The Monster Hunter Ch. 31-40

Amber got up to follow him, but Angel stopped her. "No, not now. He needs to work through his anger, and he does that by riding." They heard the garage door opening and the Harley starting up. "He'll be back in an hour or so."

"I have to go as well," Daniel said. He kissed Angel and promised he'd be back soon.

Amber sat back in her chair, tears in her eyes, as they listened to Daniel's Harley leaving. "Michael told me he was a victim of child abuse, but he never said anything more. It wasn't just once, was it?"

Angel had to tell her something, but the whole story was up to Michael to say. "It went on for years, ending when he was eight."

"Oh, God," she said.

"Finish up breakfast and help me clean the kitchen, Amber. There's nothing you can do for him until he returns."

She looked down at her plate and pushed it away. "I've lost my appetite." She got up and dumped the rest in the trash, then helped Angel clean up and store the leftovers in the fridge. "How can I help?"

"The worst thing you can do is treat him differently now," Angel replied. "My therapist called it the broken doll syndrome. If you see him as damaged goods, you'll look at him differently and not take him down to play. I HATE when people look at me like that; it is why I didn't talk about my abuse except among those who already love me. He's still the same great guy, and you're falling in love with him. If you can't handle the bouts of anger and the nightmares he might have, you should go home now. I'll let him know you couldn't handle it, and I'll help him recover. It's better now than after he tells you he loves you."

That just made her cry even harder than before. "Michael already did."

Angel dropped the pan in the sink. "WHAT?"

"Last night. He told me he loved me before we fell asleep, and I told him I loved him too."

Angel picked up the pan and resumed washing it. "If you love him, you'll be waiting for him when he returns. There's a lawn chair in the garage."

"Thanks." She called him on his phone, but he didn't answer. She left a message. "If you want to ride, bring me along. I love you, Michael, and I'm waiting for you." She walked through the garage door to wait.

Angel sat down with a coffee and leaned her head on her hand. The FBI might say Michael wasn't a suspect, but Angel was more convinced than ever that the Monster Hunter was her brother.

Ch. 33

Michael returned twenty minutes later, not even getting off his motorcycle as Amber climbed on behind him, and they left again. Angel was left alone, replaying the morning's conversation over and over in her head.

The investigator in her head knew that Michael was a prime suspect. He had all the motive in the world with his history and had openly advocated his approval of the Monster Hunter's activities among witnesses. Michael was smart and highly trained, more than enough to plan and carry out the killings without leaving behind evidence or making mistakes. He was a planner, and that was what kept his team safe. Her brother thought through everything before he did it, and his backup plans had backup plans. Michael had the strength to overpower victims and the opportunity.

Angel also understood that while what she knew built a circumstantial case, she had nothing that could give probable cause for a search warrant or arrest. Her heart didn't want him to be it, thus her violation of criminal investigative procedures and FBI protocols. Angel had destroyed potential evidence by tossing out his Red Wing work boots, which would be exculpatory since they were a different size than the print in evidence. She'd also entered his room without permission to get his passport; no judge would believe she did that as a sister and not an investigator. If Angel told anyone about the results, it could prejudice any future warrants. Not that she'd told anyone of her suspicions; she'd passed nothing along to her partner or her superior.

Angel leaned back against the couch, knowing she was down to only two potential outcomes now. She was right, and her brother was a violent serial killer that she had aided in evading arrest. Or, he was understandably sympathetic but innocent, and she'd violated his trust.

The FBI was right to question her motivation to be on this case. She joined the Bureau to help the children, not to protect the abusers. Moving her to the task force had been a mistake, one they would not repeat. Her last talk with her lawyer had confirmed that she would never be returning to her current assignment; the conflict of interest was too great.

She was heating some leftover pasta for lunch when her cellphone rang. Picking it up, she saw it was Supervisory Agent Robinson. She looked at it again, wondering why her boss would be calling her on a Saturday while she was on administrative leave before she answered it. "Agent Johnson," she said.

"Angel, something has come up, and we need to talk," he told her. From his tone, he wasn't happy.

"All right. I'm just making lunch, so I have a few minutes."

"This isn't the kind of thing I can do on the phone. Can I see you in person?"

Angel thought quickly; her lawyer had been clear that communications needed to go through him. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. There's an open investigation on me, and I'm not an active agent; I can come in Monday morning with my lawyer?"

"This can't wait until Monday, and your lawyer can listen in on the phone unless you want to arrange a meeting on neutral ground. It's an explosive situation, Angel. I wouldn't go about it this way unless I had to do it quickly."

It sounded ominous. "Let me call my lawyer, and I'll get back to you shortly, sir." Angel hung up and relayed the conversation to Carter Pedersen. He was in his office and offered to host the meeting for them. Since it was not a Federal building, her lack of FBI credentials wouldn't affect her access. Angel called back and gave him the address and office number to be at in ninety minutes.

"I'm bringing along Nancy Gottleib from Human Resources; you've met before."

Angel's heart sank, wondering why she would be involved. "I'll see you at two, sir." She hung up and sent a text to Michael and another to Daniel, telling them she had to see her lawyer in his DC office, and she would be back by six for dinner.

As she got into her car and drove off, the sense of impending doom kept bubbling up. Angel didn't understand why her boss and HR would want to see her on the weekend away from the FBI building. There was only one thing that made sense; they were planning to fire her. Dan might be doing her a solid, keeping future employment opportunities in law enforcement available by allowing her to resign.

Tears started to form as she pulled into the parking garage, and she felt like hell as she took the elevator upstairs. Carter led her to a small conference room and got her some water as they talked about what might be going on. "It's highly irregular, and they have not contacted you through me as they should have," he told her. "I guess we'll find out."

It didn't take long for her boss and Mrs. Gottlieb to arrive; they didn't look happy. Carter closed the door and sat next to his client. "Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Agent Johnson."

"What's going on, boss?"

Nancy responded instead. "This is a new matter, not related to our investigation or your administrative leave," she told them. "I'm shocked and embarrassed that we are having this conversation, and I can promise you we will find and discipline the people responsible."

Angel looked at her with wide eyes, but it was Dan who filled in the blank. "This morning, I was contacted by a retired agent, a friend of mine. He's part of an unofficial private discussion page, which he described as being for 'politically incorrect males who are agents and former agents.' The members are anonymous, but that won't stop us. I need you to prepare yourself, Angel. That picture that caused your reaction is back."

"What?"

Dan slid a manila folder across the table to Carter; he looked at it, freezing for a moment, before closing it and sliding it to Angel. She steeled herself and opened it up, and her heart stopped. The photo had been cropped to avoid nudity yet still convey her rape. The caption was worse. "PROOF THAT ANGEL JOHNSON DIDN'T ALWAYS HATE MEN."

"Oh GOD," Angel said as she closed the file. "Who the hell would do that?"

"We're going to find out," Dan said. "It's completely unacceptable. The photograph, while cropped, was child pornography and remains child pornography. Anyone who holds the original image, or keeps the meme, will be charged with possession of child pornography. We just got a warrant to serve on the web host, and we will get the image taken down. We will find out who did this, Angel."

Angel leaned back in her chair, defeated. She knew that once the image was out, it was impossible to take it back. "My life is over," she said to herself. "How many people saw this?"

"My friend told me the post had just under a thousand views." Dan looked crushed.

"God DAMMIT!" Angel stood up, knocking her chair to the floor. "Fucking KEN MARKHART! Why would he DO this to me?"

"We don't know who did it yet, Angel, but Ken is my prime suspect. He was the one who found the photo, and your brother kicked his ass. Our agents are serving a warrant for his home and his phone based on that information."

"I know this is a shock, Agent Johnson, but we're doing all we can."

Angel looked out the window at the offices and the monuments in the distance. "He's trying to make sure I can't return," she said quietly. "Fuck him."

"We wanted to make sure you knew this from us before it got back to you another way, Agent Johnson. We'll keep you and your counsel advised of any progress."

"Thank you," Carter said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to my client alone."

"We have to get back to the office," Dan said. "I'm so sorry this happened, Angel."

"Thank you, sir," she said softly before the pair left. She looked over at her lawyer. "What do we do now?"

"Nothing," he said. "It's out of our hands, and you're still on suspension. In a way, whoever did this just made it near impossible for the FBI to fire you without leaving themselves open to a huge public relations black eye. The more agents who saw it and didn't report it, the worse it becomes for them."

"Can I even go back now?"

"Angel, if they take you back, it's with a transfer. If we work it right, we can get something better than the Fargo office. Think about where you'd like to be assigned when you return to duty status. Do you want to go back to your old division? Head to another office in New York, or maybe the Mexican border? Take a post internationally? Getting away from the Washington office might be good for everyone."

"I'll think about it." And she did, all the way home.

Ch. 34

Supervisory Special Agent Dan Robinson's weekend had gone to hell in a handbasket.

The sexist and disgusting attack on one of his agents was political kryptonite. He had immediately informed his boss, the Special Agent In Charge, who immediately called his boss, the Assistant Director in Charge of the FBI Washington Field Office. It didn't stop there, either, not after the ADIC talked with Human Resources. While Dan had been off briefing Angel and her counsel, the FBI's highest levels were getting the news.

Dan's friend had offered up his username and password for the secret discussion board, and the scope of the problem was far beyond the one meme. The Information Technology people were capturing content while the lawyers obtained the warrants. The orders from on high were clear; find out who was responsible and get them out of the Bureau.

The problem was that this group was not your garden-variety group of beer-swilling has-beens talking about the good old days. No, this group consisted of experienced agents who knew their posts could get them in trouble. Because of this, the discussion board maintained secrecy. Membership was by invitation only. The content was encrypted and automatically deleted after thirty days. The site used multiple security measures; real names were not used, the software didn't record the IP addresses, and VPN's granted anonymity. What should have been a slam-dunk a day later had turned into thirty-six hours of frustration.

All supervisors and above at the FBI's Washington Field Office had gathered at six in the morning to make sure the message from the top was heard loud and clear. The conduct was wrong, and those responsible would get caught and punished. If anyone was involved, their only chance to remain in the Bureau was to turn themselves in immediately.

Dan went from that meeting to the morning staff meeting with his group. Ken wasn't there; when he came through security, agents from the Office of Professional Responsibility took him to their interview room. Dan figured that Ken had created the offensive meme and hoped he'd never see him again.

Once everyone was in the room, he closed the door, joining doors throughout the building, and in FBI buildings across the country, all closed for the same message. The screen came to life, and the Director of the FBI looked into the camera. Over the next ten minutes, he made clear his disgust at the existence of a board filled with active agents displaying sexist, racist, and offensive messages and photos. "The most egregious of these was the inclusion of child pornography into an attack on a named fellow agent. This behavior has no place in our Bureau." Once the Director finished, Dan turned off the television. "If you were a member of that discussion board, if you posted offensive content there or elsewhere, or you were responsible for that despicable smear of a fellow agent, come forward now. It's the only chance you have of retaining your badge." Dan looked around the room.

No one moved.

Dan gave them another thirty uncomfortable seconds as they looked around at each other or the floor. "Get back to work. If you want to confess in private, be in my office, or the Human Relations office, within the next twenty minutes. Warrants are out already, and we WILL find out the truth."

He could hear some of the conversations occurring outside his open office door as he went to work. It wasn't a stretch to connect the OPR's detention of Ken with Angel's confession of her abuse. Agents were devastated by the reports, and many texted Angel with messages of support.

The investigation was outside Dan's area of responsibility, but rumors were flying as the morning went on. At least a dozen agents had gone to Human Resources or the Office of Professional Responsibility, and none had emerged again. Dan called a friend in OPR to get an update. "Is my guy coming back?"

"He's denied everything and lawyered up. We executed a search warrant on his home, and we've seized his FBI laptop and his cellphone. Naturally, he refuses to open his cellphone to give us access."

The FBI had been through this mess in the courts. They couldn't force Apple to unlock the phone, and they can't force Ken to unlock the phone for them; it was considered a violation of his right against self-incrimination. "What now?"

"He's been placed on paid administrative leave pending the outcome of the investigation. If things go well, we'll find evidence and nail his ass to the wall."

"Thanks." Dan hung up, knowing the corollary was that if they couldn't prove he was involved, Ken would return to his Task Force, and he wouldn't be able to wipe off his smarmy grin. For a moment, Dan hoped that Angel would be back when he arrived; she'd take him to the gym and wipe the mats with his ass. He knew that would never happen, though.

Dan was about to order lunch when his phone rang. "Supervisory Agent Robinson, FBI," he said as he answered the call from the Atlanta area code.

"Agent Robinson of the Monster Hunter Task Force?"

"That's correct, Ma'am."

"This is Naomi Wells at CNN's news desk. We received an email from a man claiming to be the Monster Hunter, and he provided new information about a recent killing to prove he's for real. We need to confirm that information with you before we take this to the air."

"Can you forward the email to me?" He gave his address, and soon the email and attachment arrived in his account. The statement was the attachment, but the cover letter said that in the Charleston murder, the crucifixion used landscaping spikes through the wrists and the left instep. "That is what we found at the crime scene, Naomi, and we did not release those details. However, anyone who saw the scene or the crime scene photographs would know that. I'm looking at the attachment now."

The attachment was enough to convince him the sender was their man, and he told Naomi that it was 'most likely' the serial killer's handiwork. He forwarded the email to the team and yelled at them to "get the IT geeks to dig into it."

He got on the phone with his boss to give him a heads up and forwarded him the email as well.

The news was running with the story a few minutes later. "The serial killer known by the nickname The Monster Hunter contacted CNN News with a letter he wanted us to read. Our news desk has verified new information within his communication that was not publicly released, and we are confident the letter is genuine. We have also confirmed that each man listed is a registered sex offender living in the locations listed. Here is the Monster Hunter's statement."

"My fellow citizens,
For too long, we have allowed the worst among us to prey on the most innocent. The destruction of a child's innocence cannot be repaired. Thousands of these victims will deal with nightmares, mental health issues, and relationship problems decades after their rapes or molestations. The men who do these things are monsters, yet our society lacks the will or the ability to protect us from them.

I lack neither of these.

The scum that I've removed from society suffered only a fraction of what they deserved, and now they will never harm another child. Now, the hunters have become the hunted, and they live in fear of MY justice. It is THEY who wake from nightmares, it is THEY who live in fear, and it is THEY who will suffer horribly for what they have done.

No psychologist will tell the parole board they are rehabilitated and ready for release.

No lawyers will overturn their sentence on appeal.

No judges will grant their freedom.

The following people are on my list of upcoming victims. I will give them thirty days to surrender themselves to law enforcement, confess to the full extent of their crimes, and plead guilty to the charges. Do this, and I will remove your name from the list and replace it with another.

If you do not, you will meet my justice. Do not delude yourself into thinking you can hide from me; you cannot, and the people around you will not let you go free. The good people of this country hate you too. They merely lack the will to do what I can.

Your only chance to live is to comply.

These are the next five men on my list.

-Marcus Lee Thompson of Marietta, Georgia
-Luis Angel De La Jolla of Los Angeles, California
-Henry James McKnight of Chattanooga, Tennessee
-Brian Michael Kavanaugh of Boston, Massachusetts
-Denzell Tupac Black of Jacksonville, Florida

You have thirty days. Tick Tock, Tick Tock, you'll die choking on your ****. MH"

Dan leaned back in his chair as he and the rest of the team watched. He almost felt sorry for the bastards.