Devil's Den


Chapter 5

"I've killed them," the female voice said in barely a whisper. "I've killed them all."

This was followed by the sound of falling objects, like a bunch of marbles being dropped onto a metal table.

"Who, Bea? Who have you killed?"

This time, the reply was barely audible.

"All the girls."

Director Hampton reached over and shut off the small tape recorder.

"That sound you heard, kinda like beads being dropped? That was the jewellery, or as you put it, Chase, the souvenirs. Three of them have already been linked to missing girls, one of whom hasn’t been seen in seven years. All three were street workers."

All the girls…

That sentence caused a shiver to travel up and down Chase's spine.

"How old?" she asked, trying to force images of her sister out of her mind.

Hampton gave her a strange look.

"The girls who went missing?"

Chase nodded.

"The three girls who were identified were all between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-eight. Like I said, street workers. One was in the US illegally, as well."

“Where did the jewellery come from?”

“Bea had it in a bag when she was picked up. Twenty-five items in all.”

“Twenty-five?” Stitts said, incredulous. “What are we saying here? That this Bea girl killed twenty-five people and then… turned herself in?”

“That’s what she says.”

Stitts shook his head.

"Have they found any bodies?”

“Not as of yet.”

“Any mention of an accomplice? A male accomplice?"

Director Hampton sighed and leaned on his elbows onto the desk.

"I know what you're going to say, Stitts—you don't need to preach the choir. I know how rare a female serial killer is, especially one that targets other females. I know—"

"I've seen it in New York," Chase said quietly, remembering Ryanne Elliott, who had murdered several women and then wrote about it and published the books as fiction. "Ryanne—"

"—Elliott; yes, I’m familiar with that case, too, Chase," Director Hampton interjected. "But those were more murders of passion, and while the targets were random people, the woman was out for financial gain. That was her motive. Here…” Hampton shrugged.

“Bea hasn’t said anything about why she killed these people?” Stitts asked.

“No. And other than the jewellery, which the local PD is trying hard to match with other missing persons, there is no crime scene and no evidence.”

Stitts made a face.

“Then how do we know that a crime has even been committed, other than petty theft, that is.”

Hampton’s answer was immediate.

“We don’t.”

“What about Bea? What’s her story? Does she have a