Mercy Hunt
Leaning back in my seat I examined him. He had aged since we first met. The softness in his green eyes had faded, and the creases on his forehead had deepened.
“And that's what led to the disappearance of ninety-six people?” he got up from his seat and leaned closer to me. I could smell the tobacco on his breath. “Did you kill them?”
I paused. Kill them, I didn’t kill them, I helped them. “It wasn’t murder Detective Sumner, It was mercy”
⋆⋆⋆
May 8th, 1923
The KKK strikes again, pulling Jim Dowel from his house around midnight last night, the third attack of the night. He was found by our local police station this morning, strung to a tree and clearly mutilated. There is no news as of now why Mr. Dowel was attacked, his wife and children are safe in their home… I turn down the volume of the radio, letting the rest of the broadcast play in the background.
“Please,” she quivered, positioning herself in front of her children. “please don’t, we’re not like my husband”
My footsteps echoed in my ears as I paced back and forth across the room. I didn’t know what to do, I had never done this before, I just knew that it needed to be done. “It doesn’t matter, don’t you see I’m here to help you”
From then on she just kept crying, it didn’t matter what I said. “I’m protecting you” I’d say, or “They’ll be back for you, and it would be worse.” Why couldn’t they see I cared, that I was protecting them from the men in the white hoods. They should have thanked me, but even as I forced the cyanide covered rags over their mouths and noses, they never said thank you.
I know what I did was for the best, but I also know that people can’t know, and if I want to keep saving people, I can’t get caught. Using my knife, I cut away anything that could be used to identify them. Teeth, hands, feet, birthmarks, everything that could be led back to here.
The fire blazed, with the bodies in the wetlands, and everything else buried in the woods, this was the last step to remove all the evidence. The house burned hot, and I watched as it started to collapse in on itself, the flames reflecting on my dark bob. My heels clicked as I walked away from the crowd that now surrounded the area, I fit right in, but my work for tonight was done. Any found evidence, like there’d be any, would have to be tampered with in the lab tomorrow. No one would stop Virginia Hunt.
May 9th, 1923
“Good morning Mr. Hunt,” the receptionist smiles as I make my way through the Evansville Police Department. Same as every morning.
“Hunt, did you hear about last night,” Sumner said, walking by my side as I made my way to the lab. “They still haven’t found the bodies.”
“I haven’t had a chance to pick up a newspaper, and at any rate, I get most of my news from you John ” Yeah, that was convincing.
“I don’t think it was them this time”
Removing my chesterfield coat, I replaced it with a lab coat, while John helped himself to a stool by the work station.
“What do you mean?”
“Sure the fire fits, but no bodies. It doesn’t fit the KKK’s profile.”
“Well was any evidence left behind?”
“Not much, but we do have a suspect.”
My heart raced, there’s no way, not a chance, it was the middle of the night. I could feel my chest tightening, this was it, I wouldn’t be able to save those people. I might as well turn myself in now…
“We just have to find her.” Instant relief, I could do it, I could save them still. “I guess some neighbors saw a woman enter the house. They weren’t sure at first because she was so tall, almost as tall as you, but there was no mistaking her bob, and heels.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, that’s where you come in.” He handed me a file “we only found a ring. We confirmed with the victim’s sister that it wasn’t the victims, so it could only mean it's our mystery ladies.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Well, there’s not much I could do, but try to trace it. Look for any identifying marks, you know the normal routine. We can go from there.”
“Alright, thanks Victor, I’ll see myself out.”
After a few deep breaths I got to work, or pretended to work, on the ring. This was going to be a tough task, My ring was completely unique, and I would have to convince them otherwise. It was almost shameful.
July 17th, 1925
Dear journal,
The Police are none the wiser. The world knows me as Virginia, and they know me as Victor. It’s perfect really, I’m so used to a double life, that adding one more was a piece of cake. After the ring incident in 1923, I was more careful. The whole police department is in shambles. If they can’t figure something as simple as me out, people need saving more than anything.
January 3rd, 1926
The snowy atmosphere bit at my nose as I broke the window into the Petersons. A small shack of a place on the outside, but on the inside, it was homey and littered with cultural paintings. Their shelves were lined with Louis Armstrong, Josephine Baker, Lead Billie, along with others.
It was a shame that I had to save them, I knew I had to after seeing the children playing in the park. So happy, so innocent, I had to protect that. I had started to get good at this protection, managing my rags over their faces before they could wake up and scream. No more pain in their eyes. The children were always the hardest, knowing I had to cut their lives so short to preserve their integrity, but it had to happen, I had to keep them away from the KKKs reach.
The same routine; remove identifiers, bodies in the wetlands, identifiers buried, house burnt. The ashes burnt my nose as I attempted to blend in the crowd. 36 saved lives and counting.
March 24th, 1926
The station was buzzing, the Angel Eye Slayer, had made it to number one on America’s most-wanted list. Despite the FBI taking charge of the case, they wanted to keep it localized, setting up at the station. What a government, 3 years and they have no clue I’m right under their noses. It almost makes me miss the monarchy I was raised with.
“Can you believe it?” Sumner came barging into my lab “three years, and we still have no motive.”
“I’m telling you, I bet it's a new branch of KKK or even a different organization trying to do them off.” Please be convincing.
He starts looking through the paperwork on my lab table. “Please tell me you have something.”
“John, you know that is classified now, it’s out of your hands, and in the hands of the FBI.” I move the paperwork out of view “you need to get some sleep.”
“Victor, you don’t get it, you’re still on this case” the bags under his eyes had gotten worse, I’m really getting to him. “I was so close, and the FBI decided to take it away.” If he wasn’t careful he would be out of a job, he had already been warned to stay away from the case. “They’re such a joke, I would have cracked it already.”
“If you want to be on the case so bad, why don’t you join the FBI. Be part of the joke” he just grinned and rolled his eyes before exiting my lab.
“Well, goodbye to you good sir.” I yell after him, with an almost silent “love you too” under my breath, before starting to analyze the bracelet I had left at the last crime scene. I started to leave jewelry as my trademark, insured my job on the case, and allowed me to keep building a false story.
So far I kept the FBI from keeping their story straight, however, I knew that John was not going to back down from this case, even if it killed him. I also knew he was the only one who would be able to solve it. I had to keep him away.
January 21st, 1927
I f*cked up. Who knew a finger-print could tell a person so much. Well, I knew… but after ninety saved lives, I was bound to slip up at some point. I started scrubbing the dirt from the woods out from under my nails, letting my mind wander; how could I screw evidence like this. I can’t just lose it, while in the short term that would work, I need to keep my job, I need to ensure control. How could one fingerprint make me lose so much control? I couldn’t run the print, it would bing as Victor, it may buy me some time, but in the end it would lead them to me faster.
Ever since John had joined the FBI the case was progressing faster, the man is determined. If I wanted the case to slow, I would have to get rid of him, but I can’t kill him, he doesn’t need saving.
Turning off the faucet, I brush my wet hands across my face and run them through my short hair, letting the water cool me down. I was pale, I had always been pale, but I was even more so than usual. Looking at my figure I noticed I was also slimmer than I already had been. I knew I was doing the right thing, and yet I still felt some form of guilt, and it was taken a toll on me.
November 31st, 1928
My room is chilly, no matter how hard I tried to heat it, nothing seem to stick. When I heard the solid bang on the door. “FBI OPEN UP” another bang “WE WILL USE FORCE”
Mustering my best innocent look, I leave the warmth and comfort of my blankets, and put on a slip over my bra and bloomers, before opening the door.
I stood in shock… John.
“Ummm” The pause seemed to last forever “Victor, you’re a girl?” I couldn’t help but smile, and roll my eyes
“Well a girl still gotta make money, John” I tried “now, how can I help you and those fine gents tonight?”
“Virginia Hunt, you are under arrest for the murder of ninety-six individuals”
As we headed to his Radio Motor Patrol vehicle, I couldn’t help but ask “So, after all this time, how does it feel to know I knew all along.”
“Is that a confession?” His voice stayed stern and stiff, nothing how it used to be toward me. Granted back then I was one of the boys. I spent the rest of the ride in silence. It was over, I had lost.
December 1st, 1928
The room was dull. It had nothing extremely noticeable about it. Gray walls, a metal table, accompanied by three matching chairs, one of which I was chained to. There were no windows, just a one-way mirror, a clock, and a single door.
“Hello?” my voice echoed and rang in my ears
The door opened, a man I had never seen before and John walked into the room. Before I could say anything, he interrupted “Ms. Hunt, as you know I am Detective Sumner, and this is my partner Detective Mellor.” He and Mellor sat down in the two chairs across from me.
Detective Mellor placed a file in front of me, gesturing for me to look through it. I thumbed through it, not giving it too much attention. “Why are you handing me my reports.”
“We want you to tell us about them” Mellor replied “go through them one at a time, and explain your process”
“Well,” I look at the first page of ninety-six “this was of the disappearance of a mother and her children after the KKK had mutilated her husband. My report was on a ring left at the crime scene, explaining where it may have originated from.” I continued through each of the reports, explaining them “this was a report after the disappearance of a black family, two adults, and two children, I believe. An earring was left behind...”
“Forensics confirmed the matching earring was found in your house, results came in this morning”
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Please do” I continued to go through the cases, each one I had manipulated; after what seemed like hours of going over cases, I finally finished.
“Anything else I can help you with?”
The police department receptionist poked her head in “Detective Mellor” she said “you’re needed immediately” Just like that, he excused himself and left. It was just John and me.
“Given our past, I’m surprised they didn’t remove you from the case.”
“Our past? You mean the friendship that was all a lie?” he shook his head “No, we have no past, my past was with Victor”
“Please” I scoffed “I am Victor.”
“Just like your The Angel Eyed Stalker?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about”
“Are you sure? Because you seem to have a big guilty sign hanging from your neck.”
“What happened to being innocent until proven guilty?” I couldn’t help but giggle
“You think this is funny, people are missing.” He leaned forward “Please if you have any soul, you will tell me where they are.”
The interrogation kept going, he kept asking question after question, and I had denied them all. I looked at the clock, it was midnight, he had been questioning me for 15 hours, and we had gotten nowhere.
“You know, it’s ironic that I’m here now.”
“How’s that?” his voice had softened since this all began. Was this his plan?
“I’m doing something my great-grandfather never had to do.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“He was a doctor, however, he was better known as Jack the Ripper”
“Crime runs in the family... How’d you find that out?”
“I found his journal; after my Grandmother died, he decided to carry out her work of saving Sinful people. He thought death was the only way to save their souls.”
“Is that what you did? Tried to save their souls?”
“In a way” I shrugged “yes”
Leaning back in my seat I examined him. He had aged since we first met. The softness in his green eyes had faded, and the creases on his forehead had deepened.
“And that's what led to the disappearance of ninety-six people?” he got up from his seat and leaned closer to me. I could smell the tobacco on his breath. “Did you kill them?”
I paused. Kill them, I didn’t kill them, I helped them. “It wasn’t murder Detective Sumner, It was mercy”
“Mercy?” he was almost yelling “That is not mercy. That’s murder”
“I saved them.” Tears streamed down my face, I saved them, me.
“You wanted to save them, you could have done that. Through your work at the police department.” he made his way to the door “You’re just as bad as the KKK” he was gone
“I saved them,” I sobbed.
“I saved them,” I screamed.
“I saved them.” I slammed my fist against the table.
December 14th, 1928
I stood there, surrounded by officers. Pearls lined my neck, a loose, white blouse and grey skirt hid my figure, and a blazer kept me warm. Like the interrogation room, the courtroom was bland. Three tables were set in a triangle, with the table that would be considered the tip sitting taller than the rest.
When the judge walked in, we all stood-up, and after he sat, we sat. A notion that I found absolutely ridiculous.
“We are here for the Hunt vs. State case.” his voice croaked, and he looked at the jury “A trial is put in place to determine if Ms. Hunt is guilty of the charges of ninety-six cases of first degree murder.” he read off his file. “I see you refuse a lawyer?”
“No need for one, I know the outcomes of today.”
“Is that so.” I could tell he thought me to be arrogant “How do you plead?”
“not guilty by reason of insanity”
December 25th, 1928
Woodmere Asylum, like everything else in Evansville, was beautiful. Built in red brick, with thousands of windows overlooking a green lawn and a crystal clair pond. From the inside the windows were barred, and the rooms were plain, nothing in there that I could use to hurt myself or others.
I layed on the thin mattress that sat on the white metal bed frame, staring at the white ceiling, wearing my white hospital gown. Left to my own thoughts. No one to distract me. This was how I would spend the rest of my life.
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