Post by emschld on Mar 15, 2007 2:48:41 GMT -10
I am trying a different story line. See if you guys like it. These chapters will be harder for me to write but I think I can keep you all interested. Also I like the story line that two of you joined up and one did the writing the other pictures. If anyone is interested in doing that with this one, send me a post. I can't do pictures on the board. Oh, by the way do not eat just prior to reading this one. As always enjoy.
Chapter One
He watched her form the woods as she left her house for her morning run. As she jogged out of site he smiled. Everything was coming together just like he had planned. He had even picked a day when the weather was also co-operating there was a light drizzle falling it had been falling all morning. He waited there and watched as she jogged out of site, then waited just a little longer before he went to the back door and reached for the knob. It opened as he turned it, she still didn’t lock her doors. He laughed as he let himself in to the kitchen.
He didn’t turn on any lights as he looked around the kitchen he saw her kitchen knives in the wooden block on the counter. He took out the one that had a serrated edge. Maybe he thought he would just use this on her afterwards. He looked around again and began to take his clothes off. After he removed his close he folded them and put them in a corner. Standing there butt naked he ran his hand down his freshly shaven body. No hair anywhere. He took the thin latex gloves and laid them on the counter. He put the gloves and his other protection on and walked into the living area. He looked around and thought. ‘Yes, this is the place I will kill her, then I will rape her and take her to the kitchen and carve her up. He then stood by the archway into the kitchen and waited for her to return.
The body or what was left of it; that had been Lucille Smyth was found by her sister that evening. They had planned to have supper and a movie. When she had opened the back door calling out her sister’s name she had smelled a strange smell. But when she got into the kitchen and saw what lay on the table her right hand went to her mouth as she began to retch. She ran from the room and then from the house. As she stood shaking by her car she pulled out her cell phone and called the police. Her knees gave way at some point before the police arrived and she lay in a heap beside her car when the patrol car pulled up.
As the first officer walked up to her she couldn’t get any words out but pointed to the house and he understood that there was where the crime was and he strode briskly to the back door and opened it and went in. The screen had verily slammed shut behind him when he came racing back out and puked on the driveway. After he had left his supper on the ground he walked back to his car and called for back up.
It was the later that night before Inspector Franks of Interpol arrived and began to survey the crime scene. This wasn’t the first and the killer had started leaving the number of his victims on the wall. The number 26 was written in Lucille’s own blood on the wall by the back door. But there was one difference and that was the note that had been left for him. It read “You had your chance Inspector Frog. Now I will see how good they are across the pond.” He knew the meaning of this was that the killer was leaving Europe and going to start his next spree in America.
Most Inspectors would have given up. Not So with Jacque Franks. He had went home and began to look for a bomb squad officer from Miami that he had met several years before. He found his number and began to dial. He didn’t take into consideration the time of day so even though it was noon for him it was early morning for Lt. Horatio Caine of the Miami Dade Police Department. It took a while for the call to go through. But then he heard it start to ring.
It was a good thing that Horatio Caine was an early riser, most of Miami was still in bed. He had just poured himself another cup of coffee from his new coffee maker when the phone rang with the call from Inspector Franks. The last one had finely died of old age and continuous use. It was about the only thing in his apartment that was used on a regular bases. When he did make it home it was always late in the evening or early morning hours. His usual routine was to come in and start a pot then go take a shower and put on his night clothes. He would then pour a cup of coffee and either go to his desk or to the small enclosed patio and sit in one of the two patio chairs and go over his cases in his mind. Sometimes he would go to bed and sleep other mornings would find him slumped in the patio chair with his empty coffee cup somewhere near by.
He smiled as he picked up the phone from his desk. It was an international call. So that meant that it wasn’t the office calling, a different way to start his day. “Caine residents.” It sounded strange to him to say those words. His apartment hadn’t been a residents since Marisole had died.
There was a pause before he heard the thick French accent of Inspector Franks. “Mr. Caine, you probably do not remember me but I am Inspector Jacque Franks of Interpol. I am calling you because of a serial killer here in Europe has left a message that indicates he will be changing his hunting grounds to the Americas. I want to ask if you might know of someone that has enough pull to have me temporarily attached to a task force that will be formed to try to catch this maniac.” He then began to give Horatio more of the details.
Horatio had sat down on his couch and listened as he sipped his coffee. Finely Ins. Franks took a breath and gave him a chance to say something. “Do you know where in the US he plans to strike?” To this question Ins. Franks began to swear in French. “Whoa, there. Hold up on the French. I know how cases can drive you to outburst of anger. But if I am going to help you, you will have to speak English or Spanish. I am sorry I didn’t learn French.”
They talked for a few more minutes. Lt. Horatio Caine agreed that this killer was probably coming to the US. So he told Ins. Franks to make copies of the Interpol files and send them to him at MDPD. He also told him he was no longer on the bomb squad, but was CSI and head of the department. His parting words to the inspector were. “I will keep my eyes open for this guys MO and I have a few friends that I can reach out to and get assistance and get you over here on a temporary assignment.” The connection was broken and both men went on about their own plans.
Chapter One
He watched her form the woods as she left her house for her morning run. As she jogged out of site he smiled. Everything was coming together just like he had planned. He had even picked a day when the weather was also co-operating there was a light drizzle falling it had been falling all morning. He waited there and watched as she jogged out of site, then waited just a little longer before he went to the back door and reached for the knob. It opened as he turned it, she still didn’t lock her doors. He laughed as he let himself in to the kitchen.
He didn’t turn on any lights as he looked around the kitchen he saw her kitchen knives in the wooden block on the counter. He took out the one that had a serrated edge. Maybe he thought he would just use this on her afterwards. He looked around again and began to take his clothes off. After he removed his close he folded them and put them in a corner. Standing there butt naked he ran his hand down his freshly shaven body. No hair anywhere. He took the thin latex gloves and laid them on the counter. He put the gloves and his other protection on and walked into the living area. He looked around and thought. ‘Yes, this is the place I will kill her, then I will rape her and take her to the kitchen and carve her up. He then stood by the archway into the kitchen and waited for her to return.
The body or what was left of it; that had been Lucille Smyth was found by her sister that evening. They had planned to have supper and a movie. When she had opened the back door calling out her sister’s name she had smelled a strange smell. But when she got into the kitchen and saw what lay on the table her right hand went to her mouth as she began to retch. She ran from the room and then from the house. As she stood shaking by her car she pulled out her cell phone and called the police. Her knees gave way at some point before the police arrived and she lay in a heap beside her car when the patrol car pulled up.
As the first officer walked up to her she couldn’t get any words out but pointed to the house and he understood that there was where the crime was and he strode briskly to the back door and opened it and went in. The screen had verily slammed shut behind him when he came racing back out and puked on the driveway. After he had left his supper on the ground he walked back to his car and called for back up.
It was the later that night before Inspector Franks of Interpol arrived and began to survey the crime scene. This wasn’t the first and the killer had started leaving the number of his victims on the wall. The number 26 was written in Lucille’s own blood on the wall by the back door. But there was one difference and that was the note that had been left for him. It read “You had your chance Inspector Frog. Now I will see how good they are across the pond.” He knew the meaning of this was that the killer was leaving Europe and going to start his next spree in America.
Most Inspectors would have given up. Not So with Jacque Franks. He had went home and began to look for a bomb squad officer from Miami that he had met several years before. He found his number and began to dial. He didn’t take into consideration the time of day so even though it was noon for him it was early morning for Lt. Horatio Caine of the Miami Dade Police Department. It took a while for the call to go through. But then he heard it start to ring.
It was a good thing that Horatio Caine was an early riser, most of Miami was still in bed. He had just poured himself another cup of coffee from his new coffee maker when the phone rang with the call from Inspector Franks. The last one had finely died of old age and continuous use. It was about the only thing in his apartment that was used on a regular bases. When he did make it home it was always late in the evening or early morning hours. His usual routine was to come in and start a pot then go take a shower and put on his night clothes. He would then pour a cup of coffee and either go to his desk or to the small enclosed patio and sit in one of the two patio chairs and go over his cases in his mind. Sometimes he would go to bed and sleep other mornings would find him slumped in the patio chair with his empty coffee cup somewhere near by.
He smiled as he picked up the phone from his desk. It was an international call. So that meant that it wasn’t the office calling, a different way to start his day. “Caine residents.” It sounded strange to him to say those words. His apartment hadn’t been a residents since Marisole had died.
There was a pause before he heard the thick French accent of Inspector Franks. “Mr. Caine, you probably do not remember me but I am Inspector Jacque Franks of Interpol. I am calling you because of a serial killer here in Europe has left a message that indicates he will be changing his hunting grounds to the Americas. I want to ask if you might know of someone that has enough pull to have me temporarily attached to a task force that will be formed to try to catch this maniac.” He then began to give Horatio more of the details.
Horatio had sat down on his couch and listened as he sipped his coffee. Finely Ins. Franks took a breath and gave him a chance to say something. “Do you know where in the US he plans to strike?” To this question Ins. Franks began to swear in French. “Whoa, there. Hold up on the French. I know how cases can drive you to outburst of anger. But if I am going to help you, you will have to speak English or Spanish. I am sorry I didn’t learn French.”
They talked for a few more minutes. Lt. Horatio Caine agreed that this killer was probably coming to the US. So he told Ins. Franks to make copies of the Interpol files and send them to him at MDPD. He also told him he was no longer on the bomb squad, but was CSI and head of the department. His parting words to the inspector were. “I will keep my eyes open for this guys MO and I have a few friends that I can reach out to and get assistance and get you over here on a temporary assignment.” The connection was broken and both men went on about their own plans.