Chapter 4

Don took his weapon which he had secured safely in his desk drawer and put it into the holster. Briefly, when he passed by Megan she held him tight, "don't let him creep into your head," she said with a worried frown. He nodded heading in the direction of the exit.

Don and Colby drove in silence for a while. Noticing something seemed to be bothering Colby

Don said, "spit it out."

"What?"

"Your fidgeting around in your seat so there must be something on your mind."

"Well I know it's a stupid question but what did Megan mean by saying "Don't let him creep into your head"?"

"Are you having the jitters"? Don said with a grin, "You are welcome to wait in front of the door until I..."

"No, it's okay", Colby cut him short

"Since his detention Megan has talked to Craven repeatedly," Don explained, "he participate on something, how shall I explain it?" He considered briefly, then he flicked with the fingers, "I would exactly describe him as a manipulative asshole, this meets it well best."

Colby nodded, the bad feeling remained.

The procedure when entering a high-security wing was always the same, weapons and other "dangerous" objects had to be deposited with the guard. Then you were channeled through numerous steel doors and gates until finally arriving in a 5 x 5m sized room which held a table and two chairs. Everything in it was secured to the floor with special mounts. Otherwise the criminal may have the idea of hitting his advocate with a chair although guards were posted in front of the doors. Someone who had nothing more to lose didn't tend to care too much. Colby stood in the left corner next to the door while Don took out a seat on one side of the table. Craven arrived soon afterwards. He wore the usual orange-colored prison boiler suit. He had bonds at his hands and feet. Don could see the unconcealed white bandages under the handcuffs. After the guard had Craven pressed into the chair roughly he secured the handcuffs into the designated slot on the table. The official nodded at the two Feds and left the room.

"I am here Craven. Tell me what you want!" Don snapped.

Instead of an answer Craven was grinning amused and sized Colby up. The pervading looks from his small bird eyes enhanced Colby's disposition, he tried nevertheless to withstand them. Craven was nothing special if one refrained from thinking about his atrocities. He was approximately 6.0 ", had thin gray hair, small eyes, with a cheeky look, a big nose and thin lips. He actually looked like the man next-door or the seller out of the supermarket. His neighbors had described him as even helpful, a little solitary but nevertheless kind. The only striking aspects of the man were the tattoos on both forearms. They were an exact copy of that one's Keanu Reeves had in the movie "Constantine". Colby secretly wondered how often in the hope Craven could escape from the gray cell and the prison routine would he have already combined both forearms.

It had not been easy to arrest him. Craven belonged namely to the worst of his species. Serial killers hardly kill people of other races than their own. They do not kill straight through every age group either. They usually have a fixed pattern after which they proceed. They plan everything meticulously; often track their victims over weeks. Craven was white, but there were black people, Hispanics, Chinese etc. on his death list. He had killed young people, old people, even kids. This was exactly the reason why it had been so hard to locate and capture him. At first the FBI had been able to find no pattern let alone a connection between the murders, as long as Craven changed his MO and left verses of chants among his victims. The FBI profilers only spoke about the "aura killer" in Quantico now. The newspapers almost glorified Craven after his arrest by having given him the nickname "demon hunter".

Craven thought he had a special gift. He had said that he had been chosen by God, to clean the earth of demons who linger among us. He could recognize the aura of a man without technical aids, he claimed. So it was possible for him to distinguish the bad ones from the good ones he affirmed. Demons did not have any aura, they radiated only cold. The profilers still puzzled about this, where had Craven's illusion came from? Megan had not made progress during her meetings with the murderer: Normal childhood, Roman Catholic education in a boarding school, no previous convictions. But something had to have happened in Craven's live that could account for his insanity.

"So you include gorillas in your organization now, too?" Craven smirked and starred at Colby once more. "That's what he looks like your partner: a gorilla in a suit."

Colby gritted his teeth in an attempt to remain silent.

"He is an alpha male agent Eppes. You should watch yourself. He is one of those who would kill its own kind in order to survive. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" he bent his head a little aside, "You were with the army little monkey, weren't you? How many of your comrades have died by your own hand."

Craven's tactics gained the desired effect, Colby lost his temper, stormed toward him and picked him up by the collar.

His face turned crimson with anger, "stop that shit or I beat the crap out of you," he shouted and.

Craven remained calm although his air supply was limited considerably.

"Your laboratory animal has a damned low threshold", he squeezed out between the teeth with a grin, "left perfect, as characteristic for his intellect."

Before Colby could do anything stupid, Don intervened. Only with a huge effort did he succeed in dragging his partner away from Craven. He grabbed him by the neck first, then twisted Colby's arm back and shoved it higher so his partner felt a great deal of pain. Don didn't want to harm him further.

He then pressed him against the wall, "calm down Colby," Don ordered him, "now you know what Megan was talking about. He has you exactly there where he wants you."

Colby squirmed in Don's grip.

"Let me smack him just once!"

"I don't want to have to take your badge and tell you you're suspended", Don hissed, "but you have two options: you calm down and stay inside or I'll put you in front of the door personally and you get a caution because of improper behavior."

Colby's breath calmed down slowly and came to the conclusion he had misbehaved. With the flat of his hand he beat against the wall twice, "I'm okay Don, I'm okay, you can let me go."

Don stepped back and adjusted his suit. Colby walked back to the door, into the dark corner again. The guard poked his head into the room briefly.

"Everything's fine officer," Don stated.

The man nodded and closed the door.

Craven threw a sorrowful look at his handcuffs. "If I could, I would applaud now, but unfortunately ..." he shrugged. "You still have him under control but believe me sooner or later ..."

Suddenly Don's hand shot forward directly to Craven's throat, "I think you have directed long enough now. Why am I here? What do you want from me?"

Don's action had obviously affected him. After pulling back his hand, Craven gasp for air.

"Speak or I'll get up immediately, leave and then you can cut your balls off and you won't see me again," Don snapped boiling with rage.

"My lawyer was here with the indictment yesterday. But you can't blame me for the last two. It wasn't me."

Don startled, "which last two?"

"These girls with the angel faces. It wasn't me, it was him."

Don got even more curious.

"Who is he?"

"Our ways have crossed once. He called himself Raphael. Just like the archangel. I have called him a blasphemer. Raphael was sent out by God to cure the people and not to destroy them."

Don crinkled his forehead, "are you going to tell me, that now at this very moment another one of your kind is running around in L.A. butchering people?"

Craven licked his lips nervously, "you don't get it. He is not like me. I could never kill a man. I have killed demons. I have protected the people of this town."

"I'm sure the mother of four year old Jamie Tavern will owe it to you," Don's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"You have to advise my lawyer, that you are not going to blame me?"

"Like hell I will, Craven. You talk nothing but shit. You call me here to tell me a hair-raising story of an archangel? You are totally out of your mind. As if it would make a difference. You end up on death row no matter what."

"But I do not expiate, for something I have not done. The girls were angels. I have killed only devils."

Don got up, if the chair had not been bolted to the ground, it would have toppled over.

"Stop it! I won't listen to this bullshit any longer. You're making me sick."

"I would have considered you as cleverer Agent Eppes," the cold in Craven's voice paused Don for a moment.

"If you're not listening to me now, then I make sure that you will listen some other time. Every man has a sore point. Don't you think I wouldn't have a plan B.?"

"Are you threatening me?" Don's voice was as cold as ice like Craven's. Their eyes locked.

Craven lowered his voice so only Don could hear him, "Don't make the mistake of underestimating me. I had respect for you because you managed to track me down. I considered you equal. You just lost this advantage Agent Eppes. I give you to the end of the week. Think about it. My lawyer will ..."

"Don't bother! There's no need to give me respite anyway. I can tell you I won't lift a finger in this matter."

"One week, Agent. Then your life will become a nightmare beyond your worst imagination. Think about it if you lie awake in the night and wonder why you didn't believe me. Because then I will remain silent forever."

Don had to admit that Craven had given a thoroughly impressive performance while he was returning to the car with Colby.

"Shall I drive?" asked Colby who did not like Don's facial expression at all.

He threw the car keys to him, "thank you."

"We should talk to Megan when we get back," Colby suggested before he started the engine.

Shortly after seven o'clock in the evening Charlie walked through the entrance to his house, whistling merrily. The paper had landed on Milly's desk on schedule. Larry was simply the best. The marvelous smell of pot roast reached his nose. He found three settings at the dining table.

"Hi Dad! Is Don coming for dinner?" Charlie called into the kitchen.

Alan entered the dining room with a bottle of red wine and didn't look happy.

"Hi Charlie. Don isn't coming today, he has other plans apparently."

Charlie grinned knowingly from ear to ear and rubbed his hands.

"Milly is our guest. Before, she would like to talk to you, however."

Charlie's good mood just went down the drain.

"About what?"

Alan banged the bottle on the table, "why do you ask me? I am only your father, I am not the Wizard of Oz."

His reaction betrayed exactly the opposite.

"She waits for you in my study room."

Burying his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and with his head hanging low Charlie went next door.

"Good evening Charlie," Milly said gruffly.

To his horror she held "his" paper in her hands. Casually she threw the documents across the desk.

"If I would have Dr. Fleinhardt to deal with this topic, I would have asked him to write it and not you."

Charlie stared at the ground.

"I might have been born at night - but it wasn't last night, Charlie! I want you to describe it with your own words."

"I can't do this, okay?" he made a desperate gesture with his hand, "I am a genius with numbers, but a lame duck, about how to express something in words. Ask Amita or dad or Don about it. Most of the time it feels like talking past them."

Milly shook her head, "this is ridiculous and you know it. There are not just shallow numbers in your belfry. Make an effort. Amaze me." She couldn't do different and began to laugh.

Charlie followed suit.

"Although you're laughing you're serious, aren't you?"

She nodded, "Of course."

He admitted defeated, "Okay I'll do it. But you have to give me another week at least."

"Agreed," she said and linked arms with him.

Together they went back to the dining table where Alan served the dinner already.

"But do not expect any miracles Milly. I for certain won't turn into Shakespeare."

Looking at the two of them Alan felt relieved. Milly had been really furious about Charlie humbugging her. Alan had diplomatically tried to mediate and he had succeeded.