The Soothville Murders.

Chapter 9: Tick...

Chapter 9: Tick...

The killer smiled. Right now, the police would have no idea where to go. He was safe. The evidence was on his side. There was no reason for him to be suspected. His plan had succeeded. The police was busy watching over the "remaining" youth gang. Christina Woodward, David Emerson, Emma Mason and Serena Lucy Baxter. And they had no idea he knew about every step they took. The detectives didn't know that by one simple phone call, he could know everything his source about the police's movements. And the extra sprinkles he had added by sending a photo of the alive Jason Ravens had probably already put another twist to the confusion he had caused. 

Somewhere out there, people he trusted and people he hated was moving, all like his chess pieces. He had given them instructions. Directions. He could have been a war lord. Like Napoleon. He knew where every single one of them too, was. Simen Olsen was on the train station, waiting for the next train to Plaingreen. Chester Andrews was in a gun shop in east Soothville. Christina Woodward and David Emerson was in the hospital. Emma and Serena were in the Mason residence. 

He had written a list. A list of names. Names of people he had to kill before he was finished. The list was long. Luckily, there was only two people left of the friends that he would have to kill. The rest could live. They deserved to live. They had to live. But there were many other names. Way too many names. 

He had always believed in God, and in redemption of sin, but the last week, he had really hoped there were none. He had doubted some time, and when God didn't answer his selfish prayer, this was the way to go. He hoped there was no afterlife. For if there was, he was sure to burn for ever in the place he didn't even want to say out loud. For what he did, there would be no redemption.

"Detectives!" Emma yelled as she ran down the stairs. The three detectives had heard her scream, and Peyton and Jacques was running towards her with loaded guns, Baker following them in his wheelchair with a shotgun in his lap. Peyton Chamberlain was dressed in nothing but a nightgown. Emma threw herself in the Peyton's arms, who swiftly turned the safety on her firearm on, to avoid shooting the crying girl.

"He's after Simen now," Emma sobbed, and cried even more. "He texted me and asked for the location."

"Wait, what?" Jacques interrupted. "Oliver texted you and says he want semen? I know he cut of penis and stuff, but this is just weird!"

"No, he's talking about a Norwegian boy named Simen, the Norwegian version of Simon, and he's going to.... Wait, are you saying Oliver cut of... uhm... body parts?" Emma was shocked, and disgusted. Detective Gérard hesitated.

"Don't think about that, dear," Peyton whispered with a smooth voice. "You said you was texted by Oliver Hearst?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. He has kept contact with me since the beginning of July. And I am the reason he kills those boys."

"You have contact with the killer?" Frank Baker asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I might even know who he is. Jason told me... before he disappeared."

"Tell us, then!" Baker yelled. The Masons and the Baxters had shown up, and the hall was crowded.

"Yeah!" Gérard supported the middle-aged detective. "Who is the killer? And how do you know?"

"Jason and I have been trying to figure out who it was for months. We didn't tell anybody. We thought it was some kind prank pulled on me by TJ. Nobody knew, except me, Jason and Serena. And Jason, he's so smart. He tried to help me. He deciphered the secret alphabet, or code language, or sign language, or whatever you want to call it, what Oliver used when he wrote me letters. We were sure it was TJ. But now, he's dead and Oliver is on the loose."