Killer Justice

Bill Fitts was a typical middle aged man. He paid his taxes on time, and always worked to provide his family with what they needed. He went to church every Sunday and donated money. 1

When asked about Bill Fitts, people would say he was a good man; a model citizen. Someone you could depend on to lend a hand when needed. Generous with time and money. A great father- A family man, have you. 2

What people didn't know was that Bill Fitts had a dirty little secret. Twelve dirty little secrets to be exact. All buried in his back yard.3

You see, Bill Fitts had an unhealthy appetite. He had a certain penchant for young boys. His wife was clueless about his activities. He didn't know what he would do if she ever found out. He knew she would never forgive him so he was extra careful with his comings and goings. He usually waited until she was out of town with their daughter visiting her mother. It usually being the weekend, he had enough time to scout, bring his victim home, and when he was done with him, get rid of the body.  4

He usually took a scalding hot shower afterwards, trying to wipe the sin from himself. Not a completely unfeeling monster, his conscience bothered him until the next time when he wasn't able to contol himself any longer. Following one of his killings he always went to church, donated extra money and volunteered at the homeless shelter. 5

One evening after his wife and daughter had gone out of town, he found himself prowling the streets in his car. He drove around the city for awhile looking for a favorable prospect. He always made sure he took them from random places; different parts of the city. Always making sure they varied in race, age and physical characteristics.6

He was about to call it a night when he saw a young boy of about 11 or 12 walking out of a video store. He was alone, his hands stuffed in his pockets wearing a thin black t-shirt and no coat even though the wind was picking up and the air was chilly.7

"Here goes.", Bill said, slowly edging his vehicle to the sidewalk, rolling along beside the boy. He rolled down the passenger window and motioned to him with his hand. He gave him his friendliest smile and asked, 8

"I was wondering if you could help me find a suitable present for my son. You see, it's his birthday tomorrow and being the forgetful dad that I am, I didn't get him one. If I don't get him one that's even a little good, he'll be angry with me."9

He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a worn looking picture of a fair haired smiling boy holding a golden retriever, his arms around it's neck. The picture was torn and frayed around the corners and fading a little. He reached over and handed it to the boy. The boy took it, looked at it for a second, and handed it back to him. 10

Truth was he had gotten the picture from a picture frame he had bought a while back. He was fair haired himself so the picture was believable. He always made sure he put it in his golf club bag. His wife would never go snooping in there.11

"Okay," the boy shrugged his shoulders, opened the door and got in the passenger seat beside him.12

Taken aback, not expecting it to have been so easy, Bill cleared his throat. All the other boys had taken a bit more coaxing, convincing. It wasn't very easy picking up boys, especially with all of the stranger awareness taught in school these days. Looking in the sideview and rearview mirrors, he slowly merged into traffic.13

"I'll make a quick stop at home to get some more cash and we'll go from there. I don't like carrying too much on me. I wouldn't want to get mugged by some of the monsters running around these days", Bill giggled, the irony hitting home.14

The boy sat stoically, indifferent. His hands in his laps, he stared straight ahead, unblinking, back straight as a rod. 15

Looking from the road to the boy, and back, Bill studied him closely for the first time. He was on the thin side, his collar bone clearly protruding sharply through the skin. Not sickly skinny, but thin enough. He was rather pale, with nice long curly lashes. The dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicated he hadn't slept well in a while. Thick, black, shaggy hair reached past the collar of his shirt, obviously not having seen a haircut in a while either. 16

"Not much of a talker are ya?" Bill asked. He never asked their names. It was less personal that way. He didn't get a response but another careless shrug. Bill rolled his eyes and remained quiet the rest of the way.17

* * * *18

"You want to come in? I can't seem to find my cash. I think my wife might have taken it. It's getting too cold to be out there waiting.", Bill said after giving himself five minutes to supposedly look for his fictitious cash. He had gone up to the car and opened the passenger side door where the boy was sitting. 19

"Alright," he said, and climbed out of the car. He followed Bill inside the house, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets once again.20

"Why don't you have a seat and I'll get you something to drink. What would you like? I have punch, soda, tea and coffee. I've got whiskey too but you seem a little under age for that." Bill asked, pleasantly.21

"Soda's fine." the youngster said, studying the painting of a mountain scene on the wall. Bill's wife had purchased it recently from a friend of hers. He had made sure to put all the pictures of his wife and daughter away.22

"Turn the t.v. on if you want. The remote's right there.", Bill pointed at the side table, "I'm sure you'll find something interesting. I didn't get the whole cable package for nothing."23

Bill walked into the kitchen and pulled a cold two litre of soda out of the fridge. Grabbing a glass from a cabinet he poured the liquid and waited for the fizz to dissipate before adding more. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bottle marked aspirin on it. Inside it were actually Rohypnol tablets he had purchased on the street a few weeks back. Two of these and his little friend literally wouldn't know what hit him. He emptied the tablets and waited for them to dissolve. Smiling to himself, he already anticipated the fun filled night he was about to have. He heard the television in the other room and was glad his little buddy was making himself at home.24

"I don't have anymore ice so I hope this is cold enough for ya." Bill called on his way from the kitchen. 25

The living room was empty. The t.v. was turned to some animal show; a nature show about spiders and their prey.26

"Where are ya, little buddy?" Bill called out, walking into the hallway. He expected to see the bathroom light on, assuming the boy had needed the toilet. It was off, the door slightly ajar. 27

A sudden chill ran down Bill's spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood. He didn't know why. It was a sudden feeling, a feeling he hadn't felt since the war. It was pure, cold fear. Even though it was a scrawny kid, he knew something wasn't right. He knew he should trust his instincts. They had never let him down.28

Tiptoeing back into the kitchen, he set the glass down on the countertop and pulled a large, shiny kitchen knife from it's stand. 29

"Where are ya, little buddy?", he called out once again, "I think we should be leaving now. I don't want your parents to worry about you."30

He tiptoed down the hallway, stood beside the den door on the right, took a deep breath, and swung it open. Nothing. He let out a huge sigh of relief and made his way upstairs. He opened the closet door. Empty. He tried his bedroom, under the bed, his closet. Nothing. He went into the second floor bathroom, yanked the shower curtain open and only saw the faucet was dripping. He tightened the knob and it stopped. 31

One last room. He had to be in his daughter's room. He couldn't have left. Bill would certainly have heard him walk out. Or would he? He slowly crept up to his daughter's room and stood still a few moments, listening. Nothing but silence. The only sound heard was his own ragged breathing.32

"It's now or never.", he told himself and kicked the door open. He expected something, anything, but was only met with his daughter's music box. It was playing a little melody and the ballerina on top was twirling. He had definitely been in here. 33

"Come out son, it's over. You had your fun; now we've gotta get going.", Bill addressed the closet after he had checked under the bed. He had the knife hidden behind his back; no sense in scaring the kid and having to bring him down hard. A few moments passed and there was no response.34

"That's it, you little bastard", Bill lost all patience and swung the closet door open, arm raised high, knife blade glinting in the light. He almost expected to see the kid in a fetal position, tears rolling down his cheeks cause he'd been bad. He was surprised when he saw nothing. No whimpering boy. Only his daughter's clothes hanging on the rack. He yanked clothes to the side, just to make sure. Nothing. 35

"What the fuck?", Bill swore, more confused than ever. Maybe the kid had walked out; and here he was getting all worked up over nothing.36

No matter. He still had tomorrow. His wife wouldn't be back until Monday anyway. Waste of Rohypnol, though. That little shit would have to pay him back somehow; and Bill knew exactly how. He went downstairs and as he passed the bathroom door, he remembered this had been the only place he hadn't actually checked. 37

He pushed the door open, turned on the light, and raised the knife above his head. After yanking the shower curtain open, he was met with the most horrific surprise of his life.  38

* * * *39

Bill's wife and daughter arrived home Sunday evening. His wife had missed him more than usual and had decided to get home a little earlier to give him a nice surprise. 40

She was surprised to see the house was dark. Bill was a night owl and always went to bed after midnight. She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and told her daughter to wait in the car. 41

Cautiously she slipped the key in the door lock. To her surprise the door opened slowly. A strong, putrid odor met her and she gagged. A pungent smelling odor was also present, as if meat had been left out to spoil and rot. 42

"Ughh," she muttered, her hand over her mouth and nose. She stepped in, turned on the hall lamp and screamed. 43

Blood was splattered everywhere. Human parts were scattered all over the living room floor, and there, on top of the television, was Bill's decapitated head. 44

Hyperventilating, big wet tears rolling down her cheeks, Bill's widow stepped further into the livingroom and into the hallway. She walked gingerly, stepping over a thigh, an arm, and what looked like... was that it? The tip of Bill's severed penis? Upon closer inspection she saw that it was.45

"Oh my god. Mmhm", she squeaked, barely able to see through the blur that were her tears. She looked up and noticed writing at the end of the hallway. She walked closer and saw it was written in blood. Bill's severed right hand lay on the floor underneath, a bloody index finger, the message obviously written with his own hand. 46

CHECK THE BACKYARD., it said. What? What could be in the backyard?, she wondered. 47

No longer able to take much more, she ran out of the house to call 911.48

* * * * *49

It was all over the newspapers: Local serial killer gets horrific justice. Wife and daughter had no idea had serial killer as husband and father. 12 missing boys found in killer's backyard. Evidence indicate man was killed by some kind of wolf or predator. Missing boys received justice for their murders.50


* * * * *51

Somewhere in the city a scrawny 12 year old boy closed the newspaper he was reading, and smiled. Bill Fitts had finally gotten what he deserved.