This is the first chapter of a female romance story woven in with a crime story. Each chapter builds onto the next chapter like a novel. Romance is the primary focus with some thrills and suspense thrown in. There are sexual moments too, of course, but they are a natural part of the narrative. If this interests you, then I hope you will be rewarded with a good read. So to those who want to take their time, please enjoy.
Chapter 1 A Sheriff Asks a Female FBI Agent For Help
William Hagan was startled from a dead sleep by a ringing phone. In the darkness, he rolled over in his bed and groped for it. "Hagan," he mumbled into the receiver.
An excited voice exclaimed on the other end, "Sheriff, we've got another one!"
Hagan paused a moment to let the grim news sink in; he knew exactly what the voice was referring to. Another mutilated body had been found; the victim of a savage killer.
After getting the location, he replied, "I'll be there in 10 minutes." He replaced the phone and rose wearily from the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"What is it, Bill?" his wife asked groggily.
"It was Jimmy." He replied, "They found another one. It's Christy Davis."
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. Evelyn Hagan sat up and switched on the bedside lamp, "That poor woman! What in the world is going on? Do you want me to make you some coffee while you're getting dressed?"
"No, I don't have time." He answered, "Don't worry, just go back to sleep." After quickly donning his uniform, Bill Hagan, Sheriff of Shawnee County, climbed into his unmarked cruiser on a muggy August night and hurriedly drove to a gruesome scene.
Shawnee, population 9,300, was just east of Albuquerque, located along U.S. Rt. 40. Travelers rarely stopped there though, unless they decided not to go on to the city or way into Texas the other way. A sleepy little town, it was the perfect model of small town America nestled in the middle of the high plains.
Everyone knew everyone else and their business. But, they also looked after each other and would do anything for a neighbor. A meat packaging plant, five miles north of Shawnee, employed sixty percent of the town's working population. Most of the other forty percent were either ranchers or held blue collar positions such lawmen, teachers, waitresses, ranch hands, etc...
Miles of prairie and scattered clumps of pine forests surrounded Shawnee. A couple of Indian settlements were nearby, but nothing much happened there. At this time of year the rain hardly ever fell and most of the crops had been harvested and used as food for cattle. Life was slow paced and quiet. People could keep their doors unlocked at night. Children played on the streets while the old folks watched them from their rockers on their front porches.
Hagan was really troubled about this latest murder; it was the third one in eight months. The three homicides represented the first time that first-degree murder had been committed in Shawnee. The manner of death they usually dealt with was either accidental or acts of passion.
Like when the town drunk, Elmer Potts, stumbled out of the Ranch Pub at 1:00 a.m. and onto Rt. 40 where he was run over by an 18-wheeler. Or, the Cobb brothers who fought to the death in a knife duel over a woman. Or, 10 year old Tommy Philips who snuck into his father's gun cabinet and accidentally shot his best friend with a Winchester rifle.
No, these new murders were planned, grisly acts. A monster was lurking in Shawnee. It also angered him that the killer was arrogant enough to repeat his crime twice in a region where his identity couldn't be hidden for long. Surely, this deranged individual knew he would be in the spotlight. He killed three times by night and most likely was walking the streets of Shawnee by day.
Hagan's thoughts returned to the present as he rolled to a stop in front of Christy Davis' house. Yellow tape stretched across the yard to keep the bystanders out. Going inside, he shook his head despairingly as he surveyed the bedroom of this latest victim, thirty one year old Christy.
A single mother, she was a bartender at the Ranch Pub and lived with her 12 year old son. Michael had been sleeping over at his grandparent's house and was spared the horror that occurred in his home. When Christy didn't report for work, the manager of the pub had called her home and got no answer. It wasn't like Christy to not show up. He went into the house, saw her dead, and called 911.
Now Hagan looked down at her nude body lying on the floor, slashed to ribbons with a ½ inch thick pool of clotting blood covering a ruined carpet. Drying blood was also splattered in little drops on all four walls, the bedding, the furniture, and the ceiling. It was a repeat of the previous two murders with one exception; they were getting bloodier. He carefully backed out of the crime scene leaving the way he came.
Stepping outside again he noticed all of the deputies were at the scene now, along with what seemed every inhabitant of Shawnee gathered on the street. A chill spread down Hagan's spine and for the first time in his career he felt fear as he contemplated the character of the individual who was capable of causing such savage destruction to another person.
His newest deputy had been the first to arrive. He took a quick peak into the bedroom and hastily retreated from the house and lost his dinner in the bushes. The other deputies had buttoned up the place, not wanting to disturb the crime scene anymore than possible. They were not used to dealing with such crimes and Hagan had noticed the distressed look on their faces.
He organized them together, disguising his own apprehension and worry. He had to maintain command and authority so that the crime scene wouldn't be contaminated and that his deputies wouldn't lose their composure. There was evidence to be collected, neighbors to interview and photographs to be taken.
Hagan began making the necessary calls to Albuquerque for the crime scene unit to be sent. Shawnee couldn't afford a crime scene van and he borrowed the neighboring force's unit for cases such as this. Dawn came and the sun rose high in the sky before the night's distasteful duties were finished. Another van from the Medical Examiner's Office arrived and two technicians took the body away after Hagan gave the okay.
* **
No progress had been made in the investigation in a month, but Hagan was sure the same person committed the three murders. Each victim was female, between the ages of 23 and 31, and had been stabbed and slashed in their homes at night. He poured over the reports and scene photos; the images disgusted him.
Hagan had put on a few pounds since his rookie days and his hair was starting to thin, but at 6'5", he presented an imposing figure. At 52, he took his duty very seriously and considered it his personal responsibility to protect the citizens of Shawnee.
