The local police didn’t do much sleuthing and labeled Felicia as a runaway. Many argued that Fullbrooke’s force represented a generational network of racist white boys. It was hard for women or people of other ethnic groups, religions, or sexuality to remain on the force. While some might get hired, they always quit after a week.
Whether due to racism or not, the cops fucked up. They closed the case and assumed Felicia had run away, even when all the details screamed more had happened.
There was no news coverage of Felicia. Not one article or mention on TV. But that was to be expected. Although black kids went missing at a higher rate than white kids, many people never heard about them. The FBI's National Crime Information Center did a report that my entire team had to read. The data showed that missing white children received far more media coverage than missing black and brown children put together.
Therefore, Fullbrooke was a perfect town for a serial killer that targeted little black girls.
And then more girls went missing. And the black community got scared. And they decided to stop depending on the police to solve it. They united. Pastor Miller and Fullbrooke Baptist church stepped in, going out into the streets themselves, searching day and night for those girls. More churches joined. Then parents and teachers.
But was it all the police’s fault? Only God knew.
These families didn't have the financial resources to respond appropriately when their children went missing. They couldn’t afford a private investigator. In most cases, they didn’t know what to do. Many were under the misconception that they had to wait 48 hours before filing a police report, when the waiting period varied by location.
Pastor Miller and others protested.
Still, Fullbrooke police didn’t call in the FBI.
Then two months ago, a group led by a fourteen-year-old activist went to Washington D.C. with hundreds of other kids her age and their parents. They protested the unsolved missing persons cases involving black women and girls all around the state. And that brought the cameras to the Fullbrooke Six. And with it being an election year, Georgia’s mayor and governor had to act like they cared.
Without Pastor Miller, his congregation, and the fourteen-year-old girl making noise, these cases would have never gained national coverage and my unit may have never been called.
Recently, newspapers were now naming our serial killer—The Angel Maker due to the way he left the little girls. A reporter had snuck into the crime scene and spotted the gold wings. So far, we were able to keep the newspapers from publicly giving away those details. Still, they threw the name on the psycho to sell more papers. However, I think they called him that because it helped everyone sleep at night, knowing those little girls were flying around in heaven with new fluffy wings.
Why did you call them psycho? I would think that Miller is your enemy. No. You like that Miller brings the cameras your way? You want everyone to know.
I didn’t like the name, Angel Maker. It would give the sick, twisted fuck purpose. If he thought he was creating angels, then he would do it more.
You’re no Angel Maker to me. I can’t wait to find you and end this.
Stein and I arrived at the entrance of the abandoned building.
He looked my way. “Are you ready for your new nightmare?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Stein had been on my unit for over five years, tracking serial killers that targeted kids. It was easy for us. Other units had fathers and mothers on them. Cases like these hit too close to home. Ours were all single men with no children.
Since I’d been put in charge, our unit had solved twenty-five cases. We teamed up with the town’s local police, created a task force to investigate the killers, and always caught them.
Maybe, we were so good because we did more than take the cases home. We cut open our chest and put the files in our hearts. And through all that, we did our best to not let the darkness of these cases seep into our souls.
But this one was getting harder and harder. I didn’t know if Stein or I would make it. And the other agents were having a rough time too.
Today, we would see Melody.
Melody, are you here? What did he do to you? God, I hope you’re really flying around in heaven. I bet you’ve got the most beautiful wings.
We entered the abandoned building.
The scent of decay hit my nostrils.
I let out a long breath. “Take some vacation after this, Stein.”
“After this body or this case?” Stein asked.
“Pick one. I’ll sign off.”
“No way. I’ll only take a break if you come with me.” Stein was the closest thing to a best friend that I had. “King, I won’t leave you here, dealing with this hell by yourself.”
I nodded. “Then, we take a break after this case.”
“And we go to the beach.”
“Somewhere far off.”
“Crystal blue water. Powder white sand.”
I smiled. “And beautiful women.”
“Lots of gorgeous beautiful ladies. Two for each arm.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why not three for each arm?”
“Why not four?”
All dreaming ended, when we made it to the group of cops surrounding our killer’s new present. I knew the scent of death—the feel of it in the air. There was never any mistaking the chill that always came to my spine when horror was near. This close up, the stench of death slapped me in the face. It lay rancid and thick in the air.
You sick fuck.
Little Melody had been taken from a restaurant as her parents argued a few feet from her. None of the customers had seen who did it. All attention had been on the parents and their heated conversation. There were no cameras in the restaurant or on the street. No one had even heard the door open or close.
Melody had disappeared with no clues.
And now she sat in a tiny purple chair with her eyes closed. She held a black calla lily in her hand. The Angel Maker had attached a gold halo on top of her head. Gold wings spread out from her back. She wore a purple dress with lace at the bottom. Her hair was two long braids with purple bows dangling at the ends.
Why do you always have them hold a black lily? What does it represent to you?
The medical examiner Dr. Ross stood next to her. “Melody was kept alive the longest. Her skin and nails are intact more than the other girls.”
“Any sign of rape?”
Her words grew sad. “I have to get her on the table to confirm, but I would guess no since he didn’t rape any of the other girls.”
I walked around Melody. “Did he change anything about the wings or halo?”
“Looks the same. These feathers and other items can be from any craft store in this state.”
I kneeled and assessed the back of the wings, not wanting to see little Melody’s face anymore. But knowing the image would never leave my mind.
I’m going to get you. I’m going to hurt you, and you will scream for angels, and they will not come.
A slam came from behind us.
I jumped to my feet.
We all turned that way.
“What was that?” Stein asked.
“Let’s see.” I took my gun out of the holster and ran in that direction.
Was that you? Did you want to see the show?
Other agents followed me.
Another door slammed up ahead.
Someone ran up the stairs. I only caught sight of the person’s feet.