The Wicked Game of a Psychopath

  The Wicked Game of a Psychopath

  By Stan Hendriks

  Author Stan Hendriks

  Cover design by Paper & Sage

  Copyright © 2019 by Stan Hendriks. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of contents

  Prologue

  Chapter one Day one

  Chapter two Day two

  Chapter three Day three

  Chapter four Day four

  Chapter five Day five

  Chapter six Day Nine

  Chapter seven Day ten

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Third of August 2019. San Francisco, California.

  In the suburbs of San Francisco, a forty-five-year-old single mother, Susan, was standing in the kitchen, stuffing clothes into the bag of her eighteen-year-old son, Kyle—who was going to a three-day during festival in Phoenix with some of his friends. “Kyle?”

  “What?” Kyle shouted from upstairs.

  “Your friends are waiting for you outside. Hurry up.”

  “Yea, I’m coming,” Kyle shouted as he ran downstairs and walked into the kitchen. “Thanks, mom,” Kyle continued as he grabbed his bag.

  “No problem, sweetheart. You look so handsome; all the girls will fall head over heels in love for you over there.”

  “Mom, stop. I’m just going to party over there with my friends, that’s it.”

  “I know, I know,” Susan said with a smile. “But you do have condoms, yes?”

  “Mom, really?”

  “I’m just making sure because you don’t want to get someone pregnant.”

  “I’m not going to make someone pregnant, jeez. Relax. Anyway, I should go.”

  “Yes,” Susan said as she gave him a kiss. “See you Sunday. And be sure to text me when you get there, all right?”

  “Will do, mom, bye,” Kyle replied as he threw his bag over his shoulder and left the house.

  Susan then went back to doing the dishes and while she was doing that, she looked out of the window and saw Kyle and his friends driving off with squealing tires. With a smile, she simply shook her head and put the dishes away in the cabins.

  Later that evening, Susan was seated on the couch, binge-watching her favorite police series on the television with a glass of red wine. She seemed as if she was enjoying herself and the hours flew by, but then someone rang the doorbell. It was three in the morning and immediately Susan’s heart sank. This couldn’t mean anything good and her gut told her that something terrible had happened. And when she opened the door and saw a police officer standing there who lowered his head as soon as he saw Susan, her worst nightmare became a reality. Her son had been murdered.

  Kyle and five of his friends stopped by a motel, close by their destination, and the motel happened to have a bar attached to it. And after a long drive, they agreed that they could use some rest and a couple of cold ones. So, they booked three rooms in the motel and after that, they went into the bar. They had an appropriate time, but Kyle called it a night early and walked back over to his room alone. About an hour after Kyle left the bar, his friends called it a night as well and went over to their rooms. One friend of Kyle was sleeping in the same room Kyle was sleeping in, room number fifteen, and as he unlocked the door and walked in, he saw Kyle lying on the bed in a puddle of blood. Kyle’s friends called 911 and tried everything they could to miraculously revive Kyle and bring him back from the dead, but sadly, it was already too late. His throat was slit, and he had multiple fatal stab wounds on his upper body.

  The police promised Susan that they would find the person responsible for the death of her son, but with the lack of cameras in and around the motel, and the lack of evidence, it wasn’t going to be easy. However, Susan kept hope that soon, the murderer of her son would be arrested.

  Now, one year later, a detective showed up at Susan’s doorstep with disappointing news. The murderer still hadn’t been found and they were doubting if they ever would. Everything indicated that the murderer wasn’t just some bloke who had a dreadful day, no, the murderer was a professional and knew exactly what he was doing. The murder on Kyle was planned to the finest detail, to perfection. But the case had lost its priority, and even though Susan cussed the detective out and begged him to keep on working on the case, there was nothing he could do for her except promising her that someday, the murderer would be arrested. After the detective left, Susan cried her eyes out on her knees on the cold kitchen floor for a good hour, but when she wiped her tears away, a determined look appeared on her face. The police had failed and could no longer help her, which meant that now, she had to help herself and take matters into her own hands. Because for her, one thing was certain. She was not going to let the murderer get away with this. So, with a deep breath, she stared at a photograph of Kyle and said, “I’m going to find the murderer, I promise you.” And then, she started her investigation.

  Chapter one Day one

  An unexpected call

  Fourth of August 2020. San Francisco, California.

  Susan’s ex-husband, Marco, walked up to Susan’s house and knocked on the door. But to his surprise, the door wasn’t locked. As he gently pushed the door open, he asked, “Susan, are you there?”

  “I’m here,” Susan shouted. “Come in.”

  Marco went in and walked through the hallway and into the living room. The living room, including the kitchen, looked similar to an archive room of a city hall that had been struck by a whirlwind. It was an absolute mess and papers were laying everywhere. With his eyes widened, he asked, “What is going on here?”

  “I’m trying to find something,” Susan, who was seated at the dinner table, replied as she went through yet another stack of papers. “Dammit!”

  “Easy, easy,” Marco said as he walked up closer to her. “What is it you’re looking for?”

  “The phone number of the motel Kyle went to but it’s nowhere to be seen. As if it doesn’t even exist. I can’t even find it online.”

  “Why… what do you need that number for?”

  “I have a couple of questions I would like to ask them, that’s why.”

  “May I ask what kind of questions?”

  “Just stop, okay? Why are you here anyway?”

  “I came to see how you were doing. Detective Rogers told me that he also paid a visit to you yesterday and… well, what he told was quite tough.”

  “Tough? It was quite tough? The murderer is still out there! Probably laughing his ass off about how he got away with it!”

  “I know, I know, calm down, okay? That’s not what I meant. Kyle was also my son and the fact that his murderer is still out there hurts… a lot.”

  “I… I know,” Susan sighed. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed out of my mind. I refuse to accept that his murderer simply cannot be found. And the police may have given up already, but I refuse to. I can’t. I can’t move on knowing that his murderer is still out there somewhere.”

  “I feel the exact same away,” Marco said as he lied his hand down on her shoulder. “But maybe there is nothing else we can do than to accept it and hope that th
e police will still find him someday in the near future.”

  “No, not in a million years will I accept that and sit here and do nothing,” Susan replied as she pushed his hand away and got up. “I’m going to do some investigating myself and if you want to help then that would be appreciated, but if not then know that I will understand. But then please give me some room. I don’t have time to talk about feelings or anything amongst those lines right now.”

  “You have been isolating yourself for a year now and cropping up all your emotions is wrong. Why can’t you understand that? Why do you refuse to accept help from the people close to you?”

  “Because talking about my feelings isn’t going to bring Kyle back. Nor will it miraculously find the murderer. Listen, I appreciate you checking up on me, but as I said, I don’t have time right now. I have more important things to focus on.”

  “What are you expecting to accomplish here? If the police can’t find the killer, then nor can you. Listen, I wish for nothing more than seeing the murderer behind bars but starting our own investigation will hinder us from moving on. It will only constantly remind us of what we’ve lost, and it will only bring back all the pain.”

  “Then so be it. I’m willing to experience the pain every day, hell, I’ve already been experiencing that pain from the moment that police officer told me that my son had been brutally murdered. I’ve become used to the pain and even if I wasn’t then I still couldn’t care less. I’m going to find the murder of my son and give him what he deserves, period.”

  “You’re only going to hurt yourself even more in the process, please, don’t do this.”

  “Can’t you just shut up? I know that you’re big on talking about feelings and trying to find the root cause of a certain emotion and the whole nine yards, but that’s not something I need right now. Nor is it something I want.”

  “You said the exact same thing years ago.”

  “Really? Do you honestly think that now is the right time to talk about our past relationship problems?”

  “No, but you’ve always rejected my help and you constantly pushed me away while I only had the best intentions.”

  “You’re a wonderful man, you know that, but we were simply too different. We both have different views on what a relationship should be like and we both feel different about what we should get out of it. But listen, I’m not saying that our relationship has always been bad because it has been wonderful at times, but our differences were just too large and whether you like to admit it or not, we were both looking for something different but we stayed together for Kyle. But we’ve been divorced for five years already so, why would you bring this up again? And why now?”

  “I… I’m not so sure. Lately, I’ve just been thinking about how we could have done things differently and if we would have then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You can’t think like that. Our relationship was always meant to fail, which is sad, but true. However, even if we would have stayed together then… we don’t know what would have happened. Yes, maybe Kyle would still be here, but we can’t be certain of that. But this is not your fault, nor is it mine. But please, if you don’t mind, I need to be alone right now. I still have a lot of work to do and… please, just let me be.”

  “I understand,” Marco nodded. “But at least promise me that you will be careful. Can you do that for me? And if you ever need me then you know where to find me.”

  “I know,” Susan replied as she embraced him. “Thank you. And yes, I will be careful. I promise.”

  With a slight smile, Marco then left, and Susan dived back into the stacks of papers.

  After a frustrating fifteen minutes later, Susan could not find the number and as she sat down and lied her head on the table, she let out a noise that sounded like a war cry. But then it struck her, she could just ask one of Kyle’s friends for the number. Without thinking twice, she grabbed her car keys, ran outside, got into her car, and drove off towards Muhammed’s house, who was Kyle’s friend.

  On the driveway in front of Muhammed’s house, stood a bright red American muscle car, and an in oil-drenched Muhammed was lying underneath it, trying to fix a certain part. Susan parked her car behind Muhammed’s car and as she got out, Muhammed stood up and with a confused expression on his face, he said, “Hey, Mrs. Wilson.”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Uhm… normal, I guess. I’m still pretty devastated that the police haven’t been able to catch the murderer yet.”

  “I understand. It… it’s tough, extremely tough. But about that, I wanted to ask you if you still had the phone number from the motel you guys went to that night?”

  “I’m not sure, but if you want, I can check my phone?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Sure, my phone is inside so if you want you can come inside with me.”

  Susan followed Muhammed into his house and in the hallway, Muhammed grabbed his phone—that was laying on the stairs—and went through his calls, texts, and contacts. It took a while but eventually, he found a message which was sent by Louis, who also was a friend of Kyle. “Ah, here it is,” Muhammed said as he showed Susan the message.

  Susan put the number into her phone and replied, “Thank you so much.”

  “No problem, I’m happy to help. But may I ask why you need the number? I mean, I don’t want to get in your business or anything but I’m just curious.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just have a couple of questions for them. The police have thus far failed to catch the murderer so, I’m actually investigating a bit on my own now and I just need some questions answered.”

  “I understand. The person who murdered Kyle can’t get away with this.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know… I still miss him to this day. He was such a good person and friend and… it’s hard. Thinking back, I wish I would have gone back with him. Maybe then things would have been different. I could have helped him.”

  “I understand, I do. But listen, there is a high possibility that if you would have gone back with him you would have been murdered as well. The police said that the murderer was most likely a professional murderer and if you would have gone with him, it could have ended badly for both of you. So, please, don’t blame yourself, okay?” Muhammed nodded and Susan continued, “But if it’s not too much to ask, I never exactly knew what happened that night. I never even asked actually, maybe because I wasn’t ready for it, but now I just need to know.”

  “Well, as you already know, we were going to a three-day during festival in Phoenix and when we were about an hour or two away from Phoenix, we saw a motel. And since we were all pretty tired, we decided that we should just book a room there and go to Phoenix the following day and that is what we did. So, when we got our keys to the rooms and walked over to the rooms, we saw the bar that was right next to the motel. It was busy inside and we later came to find out that there was a birthday party going on. Girls on the way over to the bar shouted to us that we should join them and well, after we threw our bags on the beds, we went into the bar as well. We had a good time and drank quite a lot, they thought that we were older hence why they served us alcohol, by the way. But around maybe twelve or something, Kyle said that he was tired and that he was going to bed and then he walked out of the bar while we continued to party for about two more hours. After that, most people went home, and we decided to call it a night as well and we went back to our rooms. I was sleeping in the same room as Kyle and as I opened the door and walked in, I saw… Kyle, on the bed. We… we tried everything we possibly could but… we knew it was too late. Some… some fucker had murdered him and… shit, I’m sorry,” Muhammed replied as tears came rolling down his cheeks.

  Susan embraced him and tried to comfort him, telling him that it’s all right and that she was thankful that he had always been such a good friend to Kyle and that he should only think about the good memories they shared. After Muhammed wiped away his tears, Susan thanked him and went
back to her house.

  Back in the kitchen, at the dinner table, Susan dialed the number and as she let out a slightly nervous sigh, she raised the phone to her ear. Thirty seconds went by, and no one picked up. Then another thirty seconds went by, but still, no one picked up. Susan repeatedly tried but after twenty minutes, she gave up. Frustrated, she laid the phone down and closed her eyes. She sat there for a while, not knowing whether she should try again later, or not try at all anymore. Maybe this wasn’t a clever idea, after all, maybe her ex-husband was right. But then it struck her, and without a shadow of a doubt, she grabbed her car keys and on the way out, she called Marco. “Hey, is everything all right?” Marco asked.

  “Yes, but here’s the thing. I might be gone for a day or two and I was wondering if you could keep an eye out on the house while I’m gone, if it’s not too much to ask, of course.”

  “Uhm… no, it’s fine. But may I ask where you will be going?”

  “I will tell you everything when I get back, okay? I promise you. And thank you, I really appreciate it,” Susan replied as she hung up, got into the car, and raced off.

  Later that night, Susan was relieved when she finally arrived at the motel. For the past thirty minutes, she had been swerving quite a bit on the road and the lack of sleep struck her hard. And it showed by the darkened circles underneath her eyes and her pale skin. She parked the car on the parking lot in front of the motel, downed another cup of coffee she bought earlier, and then got out and walked over to the office of the motel.

  No one was seated behind the front desk, nor was anyone in sight. She looked around and behind the front desk was a door with, “Staff only”, written on it. The door was slightly opened, and she could hear the television, which had its volume turned up to the max. In front of her—on the front desk—was a little bell and she tapped it a couple of times with her finger. “Hello? Is anyone there?”