Beginning The End

As Dr. Steven Middleton sipped his lemon tea and spread a little more butter on a croissant, he looked out over the mountains near his Chattanooga home. He was overcome by a sense of relief. It was late afternoon on a cloudless Saturday in September and his wife had just gotten up from her chair on the deck to go answer the phone. As he sat there, reflecting and remembering on a lifetime and career that left little to be desired, he was relieved. Yes, he told himself, that was definitely the feeling, relieved. Of course he was appreciative for the family he had, his achievements and accomplishments, the many friends and the associates he had been lucky enough to have gained. For the most part though, he was glad that his long career had finally come to an end. He was anxious to start this new chapter of his life, try to bury some nightmares and have a new beginning.

The view from his deck was expansive and beautiful, a vista that had held him in a trance of awe and inspiration since the first time they had looked at this property about twelve years ago. He could lose himself here and sometimes during his long career, most of the time in fact - he reminded himself, that was exactly what he had needed. He could hear his wife talking to his oldest daughter in the background but at the same time he didn't really hear anything. A little whiff of breeze blew up briefly and it seemed like it lifted him right up, his thoughts drifting away and back in time.....

He had grown up in a middle class family, his father a detective for the Atlanta Police Department and his mother, an elementary school teacher. His father had in fact worked on one of Atlanta’s most infamous murder cases. Wayne Williams had finally been caught and convicted of multiple child abductions and murders, something that Williams had always claimed his innocence of. In the end though, the evidence had been overwhelming and his father had played a big part in documenting the case, putting together many of the missing pieces that had stymied investigators so long.

Steven Middleton, had also been an only child and he was his parent’s entire world. He had excelled in sports, girls and academics - and not necessarily in that order, as he had made his way through his early years. Georgia Tech turned out to be where he had finally decided to attend college when that time had come and he had met Mary his wife there as well. Medical School followed, with a final career destination of someday being a Medical Examiner being his plan. As with almost everything Steven had ever set out to do, he had accomplished that as well.
The explosion though, of the Forensic Sciences field, had opened a world of opportunity that Steven hadn't seen coming. Spurred on from his Father's unofficial expertise and interest in the fledgling forensic crime units, Steven had added this area of studies to an already long list of academic achievements. He found also that it was an area that he had a natural expertise in. Back then it had been a sort of no man's land, combined crime investigation and medicine. The pinnacle of it all though, in his mind, was his sideline studies of serial murderers, more specifically an even newer art form that was being pioneered at the time. Profiling became more mainstream and he had personally helped to popularize that term as a crime fighting tool. It had also catapulted him to national prominence. He began being brought in on a consultative basis by Police Departments and Law Enforcement agencies across the country. After being called in on a national case, recommended by an FBI Section Chief who was an old college roommate of his from Georgia Tech, things just seemed to mushroom.

Probably the only big regret though, no he corrected himself, it was definitely his biggest regret, had been the case in North Carolina. There were times where either because of prior commitments or other ongoing cases, he would have to turn down requests for help. It was simply impossible to be everywhere at once. The Chapel Hill Killer case was one of those times. At the same time the CHK murders were going on, he had been working a case in Northern Virginia. A gruesome multiple homicide involving the murder and torture of an entire well to do family of six. When Police had arrived on the scene, they had found six severed heads on the fireplace mantle. Steven would have his hands full on this one, but he felt he’d be successful. The killer had made some mistakes.

A good friend and associate of his, Bill Markham, ‘The most talented Profiler there is today’ Steven always made a habit of publicly stating, would eventually get the "win" on the Chapel Hill Killer. The case was horrendous in nature, held the attention of the entire nation for long months and Steven had watched it closely. He called his friend who was working the case as much as he could, offering advice, opinions and support. His thoughts and vision into a case he wasn’t really involved in amazed Markham and the other profiler began to lean and rely heavily on Steven’s helpful phone calls.

The Chapel Hill Killer had been particularly sadistic and gruesome but almost fastidious in his method. He exhibited a certain macabre lunacy and a strange controlled butchery, coupled with an insane artist’s touch and signature afterward. The entire campus area and surrounding community had been held in an awful grip of terror for months. One by one, seven young and beautiful girls were meticulously and carefully cut, slashed and punctured with a variety of implements.

What the Chapel Hill Killer was horribly good at was prolonging agony and the ultimate death of his victims. That as well as not being caught of course was what placed him above so many others, in terms of achieving the dubious status of the worst of the worst. By abrasions and bruising on ankles and wrists, as well as bruising and tell tale marks on their backs and buttocks, it appeared they had all been handcuffed spread eagled on a flat hard surface of some kind. They all had been raped repeatedly by both the murderer and with various objects he used. It was estimated that the girls all lasted at least 2 days and one was estimated to have lived 4 days after being cut and raped the first time. As a finishing statement and personal signature, all the girls were found hanging upside down.

One was found in an auditorium supply closet, one in an abandoned warehouse, one strung from a footbridge over a small stream in a city park and so forth. Their heads shaved, breasts always removed, and the genital area just a mass of tissue. The girls many times were barely, if at all, visually recognizable to loved ones.

As it finally turned out, the murderer was one of the college professors at the school, teaching a class on forensic science of all things. Investigators first stumbled onto the fact that each of the girls had attended at least one of his classes, at one point in their time at the University of North Carolina. He had finally been considered ‘a person of interest’ though after it was found that he had secretly dated two of the victims, lied about it in fact during questioning. It was further discovered through phone records that he had called and asked out, three of the other murdered girls. The clincher was a knife and handcuffs found, during a court ordered search warrant, wrapped and hidden in the rafters of his garage. Blood and DNA on both of these pieces of evidence came back solid, matching one of the murdered coeds. Always maintaining his innocence, the convicted professor, The Chapel Hill Killer had ultimately committed suicide in prison and made the news again only a year ago.

Steven had always supposed that his luckiest trait or talent – if you can call it lucky, was the ability he had to step out of himself and become the monster. His father had some measure of that ability but admittedly nothing compared to Steven’s ability to mentally transform himself. In effect, he could become precisely who his quarry was. He could think like they thought, rationalize like they did, compartmentalize and plan like they did. He could predict where and when and who. He was them.

Now of course, the ability and talent that was his special weapon against serial murderers was also a double edged sword, it was a cancer. It took all his energy, drained him, dried him out and dulled him over the span of the case. Only until the investigation and chase came to conclusion, with the successful apprehension of the murderer, would his self inflicted cancer begin to abate. Down through the years he had needed increasingly more time to regain, restrengthen and compose himself between cases. He wondered from time to time if it wasn’t killing him, from the inside out.

The hook for him of course was successfully solving these hideous cases, there was such a final closure to it, such a sense of doing right for the grieving families and society, such a challenge that had to be met. There was something very cyclical about it all. He needed it, it made him sick, it cured him and he needed it again.

As always though there is an end, an end to a career and retirement. Retirement, 'Beginning the end' he used to jokingly call it when discussing it with Mary. He had actually come to the decision much easier than he would have thought. He felt relieved that he would finally have an opportunity to try and cleanse himself of all the accumulated awful sights, thoughts, smells and devious acts beyond belief. He wanted more than anything never having to put on that monster mask again, pretending to live and breathe in that evil world. Yes, he wanted it over.

"Are you done?".....the question hung in the air like the fog around these Tennessee mountains on some mornings.

He blinked several times and rose up in his chair a little.

"Steven, are you done or would you like some more?" Mary asked again patiently.

He had been so deep in thought and memories that he had not noticed Mary had come back out and sat down. He looked down absentmindedly at the empty tea glass in his right hand and the butter knife in his left hand. He had apparently finished the tea and croissant without even realizing it.

He smiled over to her, "Yes, uh yes, a little more tea would be great hon."

He cleared his throat and looked at her again, "Sorry Dear, I drifted off for a moment, been sitting here thinking about things, thinking about how lucky we've been, how lucky I've been." With that said, he took her hand and looked back out at the mountains.

Smiling gently back at him Mary said, "Chrissie called and said she was going to the game today, they're expecting a big win and she sure wished you could have come. She said the Tar Heels always seem to win in Chapel Hill."

“Yes, yes they do”, he said blinking twice more rapidly and suddenly remembered Chapel Hill very well….and a dimly lit basement.

Clearing his throat again and trying to erase that, he looked down at his wife’s slim arm and her hand entwined in his, but for just a horrifying split second he saw a handcuff on a slim young wrist instead of her diamond bracelet. He looked away quickly.

"Well, let me go get you a little more tea sweetheart" she said, getting up casually and started to step inside again.

Steven absently lost grip of the butter knife that he still held and it clattered on the stone balcony. Mary, just stepping through the large sliding door began to come back out and pick it up for him.

“I’ve got it babe, I seem to have butter fingers” Steven chuckled at both his clumsiness and the bad pun.

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically, grinned and walked inside.

As he bent over to pick the knife up though, it looked different and his hand froze just above it. Instead of a normal silverware butter knife it had a carved ivory handle, it was almost twice as long as it had been. Much thicker and it had a wicked, decadently tapered, razor sharp blade.

The doctor said nothing as he stared at the evil looking knife, he also couldn't get the quick vision of those handcuffs out of his mind for some reason, he had seen those exact pair somewhere before....... maybe they were from the Phoenix, Arizona case a couple of years ago.....the ones he had never returned. A sudden and horribly shrill girl's scream, full of agony and fear jolted him back to reality and promptly, thankfully, paused the nightmare movie that had just begun playing in his mind.

As quickly as that dark movie in his mind had stopped though, it began again and he immediately started to breath quicker in short little gasps. He became strangely aroused and his pulse pounded. He could have sworn he was back in beautiful Chapel Hill again, back in that rented house just off campus. It had been extremely pleasureable for him and the girls had been such spectacular specimens, so fresh and full of life, so challenging. In the end, it had been an absolute confirmation that he really was the best. Only the best in the business could have managed it. The poor UNC Professor had of course been telling the truth all along and Dr. Steven Middleton knew this better than anyone.

The hawk screeched loudly again, startling him less and not sounding so much like a girl’s scream this time, as it continued it’s swoop on some prey in a small valley clearing down below his balcony. He smiled woodenly at himself for thinking that it had been a woman's scream, but his eyes remained glazed and blank. He’d let Mary pick up the butter knife after all.

THE END