We always get the crazies on Christmas; that’s what I told myself when she walked in. She looked rattled and perhaps wasted, with her wide and maniacal, light blue eyes, bushy dark brown hair lined with streams of gray, and smeared eyeliner. Other than that, she looked no different than any average, mid-thirties brunette to me.
Though I had no doubt she was just some tweaker who came into the station to report that someone had stolen her stash or some other dumb shit I wasn’t remotely in the mood for, when she spoke, I was a bit lost for words.
“I-I’m here to c-confess,” she stuttered in a soft voice, darting her eyes around the room.
The fact that she had apparently asked for me specifically bewildered me as much as what I assumed she was intent on confessing to. Given that I was the head of a task force charged with investigating serial murders and the like, I was uncertain what someone who looked as though she’d seen more than her fair share of drugs would want with me.
‘Likely’, I thought, inwardly rolling my eyes, ‘she killed her boyfriend for messing with her needles or something.’
I would be mistaken in my assumptions, though I can’t say I believed her at first, given what I knew about who she claimed to be.
“I’m…I’m the Lullaby Killer,” she said, finally looking me dead in the eye, still twitching ever so slightly.
I had been on the Lullaby case for the better part of five years; something I had to assume this mad woman to be fully aware of when she asked for me. The station at which we were currently located was not where we had originated, but one that served as more of a central hub for such investigations.
Not only had everything we had learned about this killer led us to believe it was a man who had murdered eleven children and six families across the country, but this lady looked barely capable of picking out her groceries for the week, let alone evading the authorities for half a decade. In addition, Lullaby had been inactive for close to a year by this point, which lent more credence to my assumption that this woman was off her rocker.
I was honestly not too happy about being assigned this case at first, as I had spent the previous four years tracking who we dubbed the Conscience Killer, who had tortured and murdered around fifteen people. Before that, there was a serial murderer we named Jasmine, as that was something of a calling card for that one. It only took us around six months to track him down, but Conscience and Lullaby were far more meticulous.
While the Conscious case had gone cold a good two years before Lullaby came on the scene. The higher-ups, having assumed that they had either given up or even died, thought it was time to move on, thus putting my team on Lullaby. We had other cases, of course; one of which had us begrudgingly working on Christmas eve, but that didn’t compare to what the woman before me claimed to be.
“Is that right?” I said with a heavy sigh, being quite sure this woman was just an attention-seeking crackpot.
“It’s the truth!” she insisted, slamming her palm to my desk.
“Uh-huh,” I replied, unphased by her outburst, “and what exactly inspired you to confess on this chilly Christmas Eve?”
Considering that I had been hoping to head home to my wife and my daughter soon, the last thing I wanted was to deal with some crazy lady looking for publicity. In addition to my inner frustrations, we were no closer to catching Lullaby than Conscience. Hell, we would likely have a better chance at tracking down Jack the Ripper than either of these two, so I was certain that this elusive killer would not so casually stroll through my door all neatly wrapped up for Christmas.
“It’s the only way,” she replied, slipping her hand from the desk, “the only way I can be safe.”
“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to elaborate quite a bit more; both on your ‘confession’, as well as whatever it is that you’re afraid of.”
“He…he told me to stop; to never pick up my tools again, but…”
She trailed off, gazing down at her hands. It wasn’t until then that I noticed the muddy, red stains on her palms. When I looked at where she had slammed her hand to the desk, I could see the faint crimson, streaked back from where she had pulled back.
I still did not even slightly believe she was who she claimed to be, but I was growing more comfortable in the notion she did have reason to be here after all.
“Okay,” I said, waving to Douglas, one of our newer recruits, “how about we get some samples of that, anything you may have on your person, and get you changed into some clean clothes, huh?”
Again, she did not resist, only nodded her head, getting to her feet and keeping her posture somewhat hunched. I couldn’t tell if it was the weight of her actions that left her looking so ashamed, that she was simply exhausted, or coming down from whatever was potentially coursing through her veins. It could be that she was keeping her head lowered to hide her face, as she continued to cut her eyes in all directions while we led her to her next destination.
Once forensics got everything they needed from her, we moved her to one of the interrogation rooms. I left her shackled to the table alone for a little while, just to try and get some kind of read on her mental state, as well as give the lab boys a chance to see if they could come up with anything to support her claim.
Once some unsettling results came back from the lab; blood trace and hair that did not match the woman awaiting my interrogation, I realized it was time to take this one seriously after all.
“You need to lock me up!” she demanded before I even had a chance to sit down.
“In due time,” I said, taking my seat, “I’m gonna need some answers first.”
“Lock me away, please! I’m begging you! I’ll tell you everything…just…”
“Ma’am,” I interrupted, “if you calm down, this will all go a lot easier.”
She shifted in her chair, still looking from one side to the other, only making eye contact with me in between her constant glances around the small room.
“There’s nothing to be scared of. Believe me; you are protected here. This may be the safest…”
“You don’t understand!” she belted, attempting to get to her feet; something that was far less effective with her wrists cuffed to the table, “you can’t stop him! Nobody can!”
I studied her for a moment, taking in her erratic behavior as further evidence she was tripping on something.
“Okay,” I said, “if we can’t protect you; if this man can still reach you here…why would you be safer in a cell?”
“I…I don’t…” she stuttered, with tears trickling down her face.
“Look, I don’t know who’s after you, or what reason he would have to risk getting himself arrested or shot, but you’re in good hands here. Now, how about you tell me about the blood trace we found on you, huh?”
“One…one thirty-two, Grovan Drive…little town called Grady, maybe seventy miles from here.”
She no longer darted her eyes all around her, just studied her hands and the table beneath them. As I approached the door to pass the note to my associates on the outside, I felt a strange sensation. It was as though the temperature dropped about twenty degrees, almost instantly returning to what it was before.
The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck still stood on end as I gave a nod to Jenkins, handing him the address the strange woman told me. Shaking it off as the door closed once more, I returned to my spot across from the supposed Lullaby killer. While I dreaded what would be found by the Grady Police Department, once they reached the address, I was still having a hard time believing this woman was who she claimed to be.
“Wanna give me a heads up on what they’re gonna find there?” I asked, while she still avoided looking back at me.
“Little girl named Haley…Haley Benson…her mother and father…what’s left of them…”
I felt my face flush with rage, wanting nothing more than to lash out at this woman and make her pay for what she did, now that my doubts about her claims were fading. There will always be killers and victims, no matter how much the human race may evolve; something I think it stopped doing a long time ago, but I could never stomach those who hurt children.
My mind flashed to my daughter, likely indulging in the dreams of what Old Saint Nick may have in store for her soon. Hearing this confession caused my back to stiffen at the thought of what the demon across from me had done, likely only hours before our meeting.
“You killed them,” I said, not questioning this fact, but stating it.
She just nodded, still keeping her eyes focused on her fingers.
“Why?” I asked, hoping some semblance of an explanation could prevent me from reaching across the table and pounding her face against it until I felt it crack, “why children? What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
“I’m saving them,” she said, finally looking back at me with large and glassy eyes, “saving them from the agony of adulthood. They…they don’t suffer…when I do it…just…just go to sleep and don’t wake up…”
“Saving..? How can..?”
I could barely convince my mind to conjure anything to respond to this. Did she truly believe she was doing them a favor? That murdering these innocents before they even had a chance to really live was some sort of salvation!?
My whole body was trembling; wanting nothing more than to tear out the throat of this monster. My face burned with the rage awakening within me, and I knew if I did not get out of this room immediately, I would do something I could not come back from.
I sprang to my feet, not saying another word to this horrendous creature, pounding on the door as soon as I reached it. The second Leslie let me out, I ran for the exit, desperate for fresh oxygen to attempt to regulate my borderline hyperventilation. When I finally felt the cold wind on my face, I fell to my knees, screaming out with the hope of calming the fury I was feeling.
“You okay, chief?” Leslie asked, having followed me out into the cold.
“Did…you…hear?” I asked in between panting breaths.
“Yeah, man. Yeah, I did. It’s alright, Mac. We got her now. She’ll get the needle for sure.”
“Kids, Les! I mean, I know what Lullaby did, y’know? But…”
“Yeah, chief. It’s a whole other thing to be in a room with these fucking monsters. I know what you’re feeling.”
“Just give me a minute, yeah?” I asked, still breathing heavily.
“You got it. Want me to throw her in a cell?”
“Not yet…need to get through this. Gotta be sure it’s done right. Just gimme a few.”
“Just yell if you need me, man,” Leslie said, heading back through the door.
By the time I managed to compose myself and headed back into the warmth of the office, Jenkins had received word from the Grady PD.
Just as had been the case with all of the other children this awful woman had ‘saved’, the little girl apparently looked as though she was only sleeping, with the music box still playing its jingling tune. Her parents; however, did not look quite so peaceful. While every kid Lullaby killed died from a fast-acting poison; one that they were not aware was being introduced into their system while they slept, her methods of doing away with their folks varied from case to case.
In several instances, she had allowed the mothers and fathers of her victims to live, but others would not be so lucky; if you can consider surviving such a thing to be considered living anyway. Three couples were shot while they slept, likely having no idea anyone was even in their house. One had their throats cut during the night, while the other three sets of parents; four now, had been butchered.
Though none of them likely had much of a chance to put up a fight, given that the fatal injuries seemed to happen first, she apparently was not content to leave it at that, slicing and carving into their flesh as they bled out. From what Sheriff Harker out in Grady said, the master bedroom of that small house was quite the mess by the time she was through.
I felt my guts attempt to bubble over again while Jenkins gave me the information; something I thought I had grown immune to after all these years, but after a time, I managed to settle myself back down again.
“Want me to take it from here?” Leslie asked as I began to head back to the interrogation room.
“No, I got it. I appreciate it though. I just…I just gotta see this one through, y’know?”
“I gotcha, chief. Just don’t let her get under your skin, okay? You feel like you need to get outta there…”
“Yeah, Les. I gotcha.”
The woman had barely moved an inch since I’d been gone; as much as I could tell anyway. She still stared down at the table, not even glancing at me when I re-entered the room.
“We got the word back from Grady,” I said, fighting back my need to clench my jaw as I spoke, “looks like you’re telling the truth.”
She just nodded, maintaining her hunched-over posture.
“So let’s make this quick, yeah?” I said, sliding the sheet of paper and a pen across the table, laying out the recorder, “You give me your full confession, and we’ll get you into that cell you wanted.”
She didn’t put up a fight, nor did she waste any time stating the facts. Not only did she speak into the microphone, barely hesitating in between every name she listed, but she wrote down the information as she spoke it. She recalled the name of every child she murdered, though the monikers assigned to any of the parents slipped her mind.
Fortunately, I had the records of her crimes with me, to be able to lend a hand with anything she neglected. While she made this process much easier than any other criminal I had interviewed over my years on the job, I still winced with every detail. Though I managed to keep myself composed enough to not act on any of the impulses I was feeling at the time, I could not stand being in the presence of this wretched creature.
Regardless of my impatient desire to get as far away from this thing as I could, once her confession came to a close, there was one more thing I had to know before we parted company.
“I gotta know,” I said, stopping in place as I walked away from the table, “why did you come here tonight? Why confess? You’ve always been so meticulous. I was beginning to think you’d quit or something. You could’ve retired and we likely would’ve never tracked you down…so, why?”
She didn’t speak at first, leaving me to believe these were questions that would go unanswered. I’d gotten what I needed from her; she would surely face the death penalty for her horrendous crimes, but I just couldn’t figure it out. Finally, shrugging off my curiosities, I made for the door again with an exhausted sigh.
“I…I tried to stop,” she said, as I reached to knock on the exit, “for a long time…I thought I could.”
I paced back to the table, setting down my things and taking my seat again.
“After the boy in Milwaukee; the last one before…before I stopped…I had a visit from someone who knew…knew what I was…what I am.”
She began to fidget with the handcuffs, her neck twitching ever so slightly.
“A visitor?” I asked, attempting to snap her back from the trance she appeared to be drifting into.
“I have a home…I go back there after, well, after these trips across the country. I stay at hotels a lot, but…but I always come back home. After Milwaukee, when I got back there…he was there…he was inside my house…he was waiting for me…”
Her bodily spasms and shivering extremities worsened the more she spoke, almost inspiring me to mimic her. It could also be that the room felt like it had grown colder again as if her story had some otherworldly effect on the furnace of the old building or the ventilation system.
“As soon as I saw him just sitting there in the darkness, I pulled out my gun, firing three shots at him without blinking an eye…He didn’t even twitch; just dusted off his vest like I tossed a snowball at him. He still didn’t speak, just held his hand out, gesturing to my sofa. I could tell…you know…that he knew. Knew what…what I am. I…I didn’t put up a fight…not after seeing that it wouldn’t work…I could tell what he was too…who he was, anyway.”
I wanted to cut in and ask who exactly she was talking about; impatience and all that, but I didn’t want to interrupt. I wanted to see where this was going, even if I had a feeling it was heading to a place I wouldn’t believe in the end.
“He told me that he was giving me one chance…one chance to stop. He didn’t have to specify what he was referring to, nor how he knew about it in the first place. I never…never believed in…him…or any of that stuff, really, but being face to face, even in the darkness, I could see it…see it in his eyes.”
She whipped her head to one side; her lower lip trembling as she stared at the wall opposing the two-way mirror. I followed her gaze but saw nothing. I glanced around the room, finding nothing unexpected or unusual, but she appeared frozen in time for those seconds while she glared at the wall.
“What..?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, snapping her head back to face me, wiping tears away with the back of her arm, “it’s nothing, just…not much time left…not now.”
“O…kay,” I said, beginning to feel like this was some sort of performance I was witnessing; perhaps the groundwork for an insanity plea, but I still wanted to know where her story was going, even if I was starting to feel like a fool for indulging her in this.
“After that, I did stop…stopped for a long time,” she began again barely missing a beat, “it wasn’t easy; not at first. Every time I saw a mother yelling at her child in a store, or a father looking as though he wanted to slap his kid, I wanted to release them…release them from the pain of it all. What my parents put me through…I wished for it to end…for someone to sing me a lullaby, just like I did for the ones I saved.”
“Alright,” I said, growing more exhausted from this display I was certain to be a fabrication for the sake of her defense, “I think I’ve heard enough.”
“No, wait!” she yelped as I got to my feet, “I’m almost done, I promise…I need to get this out.”
“Okay,” I said with a heavy sigh, dropping back into my chair, “but don’t expect me to believe you’re insane.”
“I don’t…I’m not…I know what I’ve done.”
“Proceed then.”
“It got harder, you know? To resist it…my desire to save them…For a long time, I fought them back; those urges, but last night…I couldn’t. I had traveled to Grady, just to get away for a bit. Wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, just drove in one direction and ended up there. It’s a nice little town; a little eerie, in a strange sort of way, but pleasant, you know?”
“I was picking up a few things to take back to my hotel room when I overheard them yelling at the little girl…little Haley. I walked a few aisles over and saw them pointing in her face while she cried, looking so embarrassed about the scene her parents were making. It was as though they completely ignored everyone else in the store; not caring about how uncomfortable they were making them, or their precious daughter.”
“When they left, I followed them. I kept my distance, just as I had with so many others before. It was like muscle memory; the old instincts taking the wheel once more. It didn’t take long to reach their home, or close enough to where I could see them enter. I hadn’t even decided to do it by that point; not that I was aware of anyway…but I did…I did it anyway.”
She glanced to the left of the room again; this time appearing far less afraid than the last. It was almost like she was seeking acceptance from the wall. Like the brick and mortar were a jury she was confessing to.
When the sound of thunder outside almost caused me to jump in my seat, the lights in the room began to flicker. I knew we had to wrap this up soon and get her into her cell before the bottom fell out. We had backup power in case of emergencies, but these old buildings with their ancient wiring could be quite fickle when a storm broke out.
“He was just standing there when I got back to the hotel,” she said, snapping my attention back from the rumbling beyond the walls, “just leaned up against the wall in his nice suit, smoking a cigarette, staring at me. I knew what he was there for…to take me back with him…I didn’t even get out of the car; just backed out and drove until my tires led me…here.”
She didn’t speak anymore after those last words, nor while we led her to her cell. She said her piece and left it at that. We had everything we needed; that was something at least. With the storm raging outside, my back aching from the tension of those previous hours, and my body feeling completely drained from the experience, I just headed back to my office while a few of the guys began to filter out for the night.
The lights were flickering more erratically as I sat down at my desk, rubbing my temples, attempting to fight off the burgeoning headache. When the thunder clapped so loudly, it almost sounded like an explosion nearby, the room fell dark. When the lights blinked back on, for the briefest moment before they went out again, I could swear I saw someone standing in my doorway.
I jerked back in my chair, almost toppling it to the floor, but when my surroundings became clear again after the power flicker regulated, there was no trace of anyone. My heart was still beating wildly while I walked to the door, leaning out like a frightened child, darting my eyes from side to side, I saw nobody; only the empty hallway.
Whether my mind was playing tricks on me, likely inspired by the unsettling events of the day, or if there was indeed something to the woman’s claims, I was not prepared to debate at the time. As it would soon become very clear, this bizarre night still had some surprises in store for me that I never could have predicted.