His victims torment, p.1
His Victim's Torment, page 1
part #1 of Jimmy Yates Duology Series
Books by Nicole Keefer
STANDALONE
MY SAVIOR
Jimmy Yates Duology
His Victim's Torment (Book 1)
His Apprentice's Revenge (Book 2, Releasing August 2023)
Published by Flick-It-Books 2023
Copyright © 2022 Year by Nicole Keefer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Nicole Keefer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Nicole Keefer has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
Second edition
ISBN: 978-1-959881-03-2 (ebook), 978-1-959881-04-09 (Paperback),
978-1-959881-05-06 (Hardback)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available:
2022923010
Cover art by Booklytical Designs
Interior art by Nicole Nance
Editing by Glysia Gretz
For all the readers who fear monsters more than people, you have never seen the true evil of the world.
Prologue
This was already shaping up to be one hell of a case. Before even arriving at the scene, Metropolitan police detective Aaron Miller had a feeling this would be the case of the decade. He hoped he was wrong, and they weren’t predestined to relive the horror that D.C. endured twenty-three years ago.
Detective Miller just pulled up to the crime scene when he saw one of the young officers run from the home and vomit in the rose bushes. It’s not uncommon for officers to be sick at crime scenes, especially extremely violent ones like he was warned this one was.
No sooner had Detective Miller stepped out of his car, were cameras shoved in his face, blinding him with bright flashes. Even though he expected the scene to be crawling with the media, he still wanted to rip the camera out of every reporter’s hands and smash them into tiny pieces.
He despised the media. People were just brutally murdered inside, and yes, the reporters were doing their jobs reporting the news, but they were vultures. They didn’t care that the people lying dead inside were someone’s loved ones. They just want to be the first ones to report on the grizzly scene.
“Officer, officer, is it true? Is this the work of Jimmy Yates? Is he back?” One reporter fired off questions faster than the detective could process.
How did the media hear about the details of this case before even he did? As soon as that question entered his mind, he knew the answer. Some media outlets enticed police officers by offering money for insider information. He unfortunately knew a few officers who lost their pensions for accepting deals with the media.
“The MPD has no comment at this time. Please excuse me.” He pushed forward and started making his way into the house. If this was, in fact, the work of Jimmy Yates, he was dreading what he was walking into. He was a new officer when Yates terrorized the D.C. area in the 1990s. It was the black mark of his career that they never caught Yates before he seemed to drop off the map. Until today, Miller didn’t think he’d ever have another chance to catch that bastard.
As soon as he walked into the house and saw the living room, he wanted to run outside and join the young officer in the rose bushes. No matter how many years he’d been a cop, nothing ever prepared him to walk into something like this. The sight before him was a page right out of a horror story. The story of Jimmy Yates. If this wasn’t his work, it was an almost perfect copycat.
Thankfully, Yates was the only family annihilator that Miller has ever come across in his career. And now he was back, of that Miller was sure. If Yates followed the path he started in the early ‘90s, things in D.C. were going to get a lot worse, and fast. Yates never allowed much time to pass between murders.
Detective Miller took out his cell phone, knowing what he needed to do next. Damn it, he didn’t want to do this. He wanted to be the one to catch this psychopath, but he knew he needed help. The safety of the citizens of his city came before his professional pride. “Dispatch, this is Detective Miller. Please connect me to the D.C. FBI field office.”
Things are starting to progress nicely. He’s been away long enough that the ignorant law enforcement agents that have been trying to track him down for years have become lazy and complacent. He stood in the back of the crowd, watching everyone run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Smiling, he couldn’t help thinking, ‘wouldn’t that be a sight to see?’
A surge of euphoria came over him when a young officer rushed out of the house and lost his breakfast. He couldn’t suppress his laugh. He loved that his work could still shock and awe people. What he did to those sinners was a work of art. People should marvel at his labor. This was just the opening scene, and the fun was yet to come. Returning to D.C. was never something he thought about doing until he saw her photo in the paper. There she was, smiling up at the Dean of Georgetown University, and it sent him into a rage. No bitch had ever caused him so many issues. Why couldn’t she have died like a good little girl?
After he killed her parents, they hid her away behind a wall of security. Not any longer, though. Now she’s finally back within reach, and this time she wouldn’t get away. He’d been watching her for about two weeks now. Finding out where she lived was easy. All he had to do was get buddy-buddy with one of her students. Knowing her class schedule allowed him time to install cameras around her apartment complex and the school, making it easy to keep track of her. Like hell he would lose her again.
He needed this kill to put his world back in order. Needing to be closer to the action, he wove his way through the throngs of people, moving closer to the police tape that blocked the way to his masterpiece. Surely no one would recognize him. It’d been over twenty years since he graced D.C. with his presence. An eager young officer came charging up to the cop guarding the driveway and announced that the FBI were on their way. Yes, things were progressing nicely, according to his plans.
Now, to put the rest into play. He should’ve made this kill quick and then moved back out of D.C. but she’d been a tormenting presence in his life for so long. Wanting her and her family to suffer before the end was his only goal. They all needed to know that he was coming and there was nothing that would stop him from killing her. This was the endgame. Now let the fun begin.
Chapter 1
The phone call that could make the unit chief of the D.C. FBI field offices career came in ten minutes ago, and Chief Parker knew, if he closed this case, he’d be on the fast track to promotion. Knowing he couldn’t run the complete investigation himself, as much as he wanted to, he’d need to pull his best agent. Unfortunately, his best agent was an arrogant son of a bitch that was hard to control. This one time, it didn’t matter; he needed the best. Picking up the phone, he told his secretary to get Agent Walker to his office now.
As soon as he walked into the office for the day, the chief had already summoned him to his office. He was, however, still in complete shock over the information he received once he was there. The FBI had been after this serial killer since Walker was a little boy. He studied his criminal activity in college, then again at Quantico. It would be the opportunity of a lifetime to be the one to put him behind bars.
As soon as Agent Devon Walker stepped out of the unit chief’s office, his partner, Agent Michael Matthews, ran up and stopped him. “Hey Walker, so are the rumors true? Is Yates back? Are we on the case?” His partner was moving so swiftly, Walker had to put an arm out to steady him so he didn’t knock them both over.
“That’s what it looks like. Chief Parker said the mayor is going ballistic and wants all hands on deck. There haven’t been any other killings in D.C. in decades with the same MO as Jimmy Yates. He’s one sick bastard. We need to jump on this quickly and get ahead of him before he butchers another family.” Walker felt sick to his stomach, remembering the photos the chief had shown him of the latest crime scene. What kind of person could do something like that to another human being, let alone a family? By God, what he did to the children was diabolical. Never in all his years as an agent had he seen something as horrific, and he’d seen some pretty sadistic crap. “Chief Parker said that we needed to check someone out. A survivor, the only survivor. Apparently, Yates screwed up back in 1995 and left a five-year-old girl alive. Parker thinks Yates will try to finish what he started twenty-three years ago. He wants her notified right away and placed in the care of the FBI. He’s hoping Yates will get sloppy and we can catch him if he goes for h
Agent Matthews walked over to his computer and started typing like a maniac. Matthews was a wiz with the research aspect of a case, and Walker was a master at taking a suspect down and getting them to talk.That’s why they were such a good team. Matthews was spouting off questions as he typed, not once looking up from his computer screen as Walker gave him the information he needed. “Was it ever determined how she survived? Yates always made sure there were no survivors. It’s not in his MO to miss someone. I would have assumed he would go back and finish what he started right after he failed the first time. He’s an annihilator killer. Doctors and scientists analyzed every aspect of these cases and determined that Yates did some long-term, very in-depth surveillance. He had to have been watching them for a while because he made sure all members of the family were home so he could wipe them out in a single shot.”
Walker shook his head. “At the time, the detectives tried to get the story from the girl, but of course, it traumatized her. The state stopped the questioning when her aunt and uncle came from Pennsylvania to get her. It seems her uncle is an important political figure in Pennsylvania. He showed up with a bunch of lawyers and swept her away. They kept the documents sealed in hopes of hiding her location from Yates. Poor little girl. She was home while it happened. I can’t imagine being in the house while my family is being murdered. It must have been a hundred times worse for a five-year-old. It’s a wonder she survived, let alone that she didn’t end up in a psychiatric hospital. And damn if she didn’t make something of herself.”
Agent Matthews handed Walker a paper with the information they needed to contact the witness. Mary Anderson, age 28. Doctor of Forensic Psychology. Professor at Georgetown University right here in D.C. Unmarried, no children, and no criminal record. Not even a parking ticket. From the teaching evaluations Matthews found, students and staff loved Ms. Anderson. Her classes were in such high demand that there’s a waiting list.
Walker scanned the information. “At least it looks like she was able to pull herself together after the trauma she experienced. We see a lot of children in these situations that end up on the wrong side of the law, and all because of something that happened to them that was beyond their control.”
Walker went to his desk and gathered his weapon and credentials. “Come on Matthews, let’s take a ride. If we jump on this now, we could be back before lunch.”
Most people were already at work by this time of the morning, so the D.C. traffic had thankfully tapered off. Walker and Matthews made it to Georgetown University in record time and it only took a few minutes to get directions to the psychology building where Ms. Anderson was teaching. The building was easy to navigate, so they made it to her class, with some time remaining, before the students were released. Instead of interrupting her teaching, they waited in the back of the lecture hall and observed.
The lecture hall’s lights were out for the presentation being conducted, and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. Ms. Anderson was at the front of the dimmed auditorium, and by the looks of her slide show, was giving a lecture on John Wayne Gacy. The slide, taking up much of the wall directly behind her, was of Gacy dressed in his iconic Patches the Clown costume. Glancing around the auditorium, Walker noticed the students hanging on their professor’s every word.
This certainly wasn’t like any college class he remembers taking. All of his college classes were boring courses with boring professors that made him fall asleep. He suffered through those classes because, in order to become an FBI agent, he needed a college degree. After much thought, he decided on a degree in criminal justice, since it coincided with his career goal. And one thing was for damn sure, none of his professors looked like her. He may not have slept through so many lectures if they did. She continued for another fifteen minutes before her teacher’s assistant turned the lights back on.
Ms. Anderson glanced in their direction. She was aware they were intruding on her class, but didn’t stop teaching. Ms. Anderson turned out to be the total opposite of what Walker pictured. Matthews had pulled up photos online from various charity functions and university outings, but the presence she emitted in person was dynamic. Even from the back of the room, he could see that her eyes were sapphire blue and enchanting. They shined especially bright against her tan face. Mary wore simple jeans, a white blouse, and a midnight blue blazer. Though she wasn’t very tall, she possessed a sort of tough elegance. She was the type of woman that caught people’s attention. She was the type of woman that people liked to watch.
He wondered how many of these young students took the class for the content or took it to watch her. He’d bet at least a handful of the students had a crush on Ms. Anderson. She was an incredibly beautiful woman. But did her personality match? He hadn’t met many children of politicians that were even half civil. She was the niece of a powerful politician, but she was close enough to be his daughter since he raised her from the time parents died.
She was winding down and handing out a heavy homework assignment. He couldn’t help but smile over the groans from a few of the students. “Now remember, midterms are due Friday. No exceptions. That means you, Georgie. I will not accept any ‘the dog ate my midterm excuses.’ This is college, for goodness’ sakes. Do the damn assignment.” The student sighed loud enough for the professor to hear him, and she smiled.
“Yes, Ms. A,” multiple students called out, including Georgie.
As soon as the last student funneled out of the hall, the two agents made their way down to the podium, where Ms. Anderson was packing up her belongings and speaking to her teacher’s assistant. The young man looked up at the two agents coming down the aisle, said something to Ms. Anderson, then turned and walked away.
Walker flashed his badge with his left hand while reaching out with his right hand. “Ms. Anderson, I’m Agent Devon Walker. I’m with the FBI, and this is my partner, Agent Matthews. Do you have someplace private where we can talk for a moment?” Her back went rigid. “Yes, of course. Let me just grab a few things, then we can head over to my office. I have a few hours until my next class. I was just going to grade some papers.”
She took a moment to gather her belongings. Carefully stacking papers and folders, then placing them into a very fancy, very expensivelooking briefcase with her initials engraved on a gold plate on the front. Walker knew a Jack George briefcase when he saw one. It was the same brand his father carried, and very similar to the one his father gave him when he graduated from the FBI academy. It was a very extravagant accessory compared to her apparel. Devon wondered if hers had sentimental meaning, or if she just liked pretty things.
She led them out of the classroom and into her office, right across the hall. She motioned for them to take a seat, then turned and shut the door. Without asking, she went to the mini-fridge on a small table on the back wall, reached in, pulled out three water bottles, and handed them to each of the agents. Once she was back at her desk and seated, she addressed the agents.
“Now, what can I do for you, agents? It’s not every day we have the FBI on campus.” She started wringing her hands, dreading the information she anticipated was coming. If something happened to her aunt or uncle, their personal security would’ve come and told her, so that only left one thing. The one thing that haunted her since she was a little girl.
The one thing she knew would catch up to her one day.
Walker was straight to the point. No need to sugarcoat things. “Miss, we have reason to believe Jimmy Yates is back in D.C.”
To his relief, she didn’t panic or break down crying, even though he saw her demeanor drastically change. He noticed how she instinctively reached for a ring on her left ring finger. It was delicate, silver, and with a small emerald. It must have meant a great deal to her. From the research Matthews performed this morning, he knew Ms. Anderson wasn’t married, so the ring must have other special significance. He also noticed that she blanched at the mention of Jimmy Yates, but kept her composure. Strong woman.
“Yates? Back in D.C.? Are you sure? No one has heard from him in years. My uncle’s even had people looking for him since that psycho killed my parents. My mother was my uncle’s sister.”
