Chapter 5: If Not Me, Then Who? (Kane) - Once I Find You

“Like I said, everything is fine. The police don’t seem to have any idea who I am. The video itself is choppy, and they have no footage besides that,” I grumble into my phone as I walk down my stairs from my apartment to the shop.

“Well, you should probably lay low for a while. They might be secretly watching. Waiting for your next move,” Mason replies.

“No, because if I do, they’ll think I’m afraid. They’ll know that there’s something identifiable enough in it that I went into hiding.”

“You’re a stubborn old man, you know that, right?”

I sigh as I lock the glass door to the shop. “I have a goal. I can’t let something as benign as this stop me.”

“So…what will stop you? What is this goal?” he asks.

I think for a moment, sticking my keys into the back pocket of my jeans and turning to head back upstairs. “I want to instill fear. As long as I can until…”

“Until?”

“Until I have a good enough reason to stop.”

What is it that I’m waiting for?

I hadn’t planned to become a “serial killer.” I simply needed an outlet for the rage and depression I had fallen victim to after Sadie and Mel…

“You know, no matter how many of those fuckers you kill, it won’t bring them back, right?”

“Of course I fucking know that. I—” I stop myself, taking a breath as I run my hand down my face. Bacon comes up to me, nudging my knee for attention as if he can sense my distress. “I just don’t know what else to do with myself. If I don’t stay busy, I’ll stew.”

“You would do better going on a dating website. I’m sure they make one for grumpy old men looking for MILFs,” he laughs.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep fucking laughing. This dog is already too much for me. No one would enjoy living with an old army vet who doesn’t leave his auto shop anyway.”

“You forgot that they probably wouldn’t want to date a serial killer,” he teases.

“I’m hanging up,” I say as I click the button.

Douchebag.

As if I need the reminder that I’m alone.

“What do you think, Bacon? Are we lonely?” I squat down and pet his head. He excitedly laps at my hands as I chuckle and try to scratch his cheeks. “I think we’re alright. I don’t take good care of people anyway,” I say with a sigh as I stand back up. “Tough it out. That’s all I gotta do.”

I walk over to the old, boxy computer in the corner of my bedroom. It still works fine enough, I don’t need anything fancy. I only use it to access the court’s records database and public criminal information, plus the sex offender tracker. Nifty shit the internet has added.

They’re basically setting these deviants in my lap. They make it easy as fuck to find them, and every single detail about them. If they didn’t make it onto the sex offender list, I can still find them. There are a few completely free websites in which all you need is someone’s full name and state of residency, and it will tell you everything.

Past addresses.

Current address.

Phone number history.

Email addresses.

Relatives; and all their information is also accessible in the same way.

Criminal history is always behind a paywall, but that’s why the court’s public website is helpful. Plus, with someone’s full information, I can look up any public arrest records. I can’t risk signing up for an account and paying to access any information. I already had to have Mason talk me through how to block my IP address when I first started using this.

I have a specific target in mind. Unfortunately, I’m in a bit of a rush here otherwise I’d spend a day to follow him for a bit; just to see his patterns. But I need to have this handled tonight…because I already know who my next target is after this one, and I need that one gone before Mason comes to town.

I have to be careful.

To cover my tracks and to keep police from figuring out who I’m killing next, it’s required me to track a rotation I’ve made up. It would be virtually impossible for someone to crack it. It was random to begin with and only has a little bit of structure. Just enough so that I can follow it without fucking up. I sometimes have specific kills I plan, but they have to land in my rotation, otherwise they have to wait. In the meantime, I do these searches to find someone suitable for my rotation who deserves to be in it.

And I’ve found my target for the night that fits.

“Samuel Green,” I repeat out loud to myself, as I squint at the computer screen. Two counts of sexual misconduct with a minor. One count of aggravated sexual battery. And…guess where he is?

He lives just a block from a supermarket, only a town over from here, and he even has a job at a music store downtown. He gets to live his life normally…as if he didn’t assault anyone? As if he didn’t ruin someone else’s life? As if he isn’t some sick pervert and danger to everyone around him? As if he deserves to be a member of fucking society? To draw breath? The judge let him accept a plea deal, and the cunt served only one year out of his three-year sentence.

One.

This is why I do what I do.

The justice system lives to serve the evil and strip every fucking right away from the victim. Can you even call it the justice system? Because I’ve yet to see it work.

I served time in the army because I was able to. I have always believed in fighting for my country, even if I didn’t want to accept that most of it defends and allows even worse than what people like Samuel Green do. Maybe it meant defending them, but most of all I wanted to protect the people who needed it. Do the hard shit.

I’ve grown up with the same phrase on repeat in my mind: If not me, then who?

My father was a tough son of a bitch, and he raised me to be like him. Take shit from no one, protect women, and live an honest life. He isn’t around anymore, but I think he’d be proud of the way I’ve tried to redeem myself. He’d never have forgiven me for what happened to Mel and Sadie. He would’ve blamed himself worse than me, even…so it’s for the better that he didn't have to be around to know what happened to them.

But I live with it.

Every day, it repeats in my head, in those moments where the air is too still and the city traffic dulls for a little too long, the silence blaring in my ear.

All I can see when I close my eyes is Sadie running into my arms.

“Uncle Candy Kane!” I sweep her into my arms, holding her in a tight hug as her small arms go around my neck and she kisses my cheek. “I missed you!”

I chuckle and look over to see my sister. Her dark hair is cut shorter now, and I can see her tired face. She puts on a smile for me though, and I hold Sadie in one arm as I put my other one around Mel and pull her in.

That was the last time they visited me in Georgia at my base. Right before everything went to absolute shit.

I can’t keep thinking about this. I have to get ready.

I force myself off the desk chair and move to get dressed. Once I finish and tie up my boots, I sigh as I grab my small pack of gear.

“Be a good boy, I’ll be back soon,” I tell Bacon before turning and heading toward the door.

* * *

The windshield wipers drag slowly across the glass of my windshield. The rain isn’t relenting anytime soon. The roads are mostly empty at this hour, just the occasional flash of headlights passing me in the opposite direction.

Good.

I keep one hand on the wheel as I drive, looking around at the dark of the night that surrounds my truck as I try to find some sort of distraction. I turn up the dial on my radio just enough to drown out my thoughts.

I won’t think about Sadie.

I won’t think about Mel.

Tonight is about Samuel. To make him understand that the time to reap the consequences of his actions has finally come.

Sometimes I wonder if they expect me, if maybe they look behind their shoulder when they walk alone at night. If they double-check that they’ve locked every door and window. If they now live in a constant state of paranoia.

I hope they do.

I hope every creak of their floorboard keeps them awake. That every shadow outside their window makes them wonder if tonight is the night. That the harsh rain beating the roof might shadow the sound of me breaking in.

They’re always too afraid to answer me when I ask if they did, it’s a shame.

I turn down a narrow residential street and kill my headlights as I park at the corner. I sit here for a moment, watching. No one seems to be walking around, no one seems to have any lights that stay on at night outside of their homes.

I turn the ignition off, then slip on my balaclava and gloves.

Goodbye, Samuel Green.