett noticed an open window to the side of the house. He climbed through it and immediately felt the terror that had occurred in the building. This house was never a home. The smell was disgusting, the air was filled with echoes of terror. Hatchett was unsure of whether to continue in to the house, but his heart told him to stick with it. He wandered through the kitchen knowing that the bodies of Henry's parents were discovered there. Lifeless, and bloody. Some of the blood still remained. The tea kettle was on the floor where Henry's mother had dropped it after pouring the scolding water over her sons head. Hatchett picked it up and placed it on the table. One of the chairs were knocked over. There had been an obvious struggle. He wandered around the kitchen feeling curious as to what may have happened. Looking down at the floor he noticed a very faint foot print. It was so faint that it could have clearly gone unnoticed years ago. It was an obvious bloody foot print. Hatchett crouched down and looked at it... it was a small footprint. A child's footprint. He took a photo of it and moved to the next room.

Arriving in the living room there was nothing unusual apart from the ongoing feeling of terror that lingered. He approached the staircase and ventured upstairs, wondering what he may find in Henry's old room. It would be hard to distinguish which room was Henry's. There were no usual kid stickers upon the bedroom door, no posters, nothing. Not even a toy. All that gave it away that the far left room was Henry's was the fact that it had a single bed instead of a double bed. Wandering inside the room Hatchett explored with his eyes before going all the way in. Right away he felt fear and loneliness. No teddy bears, no toy chest. It seemed that no one had even entered the room since the time of the killing of the parents.

“It had to have been Henry... there is no other answer.” Hatchett thought back to the details that had gone around all those years ago. When the parents died, Henry disappeared. And now the footprint of blood. It was all clear now. Henry must have been forced to react to his parents behavior towards him.

Heading towards the desk by the window, Hatchett prepared himself before opening it. What would he find? Possible clues? He pulled it open and discovered a diary. It was the only thing inside of the drawer. Other than a pencil. The diary had a little lock on it which he had to forced open. The inside was clearly a kids handwriting. But the words that were written were words of terror and an abused child. The first paragraph was the most disturbing.

“God. Why must I be forced to abandon all love for the ones who gave me life? The scars on the insides of my legs grow more painful each minute. The scars upon my back grow more painful each minute. The marks to my groin are only just healing. What do I do tomorrow God? Must I prepare for more pain?”

“Oh my God...” Hatchett closed the diary and put it inside his pocket. A tear rolled down his face and he quickly exited the room. As he approached the stairs he was greeted by someone that he never thought he would see again. A man, with a sad face. Sad eyes. A look of loneliness.

“Henry Norton... what... where have you been? Please don't hurt me...” Hatchett stepped back and prayed in his mind that he wouldn't be Henry's next victim.

“These walls tell a story don't they Detective. I know you felt it... I have been watching you. You were scared. You felt everything that I felt when I was in this house... this hell that turned me in to a monster.” Henry walked past Hatchett and entered his old bedroom. Hatchett was suddenly not scared anymore. He followed Henry in to the bedroom and watched him as he approached the window.

“I stood in front of this window... every night. Praying. Hoping. Wishing. It never fucking worked though.”

“They hurt you bad didn't they?”

“Hurt me?... hurt is too kind of a word... for what they did to me Detective.”

“Call me Paul.”

“Why are you not arresting me Paul? Why are you not running away from me...” Henry had a tear rolling down his face. He was partly wanting Hatchett to kill him or arrest him.

“I'm not scared of you Norton. You are not evil. You have done evil things... but you are not evil.” Hatchett smiled at Henry and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Not evil? How come you believe that I am not evil?”

“You were a broken child. You didn't become this man... they changed you in to this man.”

“I am a serial killer... Paul.” Henry walked towards the door and to the stairs. Stopping for a moment to look behind him.

“You are not even going to stop me from leaving are you Paul?” Paul Hatchett smiled and shook his head.

“No Henry... I'm not going to stop you. Because I know that you won't kill again... will you?”

“I don't know... I never know anything anymore.” Henry slowly walked down the stairs and left the building. Hatchett watched through the window as Henry got in to a truck and drove off in to the night.

Neither Henry not Paul Hatchett will ever know why Hatchett didn't arrest Henry that night. Maybe pity? Who knows.

“You OK Paul?” Paul Hatchett's wife looked at him as he sat in his armchair staring at the window.

“Huh?... oh yeah I'm fine darling. Just thinking.”

“Is this about that Norton guy again?”

“How did you guess?”

“Its the only thing you have talked about or thought about for the past few years Paul.” Paul's wife Maggie stood up and walked in to the kitchen with a look of upset on her face. She was obviously feeling unimportant due to Paul's heavy involvement in the life of Henry Norton. Paul followed her in to the kitchen and put his arms around her waist.

“Mag... this is important to me. I need to find out what makes him tick...”

“Oh I know honey I... I'm just feeling a little selfish that's all. You are always digging around about that monster and...”

“Maggie... baby. He isn't the monster that I always assumed he was. He is a creation. A figment of people's imaginations.”

“What in the hell are you going on about Paul Hatchett? The man is a psycho. A fucking serial killer and you are allowing him in to our marriage with your fabricated beliefs that he is a poor lost and lonely child. He is a fucking grown man Paul. A serial killer, can you not grasp that obvious fact?” Maggie sat down at the kitchen table staring at Paul and awaiting an answer.

“I met the man Maggie. Twice. The first time, OK, I didn't like him. He seemed strange. The second time, just a couple years ago, he was broken. I stood in front of him, looked him in the eyes and saw terror, fear and loneliness. The man wanted me to fucking arrest him for Heaven's sake!”

“What?... are you telling me that you had the opportunity to put that son of a bitch behind bars and you let him go? Is this what you are telling me Paul?” Maggie got up from her chair and looked Paul in the eyes. She back away and slapped him across the face.

“You stupid fucking bastard. Are you insane? That man will go out and kill again and it will be your fault Paul!”

“Maggie... don't ever hit me again...” Paul grabbed his coat and left the house slamming the door behind him. He walked the streets wondering if maybe Maggie was right. Maybe he will kill again. Was Paul right about his pity for Henry, or was Henry simply manipulating him? He walked back to his house and got in to his car. Driving around he hoped he may find Henry. He wasn't sure if he would arrest him or just talk to him again. Whatever it was, Henry had overtaken his life now. Paul needed to have Henry in his life. He just didn't know why he did. But it was strong. It was almost an obsession. It was an obsession... a tainted obsession.

Paul drove around Chesterfield until he had no more roads to journey down. Henry was nowhere to be seen. If one thing could be said for Henry, it was that he was smart in a very unusual way. He never returned to the scene of the crime, he never left his weapon and he never had blood on his hands. There was something about Henry that Paul found impressive. Something that he liked. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was. But in a strange way maybe he admired him.

As Paul arrived back home he stopped and looked around. Why was Henry Norton so important to him he thought to himself. Where was he? Who was he? What made him tick?

“Honey... we need to talk.” Paul entered his house. As he walked in to the living room he noticed a note on the coffee table. It was Maggie's handwriting.

“Dear Paul, I have given you my heart and my life for 30 years. I can't take anymore. You have now given your life to a fascination with a serial killer and it is too much for me to bare. It has changed you. I have gone to my cousins in Oklahoma. Don't call me. I don't want to come back. Goodbye, Maggie.” Paul dropped the letter and sat down in his armchair. He had lost his wife. He tried making sense of it all. His job had taken over but he couldn't understand what he had done wrong. Why was he so obsessed? There had to be a reason.

A few months later Paul awoke to the telephone ringing. He rushed downstairs and answered.

“Oh hi mom. How are things? Is dad OK?”

“Son... I need to talk to you, can you spare a couple of days to come and visit?”

“Mom I am pretty busy with work... I don't think I could take off four days. One day to drive up there, one or two days to stay and another day to drive back... I just can't do it mom.” Paul's mother started to cry and struggled to get any more words out.

“Mom? What is wrong? It is dad isn't it. Oh my God what has happened?”

“Son, it isn't your father... its me... please come up here Paul, it is extremely important. I can't discuss it over the phone.”

“Umm... mom... um... OK, OK, I will call in to work. I have some holiday leave that I can use anyway. I will leave in an hour or so.” Paul hung up the phone and headed in to work to let them know that he would be out of town for a few days.

Two hours later he threw some clothes in to a bag and began his journey to New York to find out what was so important to his mother. All kinds of things were going through his mind, but even with all of this happening he still couldn't get Henry Norton out of his mind. Why was this man so important to him? He continued driving and rarely even stopped to eat.

Some fifteen hours later he arrived at his mother's house. He rang the doorbell and was greeted by his uncle Trevor.

“Uncle Trev. What is going on? What is so important?” His uncle looked down and took Paul by the arm.

“Just come through to your mom's bedroom Paul. She wants to explain it all to you.” They went to the room. Trevor escorted Paul in and then left him with his mother and closed the door. Paul looked shocked to see that his mother was bed ridden and pale. He knew immediately that she was not long for this world.

“Mom?... what... whats happened to you?”

“Son... there are so many things I need to say. But first, please just sit down on the bed and hold my hand.” Paul sat on the bed and grabbed his mother to hold her. She was frail. He let go in fear that she would break.

“Why did no one call me sooner mom?”

“Your blame can be aimed at me. I didn't want to upset you. I knew you would be hurt. But the time came where I couldn't keep it from you anymore. Now son, there are some things that you need to know. Firstly, I am very ill as you can probably see. I have cancer. Stomach cancer.”

“Oh mom!”

“Listen to me son. Just be quiet and listen to me... now you know that I love you. Both your father and I love you very dearly and we always have done...” Paul interrupted, his hand took her by the face and kissed her head.

“Mom, just come out with it... what is wrong? What do you want to tell me?”

“Paul... you are adopted...”

“What?... I... I don't understand. What do you mean I am adopted?” Paul stood up and paced the room in disbelief. He turned around and looked at his mother, barely breathing and sobbing. He was angry but he he couldn't get angry at her now. It was too late.

“OK... if this is true... which I am sure it must be... how did it happen?”

“In 1957, when you were just two years old. My old neighbors, your biological parents... decided that they... well...”

“Didn't want me anymore?”

“Well... yes. Well your father and I, we had wanted children so badly, but I had problems. I was not able to have children. These people, who, I must admit, I never liked. They basically, offered you to us.”

“Wait a second... I wasn't legally adopted? Is this what you are trying to tell me?”

“Son... you are a man, you can handle the truth... we paid for you. We wanted a child. And we were willing to pay money for one. Please don't be angry with me son. Please.” Paul's mother sobbed until she could not sob anymore. Paul sat down beside her and took her hand. He could see that she was about to fade away.

“Mom, I need to know... who were my biological parents? Where do they live, are they still alive?”

“I saw them last when I still lived back home in Chesterfield. But they not alive anymore. They were killed. I'm so sorry son.”

“Do I know them mom? Who were they?”

“The Norton's.” Paul's brain could not handle the information that he had just received. His heart thumped harder than ever before. The news he had just gotten, was far too much for him to take in... Henry Norton.... was his brother. Paul's eyes filled with confusion, regret and anger. Towards his mother, or whom he thought was his mother. He looked at her and wondered if there was ever a time in his life that she had actually told him the truth. Was his whole life a lie?

“Evelyn... why have you made me want you to die in pain?”

“Paul! I am still your mother and I... son, I love you! Please don't call me Evelyn. No matter what you feel right now... and I can understand how you are feeling... I am still the one that raised you.” Evelyn's dying eyes closed as she tried to stop the tears from continuing to fall. Paul turned away and looked in to the full length mirror that was on the bedroom wall. He began seeing the life that he had growing up and then seeing the life that Henry had. He could see the torment, the torture, the sorrow that his younger brother had to live with. Why could he not have been there to stop it. This woman, who acted as Paul's mother for the past 50 years... was she to blame for Henry's pain? Paul believed that she was. As he saw all of this torment, his temper began to rise. The emotions filled his head. To him, this frail and dying old lady, was the reason that his little brother became a murderer.

“You bitch... you have lied to me!” Paul jumped on to the bed and held Evelyn's shoulders. He looked in to her eyes... her eyes were filled with pain and grieving for what Paul was going through, but all he could see was his past... a lie. A complete and utter lie. He reached under her head for the pillow.

“Paul... kill me.” Evelyn's voice was a whisper. Paul leaned back as he heard Evelyn ask him to take her life.

“No... no way... I ain't stooping to that... I'm going to stand her and watch you die... you can lay there and think about everything. The little brother that I never knew I had. Do you know what he went through?”

“Yes son... I do... please Paul... please kill me... let me die.” Paul grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Evelyn reached as easily as she could, for the tablets that were on her night stand. She held them out to Paul.

“Open this. And give them to me.” Paul's face turned pale. He took the tablets and opened the bottle.

“You really want me to don't you... you want me to kill you... so you can rest in peace? Fuck you!” Paul rushed out of the house and headed to his car. His first thoughts being Henry and finding him. He didn't know why he needed to see him, but he felt that he should find him. As he was driving down the road he turned on the radio. The volume up full to drown out the sound of anything else.

After several hours of driving Paul glanced at the rear view mirror and saw a face... it was Henry's face. Paul swerved and almost crashed when he realized that Henry was in the car with him. He threw the car over to the side of the road and skidded in to a forest.

“What the fuck... how did you get in my car Henry?”

“I have been here the whole time, I have been in the car ever since you stopped for gas right as you left Chesterfield... bro.” Paul couldn't believe his ears. How did he know?

“Bro?... what... how...have you always known?”

“Since I was 10. I over heard mom and dad talking about it to aunt Patsy at a family reunion. At the time you never knew who I was. You went to Graham Parker School... I went to Chesterfield Middle. I used to see you hanging around but... you never knew who I was. There was this one time though... on Bridge Lane, back in 76. Early Spring. I was about 11.You stopped these kids from throwing me off of the bridge.”

“That was YOU?... Henry... my God... of course! Henry Sylvester Norton... I always knew you just as Henry Sylvester.” Paul began to cry as he started remembering who Henry was when he was a kid. His mind was racing and his emotions were running high and wild. He was looking at his own brother. A brother that he never knew existed.

“Henry... did you know where I was going when you got in my car?”

“Yes. I heard your telephone conversation. I was in your kitchen.” Henry grinned as he saw Paul start to laugh. Would this be the new start that Henry had been hoping for? Or was it too late for him now...? There were many questions for both Henry and Paul. Where they would go from here, was any body's guess...

Chapter 6:

The Dangers of Knowing

It was all becoming clearer. Paul had spent some time wondering why he felt such a connection for Henry. Why he was so obsessed. Then one day, out of the blue it all became clear. He was his brother. Quite a far fetched idea if he had made it up himself. But when you are dealt the cards of reality what can you do? Learn to accept it and then get on with life. But is it really quite that simple?

It had been about six months since the revelations and Paul had not seen Henry in some time. The last time they saw each other was the night that they came face to face after Paul had learned the truth. For some reason or another, Henry had been absent and all that Paul was left to do was wonder where he was and why he had not been around. But the most probable cause was the fact that Henry was most probably safer keeping his head down. Paul tried getting on with life but he was curious to know what Henry was up to. But the most important thing that Paul had learned from so many years on the force, was one thing that he seemed to have forgotten... knowing too much, can be dangerous. Did he realize that he could possibly be in too deep?

*****

“Are you OK Sir?” A homeless man with a trash bag for a coat leaned over a man with a big bushy beard and a fishing hat. The man looked like he was dead. But he was merely sleeping. His eyes opened... it was Henry. Awakened by the sound of the curious man.

“I am OK. Yes... was just tired.” Henry eased himself up on to his elbow. He stared at the old man and then raised an eyebrow.

“You don't look familiar. Are you one of us? You look like you are. You must be new.” The old homeless guy stood up and started to walk away, seeming pleased that he had someone new to talk to. Henry jumped up behind him and grabbed his head... slicing his neck. A sign that the demon still lived within him. Would it ever leave his soul to allow him to be real again? Or was Henry surely damned for eternity? He slowly walked away and wiped the knife clean, inserting it in to his inside pocket. Henry began roaming the streets searching for food. He was in a new town. It was bigger, more people. It was less of a community and more of a tourist place, which was fine with Henry. No one knew him. No one knew to look for him. He felt safer.

He arrived at a busy street and stopped for a moment. Sniffing the air and smiling he continued to walk. Keeping a casual stride he began feeling content. He passed a record store... any need to ask what song was playing?

“Ha... the death theme. How convenient.” Henry thought to himself humorously. He stopped for a second, winked at the cashier through the window, and continued walking. His eyes were fixed on no certain object or person, they were just open, glazed and emotionless. Perhaps Henry was no one anymore. Perhaps he was just existing. Thirsting for continuity. Maybe he was not even real anymore.

A few blocks later, Henry arrived at a Taxi rank.

“Where you wanna go to brother? Can you even afford a cab?” The driver called out to Henry with a giggle.

“Chesterfield. Don't expect a big tip...” Henry suddenly felt the need to return home. He didn't know why, but for some strange reason he wanted to go there... if just for a few minutes. It was calling him.

“Sure thing home boy. Hop in... but don't be stinkin' my vehicle out ya here?”

“Just fucking drive and shut ya mouth... on second thoughts, screw it.” Henry leaned forward and slit the driver's throat and opened the door, pushing him out. Passers by screamed as the driver lay in the street bleeding to death. Henry started the car and sped off. He arrived at an abandoned warehouse and jumped out of the car after hearing sirens. Jumping in to a dumpster he took cover until the sound of the sirens had gone. He climbed out and ran around a corner searching for another car. After running for a few blocks he saw a lady getting in to a car.

“Unless you want to die, I suggest you get out of your car and let me have it.”

“Oh my God!!” The lady screamed and got out.

“Do you want the keys too?”

“That comment alone deserves a slap...” Henry slapped the lady and got in the car and drove off. As he escaped the area he slowed down so to not draw attention. Chesterfield was another good hour away but he was enjoying the drive. It calmed him and prepared him. He suddenly began feeling lonely, he started to cry. Something that he hadn't done in a while. It was as though certain parts of the day made him feel real again. Like a human being. He switched on the radio for company until he reached Chesterfield. “That'll Be the Day” was playing on the radio.

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me! Enough already!” He changed the station... but it was the same song again. Each station he tuned in to, was playing the exact same song. As though it were haunting him.

“What the fuck? Who is doing this! Who are you? What do you want from me? Leave me alone!” He stopped the car and banged his head on the steering wheel constantly. He felt himself going slowly insane. After an hour or so, he started to calm down. Though he was too scared to turn on the radio. He knew that the song would be playing again. Contemplating it, he reached for the radio. Just because he needed the company... the sound of something other than the engine. His hand eased for the button and he pressed it...

“Police are still searching for the person who has been on a killing spree in the Chesterfield and Chalk County area. Witnesses say that the suspect is about 5 foot 10 with brown hair and is usually seen wearing a long green jacket. He sometimes has either a mustache or an unshaven appearance.” Henry went quiet and started laughing heavily. His laughter echoed in to the night. Finally he stopped laughing and started to sob. His mind cast back to his childhood days, and he finally realized how much he missed out on not knowing his older brother Paul. Would things have been better? Why wasn't he there? Why did life have to end up to where all he knew was loneliness? Someone must have the answers to these questions.

*****

“Paul... you got a minute?” Henry stood at Paul's back door. He had a knife in his hand. The look in his face was terror. But Paul wasn't scared. He looked at Henry with a small smile and let him in. All that Paul wanted was for Henry to feel better. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what was coming.

“So Henry. Where have you been? I have been worried.”

“Less of the brotherly chit-chat Paul. We both know why I'm here.” Henry sat on the counter and continued to look at Paul dead in the eyes.

“Why though Henry? Why me? I mean... I'm not afraid. I would just like to know why.”

“You see Paul... the one thing that you don't seem to realize is that... I never have a reason. When I take a life... there is no rhyme or reason. You law people all think that there is a link or a connection to why someone does the things they do... psychological studies prove this and that... fucking bullshit Paul!” Henry walked towards Paul and put his face directly in to his. Their noses touched and Henry looked deep in to Paul's eyes.

“Do you see any emotion in my eyes big brother?”

“Yes I do Henry... I see fear. I see loneliness and I see kindness.”

“Fuck you... you are full of shit do you know that? You have no idea what loneliness feels like or looks like Paul. You were NOT THERE! Where were you?” Henry wandered around the room waving his knife around. His eyes seemed to be those of the devil. But for once, they became child like. Tears showed, emotion showed. Though he forced himself to ignore it.

“Paul... I am not real anymore. I am not human... I am a monster. You do not know me, and you never will.”

“Henry... you can be saved. Just allow it man!”

“La la la la la.... sing me another lullaby big brother... I am tired and I need to sleep... sing me a lullaby and tell me a little bed time story.... mommy.... don't hit me... please! Oh please mommy, no more!! I... I just want to be loved mommy! Please... Love me... for once... I....I.....” Henry fell to the floor, allowing the knife to fall from his hand... he sobbed, crying for his mother. Crying to be loved. Paul eased toward him and held him in his arms.

“I am so so sorry that I wasn't there Henry. I am so sorry, you will never know how sorry I am.” Paul sobbed while he held Henry. The moans, the tears, he cried for his mother, he cried for his father. He cried for Paul...

“I'm here little brother! Man, I am so glad I found...” Paul choked... gurgled... he couldn't breathe... blood poured from his mouth. Henry had stuck the knife in to his stomach.

“Paul?? Oh my God what have I done! Paul!... please... I'm sorry! Don't die Paul!... I didn't mean it...”

“Henry... I'm sorry... that I wasn't there...”

“Paul! Oh my God... I'm going to call 911 OK?... keep breathing!” Henry rushed to the phone, he called 911. His heart was racing. For once, he was sorry for his actions. He sincerely didn't want Paul to die. He felt remorse, he felt shame and he felt guilt and sorrow. Feelings that he wasn't used to.

“Ambulance please! Quickly! My brother has been stabbed! I think he's going to die!”

“Henry... leave. Don't stay here. They will lock you up for good. Just go.”

“Paul no way, I can't leave you here!”

“Henry. Get out of here now! I am begging you, please. Let me do this one thing for you. Go. I don't want you to get caught!” Henry cried as he watched his brother pleading. He turned around and left just as Paul had asked him to do. He sat on the porch until he heard the ambulance and then he disappeared in to the night.

*****

As the morning approached, the birds started singing. Cockerel's sang their morning call and mail men delivered everyone's bills. Everything was normal. The day looked nice. The sky was clear and the clouds few and far between. What more could someone want for a morning?

Henry had a hood over his head as he approached the preacher's house. His beard was messy, his clothes were dirty. He didn't care about being seen, no one would notice his unclean persona anyway.

“Hello. Is Henry Green at home?”

“Um. Yes Sir. Let me get him for you.” The preacher, Robert Green stepped inside and called young Henry.

“OK Sir, he will be right down. May I ask who you are and what this concerns?”

“It concerns him and me. That is all you need to know.” Henry stepped inside uninvited and sat down to wait for the young Henry.

“You are very rude Sir. But for this once seeing as you know my nephew I will let it go.”

“Oh how charming of you preacher man! Thank you so much. Now leave the room, because when Henry gets down here I wish to speak with him alone.” The preacher gave a disgusted look and left the room. Though he remained in ear shot.

The young Henry entered the room and looked over and scratched his head.

“OK, I don't know who you are... I don't really care who you are, but you obviously know me, so make it quick cause I am about to head to college. So... do I know you?”

“At this moment in time young man you do not know me. But you will probably want to know me.”

“Oh really. And why is that?”

“Because young man... I am your father.”

“My... oh dear God... you are Henry Sylvester Norton?” The young Henry Green fell to the chair and covered his mouth. The preacher entered the room and looked at Henry. His eyes turned cold and questioning.

“Henry Sylvester Norton... the man they have been looking for, correct?”

“Preacher... Robert. You do not know what you are talking about.”

“Oh but I do... I have known all along Henry my boy. I saw you going in to Rita's coffee shop that night all those years ago... I saw you entering the church and rushing out... just 20 minutes later... the Father was dead.” Henry grinned and stood up. He walked towards Robert and put his hand on his shoulder.

“If you know so much Robert... then why did you never go to the cops?”

“To protect this young boy here... that is why Henry. I knew you would come back. And I wanted to make sure that when you did, if he was old enough to handle it... that I was here to tell him in front of you what a cold, evil manipulative man his father really is!”

“What the fuck?... are you saying that my father is a killer?” Young Henry stood up and approached his father. He looked him up and down and a tear fell from his eye.

“You are my dad? The guy that my mom praised every day of her life?”

“Don't start crying young man. This man is a killer. Your mother was fooled. And what do you remember anyway, you were just 5 years old when your mother died!” The old preacher took young Henry by the arm. Henry pulled away and gave his uncle a dirty look.

“Get off of me! I was old enough to remember the good things that my mom said about this man. And if he is MY father, then I want to give him a chance. I would like to get to know him! I bare his name! Henry!” Young Henry put his hand out to shake his father's hand.

“Son. I guess you really want to get to know me huh?”

“Yes... I want to give you a chance. I don't listen to rumors... dad.”

“Boy... you are letting yourself in for a huge mistake.” Robert shook his head and walked away.

“Son... you feel like taking a day off from college?”

Chapter 7:

In the Name of Love

“Lots of rest, plenty of water, and not too much strenuous work do you understand Mr. Hatchett?” The doctor ordered Paul as he left the hospital. He thanked God above that his stab wound didn't leave him dead. As he left the hospital and arrived home he was welcome by Henry sitting on his couch.

“Big bro... you made it then huh?”

“Henry! You have no idea how pleased I am to see you.” Paul ran to Henry and hugged him.

“Paul. You know I'm sorry right?”

“Ssh.. just forget about it OK. I deserved more than what you gave me.” Paul winked at Henry and headed to the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“Black 5 sugars.” Paul was gob smacked.

“Five... sugars?”

“Yep. I usually have creamer but its been a long year.” Henry grinned and followed Paul to the kitchen. They looked at each other for a few minutes in between the coffee brewing and the flashbacks and thoughts. They must have both been thinking about the same things and the same events.

“You know that I met my son the other day for the first time. Seeing him tonight.”

“You mean Henry Green? He's a good kid. Has a few problems but he's a good kid. I completely forgot that he was your kid. I found out that he was yours after Macy was killed.”

“You still think I killed her?” Henry had a smug grin as he looked at Paul. He then leaned over and poured himself a coffee.

“No... now that I know you properly I don't think you would have it in you to kill someone that you care about. Which leads me to something else.... Henry, you really do not seem like the kind of guy that could do what you do.” Paul awaited Henry's response. Henry looked at Paul through the corner of his eye.

“Paul... lets leave it huh?”

“But...”

“I said no... Paul. Drop it... now. Please.” Henry walked to the couch and sat down.

“So Paul. You married or anything?”

“Um...yeah...well... she left me. Long story. Something I'm not ready to talk about just yet.” Paul sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. His mind wondered. Thinking about Maggie. He still felt no anger towards Henry. After all, he didn't drag Maggie away from him.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Its OK. Its been a while. I am getting over it gradually.” Paul looked at Henry and started to see a normal man. He had noticed that when Henry was with him, the killer was nowhere to be seen anymore. It was as though he had disappeared for good. Locked away in some imaginary prison where that part of him belonged. Safe from society and society was safe from that being. There were so many things that Paul wanted to ask Henry, but he couldn't seem to find a way of asking the questions. Why did he want to know all these things? Why didn't he realize that he would be in so much danger if he kept finding out too much? It wasn't important to know all of these things, but to Paul... it was highly important.

“Henry. There is something I do want to ask you...” Henry knew what the question would be. He gazed at Paul and did not say a word... he took a deep breath and decided to answer.

“At the time... it feels great. Then comes the morning. Then it all feels bad... or at least in the early days it felt bad. In recent times... not so bad. In fact, it made me feel human again. Strange as it must seem... now do not ever ask me anything like that again Paul... it isn't safe for you to know.”

“OK Henry... I'm sorry, I just...”

“You had to ask? ha... its OK. Just no more questions regarding that part of me OK?”

“Do you think that part of you has gone?”

“I said... NO... More... understand?” Henry got up and poured himself another coffee. Paul decided it was time to keep quiet and listen to Henry's wishes. He was probably right anyway.

*****

“You ready son?” Henry awaited his son to come outside so they could spend some time together.

“Sure thing. Just getting my jacket.” Henry Jr. ran outside and jumped in to his dad's car.

“Nice ride dad, where did ya get it from?”

“The city. Now where do you wanna go?”

“How about that new movie thats come out, would love to go and see that?”

“How about a milkshake first?” They both smiled and drove off. Robert Green the preacher stood at the door way. He had a look in his eye that could only spell one thing... revenge.

“That was awesome dad!.. hey, you don't mind me calling you dad do ya? I mean... I know we only just met and all but, I had always hoped this day would come. That I could meet ya and everything.”

“I don't mind at all. Do you mind me callin' ya son?”

“Nah I don't mind. Its cool.” Henry Jr. sat next to his dad in the car drinking his milkshake. They both seemed content. Everything was going just the way they had both hoped it would. Henry looked at his son and saw Macy. In the end, he had grown to dislike her, but suddenly he missed her. Henry Jr. was reminding him of her. But in a good way. He remembered the good times and it was nice.

“You look a lot like your mother you know Junior. She was a good woman.”

“Yeah. Uncle Robert tells me all the time that I look like my mom. She was nice. I didn't get to know her that well, but everything I remember of her was good. She always talked about you and what a great guy you are. She's right. You are a cool dude.”

“Thanks. You are pretty cool yourself. Its great to finally be with you.” Henry couldn't take his eyes off of his son. A tear rolled down his cheek. He placed his hand on his son's face and stroked it.

“I love you son... I have never told anyone in my life before, that I love them. But for this first time that I have finally had a reason to say it... I could not possibly mean it more than I do right now.”

“Hey its cool dad... I love you too. You wanna go grab a pizza or something?”

“Sure... son.” Henry smiled and started up the car engine.

Some time later as they arrived home, Henry felt that something wasn't right as he dropped his son off. He could sense fear in the air. A smell of mystery... suspense... something was wrong.

“Well daddio, it was fun. Can we meet up again tomorrow?”

“Sure son.. um... I think I'm gonna come in with you for a minute.”

“Don't think Uncle Robert would like that much... but who gives a shit.. OK.” Henry got out of the car and headed towards the front door. Henry Jr. unlocked it and they went inside. The light was out... it was silent.

“Thats weird. Rob is usually still up at this time.”

“You go out to the kitchen, I will stick around here. I just have a feeling that something ain't right.”

“And you would be correct Mr. Killer...” Robert stepped out from the shadows holding a shotgun. He switched on the light and walked towards Henry.

“Thought you were a God fearing man Mr. Preacher. The direction of that gun is not a holy look for you. Perhaps you should point it toward yourself... God might let you off on the fact that you are just nuts and didn't know what you were doing.

“Don't you dare fucking preach the word of the Lord to me you crazy murdering piece of crap!”

“What the hell?? Uncle Robert?” Henry Jr. walked in to find his uncle pointing the shotgun directly at his father.

“Rob, put that gun down, what do you think you are doing?”

“Son... don't worry.. sit down and let me handle this.” Henry sat down and continued to smile as Robert pointed the gun at him.

“Finally, I have brought one of you jumped up fucking religious freaks to the level of normality. How does it feel Mr. Preacher Man? Does it make you feel whole? Is that gun the missing part of the puzzle for your sanity?”

“You fucking little bastard! You are one sick fuck aintcha! Your momma and poppa shoulda scolded you more often!” Henry stood up and walked right up to Robert.

“What the fuck did you say you cunt?”

“Haha... I know all about you Henry Sylvester Norton. That marking on your face... same as the marking on your brother Paul's chest. They did the same thing to him before they sold him to that weirdo Evelyn. I know everything that goes on in this town Henry! Now sit the fuck down before I blow your damn head off boy!” Henry's eyes filled with rage as he looked deep in to the hateful eyes of the preacher. The fantasy of slitting his throat entered his head. The years of rage that had filled Henry's body and mind and soul was flooding back. If there was anyone in the world that he wanted to kill right now, it was Robert Green.

“Henry Junior... is that your new name now boy? Get up here now and hold this gun at your daddy.”

“Fuck you Robert! I ain't pointing that gun anywhere near my father!”

“You get up here right now and point this gun at your daddy before I blow your fucking head off too! Get up here, it should be easy seeing as your daddy is a serial killing mother fucker!” Robert pulled on Henry Jr's arm and pulled him up to where he was standing. Henry threw himself at Robert while taking the knife out of his pocket.

“Get your fucking hands off of him you bastard!” Henry aimed the knife at Robert's throat, but just as he was about to stick the knife in Henry Jr. fell in front of him forcing Henry to accidentally slit his throat instead. The gun went off in the air throwing Robert backward.

“You killed your son...” Robert grinned at Henry while getting up on his feet and running out of the house.

“Oh my dear God... Son?... son?... wake up! Its your daddy! Son wake up!” Henry's cries were no good... his son was dead. He stood up and placed the knife on his inside pocket as he always did. He grabbed the red sweater that was on the computer chair, kissed it and placed it over his son's face.

“I know that your soul will not believe me when I say that I am sorry, but I hope that the tears I cry, fall upon the hell that is surely beneath me and prepare an ocean for me to drown in.”

Paul rushed in from outside after hearing the noise.

“Henry what the fuck? Robert is out there screaming murder I... your son?... Henry you didn't!” Paul fell to his knees. He looked at Henry's face and knew that it must surely have been an accident.

“Robert... he was going to kill us both I think... I... oh what does it matter. Its all over Paul...” Henry walked to the front door. The cops were already there.

“Paul. I don't need to say how sorry I am do I? You already know. They all know by now that you are my brother. I'm sorry that this has all fallen on to you. Just always know.... I love you big bro.” Paul sobbed as he watched the police heading towards his little brother. He watched as they forcefully pushed him towards the car. Not even ensuring that he didn't bang his head on the door frame. There was nothing he could do. It was all over. Everything was over.

“I will say this now, to everyone out here, all of you hypocritical bastards. I killed them all! I killed my mother, my father, Rita Stringer, the priest, the guy in Chalk County... all of them... but I did not kill my son do you hear!” Henry waited for the cops to cart him off. He listened as all of the people gathered round to insult him and throw names at him. He just smiled and kept his head held high. In his mind, what did any of it matter now anyway?

“Paul! Big brother... I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid of prison... or death! I love you!”

“I love you too little bro!”

Henry Sylvester Norton was put on death row. He was to expect a lethal injection. One night he was sat in his cell reading the bible for the first time since he was a child. As he read through the pages he came across one passage that made him think. “Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” He read it in his mind over and over and over until he finally realized that he surely must have been sinless when his parents did what they did to him. He was a child. Was he a sinner? A true sinner? When he cast that first stone... surely, he was without sin? He continued to read the bible until the day that he was to be sentenced to death. He prepared himself for the green mile, and for the final judgment. He was always a believer in God and he knew he would of course face God for the things that he has done.
“Do you have any last words?”

“Yes I do...”

“Go ahead Sir.”

“Let he who is without Sin... cast the first stone.” Each person, guard, warden and even the executioner in that room that day, had a guilty look on their face. Were any of them truly without sin? Henry smiled and for the first time in his life... he looked happy.

“Goodnight everyone... now send me to hell.”

People often study many things. They study mathematics, science, psychology... the mind? What really goes on inside the mind of a serial killer? Is it some kind of tainted obsession? Perhaps they treat it as a kind of medication? Does it make them feel complete in some way? No one will ever truly know for sure what goes on inside anyone's mind. It will always remain a mystery. Perhaps this story is ending with the same question that it started with... This story was fictitious to the point where the main character doesn't exist, but it is true to the fact that people like the character description Do exist. What goes on inside the mind of a serial killer?

Disclaimer: In no way do I condone the act of murder. This story is purely a work of fiction based on what I have studied and researched. It is simply an amateur study in to why certain people become serial killers/murderers etc.

THE END