The Irish Ripper

(Warning: Very strong violence and horror)

If you wish to read on your kindle, it can be purchased on the Amazon website –

Search for “The Irish Ripper” and “Mark Ahern”

Prologue

He always knew that he was a monster; one that had been caged for far too long.  He could still see her face of horror while he held a knife to her throat and cut open her clothes.  It was exhilarating, like nothing he had experienced before as his hands felt every part of her slim body; her sense of horror magnifying his sexual pleasure ever higher as he entered her.  It was only a matter of time he knew before he would need to repeat this experience. 

It had taken weeks of preparation.  She and her husband’s routines had been closely monitored.  The times they both left the house in the morning, where she went, the times they came home, ensuring that he could get into the house quickly.  Her most vulnerable time had been selected, once her husband had walked out the door on a weekday morning. 

At first, she was stunned wondering how a strange man could suddenly appear in front of her.  In her bedroom nonetheless, where she would have felt at her safest.  Her maternal instinct kicked in once she saw the knife and heard her newborn crying in the other room.  She was prepared to do anything to ensure his safety. 

So, she complied as he tied her up and then raped her.  Terrified, she tried not to cry or look into the masked man’s eyes.  Eventually, after he was satisfied and having eaten a nice ham sandwich, he took a memento to remember her by and left as silently as he had entered. 

Chapter 1

It was the thrill of the conquest that excited him most.  Yes, she was quite attractive but it was the chase that made it that bit extra special; taking advantage of prostitutes was just too easy.  She had been obstinate not wanting to go for drinks and wanting to keep a so-called “professional” distance for so long. 

That just further piqued his interest.  So, he found some reason to start texting her and then after some bad experiences with other men, the pathway opened for him.  She knew what he was like though as he had a dire reputation in the station so there was always a risk his night would not turn out as planned.  As a precaution, he had brought two bottles of wine to loosen things up in case of an emergency. 

It had been a long day of investigating robberies and drug offenses or so he liked to tell people, so he hoped that she wasn’t the type to draw things out.  Better to get straight down to business.  But she did like talking so he was apprehensive.  There was so much that could potentially be discussed. 

The gang warfare in Dublin had now reached epidemic proportions.  Three men shot dead in a week and a city on edge.  It didn’t bother him much personally though, just less scum on the street.  So long as there was someone left standing afterward to shakedown.  But it was all that people wanted to talk about and how terrible it all was.  There was the odd innocent person who had been shot too, just going about their daily activities and it had instilled a bit of fear into everyone in the city. 

He needed a good night to lighten his mood and was thankful it was a Friday.  Of all the places to be stationed, the inner city would have been his last choice.  Hopefully, a transfer to somewhere down the country wasn’t too far into his future. 

Garda Laura Mulhern had joined the force two years previously.  It had always been her dream to be a Garda for as long as she could remember.  There turned out to be quite the difference between the dream and the reality though.  Perhaps even as a recruit, she had been somewhat naïve.  She thought her days would be filled with a sense of accomplishment but the reality seemed like an endless and thankless battle against peoples’ love of drugs. 

Her love life was now running in parallel with her job satisfaction.  She remembered how in her teenage years she thought she would have met the man of her dreams by now and be well settled.  He was to be tall and muscular but at all times loving.  But life hadn’t turned out that way.  The men she had met, had turned out to be quite a disappointment in fact.  Sometimes she pondered if it was something about her, but her friends’ similar stories told her otherwise. 

There were the guys who tried to get her drunk so they could cop a quick feel or maybe more, the ones who pretended to care about her but were gone the next morning and worst of all, the ones who didn’t like to take no for an answer.  So much for romance. 

She had already felt herself harden over the years.  Now she just wanted some sex.  Detective Garda Sean O’Callaghan would not have been her first choice but he was readily available.  He had a terrible reputation but a good one for technique in the sack and that she had convinced herself was all she wanted. 

Then the sound of the door-bell rang and Laura felt a tinge of excitement as she opened the door.  There he was standing awkwardly at the door.  He went to speak but she shushed him with a kiss, then led him inside the house by the hand. 

There would be no chit chat and both knew they merely satisfying their most debase instincts.  She brought him straight to her bedroom and quickly began to undress.   For a brief moment, he admired what stood in front of him.   Her hair, which was usually bundled together now almost reached her petite but perky breasts.  The body was toned and athletic. 

She was not quite as impressed as he quickly took off his clothes to reveal a podgy, hairy body but there was no point pulling out now as their bodies embraced on the bed.  His hands quickly fumbled their way to her breasts while she closed her eyes to let her senses take over. 

Soon she felt his tongue titillating her, much to her joy.  It was what she loved best.  Then she felt his penis enter her as their bodies grinded together.  This was what he had fantasized about for months.  His mind drifted to the first time they met.  That innocent smile, he just knew he had to have her.  Then after just a few minutes, he climaxed, the perfect ending to his day. 

But for her, the experience ended all too quickly as he collapsed on the bed beside her.  It had not been what she had waited for and she definitely didn’t expect to have to share the bed for the night.  But all he talked about was what a long day it had been and how he was so tired.  So, he just promptly wrapped up the sheets around himself and promptly fell fast asleep.  Not wanting to be rude she bit her lip, silently telling herself not to repeat this experience. 

As Sean opened his eyes that morning, he briefly wondered where he was.  But then his fond memories of the night before flooded back.  He wondered if she would be open to another go-round, but she flinched into a ball when he touched her.  It didn’t bother him much as he had a busy Saturday ahead and he didn’t want to miss his early morning five a side soccer. 

So out he went with a pep in his step closing the door quietly behind him, his masculinity and confidence renewed.  Laura, on the other hand, was just happy he was gone.  She enjoyed sex but sharing a bed was not what she considered a good Saturday morning sleep in.  It was bad enough having to put up with birds singing. 

As Sean closed the front door behind him, he was met by the first warm rays of a summer morning and the smell of freshly cut grass from the evening before.  If only every morning could be like this, he thought to himself as he got into his car.  It was still pleasantly cool in the car.  Then it was just a matter of turning on the GPS, which had proved more than useful in the past for finding the homes of strange women.  Now it was for the more mundane use of finding a soccer match. 

He turned the ignition and drove out the driveway, wondering what awaits him today.  Saturday had always been his favorite day of the week, but this day felt extra special given his conquest the previous night.  There was little traffic at this early hour and he felt it wouldn’t take long before he reached his destination. 

Then his mood suddenly changed as a car veered straight into him.  There had been no time for him to react.  It swerved at the last second from the other side of a straight stretch of road and plowed into him.  Sean was certain that he was experiencing the last few microseconds of his life as he watched the cars collide.  Then he lost consciousness for what he thought would be the last time.   

It was just a faint noise at first but that was the first thing that registered in Sean’s mind in weeks.  It still took some time for his consciousness to coalesce around it.  There had been nothing, but now there was something. 

Eventually, his mind wondered where it was and he tried to open his eyes.  But he grew tired and fell back into a slumber.  But the important thing was that he had a thought.  An unseen first milestone in his recovery. 

Days passed and he had more thoughts.  Then he managed to open an eyelid, but quickly closed it when what seemed to be bright light shone in.  Sean gathered that he was still alive and wondered what sort of state he was in.  He opened both his eyes now eager to find out more.  They adjusted to the light but disappointingly, all he could see as a ceiling.  He tried to roar out but there was something stuck in his throat. 

Hours seemed to pass before a face appeared over him.  It was that of a middle-aged woman who gave him a big smile and told him that he was in intensive care in a hospital.  Unbeknown to him she was the intensive care nurse who had diligently checked for any sign of movement from the first night he had entered the hospital. 

She tried to reassure him that everything would be okay and to rest.  She heard him mumbling something about not being able to feel his legs.  But she didn’t want to be the one to tell him that permanent damage had been done.  Better for the doctor to do that. 

After a few minutes, he fell back asleep.  She had seen all of this before.  He would be much more awake the next day.  Better schedule his consultant to come in to talk to him. 

Her instinct proved to be correct.  The next day Sean was full of questions especially after the feeding tube was removed.  It didn’t take long for the nurses to summon the doctor.  It was not the news that Sean had wanted to hear.  The broken ribs and leg didn’t bother him but the broken back most definitely did.  It was an L1 complete injury.  A lumbar nerve, located in the lower half of his spine had been severed.  He would need to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life and would never again have voluntary control of his bladder or bowel. 

Sean had always seen himself as a ladies’ man and it was crushing to hear that he would need Viagra to maintain any sort of erection in the future and would never again experience the ecstasy of ejaculation.  It was hard for him to see how any woman would ever love him again.  With that, any chance of children and leaving a lasting legacy to the world would also be gone.  Guess that was his job in the Gardai gone too, he thought to himself.  No more running after drug dealers or investigating robberies.   

Instead, the highlight of his day would be emptying his bladder and bowel.  The fact that he would be able to do this for himself seemed to be something the doctor thought should bring a smile to his face but it didn’t.  The useless cripple wanted everyone to know nothing about this situation was okay.  They should have let him die. 

Sean then asked the doctor if he knew what had happened to cause the accident.  The other driver had fallen asleep at the wheel.  His toxicology report had shown very high levels of alcohol, meth, and cocaine in his blood.  He must have been out all night. 

Days, weeks and then months passed but he found himself with a never-ending sense of melancholy.  The only occasion lift in his mood was when he felt something tangible had been achieved like when he left the intensive care unit and went onto the ward or when the pretty physiotherapist first showed up to discuss his rehabilitation. 

The excitement had always quickly worn out.  For instance, the happiness at leaving intensive care was tempered by how long he found out he would be staying in the ward.  Months, not the weeks he had expected.  Similarly, he didn’t realize at first just how difficult his rehabilitation would prove to be. 

Then one day the Chief Superintendent of his Garda station showed up at the bottom of his bed in full uniform.  His name was Liam Toland, a tall man approaching retirement.  They would not have been friends; he had been too austere and serous for Sean’s liking.  Previously a meeting like this would be a cause for angst but Sean was happy to see him.  It was an official visit.  Sean immediately raised his arm to salute, but it was waved down as he went to sit down beside him. 

For the next half hour to hour, the superintendent just talked away telling him that he was missed in the station, that the gang warfare was as brutal as ever and that some of the other officers would be into him over the next few days, now that he was doing a bit better.  But most happily of all, there would be a job for him to go back to when he was better. 

It turned out to be true.  Over the next few days, Sean did have more visitors, even from Garda Mulhern who told him she felt guilty over what had happened.  If only she had been friendlier that morning, maybe this would never have happened.  But Sean would have none of it, telling her that it was just one of those things. 

The visits lifted Sean’s spirits.  The only other visitors he had were from his elderly parents and they only managed to make it a handful of times.  Now he began to feel that he was no longer so alone, that he was part of something bigger and that he had a future. 

He now put all his efforts into his recovery, doing whatever he was asked.  Over time he felt himself growing stronger.  Then one day it was time for the nurses to get him into a manual wheelchair and wheel himself around.  He had steeled himself psychologically for this day.  It would not be a day of regret but the first day of the rest of his life.  Finally, he got perspective on where his bed was compared to everything else.    

The nurses insisted that he get back into his bed after an hour but the duration grew longer with each day.  Soon they stopped monitoring him altogether and it was left up to him how long he wanted to spend in it.  Then they expected him to get in and out of the bed himself as well.  It was now time for him to go home. 

Chapter 2

Sean was delighted to finally leave the hospital.  It had taken some planning of course.  Adjustments had to be made to his house and a home help was organized to help him keep the house clean.  He quickly accepted that from now on, he would only be living in the bottom half of his house.  Upstairs would henceforth, be only a place of his memories. 

His life was still far from the ideal of course.  At least he had a downstairs toilet, as small as it was but no shower.  It would be difficult to keep himself presentable.  Then for a few weeks, there was the boredom.  He had nothing to get up for in the morning and worried that the Gardai would be unable to find a position for him.  He couldn’t see any chance of anybody else giving him a job and he needed some purpose to fill his day. 

Occasionally when it looked like it would remain dry, he would venture out into the outside world.  It was a struggle to push his wheelchair around the neighborhood and it wasn’t long before he knew where all the ramps to get on and off the footpaths were and were not, something that he had never thought about before.  His hands would be sore on his return though so he only went out once a day at most.  

Sometimes the kids would point and ask their parents questions when they saw him.  That used to happen when he was in uniform too but this felt different and his heart now felt crushed every time.   

The questions now were – 

What happened to him? 

Was he born that way? 

The parents would hurriedly tell them to be quiet but the damage was done.  Sean knew that this was something he would just have to get used to. 

But there were positive reactions too.  Some of his neighbors made an effort to get out of their cars and houses to come and tell him how happy they were to see him make a recovery.  It warmed his heart, much more than he would have ever thought possible to know that members of his wider community were rooting for him. 

After a few weeks, he grew anxious to see a bit more of the world than his immediate locality.  There was only one way to do this and that was to get back into a car and drive.  His insurance company had given him a substantial payout after his accident, some of which he used to purchase an adapted car.  For weeks it had sat idly in his driveway.   

Sean had ignored it until then.  Now it was goading him that it wanted to be used and he could take it no more.  One Monday morning he summoned up all his courage and strength to get into it.  A physiotherapist had previously shown him the method to use.   Park his wheelchair beside the door; then launch himself using his hands before folding up the wheelchair and lifting into a secure spot in the car behind his seat. 

It all seemed so easy in theory but Sean was worried about the embarrassment if someone saw him fail attempting the maneuvers.  But he proceeded nonetheless.  He gave it everything.  It proved to be as physically demanding as he thought it would be but he did it.  Hopefully, it would get easier with practice he thought to himself.  Then he closed the car door and went for a drive. 

He was nervous the whole time, worried that a car would veer into him again.  But he knew that if he wanted a future, this was something he had to do.  He drove for over an hour wanting to see if much had changed; through the city center and passed his Garda station to which he hoped to return.  Part of him wanted to go in and say hello to everyone but he thought it best to leave it for now.   The street was busy and he wondered how he would manage when he did go back to work. 

But he also drove past some of the main hotspots of crime in the city.  The socially deprived inner-city flat complexes and the secret brothels that lay just behind some of Dublin’s busiest streets.  The memories flooded back, some of them good and some that he’d rather forget.  He felt a pang of regret for some of the things he had done especially since he had been treated so well since the accident.  All he could do is to try and be better in the future. 

Just as well nobody spotted him, he thought to himself as he began his journey back to his house.  When he reached it, he felt an immense sense of accomplishment.  But he was emotionally drained.  A million different thoughts ran through his head about his past and what the future had in store for him.  Exhausted, he went straight to bed. 

A few weeks later, he got the call that he was hoping for.  It was the Chief Superintendent and the news was good.  Sean was to start back at work the following Monday.  With a sense of elation, he told the Superintendent that he’d be there.  Finally, Sean felt that everything might just work out for him.  That the crash might just be a footnote in his life. 

The days passed quickly for Sean and it was Monday morning before he knew it.  The elation had now turned to nervousness.  Sean knew that it was an important day, he felt that he had to prove that he could still be useful to the force.  Living on the Disability Allowance for the rest of his life would be a miserable existence. 

Fortunately, he had spent the last few days practicing his new routine and was now much more proficient at getting over bumps in his wheelchair and getting in and out of the car.  So off he went.  The traffic was horrible but he had left early to make sure he had enough time.  It was a nice, bright day.  He could feel his heart beating as the station came into view. 

Fortunately, the wheelchair space at the front of the station was free and he quickly parked up.  Just as well because he wasn’t sure what to do if it was taken.  He just counted his blessings and got out of the car as quickly as possible.  He was conscious that he was wearing his Garda uniform and didn’t want any awkward stares so he quickly went up the side ramp.  The front door was heavy and he only just managed to open it and go inside. 

It led him straight into the main reception area.  It was busy with five people already seated in the waiting area.  Sean felt awkward and tried to avoid eye contact.  Fortunately, there was a Garda at the reception who immediately opened a side door into their offices and told him to come in and that the Superintendent would be with him shortly. 

It was still exactly as he remembered it, rows of desks with vintage computers and scattered paper was strewn everywhere.  There were not many people in yet, it was still quite early.  It was quite some time before the Superintendent finally appeared but when he did, it was with a warm smile and firm handshake.  The office was busier by then and starting to burst into life. 

The Superintendent told him that it would be best to speak in his office so Sean followed him there down a narrow corridor.  It was a small room, especially considering his position but Sean managed to squeeze in past a table. 

For the next thirty minutes, they chatted about Sean’s new role at the Station.  There was good and bad news.  The good news was that they had an office ready waiting for him.  There was a disabled toilet close by and the Gardai were prepared to do whatever it took to make sure he was a success.  Much to Sean’s relief there was a parking spot reserved for him around the back of the station.  He was given a key so he could swipe through the barrier.  He could wear civilian clothes, which was good because he had found the uniform quite stiff and cumbersome to put on that morning.  Anyway, he never had to wear it in his old role anyway.  But there was bad news too, although Sean had expected it.  He would, for the time being, have no investigative role, it would be more of a processing role, updating records on the Garda databases. 

The reason Sean had become a Garda was that he didn’t want an office job where he would be stuck in front of a computer screen.  He wanted something that bit different and more exciting but times had changed and he told him that he was happy with what they had arranged. 

Then the Superintendent showed him to his new desk.  It was in a small, cramped room at the very back of the station with just enough room to maneuver the wheelchair, but it was adequate and Sean was certain he could make it work.  His first batch of paperwork to process had been left beside the computer.  The Superintendent told him he would check in with him in a few days but Sean told him he would be fine.  There was nothing left to do now but get on with it. 

Chapter 3

Four months back into the job, Sean was feeling somewhat down.  The job was just so boring, he needed something more.  There was none of the excitement of his old life.  Then as he was preparing his breakfast a news item on the radio piqued his interest.  It was short and was just after breaking but hinted at something more. 

• A dead man and woman were found in a remote house near Wicklow Town last night.  The Gardai have opened a murder investigation.  They are not releasing any further details as of yet.  

It was very unusual to have multiple murders in one incident in Ireland.  It could have a gangland hit but the location seemed odd.  Sean put these thoughts to the back of mind and went off to work. 

The station was buzzing when he got there.  There were rumors that these murders were truly extraordinary in how horrific they were.  The bodies had been cut to pieces and left strewn around the house.  But Sean laughed, he knew to be wary of rumors he heard around the station.  Some Gardai had fascinating imagination. 

It was perhaps a strange twist of fate that Sean had by now become good friends with Garda Laura Mulhern and met her for his tea break whenever she was not on patrol.  Perhaps she felt guilty over what had happened but Sean who had never been that popular was happy to have someone to chat with whatever the reason.    

In truth, Sean thought she had felt sorry for him at first.  He had probably seemed lost.  But never guilt, he would have picked it up.  Then after chatting to him a few times she found herself looking forward to seeing him perhaps.  The chair had taken away some of his rougher edges and he was sure he seemed more agreeable and less cocky now.  She wasn’t the only one who probably thought so. 

Garda Jack Halpenny would also sometimes join them.  He could be outspoken at times and Sean was still trying to warm to him.  Previously they would have had no time for each other at all so it was also somewhat an improvement. 

That morning there was only one topic of discussion, the murders.   Jack was adamant, almost salivating that it must be linked to the gang warfare going on at the time. 

“A message is being sent to the wider population – Don’t cross us.  I’ve seen this kind of thing before on tv.   It has happened In Italy and Brazil. It’s not uncommon for whole families to be wiped out; in Italy, a young boy was kidnapped, tortured, murdered and then had his body dissolved in acid,” he said excitedly. 

“Well, I think it is just awful!  Imagine what those poor people went through, especially if it’s anything like the rumors suggests.  I shudder to even just think about it,” Laura interjected. 

Sean, for the most part, stayed silent, intrigued by what had happened and wanting to know more.  His old investigative instinct was awakening. 

The case was outside the jurisdiction of their station so ultimately, they would have to wait for the news that night on television like the rest of the country or at least that’s what they thought.  But a copy of the murder report came across Sean’s desk later that day due to his data entry role and relatively high rank.  It was marked “urgent”. 

It made for very disturbing reading and it was clear to Sean that this was no gangland hit but rather something else again and much worse.  The rumors were far more accurate than previously.  It had indeed been a bloodbath.  The pathologist still had to complete her examination but her preliminary notes stated that the male had his throat slit, while the woman had been stabbed multiple times and had her right breast removed and left on the kitchen table. 

Sean could barely believe what he was reading but he diligently entered it into the database.  He thought about how disgusted and paranoid the public would be when the details were reported.   

“Who would do such a thing?” he thought to himself. 

Really there was only one kind of person who would do it – a serial killer, he had read about them previously.  They were very rare in Ireland though.  But Sean knew there were officers already dealing with it.  There was no point him getting too hung up on it all; he just wished he was one of them. 

Once the clock hit five Sean rushed home from work anxious to see what was reported on the RTE news, only just about making it back in time.  But he was disappointed, it was only allocated a brief mention of two bodies, a murder investigation and nothing about the heinous nature of the murders was mentioned. 

He struggled to sleep that night.  Different thoughts kept racing through his head as if he could solve the murders by just lying there in his bed if he just tried hard enough.  Then he wondered why so much punishment was meted out to the woman but the man just had his throat slit.  Eventually, he managed to think about something else and fell asleep.  Little did he know what awaited him the next day. 

He had only wheeled into his office a few minutes when he was informed that the Superintendent wanted to see him in his office.  This was most unusual; he had only spoken to him a few times since his return and had never officially been requested to go to his office before.  He thought it better not to keep his superior waiting so off he went. 

He was immediately waved in and his superior closed the door behind them.  What followed was brief but to the point.   

“I’m guessing you have heard about the double homicide just outside Wicklow Town.  They had no records Sean, not even a parking ticket.  There is nothing to suggest that these people are anything other than totally innocent victims.  It appears that they were selected at random.  I’ve never seen anything like this before; the poor woman was butchered.  The Gardai will do everything possible to apprehend whatever monster is responsible as quickly as possible,” said the Superintendent sternly, his face grimacing. 

“Due to your rank and your familiarity with the National Criminal Database; I’ve been told your something of a dab hand you are being given a key role in keeping it updated with new information about the case and setting the correct security clearances for each piece.  Although the murders had been in Wicklow, the next murders if any could be in another county and it is important that the Gardai are able to link them.” 

Sean then stated that he had already begun to do so, with the first document arriving the previous day.  The Superintendent nodded saying it must have been sent right after he received the phone call.  He then said it was important to keep his role quiet, that he didn’t want other personnel in the station becoming distracted to which Sean nodded in agreement. 

Three days later Sean received the full report from the pathologist.  By now more details had been circulated in the news media about the victims.  They were husband and wife, both in their late twenties.  The news stated that the details of their murders were too gruesome to report.  He was an engineer and she a nurse. 

Dutifully Sean scanned the report and uploaded it on to the database with the highest-level clearance required to read it.  It made for somber reading.  The man had been constrained with rope in a chair for up to two hours prior to death and died about an hour after his wife.  She had endured the most brutality.   She had been raped `multiple times prior to her death for up to two hours.  The cause of death was multiple stab wounds with her body mutilated afterward.  Of note, some of her genital hair had been removed as well as her right breast.  Unfortunately, no fingerprints had been left at the scene.  This killer was very meticulous. 

Sean almost got sick looking at the photos.  They were unlike anything he had seen previously and he wondered if he would need counseling by the end of the Investigation.  But mostly, he felt pity for what the two people had gone through; the pain and terror they endured. 

He wanted to share what he knew with his colleagues especially Laura but he remembered what his superior had told him.  It was a lonely experience but he resigned himself to it.  At least he felt that he was close to being at the heart of things again. 

After a few weeks, the case slowly faded from the news and as a topic of general conversation.  There was a hope that it was just a gruesome once-off event.  Instead, the crime news was saturated by the gang warfare in Dublin.  A bullet in the head here and a knifing over there.

Chapter 4

There’s nothing quite like killing.  The ecstasy and the joy when all the planning comes to fruition.  For weeks afterward it plays repeatedly over in my mind.  Their screams turning into the most perfect of music to my ears.  Pleading for their lives as they realize things are about to get even worse; there can be no gain or pleasure without their pain. 

But then it gradually fades no matter how hard you try to keep it.  If only these were earlier times without the menace of CCTV, fingerprints and mobile phones; it would be all so much easier to quickly go on to the next kill.  Instead, the process must start all over again.   

A target has already been selected.   She is my type with a slim build with long, black flowing hair and barely over twenty.  It will be fun to corrupt her innocence.  Now it is just a matter of following her from work, understanding her day to day routine, checking out her residence and putting the tools in place.  Then will be waiting.  Waiting for the CCTV of my surveillance to be deleted in the supermarket and on the streets.  I do love privacy laws.  Only then is there a strike. 

There are many things that could yet go wrong.  Maybe she will sense being followed, perhaps her residence is inappropriate or there is more than one man in the house.  Often, the process must be restarted; a new target found.  The rules must be followed. 

The rules came from years of practice and they had proved to be invaluable.  They were hard-earned though, through extensive burglaries at first.  Amazingly, that’s where the thrill originally came from.  It wasn’t what was stolen but rather the fact of violating their space; exerting your control over them. 

The first was a neighbors’ house.  They were a troublesome household, albeit they had one beautiful gem.  Skinny with curly brown hair, her name was Alice, she had been an object of my affection for many years.  Every night I would touch myself while I thought of her.  That short school dress, she was seeking my attention.  Sometimes, she would unwittingly tease by going into a run.  I would follow her back and forth to school and any other opportunity that arose. 

Then one fine day and without any warning, her burly loutish father shouted at me from a distance to keep away from her.  Never before had I felt such rage as I stormed home.  Surely, I deserved so much more respect and that was when I swore vengeance.  He would pay for his intransigence, for not respecting me. 

Each night, I waited for an opportunity to reveal itself in bushes near the house.  It didn’t take many.  An open window when they were out and I was in.  But then there was confusion about what exactly to do, what would be a fitting punishment.  They had little to want so the place was trashed and the floor was defecated on.  But the true highpoint was repeatedly slamming the kitten against the wall till it moved no more.  It belonged to her and how she loved to cradle it. 

It was too close to home though.  Despite the lack of evidence people seemed to sense it was me.  As if they could feel the evil emanating from my direction.  The stares and finger-pointing, it was most regrettable.  The police never appeared at the door, at least.  In future, more thought would have to be put into such activities.  Hence, the formulation of the rules began. 

There were more than just a few rules required though.  Breaking and entering was a craft, that required study and time.  The internet and local library proved invaluable sources of knowledge but nothing compared to the first-hand experience.  So that’s what I set out to get.  There was a neighborhood full of bungalows a few miles away with easy entry and exit points, in case things did not go according to plan.    

It proved to be an invaluable training ground.  There was no lock that could not be unpicked or vulnerability that couldn’t be taken advantage of.  Increasingly drawn to female’s bedrooms, I would go through their underwear, sniffing them and taking whatever, I pleased.  Perhaps, not what you would imagine.  As a burglar, acquiring money or items of monetary value was never my objective. 

Gradually the confidence began to grow.  There was no longer a need to wait for houses to become unoccupied.  All that was required was the cover of darkness.  It magnified the excitement ten-fold.  Imagine how they felt the next morning knowing that I had been there right beside them; their terror and disgust. 

Of course, this was risky and eventually, something was going to go wrong.  It was a ten-year-old girl that almost led to my demise.  There I was looking at her pretty face when her eyes suddenly opened and she screamed.  For a split second, I froze but then I heard movement and a man’s voice in a nearby room and tried to exit the house as hastily as I could. 

But he caught up to me in the kitchen armed with what appeared to be a baseball bat in the shadows.  Then the burly man swung high hoping to hit my head but I ducked and plunged my knife into his mid-rift forcing him backward to the ground. 

Not waiting for a second longer I ran out the door and followed the planned emergency escape route to the sound of a woman shouting vigorously for help behind.  The heart only stopped racing when I was certain that I was out of danger. 

A few days later I read in the local paper that the man had died.  My wild stab had managed to sever a major artery.  There was no sense of remorse, quite the opposite.  It was only a pity that I had not stayed to watch the life force slowly fade from his eyes.  The paper also reported vigilantes were setting up groups to patrol the area.  A new playground would have to be found. 

After all that excitement though, burglaries would no longer be enough.  There were just too many women waiting for me in their beds untouched.  That was about to change. 

Chapter 5

This was not the life Sean had envisioned for himself.  He had tried to stay positive since his accident but things were starting to get him down.  Every day felt like an endurance test of sheer drudgery.  Work was mostly mundane and boring, then he’d come home to an empty house, repeating the process the next day.  Nothing had happened in relation to the double murder in Wicklow except for the newspapers branding the killer “The Irish Ripper.” 

There was the odd argument on television that this was sensationalist and glamourized violence but the name stuck nevertheless.  Sean was surprised that neither had there been a breakthrough in the case or more killings.  Part of him was disappointed. 

He missed the excitement of his old life and the murders had all too briefly brought some of that back.  But now it seemed to be gone all too fleetingly.  He longed to be able to stand again, to run; to spend days driving around Dublin looking for suspects. 

Sex was another thing he craved.  He had none since his injury; in fact, there hadn’t even been a kiss.  He wondered what it would be like now that he could feel nothing in his penis.  It felt like he was a virgin all over again.  He wouldn’t even know where to start, it had been such a long time since he felt so vulnerable and lost. 

Like everything these days, he went to the internet for guidance, which was a complex myriad of information.  Some websites had a reassuring message that there was more to sex than just penetration.  There was touching, sensuality and intimacy.  In fact, some said they had better sex after injury and even found other erogenous spots on their body to receive pleasure but that it took time and patience. 

But on other websites, there was negativity, with men especially saying how hard they found it to find partners with a visible disability.  That women just no longer looked at them post-injury.  They yearned for companionship and for someone to reach out and touch them. 

There were disability dating websites.  Sean wasn’t quite sure if he’d date a woman with a disability.  Life seemed so complicated as it was.  Surely, an able-bodied woman, who could do things he can’t be best.  But he wasn’t ruling out the idea.   

Then there was a further complication in that some able-bodied people had a sexual preference or kink for disability.  It was something Sean couldn’t quite get his head around.  In any event, female devotees seemed to be rare and he thought it unlikely, that he would ever meet any. 

A week previously, he had tried his luck with Laura but to no avail.  She had done it once; it wasn’t like they would have been breaking new ground but that’s not the way she saw it.  They were friends now; it wasn’t the same and that was only ever intended as a once-off. 

“Is it the chair?” he retorted but in response, she slammed the door in his face. 

Sean thought Jack would understand but he had a wholly different perspective when he mentioned it to him at tea break.  Little did he know she had already phoned him wondering was she in the wrong much to Jack’s chagrin.  She was far too good for him and anyway, he had an eye for her himself. 

“You really are an asshole, but I guess you always were.  She doesn’t owe you a thing, yet she’s been there worried about you since your return,” he replied. 

Sean nodded in quiet acquiescence and changed the conversation back to football.  Perhaps he was in the wrong but he hadn’t anticipated such a strong rebuttal.  He had expected at least some sympathy but there was none whatsoever. 

On returning to his desk, he felt a rage coursing through his veins.  This was the first time that he felt everything was just getting too much.  He had no reason to look forward to the next day or any day in his future.  His future seemed unendingly bleak. 

He tried to finish off his day at work but left early, telling people that he had a medical appointment but nobody seemed to care anyway.  Sean thought he needed medicine alright, but it would be in the form of a nice cold beer. 

For a few minutes he wondered in his car where would the best place to go given his circumstances.  Then “Flanagans” popped into his mind.  It was in the middle of his old work area and he remembered that there were no steps or that into it.  It was in a rough area though where he might bump into undesirables he once knew, but he didn’t care anymore. 

Fortunately, as he had left early, he missed rush hour and it only took twenty minutes to reach the pub although he had to park a street away as there was nowhere else suitable to.  It was somewhat of a relief to finally get to the front door of the pub in his chair where a kind woman opened the door. 

There was already a good crowd inside, all of whom seemed to look in his direction as he entered.  It was a musty, archaic place but that didn’t bother Sean who went to one of the free low tables at the back.  There was a muted television not too far from him.   Everything was as he remembered, giving him a brief sense of stability in a tumultuous day.  Just a few seconds later, one of the two exquisitely dressed barmen came over to ask if he wanted anything. 

Without thinking he asked for his favorite staple, a whiskey, and red.  Once the first drop hit his lips, he began to think about all the high points in his life.  Maybe he could still have a few more, he thought to himself.   

It didn’t take long for the first whiskey to go down, then another and another till they all started to blur into one another.  The bar gradually became more and more packed and a band started to get ready to play. 

“Bejesus, is that you?  I thought you wer’ dead!” 

It was one of the former McCraven twins with a henchman.  This was one of the worst people Sean could have bumped into as the twins were notoriously violent and hated cops.  They must have taken over this territory since Sean was last there.   

The McCraven twins were Billy Sullivan and Joe McCraven.  It was Billy who now stood before him.  Strangely they were not actually related but earned the moniker due to the fact they had grown up in the same vicinity, their similar appearance and age.   Joe and his loyal henchman had been murdered a few days after Sean’s accident. 

“It’s me all right,” Sean sternly replied, anxious to show no fear as the two men sat down at his table.  

Billy, a bald, heavy man with a protruding square jaw, and impeccably dressed in a black suit sat right beside him.  The henchman who was slender, with ruffled long hair and with a withdrawn look that signified a drug addiction sat disinterested further away. 

“Long time, no see.  You still a pig?” Billy asked a passive-aggressive tone, with a big smile. 

Sean nodded that he was.  Fortunately, they were in a public place so he was pretty sure – or at least hoping – that there would be no violence.  If there was, he wouldn’t stand a chance.  His calculation would have been somewhat different if they were down a dark alley instead. 

“I now own quite a nice stake of this place.  Going up in the world you see.  Hope you enjoy your night, I mean that.” 

Billy then turned to the barman and signaled to get Sean another one.    

Then he patted Sean on his back before motioning towards him and whispering in his ear, 

“Thanks, by the way for Stephen Clarke.  Jessica told me when I paid her a visit.  She’s such a nice, sweet girl.  I’m sure none of your Garda buddies know about that.  If they did, all that sympathy for you being a cripple would evaporate very fucking fast.  Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch.” 

With that Billy and his henchman got up and left leaving Sean in a state of shock.  Nobody should have known about Stephen Clarke especially not the likes of Billy McManus.  Stephen had been shot dead many months ago.  This idea of going to the pub was probably the worst mistake Sean had ever made.  Now he would be beholden to a criminal – and one of the worst ones in the city at that. 

There was nothing for it except a few more whiskeys; nothing really mattered anymore.  Sean was now starting to get emotional with the odd tear slowly flowing down either side of his face.  He knew, even in his drunken state that he would be drawing unwanted attention towards himself so he headed to the disabled bathroom, needing to empty his bladder in any event.   

Fortunately, the bathroom was as large as he remembered and the wheelchair was easily able to fit in.  He then self-catheterized, before moving towards the mirror to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

Sean could hear a noise in the background and slowly opened his eyes.  Confused at first, he quickly realized that he was still in the toilet.  He quickly looked at his watch; over two hours had passed.  It was definitely time to go, he thought to himself.  At least his head had cleared somewhat as he remembered with a shudder the trouble he was now in with Billy. 

He opened the toilet door and pushed himself out hoping nobody would realize what had happened; more for his own dignity than any other reason.  Fortunately, the bar was now packed and nobody was paying him much attention, except maybe a bit of annoyance when he had to ask them to move out of his way. 

Soon he was out and hit by a refreshing cold breeze.  Making his way slowly back to his car he found himself constantly looking over his shoulder for fear that Billy or one of his cronies would be after him, though he probably had little to fear for all the wrong reasons.   

The parking spot for his car seemed far from ideal now; down a narrow, poorly lit side street.  So, it was with a sense of intense relief that he finally transferred back into his car and ignited the engine.  Now for the next problem. 

Sean knew he was certainly over the alcohol limit for driving.  His little sleep might have been a blessing in disguise as he would have almost definitely crashed the car on his way home otherwise.  He had perhaps undeservedly been given a chance to fight another day. 

Pausing for a few moments he considered the best route home to avoid being caught for drink driving by his colleagues.  Fortunately, when they did set up stops, they almost always picked the same spots.  If he went the back streets, he thought, he should be okay. 

Meanwhile, Billy could hardly believe his luck that he had seen Sean in the bar; it was like receiving the greatest gift in his life.  He had thought him dead, for otherwise, he would have sought him out already.  There was nothing an Irish criminal would want more than to have a dirty Garda but to have an Inspector on the side, would be a game-changer. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have given Jessica such a vicious beating after all.  She had fallen behind on her money; that’s just not something that can be let go, otherwise, they’d all be at it.  Through her tears, she had offered a freebie but he was just after sex already.   

It was after the first hard punch to her stomach that she had told him about Sean. 

“What’s the fucking point telling me that ya stupid bitch?  He’s dead, I heard!” he roared before continuing his gratuitous assault. 

When he left, she was rolled up in a corner sobbing in a pool of blood.  He knew that he had gone overboard; her face was even a mess and that was bad for business no matter how good he felt afterward. 

Now it turned out, she really had given him valuable information.  Ah well, it wasn’t the kind of thing that Billy would dwell on for longer than a few seconds.  That was one of the reasons why he was so suited to this life; there was little use for things such as compassion and forgiveness. 

No, he had many more important things to consider like how he could use this new tool against his enemies.  It would take time though, it had to appear like he had lady luck on his side rather than playing a rigged game. 

It would mean that he could sleep a bit more soundly at night.  With that, he pondered his next move.  He could go home to his wife and three kids or pay a visit to his latest girlfriend; a leggy, Chechen girl called Nathalie.  She had promised him a good night after the expensive Gucci handbag he got her and now he was in the right kind of mood for it. 

Chapter 6

To the rest of the world, Sean’s darkest day was obvious, there could be no doubt.  A car crash and paralysis should surely stand head and shoulders over everything else.  But life is not always so straightforward and many can harbor dark secrets, which eat into their very souls. 

The day before Sean’s crash was no ordinary one; it was one that he would also never forget.  The thing that Sean had always liked about being a detective was the freedom that it gave him.  So long as he produced the results, they didn’t care much what he had got up to.  It suited him and them. 

 That morning had started like many others with a visit to a hooker.  Her name was Candice and Sean wanted to know if she wanted her laptop back that had been seized the previous week when her place was raided.  Of course, Sean would want something in return.   

Her place, presumably her home was a dingy two-bedroom flat in a large complex that would usually be a no-go area for lone Gardai.  But it was early morning, the “bad” crowd would be nursing their hangovers at this stage of the day and anyways he was in an unmarked car in civilian clothes, he thought to himself. 

Sean made sure to sidestep the needles and hold his nose as he quickly pranced up to the fourth floor, cocky that everything would go well.  On reaching the apartment, he gave the door a few hard knocks.  Nobody came to answer but he knew from previously checking her website; that she was definitely there, so he knew she was in there probably with a client. 

So; he knocked again and shouted out that it was the Gardai.  After about a minute the door swung open and what appeared more an old boy rather than a man quickly darted out.  Sean couldn’t but smile to himself that he might have just stopped that boy from losing his virginity. 

However, “Candice” to punters but otherwise known as Jane, looked far from amused with a wide grimace across her face.  It didn’t bother Sean though as he salivated at her large breasts, thin waist and long, flowing black hair that touched her buxom bottom.  He knew the drill having had done this, many times previously.  All that mattered was that he had something she needed and would do anything to get back. 

“What the fuck doo ya wan’” she said angrily in red lingerie in her strong Lithuanian accent. 

“Now is that any way to address a gentleman?  Especially one that has come out all this way with a gift?  Surely, not.”  Sean held the laptop forward in front of him so that she would see it. 

She came towards the door but he quickly withdrew it back behind him.   

“Obviously, I would want some kind of reward for my good behavior,” Sean said grinning, “about a half-hour of thank yous should do it…” 

“You coppers, all the same,” she said in loud resignation as she motioned her hands for him to enter. 

She didn’t need to show him to where to go, he remembered from the raid the previous week and headed straight to the bedroom in the cramped flat.  That was when he first set eyes on the beauty and knew he’d be back to have her. 

Not having much time to spare, he quickly took off his clothes throwing them into a pile in the corner.  Briefly, he wondered how many other men she’d had in the last few hours; not that he was the squeamish type.  He hadn’t had sex in a few days and nothing was going to stop him. 

After a few minutes, she appeared before him and asked what he wanted.   

Sean pointed towards his penis and she got on her knees.  His hands brushed through her hair, then began rubbing her breasts as she sucked.  This was what he had been waiting for.  But just as he was about to climax a group of three men entered the room and she withdrew, spitting in his face. 

For a moment, Sean just stood there stunned by the turn of events.  He recognized one of the men from his job; it was Joe McCraven.  A short, articulate gangster, renowned as much for his cleverness as his brutality.  It wasn’t every day you bumped into a criminal with multiple degrees and fluency in foreign languages. 

“Well, well – look who we have here – Detective Sean O’Callaghan.  You’re nothing if not predictable.  I told the boys here that you’d be back.  You see you have a pattern – like a dog who can’t stop pissing on the wrong tree,” he said laughing. 

“What do ya want?” Sean replied angrily, still covering his privates with his hands. 

“Put your fucking clothes on first you disgusting pig,” another of the men interjected, an opportunity he quickly seized. 

It was a set-up.  They knew he’d be back because he always was.  Now they had him on camera with a prostitute that he was involved in busting only the previous week.  His career would be finished in disgrace.  Now it was only about what they wanted in return – and they wanted something very big. 

The Gardai had been running a very successful witness protection program and they wanted details on a snitch by lunchtime.  Sean pleaded with them that they were being totally unreasonable and that there was no way he could get the information that quickly. 

But they were unperturbed, adamant that if they didn’t get the information they needed within that timeframe, Sean’s “porn” would be on the internet and a concerned member of the public would feel obligated to inform his colleagues. 

They wanted the details and in particular the whereabouts of one Stephen Clarke who had turned tout on his former associates after being caught in possession of a major haul of cocaine.  He was due to give evidence that afternoon.  That is why they were insisting on such a tight time constraint; they had been surprised by how long it had taken for their trap to spring. 

“Look man, I couldn’t give a fuck.  Not a fuck, just get his details or else,” said Joe menacingly. 

Sean knew he was skewered, there was no obvious solution.  He put Joe’s number into his mobile phone and told them that he would get they wanted.  They gave him a final warning that they were not the people to be messed with as he hastily made his way out of the apartment. 

His mind was racing as he quickly went down the stairs and into his car.  Once there, he tried to calm down.  He could feel his heart beating through his chest; he needed a plan and he needed it very fast.   

The information about informants was only kept on paper files in drawers in the basement of the station as it was considered too risky to keep them in an electronic format where they could be hacked and copied ad infinitum.  But you needed a swipe card to get down there, and Sean needed to think of a legitimate reason to go visit. 

Then it came to him in a flash.  Garda Laura Mulhern sometimes did the rather boring task of manning the basement some mornings and he was pretty sure that day was one of them.  He knew she had been having a rough time of it lately and having always wanted to bed her, he could kill two birds with the one stone. 

Garda Mulhern was having a dour morning.  A week previously she had broken up with what turned out to be a short-term boyfriend.  She was disappointed that things hadn’t turned out better, missing the sex and having someone to talk to.  He had dumped her, which made her feel worse.  He said that he wanted a girlfriend that would be there when he needed, not on shift work who sometimes wouldn’t show up. 

To boot, it was one of those mornings where she was tasked with manning “The Dungeon”.   It was given that name for many reasons; it was the oldest part of the station and you had to walk down a sheer set of stone steps bowing your head so as not to hit it which led you to an underground cavern.  This was where the station’s greatest secrets were kept. 

It used to be where prisoners were kept back in the day but the conditions were considered too squalid for them, so now it was just used for the torture of Gardai.  This was pure sentry work, making sure someone didn’t just come in and walk off with all the most important files.  It was a tedious job and sometimes she wouldn’t see anybody during her shift at all. 

So, she was quite surprised and somewhat excited to see Detective Callaghan walking down the steps.  She knew that he wanted her, he had made that clear and that fact enthused her, she wanted the attention.   

“How’s things, Laura?” was the somewhat banal start to the conversation, but it quickly turned sexual, with him telling her how sexy she looked in uniform to which she gave a wide smile.  She teased him saying that it would be taken off once she got home. 

She did find it somewhat odd, however when he asked her if she needed a break of any sort.  But she did need to leave for a few minutes and was thankful for it, telling him she’d be quick. 

Sean didn’t waste any time once she was gone, and went immediately going over to her desk, where the computer that held the database was.  All Sean had to do was type in the name and the cabinet number appeared on the screen – L15.  That was the easy part. 

The cabinets didn’t seem to be arranged in any particular order physically.  Cabinets labeled “Z” were besides those labeled “A”, for instance.  This was more likely due to general tardiness over the years rather than a clever security measure. 

Anxiously, he went from cabinet to cabinet, trying to find the required detail; he knew Laura wouldn’t be that long.   Then he paused for a second; it was probably at the very back, he thought to himself.  It was a hunch but he went for it and there it was.   

He quickly opened the file he was looking for, putting the address into his phone, but didn’t send it yet.  His heart started to race when he heard the door starting to open and he tried to quickly walk back to her desk but he only made it three-quarters of the way before she saw him.  He saw an expression of puzzlement on her face and knew he needed to think of something fast. 

“What about tonight?  I was thinking of calling over,” he said with a cheeky grin. 

Laura liked him being so direct; it was about time she allowed herself some fun.  

“Yeah sure why not?  I’ll be waiting for you..” she said with a smile. 

With that, he was out the door.  Things couldn’t have gone better; he had the information he needed and was going to get the sex he had missed out on earlier.  He would have thanked God had he believed in such things.  Actually, maybe he wouldn’t. 

He knew better than to send the details from his own phone so he memorized the address and left it at his desk, then left the station and bought a new pay-as-you-go phone with cash.  Then with some hesitation, he sent on the details, knowing that doing so was probably a death sentence.

Chapter 7

Weeks, then months passed and Sean had heard nothing from Billy.  But he knew it was only a matter of time before he came knocking.  The gang warfare had continued its incessant onslaught.  Bodies were showing up in all corners of the city, sometimes killed execution-style with a bullet to the back of the head. 

Sean had given up hope of anything ever happening with Laura. In fact, she said that was now with someone and happily so.  It made him feel ill just to think about it, it was probably someone boring.  Laura had been clear about it though.  They may have had a night of passion once, but it was just fun.  It never meant anything and now she only saw him as a friend.  Deep down Sean knew he would be thinking likewise if not for his injury, officially telling her he was pleased she had found someone. 

At least it was now June and there was a persistent high over the country.  Even Sean couldn’t help but be cheered by the warm weather.  It made his transfers easier; his hands were no longer frozen and at night time he didn’t have to worry about his paralyzed legs turning blue. 

But it was so much more than too, if only it could be summer all year round.  This particular Monday morning was a joy.  There was no need to bring a coat to work, he was hit by the warm air once he opened the front door and wheeled towards his car. 

He wondered what his day would hold as he turned on some pop music for his trip, having long got tired of listening to the depressing news in the morning – something strangely that never bothered him pre-accident.  Better to start the day in a good frame of mind. 

Everything seemed normal when he reached his desk.  There was still the large pile of files on his table that he needed to go through.  Better get straight into it, he thought, so that he could leave early and enjoy some of that sun.  He even considered taking a half-day. 

It was only after an hour that he realized there was something untoward when Laura frantically burst into his office. 

“Have you received anything yet?  I don’t believe it.” 

Somewhat bemused, Sean asked her what was she on about. 

“The Ripper has struck again.  That’s the nickname he’s been given.  Did you not hear from the news?” she said with incredulity.  

He quickly searched through the top of his pile but he hadn’t received anything yet.  Laura, who he probably shouldn’t have told about even his small role in the case informed him that the latest murders were reported to have happened on Saturday night in County Mayo, the other side of the country to the first ones.  It was another couple.  The pathologist had visited the scene the previous day, Sunday. 

Sean couldn’t help but be excited.  So much time had passed, but he was back.  Once again, the now so-called “Irish Ripper” was the talk of the station.  Everybody had a theory of what his motivations were and who he was; from the absurd to the sublime.  Some thought it was just a copycat to cover another reason for killing the latest couple; others were saying that the notorious killer from the seventies Bundy had been reincarnated. 

He waited impatiently for the pathologist’s report to arrive.  It wouldn’t have to wait in a pile.  But the hours passed by and it wasn’t long till lunchtime started to approach.  He was disappointed but thought it was likely to come in the afternoon. 

It was still not there on his return but there was a note telling him to attend the Superintendent’s office at three o’clock.  He suddenly felt queasy; perhaps Laura had not been keeping her mouth shut and he was about to be disciplined.  Then, taking a deep breath, he knew he had to calm down; it was unlikely Laura would betray his secrets. 

It quickly became clear that this wasn’t a disciplinary meeting.   There were far too many smiles and handshakes for that.  A special unit was being set up to investigate the murders.  There was a serial killer on the loose and he had to be stopped.  Long hours would be on the cards and they would mostly be unpaid. 

They wanted to know if Sean was prepared to be part of the unit.  He didn’t have to think twice and answered a very affirmative yes.  There were two other people in the room, the Superintendent and Sean’s new superior officer David DeRossa. 

Sean would continue to work from the same office but may have to attend meetings, both formal and informal throughout the country.  Also, he should now be prepared to field calls at any time.  This was exactly what Sean needed in his life, something he could focus on.  This was Sean’s first-time meeting DeRossa who looked close to retirement in his suit.  He had a full head of grey hair and a heavily wrinkled face with a warm, gregarious smile. 

The Super then insisted on telling De Rossa how proud he and everyone else at the station was of Sean and how well he had done getting over his injury.  It made Sean cringe, but he tried to outwardly smile; asking himself if they would say the same if they knew the whole story. 

Once that ended Sean headed back to his desk, but not before DeRossa handed him the pathologist’s report of the latest murders and other documentation, which he was told to read.  Full of intrigue, Sean wondered if he has ever loved his job quite so much, and he wasn’t quite sure what that said about him. 

On reading the report, it became clear that the news media reports were somewhat lacking in accuracy.  The two bodies had been found in a rural house close to Ballaghaderreen in Roscommon, not Mayo – although it was close to the border.   The corpses had laid there; undiscovered for approximately two weeks before discovery and had started to decompose. 

The scene was eerily similar to the previous one.  Her right breast had been removed after her death due to multiple stab wounds.  This time her intestines had also been removed though, carefully placed to the right of the body. 

Once again, the woman was the first to die.  Her male partner, whose body was found in the same room had died from just a single stab wound to the heart.  He had been strapped in a chair pointed towards her body.   

Sean studiously scanned, then entered all the relevant information onto the database.   Then he began the arduous task of reading all the documentation he was told to.  Most of it was from the FBI in the United States.  They had a behavioral unit seeking to understand the minds of serial killers, originally called sequence killers since the seventies.  An agent called John Douglas played a particularly important role.  They searched for the worst of the worst and tried to understand the motivations for what they had done.  Some killers such as Ed Kemper aka “The Co-ed Killer”, a monstrously intelligent killer of ten people that included his own mother were all too happy to divulge their secrets.  With others, it had to be slowly teased from them. 

The documentation included a speculative, psychological profile from their current behavioral analysis unit that they hoped would be of assistance.  It stated the following about The Irish Ripper – 

• An emotional age equivalent to a 25 to 31-year-old. 
• Engaged in paraphilic behavior and brutal sex in his private life. 
• Engaged in sex with prostitutes. 
• Had some knowledge of police investigative methods and evidence-gathering techniques. 
• Sexually functional, capable of ejaculation with consenting and non-consenting partners. 

• Enjoyed an audience. 
• Dressed well and would not stand out in upscale neighborhoods. 
• Good physical condition. 
• May have a small penis. 
• Skilled, experienced cat-burglar, and may have begun as such. 

• Had a criminal record as a teenager which was expunged.
• Had some means of income, but did not work in the early-morning hours. 
• Hated women for actual (or perceived) wrongs. 
• If married, probably had a submissive spouse who tolerated his sexually-deviant behavior. 
• Intelligent and articulate. 

• Probably began as a voyeur in his late teens or early twenties. 
• Neat and well-organized in his personal life, and drove a well-maintained car. 
• Peeped in the windows of many people who were not attacked. 
• Possibly unmarried, and did not enter into long-term relationships. 
• Self-assured and confident. 

• Would continue committing violent crimes until incapacitated by prison, death, or other intervention. 
• Would have been described by those who knew him as arrogant, domineering, manipulative, and a chronic liar. 

At least now they had some sort of idea about who they were looking for and there seemed to be plenty of avenues to look into.  Sean hoped he could be a part of that as he excitedly kept reading.   There were also other notes on the general characteristics of serial killers. 

According to the paperwork, there are two types of serial killers; those who are organized and those who are disorganized.  Organized crimes are premeditated and well-thought-out so few clues are left behind.  They are generally antisocial with strong psychopathic tendencies but know right from wrong, are not technically insane and have no remorse.  They take their time and inflict horrendous suffering on their victims. 

Organized killers are likely to be intelligent, attractive, married or living with a domestic partner, employed, educated, skilled, orderly, cunning and controlled. They have some degree of social grace, may even be charming, and have often been thought of as pillars of their community, talking and seducing their victims into being captured.  

With organized offenders, there are typically three separate crime scenes: where the victim was preyed on by the killer, where the victim was murdered, and where the victim’s body was disposed of. Organized killers are usually very difficult to apprehend because they go to inordinate lengths to cover their tracks and often are forensically savvy, meaning they are familiar with police investigation methods.  

They are likely to follow the news media reports of their crimes and may even correspond with the news media.  In rare circumstances, they have even contacted investigators. 

Disorganized killers were very different.  Disorganized crimes, in contrast, are not planned and the criminals typically leave evidence such as their fingerprints or blood at the scene of the murder. There is sometimes no attempt to move or otherwise conceal the corpse after the murder. Disorganized criminals are often young and under the influence of alcohol or drugs, or mentally ill. They often have deficient communication and social skills and may be below average in intelligence. 

The disorganized offender is likely to come from a broken or dysfunctional family and have often have been abused physically or sexually by relatives. They are often sexually inhibited, sexually uninformed and may have sexual aversions or other pathologies. They are more likely than organized criminals to be compulsive masturbators. They are often isolated from others, live alone and are frightened or confused during the commission of their murders. They often do not have reliable transportation, so they kill their victims closer to home than organized offenders. 

There could be no doubt in anybody’s mind that this Ripper was at the extreme end of the organized variety, Sean thought to himself.  The murders were meticulously planned and there were no clues.  They were bordering on perfection.  He must be someone of great intelligence, who was most probably, highly educated. 

Sean continued to read vociferously hoping that his mind would absorb everything.  In addition to the organized/disorganized dichotomy, a serial killer may leave traces of one or both of the following behavioral characteristics: MO (modus operandi or method of operation) and signature—the personal mark or imprint of the offender. While every crime has a MO, not all crimes have a signature.  

The MO is what the offender must do in order to commit the crime. For example, the killer must have the means to control his victims at the crime scene such as tying them up. Significantly, the MO is a learned behavior that can change over time.  

A serial killer will alter and refine his MO to accommodate new circumstances or to incorporate new skills and information. For example, instead of using rope to tie up a victim, the offender may learn that it is easier and more effective to bring handcuffs to the crime scene. 

The signature, on the other hand, is not required in order to commit the crime. Rather, it serves the emotional or psychological needs of the offender. The signature comes from within the psyche of the offender and it reflects a deep fantasy need that the killer has about his victims. Fantasies develop slowly, increase over time and may begin with the torture of animals during childhood. 

The essential core of the signature, when present, is that it is always the same because it emerges out of an offender’s fantasies that evolved long before killing his first victim. The signature may involve mutilation or dismemberment of the victim’s body.  

An investigator, he read, may also encounter deliberate alterations of the crime scene or the victim’s body position at the scene of the murder. If these alterations are made for the purpose of confusing or otherwise misleading criminal investigators, then they are called staging and they are considered to be part of the killer’s MO.  

On the other hand, if the crime scene alterations only serve the fantasy needs of the offender, then they are considered part of the signature and they are referred to as posing. Sometimes, a victim’s body is posed to send a message to the police or the public. 

For a few moments, Sean put down the books and thought about the killer.  In this case, the Gardai knew very little about the MO but a signature was apparent.  The male was in both cases bound to a chair facing the direction of the female who was raped and mutilated, before the killer’s focus turned back to him. 

The killer wanted an audience.  That must be part of the fantasy and where he gets his sexual exhilaration from.  But he must also have had some deep-seated hatred of women leading to the mutilation of their bodies. 

For a moment, Sean felt a chill down his spine.  This killer would not stop of his own accord.  There could yet be dozens of future victims. 

Or was the killer just posing? Sean wondered.  Making potential investigators think it was about sex when it wasn’t?  That didn’t seem likely though, surely no ordinary person could do this? 

Just before Sean left the station to go home for the night, he received details about the victims that would be released to the media within the hour.  It made for particularly depressing reading. 

Both of the victims worked in the medical profession in the Mater hospital in Dublin.  They had told their colleagues they were going on holiday to an undisclosed location and had been butchered in the man’s holiday home.  Even their friends didn’t know where they were going but the Ripper somehow did.  They must have been murdered shortly after their arrival. 

He was a 41-year-old anesthesiologist named John O’Hara, renowned worldwide in his field; she was a much loved 26-year-old nurse originally from the Philippines called Mary.  The callous murder would not only affect them and their colleagues but also an unknowable number of patients. 

He was athletic, tall, handsome and Sean imagined that he would have given the attacker some difficulties.  But there were no signs of a struggle.  A photo of Mary was enclosed.  She was petite with long, flowing hair.  Sean shuddered when he thought about what she must have gone through. 

There were some similarities with the previous murder as regards the location.  They were both one-story.  That would have made it easy to survey all the rooms prior to launching an attack or maybe, it was that he could easily escape if things didn’t go according to his diabolical plan. 

Sean, his eyes now tired and sunken turned off his computer to go home.  It had been a long day.  That night, while lying in bed, he wondered what the future would hold both for him and everyone else.  The news on both the radio and television was filled with interviews from ordinary people about their fears of being the next unfortunate victim.  There was now an atmosphere of fear permeating the country.

Chapter 8

Sometimes I can still hear their taunts when I close my eyes, see their fingers pointing towards my penis.  They hated me and they knew how to show it.  It mattered not that I was merely a child; I was guilty of so many crimes against them. 

I was their freak and they cared little for the idea of bodily autonomy.  They showed everybody who wanted to see, yanking my pants down for the whole world to see.   

At night I would cry myself to sleep wondering what I had ever done to those bitches.  It wasn’t my fault; my mother was a slut.  I never knew what their father saw in her anyway. 

It only grew worse as I reached adolescence and became fully aware of my deficit.  Not a day would pass without comment.  When they thought there was a girl who I might like they made sure to tell her. 

Eventually, I asked a doctor what was wrong with me.  It was what he called a micro-penis and there was nothing that could be done about it, no matter how great my psychological pain. 

When I told them, it was a serious medical condition and no reason to be sneered at, it only made things worse.  Then one day as I reached sixteen, one of them did it again while we were alone in the house.  But this time, fierce anger overcame me and I throttled her by the neck to the sitting room floor. 

For the first time, I could see fear in her eyes.  I wanted her to feel pain, to tear her apart but this was not the time nor place.  Neither of them ever bothered me again.  In fact, they kept their distance from me. 

But soon, I could see their faces in every woman.  Feelings of sexual arousal and hatred became somewhat conflated.  I wanted to punish, hurt, destroy but also to touch and gently caress. 

For a time, the thrill of the burglaries fulfilled my desires but no more.  I had to stop; it became far too risky.  Night patrols had been set up by the local community and CCTV now covered every back alley, every blade of grass.  My stab in the dark killed the man and the whole community was now on high alert. 

It was hard to resist the urge but I had to.  There was no hope of success, I had to bide my time.  Fortunately, after a few months, an opportunity to move came along, which I gratefully accepted, bringing me a new virgin territory to exploit. 

Here, nobody was warned about my existence but I could still use all my skills.  This time though, mere burglaries and invasion of peoples’ private space would no longer suffice. 

It didn’t take long to find my first target and it was during my weekly shop.  With long brown hair, glasses but somewhat pudgy and probably not yet twenty, she stood out not for her beauty but the sense of lostness I picked up from her.  She would be an easy target. 

So, I abandoned my shopping and followed her home to student accommodation apartments.   I watched from a distance, eager for my face not to be captured on any camera as she fortuitously entered one of the ground floor apartments.  Any other floor would be too risky to attack. 

It was then a matter of scoping out the area the next day and hiding my equipment close to the targeted apartment.  You’re probably wondering if I felt any remorse for what I was about to do, maybe even a tinge of regret about my actions. 

No, I never felt anything of the sort.  Only excitement and anticipation of the future joy I was about to feel.  At night, I could barely sleep with the thrill of it all as I would rush through all the required actions in my mind. 

Then the night finally arrived.  It was perfectly dark, windy and wet so there were even fewer people walking the streets late at night.  Even better she was alone, her two flatmates having left for the weekend. 

Getting in through the bathroom window was rudimentary for a person of my skills.  Then silently I went towards her bedroom and slowly opened the door.  There she was, fast asleep in front of me.  Little did she know what awaited her. 

I quickly jumped on top of her and put a blade to her throat.  She was not a fighter and froze on the spot.  She pleaded through her tears not to rape her, that she was a virgin but it mattered not to me. 

I raped her there and then.  Then I rested and did it again.  By then, she was a shadow of the woman I had first seen as if she was just a body now, without a soul.  Before leaving I rummaged through her bags, making sure I knew where her real home was.  I told her that her mother would be next if the police were called and with that, I left her sobbing and bruised on the floor. 

For weeks, I was ecstatic, the greatest high I had ever felt.  Everything had gone so perfectly.  There was no mention of my crime anywhere, leaving me with a sense of invincibility.   

Each night I relived each moment in my mind as if I worried, I might forget something.  But then once as the weeks passed just like with the burglaries, the thrill began to fade and the urge to repeat the experience grew stronger. 

Then the prowl started once again.  There were so many potential victims.  A few were followed but found to be unsuitable targets, whether it was the place they lived or who it was with. 

But inevitably I found legitimate ones.  The next victim was older, almost forty I reckon.  She fought hard but I eventually overpowered her.  She paid for that, I left her scarred.  She will never forget me. 

This time, though, the police were called despite my threats.  I noticed the odd poster here and there.  Still, they had no inkling of who I was so I was not deterred. 

So, I struck again and in quick succession.  Each time as thrilling as the last.  A cloud of terror descended over the community but they still had no idea who it was.  So much so, that I decided to go to one of the community meetings that was called by the police. 

It was held in the gym hall of a local primary school.  Chairs were set out in rows from the very front to the very back.  Being somewhat cheeky I decided to go towards the front.  The first two rows were already filled so I slotted in behind them; a large crowd was in attendance of all ages, male and female.  Fear was written over the faces of many; it felt good.  

There was a heavy police presence.  Whether that was because they knew I might appear or they were worried about the community’s anger boiling over, I wasn’t quite sure.  It didn’t take long for everyone to become seated and for the meeting to start.  Everyone was there because of me.  The lead investigator, a short policewoman with a bald head took center stage. 

A silence quickly spread over the room.  Everybody appeared to be anxious to hear what she was going to say.  I made sure to fit in and look concerned as best I could.   

In truth, she was rather a bore rambling on about measures that women could supposedly take to remain safe, asking for the community to report any suspicious activity and saying they were doing everything possible to catch the attacker.  As if I could ever be stopped.  Anywhere else and I might have laughed. 

Then she asked if there were any questions.  Hands flew up into the air.  Most were just desperate appeals to police about how they were living in fear.  The first was an elderly woman living on her own who was terrified of being attacked.  As if I’d be bothered but she was informed that they took her concerns very seriously and they would talk to her privately after the event. 

Then a few younger women spoke about how I was destroying their lives, how they were afraid to go out on their own and how hard it was to concentrate on their studies.  That this was supposed to be the best time of their lives but it had turned into a nightmare.  Usually, they then broke down in tears. 

Then a man began to speak in a pompous, confident tone.  He was in the front and I could see him clearly, he was bald, short and stout. 

“I tell you one thing, if he comes after my wife and I get my hands on that monster, there’ll be no stopping me and no calling you guys.  He’s nothing but a coward who picks on the weak,” said the ghoul to a loud round of applause.   

I was filled with rage, the like I had never felt before and wanted to rip his head off on the spot.  But this was not the time or place.  Imagine that, calling me a coward.  A few other people spoke but I now cared little.  As the meeting ended, there was only one thought on my mind. 

I kept my eyes fixed on his location as he went, always making sure to keep a few people behind.  There was always a chance that there was surveillance in place, hoping to catch me. 

Just as he was about to reach the exit, he was stopped by a group of women, presumably because they liked his little speech.  It was just the opportunity I needed, I headed straight to my vehicle, which was parked some distance away but he would likely have to pass.  Then I waited for him to come out. 

It didn’t take long for that to occur and I immediately followed behind him, hoping he did not live too far away.  But I followed him for ten minutes, then twenty and no sign of him stopping.  Then thirty minutes later in a rural location, he finally disappeared into a driveway.  He wasn’t even a local but just wanted to pretend he was brave.  He foolishly thought he was in a safe place to berate me, that I would never pursue him.  Now it was only a matter of time before I had him and his wife. 

Patience – that is the key – and the reason I will never be caught.  I put all my focus on that house and finding out everything about them.  So much time passed that the posters looking for the rapist had all blown down.  Perhaps the community had hoped it was all coming to an end when in reality it was only beginning.  His wife, who was in her early fifties and quite overweight would not have been my usual target but it was time for a special exemption. 

The planning was meticulous; every little detail was important.  Nothing was going to get in my way.  The week before the attack I sneaked into the house, not to steal but to place the tools of the trade in hidden spots until they were needed.  The only things I needed to bring would be myself and the condoms and gloves so I wouldn’t leave any DNA around. 

An hour before the attack I had a shower, making sure to scrub my skin hard till it turned red.  It was all about leaving nothing behind me.  Shortly after midnight, I snuck into the house.  As expected, they had not found any of my hidden items in the meantime.  Once I had a knife at her throat, they both complied with everything I said.  They were in no doubt that I would slit her throat if there was any resistance. 

First, the man who was tied up on a chair, insisted on telling me through tears that his name was John as if there was some part of me that should care.  With him immobilized and no longer a threat, attention could fully focus on his wife. 

Her nightdress was ripped open and the rape began.  I insisted she roared out how much she was enjoying it and that I was bigger than him.  I couldn’t but help looking back at him through the ski mask to see his humiliation. 

Then I stopped for a while to ridicule him face-to-face.   I started to laugh at him calling him a little man and a loser, but then resistance came from a most unexpected source. 

“Leave him alone, you bastard!  You’re nothing but a coward with a small dick,” she yelled through tears. 

This was not the respect I yearned for and I felt a sudden rage.  Without even a second thought I jumped on top of her once more and plunged the knife in her repeatedly and watched her life fade away.  He pleaded with me to stop but it had only been a form of encouragement. 

There was no coming back from this, it was the next level.  A level I had never expected to reach but my soul felt cleansed.  This was what I was born to do.  Now it was just a matter of clearing my tracks. 

I quickly slit his throat.  There would be no survivors.  Then the house was set alight and I disappeared into the darkness.  Now everything had changed, changed utterly. 

Chapter 9

A few weeks after the latest murders and theories about the identity of the killer abounded on the radio, television and the internet.  Some thought that he worked in construction.  They speculated that this was the reason for the significant distance between the murder sites; perhaps he was a bricklayer or a plasterer. 

Others thought that maybe he worked in the medical field perhaps as a doctor or nurse, as he may have targeted women he worked with and it chimed with the victims. 

Perhaps the most worrying theory was that he was a Garda.  Being in law enforcement may even be aiding him in his crimes.  Most people join the Gardai for good and noble reasons, such as wanting to help and serve their communities. 

However, if a person with abusive tendencies joins, the tools and authority that come with being a Garda would make them even more dangerous.  The lack of evidence left behind at the scenes was worrying.  It was either someone on the inside or someone who had researched assiduously. 

Everybody presumed it was a male but it was still even possible that a vibrator was used on the female victims.  That’s how much they really knew about the killer. 

Sean was now watching and listening to every theory as well as working long hours so he could review the evidence time and time again after his normal work was completed.  So much so that; those around him grew worried about his well-being. 

Even his colleagues berated him for spending so long in the office.  It was obvious to all except him that he was using the chase for the killer as a crutch rather than facing his new life head-on.   

Eventually, his occupational therapist had had enough and told him that he needed to focus on something else, at least for some part of the week.   Wheelchair basketball was a good option to take his mind off things.  It catered for people of differing abilities and it would help him meet people from different backgrounds.  The training was every Wednesday at seven besides the Central Remedial Clinic in Clontarf and they had already been told to expect him. 

She saw the displeasure on his face but told him he also needed to keep fit, knowing the different buttons to press.  So, eventually, he conceded and promised to go.  But if he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t be back.  She smiled and told him it was exactly what he needed. 

The following Wednesday Sean found himself waiting in the car outside the gym.  He had arrived ten minutes early but he should have known not to.  Sean was rare for an Irish-man; he liked to be places ahead of time.  Irish people generally are usually ten minutes late and this group was no exception.  

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the place started to become a hive of activity.  The first sign of life was an elderly man who started to unlock the door, which Sean took as a sign to get out of the car and into his wheelchair.   

By the time he had completed the maneuver, others had already made it inside.  He began to feel nervous now, wondering would the new group accept him when he went in.   

Up the ramp and in the door, he went, where he was met a wall of noise and excitement.  The middle-aged man he had seen opening the door immediately came over to him and introduced himself. 

“You must be Sean; I was told to expect you.  My name is Terence Naughton, people call me Terry.  I’m afraid you’ll have to get a different chair.  That one won’t suit” he said emphatically as he reached out to shake his hand. 

Sean shook it, nodding in the affirmative and then Terry clapped his hands loudly, which reverberated around the gym to get everyone’s attention and then motioned for them to approach him.  They formed a semi-circle and then Terry told them to introduce themselves, once he said that this is Sean. 

One by one, they did so but there were too many names to remember.  It was a mixed group with more women than men; each with a varying degree of disability.  This didn’t surprise Sean as he had done his research and knew it was an inclusive sport. 

This is due to a unique classification system used ostensibly to maximize participation.  Classification is an international regulation for playing wheelchair basketball to harmonize players’ different levels of disabilities. All teams which compete above a recreational level use the classification system to evaluate the functional abilities of players on a point scale of 1 to 4.5. Minimally disabled athletes are classified as a 4.5, and an individual with the highest degree of disability (such as a paraplegic with a complete injury below the chest) would be classified as a 1.0, this is where Sean expected to fit in. Competitions restrict the number of points allowable on the court at one time. The five players from each team on the court during play may not exceed a total of 14 points.  It was even possible for able-bodied people to compete.  People with disabilities apparently didn’t believe in discrimination. 

It was also immediately apparent that Sean was indeed in the wrong sort of wheelchair.  He had an inkling that this might be the case but wasn’t sure how seriously things would be taken.  But now he had his answer, very seriously. 

Their wheelchairs were sleek and designed for stability.  Sean now found himself getting quite embarrassed about the yoke he had shown up in.  It won’t happen again, he thought to himself. 

Terry then clapped his hand once more and told them to get back to training.  Then he started explaining the sport in intricate detail to Sean.  The most important part was dribbling.  He explained that a player may wheel the chair and bounce the ball simultaneously, however, if the ball is picked up and/or placed on the player’s lap, he/she is only allowed to push twice before they are obligated to shoot, pass, or dribble the ball again. There is no double dribble rule in wheelchair basketball. A traveling violation occurs if the player takes more than two pushes while in possession of the ball without dribbling. A player is not allowed to touch the playing surface with his or her feet while in possession of the ball. 

A goal is credited to the team attacking the basket into which the ball has entered as follows: 

• A goal from a free throw, counts as one (1) point; 

• A goal from the two-point field goal area counts two (2) points; 
• A goal from the three-point field goal area counts three (3) points. 

Every team has 24 seconds to complete its attempt to score a basket. If the team with the ball exceeds this time limit, then the ball and the right of play is granted to the opposing team. 

Surprisingly to Sean, it was played on the same court with the basket at the same height as running basketball.  It was also a very physical sport with wheelchairs regularly whacking off one another. 

Terry explained that in this sport, the wheelchair was seen as an extension of the body and that this was important in establishing responsibility for contact on the court in the case of charging, blocking, going out of bounds, and other violations.   

There were other rules about how long you could stay in parts of the court but Sean had taken in as much as he could and was now anxious to give it a try.  But Terry told him there was too much risk of injury without the proper wheelchair.  Sean had to spend the rest of the session watching the others have fun.  But that night he resolved he would be ready for the next time.  The next day he had one of the specially designed wheelchairs ordered and bought himself a basketball.   

He found himself thinking less about work and more about his strategy for the game.  Fortunately, the wheelchair arrived on the fourth day so he got to have some time adjusting to his new equipment. 

He did have some problems though.  One was the lack of space in his house to practice the dribbling and he often found himself crashing into different parts of furniture.  Fortunately, there was no girlfriend there to scold him about trashing the place.  Although the Filippa cleaner he employed to come in every three days looked at him funny as if wondering had he lost the plot. 

The other problem was that he didn’t have any hoop so he had to imagine one as he bounced the ball back and forth up against the wall.  He hoped that this would help him with his accuracy when it came to the real thing. 

The week passed quickly and Sean found himself in a better mood even though there had been no breakthrough in the case.  Before he knew it, it was time for training again.  He still arrived early; it was just the way he liked to do things.  This time though, he found that he was nervous about how he would perform rather than any trepidation about who he might meet. 

Terry waved towards him as he went to unlock the door.  Sean made sure he was first in so he could practice a few hoops without too many watching.  Sure enough, despite a few hours of practice, his aim was way-off.  But he didn’t let it get to him. 

Soon enough everyone had arrived and there was an air of excitement in the gym.  Terry was soon dividing the group into two teams and Sean found himself in fierce competition. 

He was wheeling up and down the court as the attack would change back and forth to defense and back again.  It took a while for any one of his teammates to pass him the ball but it happened eventually.  Terry immediately yelled at him to shoot and Sean foolishly did so to much laughter.  It was a terrible shot and he cringed on the inside.  Next time he’d think first. 

Alas after just ten minutes Sean was feeling very tired.  It was definitely a good way to keep fit.  It was much to his own relief that soon he found himself being substituted.  The sweat was pouring over him. 

A fellow athlete had also been benched.  The game was an easy ice breaker and they were soon engrossed in conversation.  Her name was Aimee.   She had a similar level of injury to him, except for a bit more weakness in the hands.  She had curly hair tied in a bun and big brown eyes. 

Sean immediately liked her warm smile and congenial personality.  She was very impressed by the fact he was a detective and she quickly mentioned “The Ripper”.  Sean reassured her that they’d catch him in the end although he really wasn’t sure it was the truth. 

Then they were both called back onto the court for another go.  He didn’t get to talk to her again that night, but over the weeks they gradually grew closer.  Eventually, Sean plucked up the courage to ask her over to his house for dinner.  She said yes. 

It had been a long time since Sean had been so nervous about meeting a woman.  He felt like a teenager again.  Before his accident, he would have been more into random hooks ups than having date nights.  But that seemed like a long time ago now and he just hoped everything went okay.  He was a terrible cook though so he enlisted the help of his cleaner with the chicken enchiladas.  That and some soft classical music should do the trick, he thought to himself.   

They had arranged to meet at seven and sure enough, the bell rang on the dot.  Sean eagerly went to the door to let her in, but not before producing some flowers.  She blushed, giving Sean a tinge of enjoyment.  This time her hair was no longer tied up but flowed over her shoulders.  She was stylishly dressed in a black dress and top tank, which accentuated her slim body. 

Everything was laid out on the table; the lights were dimmed.  Sean hoped she would appreciate the romantic gesture and not cringe.  Fortunately, it was the latter.  He offered her some wine, but it was declined; she said she had to drive.  That would have been old Sean’s main tactic down the drain but this was no longer him.  No point him not having a glass, he reasoned. 

It didn’t take long for the banter to start over the basketball and who was the better player.  But then it turned into a deeper, more nuanced conversation.  The first alternative topic they discussed was how they both came to be in wheelchairs.  Sean explained that he had been involved in a car crash, a head-on collision though he did leave out where he was coming from.  She reached out and held his hand as he told his story.  It had been some time since he had talked about it with anyone.   

Her story was just as tragic.  It happened on her way home from work one very breezy morning five years previously.  She had a temporary contract in a place in town at the time.  There were some weather warnings in place but she hadn’t heard them after going early to bed the night before. 

She was going down the same back road as every other morning and then she remembers nothing, till she came around a few weeks later.  A large branch from an Ash tree by the roadside had finally given way and it had smashed into her car leaving her seriously injured. 

Her voice was raw with emotion and Sean told her she didn’t have to continue.  But she looked into his eyes and replied that it was therapeutic to talk and she wanted him to know what happened.   

Then just like Sean she had to spend months in a hospital and rehabilitation.  It was grueling and she hoped never to experience anything like it again.  They were now firmly holding hands as Sean trying to somewhat lighten the mood asked her about her hopes for the future. 

“A job!” she said jokingly. 

She hadn’t worked full-time since her accident and also wanted something permanent.  Just to give her something to do, she didn’t really mind what it was despite having an advanced degree.  It was just so difficult to find something with a disability.  She was offered a good job six months ago but crushingly it was up two flights of stairs. 

Sean replied that he was fortunate that the Gardai had been so good to him, they had the job open for him while he was in rehabilitation and then set him up in an accessible location.  He would have hated having to look for a job in a wheelchair. 

She was only half-listening to him now though; she was lost gazing into his eyes.  He knew that he could not afford to lose the moment and gently caressed her face before kissing her.  It was deep, long and passionate.  When it was finished, they both giggled as if they were naughty teenagers.  After dinner, they retreated to the sitting room and watched a film. 

It was past midnight when she finally left.  There was a final kiss and a promise from Sean to contact her the next day.  There was no chance he would let this slip away. 

Chapter 10

Sean did contact her the next day and the day after.  Their love quickly blossomed.  It wasn’t long before she was spending the odd night at his house.  The sex was different but good and satisfying. 

It was kind, considerate and long.  With time and attention, they learned how to pleasure one another; whether it was the sensitive spot on Aimee’s neck or Sean getting his nipples sucked; they found ways to bring each other to an unconventional kind of orgasm. 

If only everything else in Sean’s life could have been so rosy.  The Ripper, although now quiet for what seemed a very long time was still at large.  The task force had been somewhat downgraded and he was mostly doing other work.  Yet, none of it could hold his interest the way The Ripper did. 

Billy was sniffing around again looking for more information.  Sean had tried to fob him off but he was becoming increasingly insistent and had enough on Sean to put him away for many years.  The last thing Sean wanted was to leave the force in public humiliation. 

So, it with great positivity that he embraced Aimee’s suggestion that they go on a holiday together.  She had intended they go somewhere in Ireland but Sean scoffed at that suggestion, thinking silently to himself that would be too close and Billy could still contact him. 

Somewhere in England for a week would be much better and they should go very soon.  At first, Aimee protested that she needed time to save up for such a trip.  But Sean insisted that he would be a good boyfriend and pay for it.  After all, he had told her that he was very serious about her and this was not just a frivolous relationship.  In any event, it was now early Autumn and the weather was predicted to be good, it could be their last opportunity to get away for some time. 

That night the internet research began.  They both liked the idea of a road trip; Sean had always wanted to drive through the United Kingdom so he quickly got quite excited at the prospect.  Aimee suggested going to Liverpool for the week but Sean wanted to go further.  However, they both agreed it could be one of the stops. 

It was after that agreement that Sean brought up the fact that he had always wanted to go to London; there was something mythical about the place – the history, monuments and great places to visit.  In particular, Sean had always wanted to see the London Eye. 

Aimee required some convincing though; it would be such a long trip.  But eventually, over a few days, Sean convinced her it was a good idea or at least, she went along with it, anyway. 

The internet proved to be an invaluable resource in planning the trip.  Surprisingly, they were able to organize everything to leave the following Monday.  The ferry, hotels they would be staying in and even the London Eye were all booked in quick succession.   

It was with some relief when the following Monday finally came along.  Billy had wanted to meet but Sean was able to tell him that he would be out of the country.  So, it was with a sense of glee that Sean set off on the trip with Aimee by his side. 

The first stop destination was Dublin port to get the ferry to Hollyhead.  Neither of them had been on the ferry previously so it was a new experience for both.  Unfortunately, there were quite big waves on the sea and Aimee quickly became unwell. 

Sean had more of a head for it though and relished the experience.  He left Aimee for a time to have a look at the amenities on the ship.  In one location you could take a seat and watch the latest film; in another, you could play games consoles or even go out the back of the ship to look at the sea. 

It was a short trip taking just shy of two hours to cross the sea to Wales.  That was the real beginning of the holiday.  The next few days were some of the best Sean ever had.  It wasn’t the trip though that made it special, it was Aimee.  There was nothing that matched waking up in the morning and looking into her beautiful eyes; to feel her soft skin pressed against his body; he never thought he would enjoy life so much. 

The London Eye was as special as he thought it would be.  It never came to a complete halt so you just had to wheel onto it at exactly the right time.  The view when the pod reached its maximum height was fantastically panoramic.  Sean and Aimee were able to look over the bustling city in perfect bliss.  The sound of the French students, who got on at the same time chatting away only added to the experience. 

Sean suggested they go for a few pints when they got back to the hotel, which was in the heart of the city.  Aimee quickly agreed; a few pints were needed after another busy day and they were both exhausted from pushing their wheelchairs around all day. 

The bar, which was on the ground floor of a six-story hotel and looking onto the street was busy but they managed to find a nice corner for themselves.   It was too crowded to move much, so they waited for a staff member to come their way.  This took a few minutes, but they didn’t mind as they were both happy just to relax for a while. 

Then the pints began to flow.  The staff were pleasant and made sure to check if they needed another one every so often.  Originally, they were supposed to be taking it easy but it quickly turned into a session. 

After Sean had his third pint, his tongue began to loosen and he started to strike up random conversations with those around him.  Being mostly tourists themselves, they were happy to chat away too. 

There were the students from Australia, the couple from Scotland and a group of South Africans.  Sean was in his element but Aimee being a much more reserved type retired back to their room after the first two hours to rest.  She told Sean that there was no need for him to rush back and to enjoy himself.    It was music to his ears. 

As he was talking to the group of South Africans, a man with a strong Yorkshire accent at another table interjected. 

“Sorry Sir, did you say you were a police officer from Ireland?” 

If someone asked him that question in a pub back in Ireland, it would make Sean nervous.  The conversation would quickly take a nasty turn to speeding fines or the like.   But Sean felt comfortable enough about it in London. 

He turned around to face the man who was having dinner with a woman, then smiled and said that he was. 

“Do you hear that Maggie, imagine that!  This guy’s a copper from Ireland.  I’m a police officer too, from here in London.  Just having dinner and some pints here with the wife.  My name is Jim,” he replied in a jolly tone. 

Police officers always have a great affinity for one another even when they’re from different countries.  There’s a sense of brotherhood about fighting crime, no matter where or when it is.  But it turned out they were both detectives making it all the greater. 

For the next few hours, they became engrossed in conversation with Maggie saying she would pick up her husband later in their car.  There was just so much to discuss.  The differing staffing and crime levels between the two jurisdictions, not to mention the details of how Sean came to be in a wheelchair. 

Inevitably though the topic of the “Irish Ripper” came to the fore.  Sean was surprised that Jim had heard very little about him, save for remembering a brief mention on the news one night. 

Sean slowly brought him up to speed about the murders and their savagery as well as the different theories about who might be behind them.  Jim was surprised that there was not more about them on this side of the pond. 

But Sean told him that there was very little talk about Ireland in the UK full stop.  It might as well be on the other side of the globe.  If you wanted to know what was happening in Ireland, you had to buy an Irish paper as if it was some curious special interest. 

Sean then told Jim that what really fascinated him was how the Ripper just suddenly appeared from nowhere, and yet was in so proficient at what he did.    Nobody in Ireland could quite figure it out.  It seemed like he could break into anyone’s house without leaving any clues. 

Jim stopped and looked into space for the moment as if he had suddenly become lost in his thoughts.  After a moment, Sean quizzed him about what was on his mind. 

“It’s just what you’re describing reminds me of a case here in England a few years ago.  Except, he was mostly a rapist.  He terrorized Reading and got the moniker of the Reading Rapist.  No matter what we did, we couldn’t stop him.  Then he just stopped the attacks.  To be honest, there was just a huge sense of relief. 

Maybe like what happens with many police operations, we merely moved him on to a different area,” he said in somewhat of a distraught tone. 

Although by now quite intoxicated, Sean suddenly became focused. 

“What do you mean by mostly a rapist?” 

Jim explained that a couple was murdered as the attacks came to an end but there were differing opinions about whether they were the same man as the rapist.  It might have just been a coincidence. 

For the next hour, nothing was discussed except “The Reading Rapist”.  It was obvious that he was a psychopath, but was he a killer? 

He was a ghoul with no understanding of the concept of remorse.  Of particular disgust he was known to phone his victims months after the attacks, taunting them on the phone and telling that he wasn’t quite finished them yet causing them further huge distress.  Jim had seen the aftermath once himself with a woman sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.  The local police had never encountered anything like it before.  The sheer nastiness of the fellow, he simply loved the despair of others. 

They had little knowledge of what the rapist looked like, he always wore a ski mask and gloves.  Some of the women stated that he had a small penis, though that did nothing to alleviate their suffering.  There was one peculiar thing about him though, he took pubic hair from his victims as some sort of trophy. 

Sean seized on this information; this is something that could have been missed on the autopsies of victims in Ireland.  He needed to take this information back home.  It could help to crack the case. 

For a brief alcohol-infused moment Sean felt like he had special powers, that he could see things that others just couldn’t; imagining his future appearance on the RTE news explaining how he had caught “The Irish Ripper”. 

A fellow drunk then interrupted the conversation and the topic changed to rugby and which country had the best team.  It would last a further hour before all finally agreed that it was time for bed.  Well, that and the fact that no further alcohol was going to be served. 

Jim rang his wife for the lift home but not before sticking a calling card into Sean’s pocket; Sean then began the long, arduous process of heading up to his room and into bed.  The wheelchair felt so much harder to push over the hallway carpet after a few drinks.  Fortunately, he just about managed to open the door of his room and get into the bed. 

The next morning came far too quickly for Sean.  Aimee, who for the first time on the trip was less than impressed with him insisted on drawing the curtains once she was up in a passive-aggressive manner.  It was the first time he had seen this side of her. 

“Is there something wrong?” he innocently asked, before regretting it almost instantaneously. 

She was disgusted with him coming into the room so drunk.  This was supposed to be a romantic holiday, not a booze-up.  Sean apologized but she abruptly left the room.  He would have to do a lot of sweet-talking later. 

As he lay on the bed thinking about the night before, trying to remember what had happened, he suddenly remembered meeting Jim and their long conversation about the Reading Rapist and The Irish Ripper.  It gave him a sudden burst of energy to get up and write down all the important points into his notes.  They would be so interested to hear all about this back in Dublin, he was sure of it.

Chapter 11

Reality hit when Sean arrived back in Dublin.  With the task force now more or less defunct, nobody of importance was interested in what he has to say.  There had been no further murders in quite some time and despite the pleas of the victims’ families, other priorities had taken precedence, such as trying to infiltrate criminal gangs and dissident republican groupings. 

The only other Gardai that took what he thought seriously were Laura and Jack during their daily coffee break.  Sean wondered whether he would be taken more seriously if he was still able to walk.  It was always nagging at him at the back of his mind.   

Sean had other troubles though and, in many ways, The Ripper was now a nice distraction.  Billy had become a permanent thorn on his side.  Unfortunately, Sean had little leave remaining and couldn’t escape to another country again. 

Using a wheelchair also made him particularly easy to corner.  It was impossible for him to walk quickly away or take a side street.  Sean wished he could just shoot him but that wasn’t an option, at least for now. 

So instead Sean found himself feeding Billy information.  He could no longer sneakily look at the physical folders but the folders on the Garda intranet system were a totally different matter.  Due to his work on “The Ripper”, he had been given the maximum-security clearance.  Almost certainly it should have been revoked but he just failed to notify his IT section and nobody seemed to notice. 

BIlly was becoming a big-time boss on the back of the information Sean was supplying him.  Suspicions in the station were growing that something wasn’t quite right especially after two drug busts went awry and an informer went “missing”.   

Sean knew that things were now getting way out of hand but he couldn’t bring himself to confess his wrongdoings.  It just wouldn’t happen.  The more interactions he had with Billy the more despicable he found him to be.  There was no moral compass or anything that would even remotely be considered a redeemable trait.  It was also clear that he had a long-running vendetta against the Gardai and took pleasure in making Sean squirm. 

The only light at the end of the tunnel was Aimee who was now staying most nights at his house.  Each night, the dinner would be ready when he arrived home and then they would spend their evenings wrapped together on the sofa.  The only night it differed was when training for wheelchair basketball beckoned. 

Still, even Aimee could not stop the sleepless nights that were now plaguing him.  It was a manifestation of the feeling of dread he felt throughout the day but he couldn’t admit that to her.  Instead, he blamed it fictional tablets that he was supposed to be taking, although he wasn’t quite sure if she believed him. 

The nightmare was always the same.  His colleagues and the community at large had discovered what he had been up to.  Their disgust was evident in their eyes.  Sean tried to explain in vain that it wasn’t his fault, however erroneously but nobody said anything to him.  It’s the shunning that terrified him.  A world where nobody would have anything to do with him again. 

One night was particularly bad, he woke up in a panic sweating, with what feels like a heavy weight on his chest, Aimee’s concerned eyes looking down wondering if he would survive the night.  Just like every other night he shrugs off her concerns and tells her to go back asleep. 

Previously, he too would quickly go back to sleep but not tonight, no matter how much he tossed and turned.  Feelings of his imminent demise would not diffuse and there was nothing he could do about it.  Instead, he just waited for the alarm clock to go off that would signal it was time to get up till it finally did. 

The dark, dreary morning was the perfect match for his somber mood.  He was beginning to think there was little point in carrying on but found the courage from somewhere to get into his car and drive to the station. 

Most days he would turn on the radio to find out what was the news of the day but this time, he just couldn’t be bothered.  There was never anything of interest on it anyway, he would think to himself.  Just the same tired nonsense about house prices and the weather; little else seemed to matter to Irish people. 

In fact, he didn’t talk to anybody on entering the station either – just went straight to his desk to begin the daily drudgery of data entry. 

It was with somewhat of a fright when Garda Mulhern burst into his office. 

“What are ya doing here?  The meeting is about to start!” she exclaimed in a panicked voice. 

She knew by the blank stare that she received in response that he had no idea what she was on about. 

“Did you check your emails, listen to the news, anything??  What world do you live in?  I know about the meeting and I’m not even on the bloody taskforce.” 

Nothing more needed to be said, The Ripper was back.  Sean immediately followed her to the meeting room.  On the way, she explained that the victims were very well known this time: they were a TD and his wife. 

Sean couldn’t believe that the one morning something like this happened, was the same morning he didn’t turn on the radio.  He quickly followed Laura to the lift so they could go up to the top floor where the meeting was being held.  All along she reiterated that he must mention his theory about The Ripper being from England, especially since he had now mentioned so many times during tea break.  He assured her that he would.  With that she opened the door and in he went. 

The meeting had already started, Superintendent DeRossa was at the front presiding over it.  The mood was somber.  There was nowhere for Sean to park so he was forced to go conspicuously to the front.   He expected a warm glance in his direction but none was forthcoming.  Instead, it felt frosty, so different from the past.  For over an hour they reviewed the previous murders assiduously before finally getting to the latest ones. 

There was still only preliminary information available.  The bodies were found in the couples’ holiday home just outside Donegal Town.  Once more, there was no sign of forced entry.  But this time things didn’t seem to have gone quite so well for the attacker.  It appears that the couple put up a serious fight for their lives – perhaps because of previous media attention, they knew what awaited them if they didn’t. 

It appeared that both died from multiple stab wounds and it looked like the wife may have been raped quite some time after she had died.  This time the Gardai were confident that at least some of the blood at the scene was from the attacker so they were hopeful of finally getting DNA evidence.  This would prove crucial to any future prosecution. 

The victims were a well-known, TD from County Meath, and her husband.  They were the parents of a five-year-old girl and a ten-year-old boy, who were being looked after by their grandmother at the time.  At this point, it was unknown if they were specifically targeted or simply unfortunate to be chosen at random.  She was similar to previous female victims, being of a slender build, quite attractive and in her early thirties. 

The mood at the meeting remained downcast throughout with not a word being said out of turn.  Eventually, the Superintendent asked the room if there were any questions.  Sean knew that Laura would never forgive him if he didn’t speak now, so that’s what he did. 

“Actually Sir, I was wondering if I could officially contact the Met in England about a potential connection…” 

The Superintendent stopped him before he could finish. 

“Yes, I read your correspondences.  At this stage we need to try everything so fire ahead,” he said matter-of-factly.  

Not quite the ringing endorsement Sean had expected but it would have to do.  The Superintendent may have been sour due to the recent murders and being under a lot of pressure, he thought to himself. 

With that, the meeting was over and everyone filed back to their desks or wherever they had to go.  For Sean that meant going back down the lift and straight on the phone to England; he had made sure to keep Jim’s number.  

As he rang, he quickly browsed through his emails, but there was nothing about the meeting.  For some reason, he had not even been invited.  Just as well Laura had accidentally coerced him into going uninvited. 

At least Jim was happy to hear from him.  Even he had heard about the latest murder.  The fact a politician was involved had rocketed up the publicity. 

“Great to hear from you Sean!  I was just thinking about you when I heard about the politician being murdered.  In truth, I had expected to hear from you some time ago.” 

Sean explained that it had taken some time to get the required authorization and gave him the details of what he knew about the latest killings.  Jim was intrigued and said that he would forward all the information he had about the Reading Rapist. 

Finally, Sean felt that he was making some sort of process.  But the hard part of definitely linking the rapist to the murderer was still to be done.  Jim emailed him everything later that day. 

The Reading Rapist was everything that Jim had said he was and more.  At his peak, he was insatiably carrying out multiple attacks within a week.  It was not just the extreme violence that marked him out but also the callousness.  As Jim had said, he would cruelly tell his victims during the rape that he would always watch over them and then ring his them months later to remind them, groaning down the phone line. 

It was all about power and exerting continuing control over his victims.  This was something he had in common with “The Ripper” but had it grown or evolved to him becoming a killer and if so, were they the one and the same or was there a further madman on the loose? 

A clear sign that they were indeed one and the same perpetrator would be if genital hair had been removed from the latest female victim.  Sean immediately started typing up an email to the Superintendent requesting permission to contact the State Pathologist. 

All too soon, it came to time for Sean to go home.  Well, it was that or get locked in for the night.  It did cross his mind but he thought the better of it; it would not look good if he was disheveled at work the following day. 

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Aimee said jokingly but with a touch of scorn. 

She knew there was only one person that could keep her beloved away from her and that person was a faceless monster, at least for now.  Often, she wished that she just had a normal boring boyfriend but there was little point in trying to change him.  Instead, she knew he would be galvanized once she heard about the murders earlier in the day. 

The dinner was long gone cold but that bothered Sean little as he excitedly told Aimee about the latest developments while he ate.   

“He’s struck again.  He’s not going to stop killing till we stop him.  Why is it so hard for those idiots to understand?” 

Indeed, she was somewhat interested, at least at first.  But after a while, the grizzly details of the murders became too much; that was when she enticed him to her bed to make use of his renewed vigor. 

The Superintendent confirmed that Sean could contact the State Pathologist the following morning and he quickly phoned him to tell him what to look for based on cases from the Reading Rapist. 

Then the anxious wait to hear back began.  Either fame if there was a link between the two ghastly characters or infamy if it was not as someone who peddled a preposterous theory to his colleagues. 

In vain, he tried to concentrate on some of his other work.  Instead, he found himself staring blankly at the screen thinking of little else.  Every minute, then hour, was counted as he waited for the pathologist to get back to him. 

Then midway through the afternoon, the phone rang in his small office.  Sean suddenly felt nervous.  Unfortunately, it was a short conversation and not the news that Sean wanted to hear.  No pubic hair had been removed from the female victim’s vagina.  His heart sank; no link was established.  All that time and energy was spent for nothing.  Worse still, all of the blood was from the victims. 

He sank into the back of his wheelchair and stared at the white ceiling.  Perhaps he had become overly invested in the investigation.  Then Laura popped her head around the door wondering if there had been any update. 

The last thing Sean wanted to do was talk to someone but he tried to put up a brave face on it.  She could tell how disappointed he was that there was no link and told him that you just never know when a new clue might appear.  He nodded in agreement, even if he didn’t think it at the time. 

Little did he know then, but a few hours later things were to get much worse.  As Sean was leaving out the back of the Garda Station, there was Billy waiting by his car, covertly holding up a newspaper over his face, presumably so he couldn’t be identified by any of the surveillance cameras. 

Sean’s heart thumped knowing that he was in all sorts of danger. 

“Eh what the fuck are you doing here?” he said angrily, but quietly all the same. 

“I’ve been looking for you and I don’t like having to look for people,” he replied. 

It was true, Sean had been ignoring his calls for him and the occasional note left at his house for weeks, blindly hoping that Billy would just go away.  Alas, he was not to have such luck. 

“You work for me pig, don’t ever forget that.  Now I have a little mission for you, cripple.  Meet me at the Kindergarten 3 pm Thursday or you’ll live to regret it,” he said sternly before walking slowly away. 

Sean became teary-eyed; the realization that he would never be done with Billy was now really hitting him.  Maybe he should just turn his wheelchair around and hand himself in, telling his colleagues everything. No, things had just gone too far for that; he pulled himself together and got into the car.

Chapter 12

The next two days passed painfully slow at work.  His life felt like it was falling apart.  Now to add to his problem he found himself arguing with Aimee, who had been up to this point, a rock of comfort that he could depend on.   

He knew in his more lucid moments that it was mostly him to blame for this.  He had been taking out his foul mood on her.  Sometimes, it was her mere chirpiness and positive attitude that he found bothersome. 

Or perhaps it was feelings of guilt, knowing that at any time his mistakes could come to light and her life would be shattered.  Some of the shame would surely end up with her and how would she cope with it for the rest of her days? 

Sean wasn’t exactly sure what Billy wanted, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.  He had thought about doing some work before their meeting but he found it too hard to concentrate. 

Then at quarter-past-two and just as he was about to leave, Laura entered the office.  This was the last thing Sean needed as Laura liked to talk. 

“How come you missed tea?  Not like you?” she asked inquisitively. 

“Oh, I just had a lot of work on.  Actually, I’m just on the way to a medical appointment.” 

He realized the mistake once he said it.  She immediately asked was something wrong and he struggled to think of anything to say.  So, he told her that he would tell her about it tomorrow, to give him some time to think of something. 

“Actually, there was something else that I wanted.   I was thinking last night about the pathologist not finding anything.  Maybe the struggle that was involved; made the killer change from his usual routine.  He panicked or something like that.” 

It was an intriguing possibility, Sean thought to himself and for a moment he really wanted to stop and think about it.  But he had to go or risk Billy’s ire.  So, he told her that he would keep an open mind and continue to look into the possibility that there was a link. 

With that, he bid her farewell and went out to his car.  It was of course not permissible for police just to head off on a personal matter, but sometimes his disability came in handy.  It could be used as an excuse for all sorts of things. 

So, off he went to the designated location to meet Billy.  “Kindergarten”, was of course, a code word for waste ground on the outskirts of Dublin.  Billy always liked using codewords as he believed the added layer of complexity would make it that bit more difficult for the Gardai to ever prosecute him. 

As Sean had expected, Billy was there waiting for him.  Sean hated this place; the muck made it difficult for him to push his wheelchair around and it brought forth all the memories of the times he had betrayed his colleagues. 

On this occasion, Billy was more anxious than usual, nervously pulling on a cigarette; normally he was just angry.  He had bad news for them both.  He was certain that informers had Infiltrated his gang and that it was known that he had a mole in the Gardai. 

He wanted Sean to uncover who they were and fast, so he could personally shoot them on the spot.  Sean tried to explain that there was little he could do, especially if Special Branch had gotten involved.  But Billy was having none of it; having grown tired of Sean’s endless excuses.  So, he threw down an ultimatum and left.   

“Either you find who these cretins are or it will be you getting the bullet.” 

A threat from Billy was not something to be taken lightly but there really was little he could do.  With that, he wheeled back over the muck and stones to his car to head back to work. 

He should have been petrified, but strangely a calm came over him.  There was nothing more he could do having been metaphorically surrounded on all sides except await his fate. 

In ways Billy putting a bullet in his head wouldn’t be the worst way to go, in fact, it would be far preferable to his sins coming to public attention; at least this way there would be tears shed at his funeral. 

So, back to work he went and started to tidy his desk; removing all those files that had been languishing on his desk so that at least his desk would be tidy when the end came; he couldn’t have people saying that he was messy. 

He didn’t bother working late; there was just no point.  Instead, he wanted to spend as much as he could with Aimee, without alarming her.  She should have some positive moments to remember when he was gone, he thought. 

They had been working hard on their relationship, and she was thrilled with the flowers he had bought for her on his way home.   

“What are these for?” she asked lovingly, gazing into his eyes. 

“Just felt like getting you a little something,” he replied in earnest.   

That night, they watched a romantic film before retiring to the bedroom where they kissed passionately and fondled each other’s bodies, into the early hours.  Sean knew now that Aimee was the love of his life and they both knew how to maximize the pleasure of their partner. 

Sean particularly liked having his nipples gently licked and sucked; Aimee loved liked her neck being kissed.  It was like the erogenous areas on their bodies had moved after their paralysis from their lower bodies.  For hours, they lost themselves in each other before falling asleep exhausted. 

Sean heard the alarm the following morning but quickly switched it off; he didn’t care anymore if he was late for work.  It was about an hour or so later that eventually decided to rise; there was no rushing or fretting now.  He decided to turn on his radio while having his breakfast; it was just ads. 

Then just as he was pouring some milk onto his cereal, the following report blared from the radio. 

“Breaking news –  

The serial killer, infamously known as the Irish Ripper has apparently struck again.  This time the victims are from gangland and have been named locally as Billy Sullivan and a woman called Annette Cortez.” 

Sean couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  Immediately he went to check his mobile phone and there they were; five missed calls from the Station.  Sean’s serene morning had been shattered and now he was in a frenzy to get to his desk as quickly as possible. 

As he drove, his mind meandered from one thought to the next.  Surely, it couldn’t be mere coincidence, that it was Billy that was murdered by The Ripper.  The odds must be astronomical against that occurring.  But if there was a link, what could it be? 

The only link that Sean could think of was himself, but “The Ripper” wouldn’t know anything about him – surely?  All Sean really knew was that he had to get to his office as soon as possible to try to make sense of what had happened.

Chapter 13

It was not the kind of job that Laura envisioned for herself, going undercover against another cop.  But she believed in duty and at the time there seemed to be nothing worse than someone who would betray their colleagues. 

Special Branch called to her home, two weeks before Sean was due to return after his accident.  It was explained that there had been suspicions against Sean for some time, but these had been put on a back-burner when it looked unlikely that he would return to duty. 

But those calculations had now changed.  Laura, of course, asked why didn’t they just say that he was no longer fit for duty and that would be the end of it.  But they explained that the optics would be terrible.  The force had to be seen to be doing everything to help a fallen member.  It was entirely possible that he was totally innocent and he deserved his chance. 

They knew about their dalliance and that was why she was chosen; it would only be natural for her to approach him.   Indeed, she had intended doing so anyway especially since he crashed his car after leaving her place.  But she wasn’t sure she could do undercover, especially against a fellow Garda.  The ranks hated rats almost as much as those who collaborated with the gangsters. 

But then she thought about the reasons she joined the force: it was to do good for her country and bring justice where previously there had been none.  Lofty goals but these were her motivations nonetheless.  So, she accepted the assignment. 

It was therefore with mixed feelings that she heard he had returned to work.  It was now game-on.  She waited a few days before making her first approach; she wanted to come across as being natural.  In truth she had little to worry about; he had been sitting on his own during any breaks and seemed happy to have some company. 

So, it happened that they started to meet up regularly.  Before long they were joined by Garda Halpenny; that hadn’t been part of the plan but instead, it seemed to happen organically, although Laura was pretty sure that he fancying her had at least played some part. 

After some time, she almost forgot about her assignment; they were just three good friends that happened to meet regularly.  In fact, at times she felt guilty as if she was betraying them by her subterfuge, but she still had a job to do and hopefully, they would never find out anyway.   

But then things began to change.  She noticed that Sean seemed to be more stressed and agitated than he had been; Special Branch told her that there was definitely a leak and he was still a suspect.  It seemed to happen after he made that pass at her. 

There was no way that she could get involved with him; it would have compromised her assignment and even if it didn’t, she wasn’t sure how she would feel about it.  Yes, they had sex previously but that was only a one-night thing and that was all.  She also wasn’t sure if she could date any paraplegic; she enjoyed the rough, physical sex after-all.  None of these were reasons she felt she could say to Sean so she told him that she saw him only as a friend.  In truth, she had mixed feelings when she heard about his girlfriend though, which she hadn’t expected to happen.   

But it could have been “The Ripper” that caused his changed demeanor.  From the beginning, he seemed to lose himself in the investigation and would sometimes talk about the case for the whole break. 

Laura thought that he was definitely on to something when he returned from England; she even relayed it to Special Branch but they stated it might just be a diversion.  Cruelly, they even informed the Super that he was not to be trusted.  But she knew that Sean wouldn’t be capable of doing that even if he was the mole; it mattered too much to him. 

She knew that Sean hadn’t been invited to that meeting but they needed to hear what he had to say; it was just too important for them to ignore.  So, she took the opportunity to rush him up to it and hoped with bated breath that things would work out. 

It was with much relief that she heard that he had been listened to.  But everything in their intertwined lives seemed to be up, then down.  She was as disappointed as Sean when the pathologist could find no apparent link. 

She was bothered though by Sean’s supposed medical appointment that morning.  It seemed to come totally out of the blue and he wasn’t able to give much of an explanation.  She knew when she was being fobbed off and this was definitely it.  A few minutes after he had left, she darted into his office to see if she could find anything and there it was.  

He had left his mobile phone behind, something that was important to him and that he would usually never forget.  But it was something he would leave behind if he didn’t want to have his location tracked.  This was the first time she was now felt very confident that she was being lied to. 

It dawned on her that Sean may be a dirty cop after all.  She had wanted to follow him, but irritatingly she was down to do surveillance in a different case within the hour.  But she knew there would be a next time.

Chapter 14

As Sean reached the station, he began to feel something different.  For a few moments, he wasn’t quite sure what it was.  Then it hit him; it was relief.  Billy was dead and now a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  He was finally free from the blackmail. 

Nobody liked Billy anyway, Sean thought to himself.  It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person; though Sean feared that innocents may also have gotten caught up in what had happened. 

The station felt alive: there was a frantic hustle and bustle everywhere.  Sean asked a new recruit what was going on and after getting a somewhat quizzical look in return, the young officer explained that Billy’s killing had set off a night of retaliatory attacks even though it might not have been gang-related.  The young officer hadn’t heard anything about the killing itself, only that it was gruesome. 

Sean pushed himself down to his office and turned on his computer; he knew that information about the killing would likely cross his desk later that day.  In the meantime, he could try to clear some of his emails, after all, he now had a future to worry about. 

But then he stopped in his tracks and shuddered, scarcely believing his eyes.  For a few seconds, all he could do was stare.  It was written in bold on the subject line of an email sent from the dark web –   

A PRESENT FROM YOUR FRIEND – THE IRISH RIPPER  

Eventually, Sean plucked up the courage to open it. 

My dear Cripple, 

It appears you were having some trouble from a local thug.  Fear not, that has now been dealt with.  This is our story and you are my nemesis.  Others have no part to play and I am the only person allowed inflict misery on you. 

For a few minutes, his heart racing, Sean contemplated what to do next.  He could report the communications to his superiors but that would bring the spotlight onto himself too. 

But if he didn’t, it would not only mean a possible lead could be missed but also that he might become the next victim.  Sean tried to take some solace from the fact there was no overt death threat but the fact he mentioned inflicting misery didn’t sound like something to be too positive about either.  

Sean quickly resolved that he would say nothing; he was a survivor and believed that he would somehow find a third way.  But what that way would be, he had no idea whatsoever. 

Laura then popped her head in the door and asked if he wanted to go for a quick cuppa, which he replied in the affirmative.  At times though it felt more like an interrogation than a friendly chat, with questions such as 

Why are you in late? 

How did your medical appointment go? 

But perhaps it was mere paranoia after the strange turn of events.  If he couldn’t trust her, there was nobody. 

A few hours later the report and photos of the latest killing came onto Sean’s desk.  It made for somber analysis.  Sean had heard earlier in the day that there were two victims; this came somewhat as a relief to Sean as he understood Billy had three children and would much prefer not having to look at their mutilated bodies.  He was with a mistress rather than his wife at the time of the killing. 

This killing was very different from those that came before; it was hurried and rushed.  It was only the mutilation and savagery that led you to suspect it was the work of the Irish Ripper.  Perhaps this is what happens when one psychopath meets another; Sean knew that Billy would have put up a fight and cared little for his companion, no matter what he had previously told her. 

The Ripper would almost certainly try to use the woman as leverage to control the man but Billy would not have let that happen.  Sure enough, the photos of the scene paint a picture of a violent struggle; the woman’s throat was merely slashed as if he needed to kill her quickly and she had not been raped. 

Billy had died from multiple slash wounds, but most significantly there were traces of blood on his fists, the results of which would be available later that day.  At last, The Ripper would be brought to justice, albeit not from an expected sequence of events. 

A meeting was scheduled for four o’clock leaving Sean impatient as he repeatedly looked over the photos.  He came up with his own narrative of what had occurred.  The Ripper must have followed him to his meeting to Billy and realized that Sean was in trouble for some reason.  Being a narcissist, he decided in his twisted mind that it should only all be about him.  So, he followed Billy with the aim of removing him from the picture. 

The motivation for this murder was different from the others, leading to him being less meticulous and sloppy.  It may also be down to him getting over-confident after getting away with so much.  In any event, he decided to proceed hastily. 

The woman would likely have been targeted first; perhaps as she lay asleep in her bed.  But he killed her quickly when it became apparent how little Billy cared about her; to him, she would have been little more than a favorite sex doll. 

Then a physical confrontation would have ensued.  It would have been a clash of titans; The Ripper’s blades versus Billy’s fists.  It must have been an epic; either way it was decisive with a bloodied heap left in the room which led to retaliatory attacks against the wrong enemy across the city. 

Sean was well prepared for this meeting and made sure he had a position near the front.  But there were troubling signals from the very beginning that things were not going to end well.  The murmurings were more about gang warfare rather than the work of a serial killer. 

Those murmurings reflected the general tone of the meeting that followed.  There was no real evidence that The Ripper was involved whatsoever; it didn’t have his signature and was far more likely just made to look like it to cover his tracks.  The rest of the meeting was spent erroneously trying draw up a list of suspects from gangland. 

Sean wanted to scream that he had the definitive link, that The Ripper had contacted him directly; that what seemed strange from their perspective actually made perfect sense.  But he couldn’t, he would implicate himself.  So, with increasing sorrow, he watched and listened as the investigation went down the completely wrong track. 

Then things went from bad to worse.  They stated that there was no match in the database from the blood analysis; this was a sickening blow.  Up to that point, Sean had taken solace from the fact that The Ripper would be caught for at least one murder. 

The rest of the meeting went in a blur as Sean watched helplessly from the sidelines; it seemed like a sick joke and Sean pondered how much The Ripper would enjoy viewing it if only he could.  Sean left abruptly as the meeting ended, too sickened to look another Garda in the eye. 

It wasn’t only Sean though that was having a miserable day.  Garda Mulhern had been told earlier that day that following Billy’s death, Special Branch would no longer be requiring her services. 

She was gutted; this had been her big opportunity to make a breakthrough in her career but it had resulted in failure.  Worse still, she was being transferred in her general duties to the Traffic Corps.  Special Branch had been blocking the reassignment until now but there was no longer a reason to do so. 

Although every Garda was expected to spend at least some time in Traffic, it was something she was hoping to skip; lots of long boring days lay ahead. 

Chapter 15

Months had passed and there was much change.  The government poured money into the Gardai after crime went to the top of the political agenda after public anger reached boiling point.  The gangs and gang warfare that were destroying the lives of ordinary Dubliners were finally brought under control. 

Nobody was in any doubt that the drug dealing business was still alive and well, but hundreds of arrests had put dampeners on it, and more importantly, finally put a stop to the tit-for-tat killings that had plagued the city since Billy’s death. 

But “The Ripper” hung over the entire country like a dark cloud.  Kids would now taunt one another with the threat that they would send “The Ripper” after them and their families. 

The ghastly beast had further evolved; he was now a family annihilator.  The unfortunate Gardai who were called to the latest scene of horror were all traumatized afterward; one quit the following week; another was found hanging by his wife in the garden shed. 

The latest victims were found in a desolate house on a lakeshore close to Mullingar.  This time it was a married couple and their five children.  Both the kids and the husband were forced to watch as The Ripper performed his usual signature of rape and mutilation of the woman before they had their throats slit in turn.  In a cruel twist, it became apparent that the youngest was the last left to die. 

It brought a sense of horror to the entire country, which had never before even imagined such savagery.  Not only were women now openly told not to go outside alone, kids were locked in their houses and neighbors made sure to do night calls to everyone in the locality, to try to ensure evil did not come knocking. 

Then the newspaper messages started.  Nobody was sure if they were really from him, but the bloodstains that accompanied them matched some of the victims.  Some said that the newspapers shouldn’t have published them, but they claimed it was in the public interest and in any event, they attracted huge morbid interest. 

They mostly took the form of taunting the general public and jeering the efforts of the Gardai to catch him.  It terrified the general public and destroyed the morale of the force. 

Wherever you go I will be watching you; your wife and daughters will be mine.  Those pigs wouldn’t catch a fly. 

Have a beautiful woman?  I can fix that! 

It was now international news with extensive coverage on news channels throughout the world; The Ripper was almost certainly soaking up all the attention with glee; almost certainly relishing the pain, suffering, and fear of others. 

Sean was living a nightmare; once he had seen those photos of the kids with their throats slit, he couldn’t take anymore and went out sick from work.  The emotional pain and guilt that he was feeling turned him towards the drink.  His accident was nothing compared to this. 

Then his relationship quickly crumbled.  Sean didn’t blame her; he was unable to explain his despair or why he preferred drunken oblivion to her warm touch.  In truth, Sean just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery and so he shut everyone else out of his life too. 

Laura hated the Traffic Corp as much as she thought she would, deriving little pleasure from catching speeding motorists or drunk drivers; when there was real police work, she could be doing.  Her days were long and monotonous; at times she found herself longing for a fight to break out or for someone to try and steal a purse in front of her.  Alas not; she constantly found herself surrounded by mostly law-abiding citizens, much to her chagrin. 

To make matters even worse, she despised the colleagues she found herself working with; they were just so dull and conceited.  She doubted any of them had ever broken a law or cheated at a game.  She could no longer pop in for a quick cup of tea at the station and had been feeling quite depressed and isolated for quite some time. 

This wasn’t the life she wanted or had done so much training for.  Her life had been on such a better trajectory until Billy’s death.  At times she even considered quitting the force but it had always been her dream, she couldn’t just let it go. 

Then one ordinary Wednesday morning, she met Jack while he was on patrol.  They talked and talked, there was so much to catch up on.  Jack now had a steady girlfriend, which made her heart sink a little as her love life was still dismal, and he was loving his work.  Laura lied and told him that everything was fine with her, but he sensed something was wrong and gave her some words of encouragement. 

Then the conversation inevitably turned to Sean and how he was, which was not very good at all.  Jack told her that he hadn’t seen Sean in weeks, that he had gone really down-hill since his relationship break up. 

“I think they might be over.  From what I hear, he has gone into a real downward spiral so I can’t blame her.  The rumor is that he’s drinking heavily every day.  Perhaps he’s already worked his last day,” Jack said in a downbeat tone. 

Laura made a mental note that she must go see him.  In truth, she really missed him, which was not something she would have expected.  Sure, he probably wasn’t the most honest of guys but there a bit of a lovable rogue about him; it pained her that his life had become so wretched. 

That was the last topic of their conversation and with that, they parted ways but not before she got Sean’s eircode from him.  Laura then watched him walking off into the distance; anything to prolong the time before she had to return to her drudgery. 

Her shift ended at seven and when she got into her car, she immediately put Sean’s eircode into the GPS; she might as well strike while the iron is hot.  Forty minutes later, she was outside his house.  Strangely, she began to feel nervous as if she was doing something wrong.  But she gathered back up her courage and headed for the doorbell.  She rang it once, then again wondering if he was even at home.  But then she heard some rumblings from behind the door and a few seconds later, the door slowly opened and a very tired, haggard Sean appeared. 

“Laura, is that you?” he asked rubbing his eyes as if only wakened from a slumber. 

“Eh yeah,” she replied, not quite sure to make of the state that he was in. 

She then explained how she had met Jack earlier that day and it had made her wonder how he was getting on.  Sean looked somewhat puzzled but invited her into the kitchen nonetheless.  Her first impression was that the place had been hit by a bomb; the place was a terrible mess with grime and dirt everywhere.  The only order apparent in the place was in the rows of empty bottles dotted around the place. 

Sean, perhaps anticipating her dismay explained that his housekeeper had quit three weeks ago and that he was still looking for someone to replace her.  Laura thought that was far from an adequate explanation, but kept hum; he obviously wasn’t in a good place. 

The kitchen wasn’t much any better than the rest of the house but Laura nervously sat down on one of the chairs, hoping that she wouldn’t encounter any nasty surprises.  Fortunately, she didn’t. 

“So how have you been?” Laura asked, saying it as more of a conversation starter than anything else.  She was already pretty sure of the answer. 

Sean looked around at the kitchen and replied, “Not too good to be honest.” 

Laura gave him a moment or two to collect himself and then slowly, but surely, he let it all out explaining how everything had just become far too much for him.  Of course, he couldn’t just tell her the truth, so it was a somewhat doctored version of it, but it was straight from the heart nonetheless. 

The relationship break-up was the final straw, not that she could be blamed.  He made the mistake of becoming his work, in this case by “The Ripper” in particular.  He would come home and lash out for no particular reason or just drink himself to oblivion.  So, one day he came home late from work as usual and she along with all her belongings were gone.  Her mobile phone was on voice mail and he did leave messages each day for a week till he received a solitary call in reply telling him that they were finished and not to contact her again. 

Then everything just seemed so pointless to him; he stopped going to work (he was currently on sick leave) and looking after himself.  The last person to abandon him was his housekeeper who used to come in for a few hours per week to look after the place.  She thought that the paralysis was the problem and that he couldn’t accept his new life in the wheelchair; probably better she thought that. 

Laura felt a pang as he relayed the story; many Gardai would have a very similar story to tell.  The only stable relationships they seemed to be able to have were with their fellow colleagues and that was nearly always frowned upon, especially in its earliest stages. 

For a moment she wondered what to do or say next, struggling to find any words of comfort.  Instead, her practical nature took hold and she just started cleaning up.  Sean, who was slightly taken aback at first gradually, followed her lead.  For two hours they toiled leaving Sean surprised that his mood lifted somewhat as progress was made. 

Of course, there was still plenty left to do when they finally stopped from exhaustion.  Laura, almost without thinking, offered to come back in a day or two to help finish the job. 

“Are ya sure?” Sean replied, not quite sure what to say.  He wanted her to return; this was the best he had felt for quite some time but didn’t want to be a nuisance either. 

She was sure, she wanted to do see Sean again whatever the pretext.  So, two nights later she returned and finished the job.  Then she started to call around every second night and ring him every other one.  Sean was unsure what to make of it and couldn’t decide if she just a concerned friend or if there was something more growing between them.   

He wasn’t even sure what way to feel about it.  He was not the person mentally or physically that he was when they slept together.  Not as self-confident as he was back in those old days but also an emotionally deeper person who was no longer interested in just having a one-night stand or losing a close female friend just for sex. 

Then again, maybe it was just friendship, in which case he didn’t want to end up looking a fool.  No, better just to put it to the back of his mind; she was too pretty and smart to be interested in him long term.  Anyway, she still had a boyfriend. 

But Laura herself was also noticing that her feelings for him were growing.  He was a release from the drudgery in other parts of her life, something that she looked forward to every day.  It was when she started to dream about kissing him that she knew something had fundamentally changed.  At first, she thought it was just a once-off, not to be repeated but then it became a regular occurrence. 

Then, she thought; why not?  Sure, she had no experience of having a relationship with a paraplegic, but she knew he was a good man.  Strangely, she would never have thought about a relationship with the old pre-accident Sean but everyone changes, including herself. 

Of course, she wasn’t even sure that Sean felt the same way.  Perhaps, it was him that only saw her as a friend.  During quiet periods, she agonized over what to do next; she pondered if she should make the first move.  It was something that she had done previously in her life and she just didn’t want to let the moment pass and he finds someone else. 

So, there they were in his sitting-room about to watch a movie; it was a thriller but that was of little consequence.  Laura was sitting on the sofa and Sean in his manual chair beside her.  Laura was nervous but she knew now was a good time to act.  At first, she just casually mentioned that she had become single a few months prior before saying nothing for the next few minutes. 

“Why don’t you come sit beside me on the sofa?  Be more comfortable than sitting on the wheelchair?” she asked innocently. 

Sean was a bit surprised by the request but nevertheless quickly transferred from his wheelchair onto the sofa besides in an effortless, quick maneuver.  It was something that he actually practiced quite regularly to keep fit in his spare time. 

They were now side by side and unbeknownst to each other, both their hearts were beating ferociously.  Sean sank somewhat into the seat, which leaned slightly onto Laura.  He apologized awkwardly but she told him not to worry. 

The film itself turned out to be a bore but neither of them mentioned it, silently enjoying the excuse to be physically close to one another.  Laura tilted her head onto his shoulder, enjoying the moment but all the time wondering how to advance matters.    

Meanwhile, Sean was in two minds about what to do next, still not quite sure that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.  Laura was a good friend, and he didn’t want to lose that by doing something stupid. 

Laura sensed that the film was coming close to the end and knew inside that this was the opportunity she had been waiting for and that she couldn’t let it pass. 

“This film really has been terrible, has it?” she said matter-of-fact, looking directly into his eyes after lifting her head from his shoulder. 

For a few moments, they gazed into the eyes of the other, before slowly moving their closer together.  At first, their lips only met briefly but then Laura took the initiative, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue into his.  This continued for a few minutes but the positioning was awkward, so Laura whispered into his ear for them to go to his bed. 

Sean tried to appear confident but a million different thoughts seemed to be zipping through his mind.  Since the accident, he had only been with the one woman and she had had a very similar disability to his own, their lovemaking consisted of things above the waist.  For instance, should he take Viagra for her pleasure even though he would feel nothing and be unable to ejaculate? 

Then he remembered that it was Laura that he was going to be with, not some strange woman that he had just met that was going to laugh at him.  Laura, in fact, had already done her own bit of research on the subject, expecting that the penis would not be the focus of attention and was willing to learn.  She knew what she wanted and that was him. 

Sean got on the bed first, then Laura climbed on top of him after taking off her clothes.  Once more they began to kiss passionately, their hands roaming over each other.  They were both desperate to give pleasure to the other.  Laura had done her research and knew that in cases of paralysis, new parts of the body can become used to bring pleasure so she spent time sucking on his nipples, which led to a tingling sensation running through his body.  In return, he used his fingers to rub her clitoris bringing her to orgasm, then another. 

After, a half-hour they collapsed into each other’s arms, fatigued by their exertions.  This was an intimacy that neither had experienced hitherto in their lives; a feeling of full acceptance and love. 

The next morning Laura had already left for work by the time Sean had awakened from his slumber.  But this time it was very different from the old days, he knew by the note left on the small bedside table that she would be back and hadn’t regretted what had happened. 

It was true, she did return later that day; there was no pretense that what had happened was anything other than the blossoming of a relationship.  That relationship had a profound, positive effect on both of them. 

It provided the stability that Sean needed to turn his life around.  He now looked forward to each new day rather than in dread.  His health gradually improved from greatly reducing his alcohol consumption and he rang the station to say that he would be returning to his post. 

It was something a huge part of him dreaded, he knew it would mean bringing “The Ripper” back into his orbit.  Since he had gone off sick, he had made sure never to watch or listen to the news, he had clung to wishful thinking that “The Ripper” would simply disappear in time.  But he was stronger psychologically now and knew he had to and could face his demon once more. 

Laura too felt benefits from their relationship that were not as obvious to a third party, but was just as significant; it was like she now had something that she never knew she needed.  She now had a sense of stability and emotional support at home that built a solid foundation for her to take on the outside world.  There was nothing that she liked more than to awaken each morning and gaze at his handsome face; sometimes she liked to place her hand on his hairy chest and feel the beating of his heart. 

Then while at the drudgery of her work she could daydream about the cozy night in that lay ahead later and how he would nibble at her ear while they sat on the sofa.  It wasn’t one thing that made the difference, it was the cumulative effect of a myriad of little things that might have seemed insignificant at first.  She just wished it hadn’t started in subterfuge when they first met. 

It wasn’t long before her happiness started to have positive effects on other aspects of her life.  Soon she had received word that her stint in the Traffic Corps was coming to an end and a new Challenge in Narcotics lay ahead. 

It had been too long.  Infamy is a curse.  Now when I came across a potential victim, they would look over their shoulders at just the wrong time, be part of a group or take other extensive security precautions.  It was incredibly frustrating and I could feel incredible anger swelling up inside me, growing greater by the day. 

Yes, I had never before had such influence, over so many others but my heart panged to see terror and fear in their eyes.  For it to be up close and personal; for them to know that the timing of their deaths was entirely a matter for me alone and just as importantly, I would be the harbinger of how much they would suffer before it came. 

So, I had to cast my net that bit wider than hitherto and seek out a victim that would be particularly vulnerable.  It was difficult and took some time but eventually, I found her.  I realized that with almost the whole country on edge, it would be best to seek out a target who lived on the margins of society and who would never in their darkest nightmare expect me to come knocking at their door. 

Then I remembered that in my youth I had seen a television program about hippies who tried to live solely with what nature provided, growing their food organically and the like, and without modern comforts such as electricity or running water.  They would have no CCTV cameras or those pesky neighborhood watches; they were exactly what I needed at this point in time. 

There were surely people of those persuasions still around, it was only a matter of figuring out how to find them.  It took me a while to think of it but then I thought they’d surely sell some of their produce and at least some of them would surely use the internet to do so.  The rest was only a matter of time and that was something I had plenty of. 

So, I searched and searched trawling through various websites to find her, the next object of my affections.  It was difficult.  At times I even wondered about terrorizing the copper instead, but I needed to save him for the future and it would be glorious indeed.   

The first two targets turned out to be a total waste of time.  I arranged to meet them at a parking lot; of course, I never actually showed up.  No, I lurked in the background and carefully followed them back to their place of residence wherever it may be. 

One was guilty of what could only be called false advertising – and they say that I’m the devil.  I should have known when I first saw her in the distance.  She was very overweight, large breasts with long flowing red hair and freckles.  Her face even turned a deep red when I failed to show.  But I wasn’t the only party guilty of deception; as I followed her, I learned that her vegetables were far from the organic variety.  Of much more serious concern were all the security precautions such as the electric fences and cameras that surrounded the farm.  Her male companion looked like a brute best avoided also. 

The second target looked far more promising at first.  She was slim with long, black hair with torn, shabby clothing and was accompanied by a slight man.  Immediately, I felt that I was on the right track and felt an immediate tinge of arousal. 

There was no sense of anger when I failed to show up, just a quiet resignation.  They got into their ramshackle car, with me following in the distance.  The journey went from the outskirts of a town to a remote rural area and down a narrow lane.  Then my excitement quickly turned to disappointment.  They were from a commune, I immediately put on the brakes.  It was a large community; their homesteads set out in the center of a large field, with only the one way in and out.  This was far from ideal, from an attack perspective and already, I could see that I had been spotted in the distance.  There was only one thing for it and that was to turn the car around and try again. 

Then finally the perfect target fell into my lap two weeks later.  I followed the same routine as before.  She was haggard, scruffy and scrawny with greying, shoulder-length brown hair.  Her face was one of despair when I failed to show up to purchase her produce, which made me chuckle. 

I wondered where following her would lead me to, but I need not have worried, she led me to a picturesque paradise, the perfect place for an assault.  On one side there was a lake and on the other a forest, which would be ideal for reconnaissance.  Then I left knowing that it was too soon.  Much better to come back in a month when the online communication would be lost in a sea of other ones. 

It was the longest month of my life, there was just nothing else on my mind than tearing her to pieces, night and day.  Then the time was up and it was time for the preparations to begin.   

The forest proved to be as useful as I thought.  Each night I observed their comings and goings.  She was part of a family of seven.  Fortunately, the children were young and would cause little difficulty even if they had not been malnourished and weak.  The man was very thin and gaunt, I couldn’t see him putting up much resistance. 

The night before the attack, I brought my equipment and hid it close to the house, which was the routine that I always followed.  The thrill of the hunt was almost becoming too much but I knew that the ultimate release would soon be forthcoming as I masturbated looking at the house of my twisted affections.  I closed my eyes and imagined the terror on their faces; it would be magnificent. 

Finally, the moment that I waited for had arrived.  They never saw it coming and put up almost no resistance.  There was no television or radio in the house, so I can only assume they had not heard of my previous exploits and presumed that if they complied with my demands, they would survive the night. 

With a knife to her throat, the man meekly did my bidding tying up the children and then himself.  She begged me to rape her outside away from their eyes but I wanted the audience. 

I could hear their squeals behind me as I ripped her off her clothes and entered her, then their gasps of horror as I plunged my knife into her.  This time I could do as I pleased and follow through on my full routine. 

When I finally looked back on them, I could see that they finally saw me for the monster that I am.  Somewhat disappointingly, they had resigned themselves to their fate and the final child, like a good boy lifted his head before I slit his throat. 

The euphoria of the kill lasted for days as I constantly replayed it in my mind.  It had been perfect and it was spoken about wherever I went.  It felt like I had reached out and metaphorically wrenched the heart of everyone in the country.  The only slight concern I had was that this was my nadir and never again would I fly so high.  The next attack could not possibly be as good.

Chapter 16

Finally, the day came for Sean to return to work; it was almost like he was starting a new job such was his feeling of trepidation.  Laura told him not to worry, that he wasn’t the first Garda to go off the rails and he would be warmly welcomed back.  Sean, however, had his doubts but proceeded nonetheless.   

Of course, there was a part of him – albeit quite small – that wanted to return.  There was little to stimulate his intellect during the day, daytime tv just didn’t cut it and there was very little else for him to do.  At least, his drinking had filled the day if nothing else. 

Nobody at the Station knew of their relationship and they had agreed that was the way it would stay for now.  In fact, they decided they would stay apart as much as possible so there wouldn’t even be a suspicion, although Sean was quietly worried that might mean there was nobody, he would be able to have a friendly chat with.  In truth, her new post meant that she wouldn’t be around much anyway.   

So, they kissed each other goodbye and Sean headed to the Station, while she headed towards the next drug bust in Finglas.  The traffic was light, the kids were on their summer holidays.  It was to be an icy, cool day. 

Sean arrived early as he had planned, he wanted to at least start off on the right foot and made his way around the back of the station as usual.  He was able to get to his desk with barely having to glance at another officer.  His desk was clear as he would have expected, so he turned on his computer to read his emails; being anxious to create a decent first impression after having been off for so long. 

Over the morning different Gardai came in to welcome him back and to say how happy they were that he was doing better; some of the conversations lasted just a few minutes but others were longer, with one almost going on for a half-hour.  The atmosphere in the place was much better than he had remembered it. 

The Superintendent visited him just before eleven.  Like the others, he told him that he was happy to see him back but the topic of the conversation quickly turned to operational matters.  Sean was informed that he would be doing the same role as before.  In fact, it was only realized what a truly valuable job he was doing when he was gone. 

But he would be eased back into it and for the first two weeks he was to do his routine administration and avoid “The Ripper Case” altogether, there was to be no late hours or bringing work home.  Quite a lot had changed since he had been out sick; the force had realized things had to change.  Sean wasn’t the only one that had suffered psychologically from the gang warfare and then “The Ripper”.  Many Gardai had counseling, the take-home message was that they could only do their best, this was a marathon, not a sprint.  

Then the Super left his office and Sean readied himself for a tea-break.  Unexpectedly, Jack put his head in the door; they hadn’t seen each other for months and gave each other a warm smile.  He had made an effort to come in especially on Sean’s first day back, which was much appreciated. 

The canteen seemed much busier than he had remembered it and he asked Jack if his mind was playing tricks on him causing a startled look.  It was not his imagination, more Gardai had indeed been recruited.  “The Ripper” had caused such consternation among the public that the police went to the number one priority for the Government. 

Sean quickly changed the subject to keep the mood upbeat.  Instead, they talked about Jack’s new girlfriend.  She was a nurse and over ten years younger than him, which caused both of them to laugh.  For some reason, Sean had always envisioned him with an older woman, although he was never quite sure why. 

All too soon, the break was over and it was time for them to part, with Sean heading back to his desk.  He followed the advice he had been given and took it easy for the rest of the day.  He would be taking it one day at a time but knew eventually he would have to face his demons.  Later that night, Laura was full of questions about how his day had gone.  She was so happy to see back at work but secretly, she had some reservations and wondered if she was right to encourage him to do so.  It had taken so much to return him to his old self. 

Over the next few days though Sean showed her that there was little to worry about as he went from strength to strength.  He even had new colleagues to meet during his breaks.  Then one night as she gazed into his eyes, she asked about “The Ripper”.  It was the first time that she had mentioned him since they had got together.  To her, this was a real acid test to whether he was back to himself fully as it was something he used to talk profusely about. 

“Funny, you should ask,” he replied almost excitedly.  He then explained that it had been no ordinary day, he had received a phone call out of the blue from the state pathologist just before he left for the day.  It was about the latest victims of “The Ripper”; in particular the adult woman.  Hair from her vagina had been removed. 

Laura didn’t need to ask anymore to know its significance.  It hinted that there may indeed be a link to the Reading Rapist and justice could be a step closer to finding him. 

“What are ya going to do now?” Laura asked instinctively, her mind now more in a work default setting. 

Sean then explained that he would ring the Super first thing in the morning to try and get permission to contact England.  Hopefully, they might have got some lead on the Reading Rapist in the meantime.  They both found it hard to sleep with their hearts racing and a myriad of different thoughts swirling through their minds all involving the hunt for the killer. 

The next morning Sean rose early in an upbeat mood anxious to get to the Station as fast as possible.  He could never remember such enthusiasm going to work before as he imagined that just maybe they were on the verge of a major breakthrough.  Of course, he had suspicions about the link for months but at least now he had evidence that he could actually use to back it up. 

He rang immediately on reaching his office.  Alas, it went straight through to voicemail so he left a message to contact him urgently.  The wait was excruciating but fortunately, he was a patient man.  The return call came just before lunchtime, but unexpectedly, it was just before lunch and in person rather than over the telephone. 

This time the Superintendent was very interested in what he had to say and listened attentively.  DeRossi had since been moved on and he had now been given full authority over the team.  Sean told him about the signature both of them had in common, in at least some of the instances and more general information about the Reading Rapist.  When Sean mentioned that the Rapist enjoyed further humiliating his victims by ringing them months after the attack and breathing heavily down the phone line, the Superintendent opened his mouth in astonishment, he had received that some of the relatives of victims of The Ripper were getting similar calls.  He had heard enough and gave Sean the authority to contact England and notify Interpol; Sean was now to take a much more central role in the hunt for The Ripper. 

Finally, Sean felt things were starting to go in the right direction and perhaps finally there could be some justice.  Sean had sworn to himself that morning that he would never return to his old corrupt ways; the fate of those children forever changed him.  There was no doubt about who would be the first person in England he would contact. 

“Ah Sean, how are you my Irish friend?” 

Jim was always so welcoming on the phone and for a quick second, Sean wondered was he like that with everyone.  It’s amazing how quickly the human mind can sometimes drift, but he refocused after exchanging pleasantries. 

“I think I know where your rapist is gone,” Sean said emphatically. 

With that, he updated Jim updated on the latest developments, especially about how The Ripper was now displaying the same twisted behavior of taunting his victims and the same signature of removing hair from the vagina of at least his latest victim. 

“So, that’s where the bugger has gone, we were wondering what had happened to him.  It was like the attacks just stopped one day and we never knew why.  We were just jolly happy that they did,” Jim said in exasperation when Sean had finished and further promised to do everything he could to help.   

However, much to Sean’s disappointment, no progress had been made in establishing who the Rapist was in the intervening period, not even a hunch.  Nevertheless, they decided to share everything they had with each other even though it heightened the risk of a leak to the press.  Sean made sure to get a copy of everything so that he could look at it at home too if need be. 

Any other girlfriend would be repulsed by the gruesome and macabre photos left on the kitchen table, but she was no ordinary girlfriend and relished the opportunity to pore over the evidence; although even she could not bear to look at the children’s slit throats; everybody has their limits.  

She then called out for Sean who was busy studying various documents.  Once he saw that she had arrived, he wasted no time giving her an update about the day’s events.  She was enthused for him, but also a tad jealous that he had managed to become so central to an important investigation, while she was dealing with minor drug dealers. 

That night was a passionate one.  Sean was reinvigorated by the thought of being that bit closer to nabbing The Ripper and it heightened his sexual desire; Laura was only too happy to reap the benefits. 

But it was a false dawn, The Ripper would not be felled so easily.  Days turned into weeks and then months, but the hoped-for breakthrough never came.  All that seemed to happen was an increase in the number of victims, infuriating Sean as he once more gradually began to feel impotent and beholden to The Ripper’s next move.  If only there had been a scrap of DNA evidence or the like or indeed anything at all. 

The next development in the hunt came from a potential victim of the Ripper that narrowly avoided a horrific fate for her and her family.  She was gardening when she discovered his toolkit and a ski mask.  Petrified, she rang the shocked local Gardai immediately who were at the house within ten minutes.  The house was then searched and an item to tie people up was found; he had already been inside. 

The location in the foothills of Kerry was a vast distance away from his last attack although the rural location was somewhat similar; there was a wooded area close to the house but it was beside a very steep hill rather than a lake.  It was likely that he had intended to carry out a further attack imminently. 

Surely, he must have left some vital piece of evidence behind but no, there was nothing.  All the Gardai could do was to put out an alert to the general public that they should regularly check their homes and gardens for anything suspicious. 

But the public’s patience was now wearing very thin as the palpable anger grew to breaking point over the failure to catch the killer.  A protest was held on O’Connell Street and each day angry people phoned in to the radio stations as if to vent before an explosion occurred.  Sean had a feeling that The Ripper would be loving all of this, being the center of the nation’s attention.   Some tried to point this out in the midst of the frenzy but they would be quickly shouted down.  Every time a murder would occur, he was the first thought on everybody’s mind and the first suspect to be ruled in or out. 

Chapter 17

Sean always had the inclination to believe that The Ripper would be identified through his earlier rape crimes; he was still the only police officer to be a hundred percent convinced that he was the Reading Rapist.  Each night he would pore over the documents from England, hoping to see something that had been missed till then.  Occasionally Laura would do the same but it was all to no avail. 

Then one night as they lay in bed, Sean had a sudden burst of inspiration, a true eureka moment.  In his excitement, he woke Laura from her slumber so that he could tell her immediately lest he forgets it during the night.  At first, she thought there was something wrong but was soon also entranced by the idea. 

The Reading Rapist was extremely proficient at breaking into houses to carry out attacks; he must have learned it beforehand.  Perhaps, he had been a run of the mill house burglar prior to escalating to rape; this would have given him the opportunity to perfect his skills. 

But the thought that really excited Sean was that it was unlikely that he was so careful all that time ago and just maybe he left some evidence behind that could identify him.  Finally, it seemed there might be something to get excited about.  He struggled to sleep afterward that night with his mind racing from thought to thought. 

The next morning, he immediately contacted Jim, who by now was the official contact person in England.  He too was enthralled by the idea. 

“So, your theory is that like many criminals, he has evolved over time and our best bet to catch him is from a crime he committed at the very start?” 

“Sin e,” Sean replied in Irish, much to Jim’s befuddlement before confirming in English, that yes, he was correct. 

Then discussions turned to how exactly they would find his earliest crimes.  Sean inquired if they had a criminal database.  They did, but it was hard to know what the right inquiry would be.  There would literally be tens of thousands of both solved and unsolved burglaries on the system.  They would be proverbially looking for the needle in the haystack. 

After a half-hour discussing the matter back and forth, they decided that the first place to start would be to do a profile of the young Ripper.  He would have many of the same characteristics as in the profile from the FBI, but would surely be in his late teens or very early twenties back then.  Almost certainly he would have problems with authority and would perhaps have been expelled from school.  The Reading Rapist was both prolific and intense, committing all his crimes in a relatively short burst.  Perhaps, his earliest phase of criminal activity was likewise.  

Gradually, both officers began to feel that they had built up a pretty good picture of who they were looking for.  But what they were seeking would be impossible to glean from a computer, rather it needed the human touch.  Jim then said he would formally write to the head of each police station throughout England that day, hoping to jog their memories of a burglar who might fit the bill. 

Then all they could do was wait.  Each morning Sean would open his email first thing in the morning at the kitchen table on his laptop, hoping for a lead but each time he was met with run of the mill spam messages.  There was a lot riding on this now and as two weeks turned to three, he felt overcome with disappointment. 

But then just as he was about to retire home one evening, he got a message from Jim.  He had received a communication from the station in Bristol of a suspect who might just fit the bill.  In the message, Jim promised to send on a much longer message later that night. 

After writing a short reply acknowledging the exciting news Sean went straight home, hurriedly had something to eat and anxiously awaited by his laptop.  Close to midnight, it finally arrived but that did not deter Sean from reading it over and over again. 

The subject line was the “Bristol Burglar”.  It was about a prolific burglar who terrorized the city of Bristol and its environs for a period of one year before he abruptly stopping.  The houses targeted resembled those later targeted by the Reading Rapist.  The suspect was also implicated in a murder.  There were parallels and it certainly could be the same man. 

Sean now almost felt like he could reach out and touch The Ripper; that what was once so elusive was gradually coming into focus.  Jim was going to Bristol the next day.  The case of The Irish Ripper was now a high priority case for the English police too due to its international notoriety.   

Sean wished he was over there rather than waiting on the sidelines.  He wasn’t the only one and he soon found himself on a ferry ordered to follow up the lead in Bristol.  It was one of very few lines of inquiry and the Gardai wanted to be seen as being proactive. 

It had come as a bit of a shock to Sean but he was determined to grab the opportunity with both hands.  It gave him a huge sense of pride too that his superiors now trusted him with something so important and he was anxious not to let them down.  This was something he had never felt previously, even as an able-bodied officer. 

Laura dropped him off at the airport.  She was excited for him but also nervous hoping that the trip would be a success.  After a passionate kiss, as if long lost lovers they parted.  On arrival in England, Jim was there waiting for him.  Sean barely recognized him though; he and a female companion were dressed in immaculate suits as if royalty was expected.  It was very different from the first time they met, disheveled in a loud, noisy pub. 

Jim gave him a warm hug, telling him that it was great to see him again and put his bag that had been hanging on the back of the wheelchair into the car.  Her name was Elizabeth, a slight fresh-faced woman in her mid-twenties and she greeted him with a warm smile.  A swift maneuver and Sean got into the back seat of the car, while they went in front. 

Sean was surprised and somewhat embarrassed to learn on the long road trip that he was now a local celebrity especially among the police; he even felt some hero worship emanating from Elizabeth.  Jim had told everyone that would listen about his great detective from Ireland in the wheelchair. 

If only he could arouse such affection back in his own home town, he thought quietly to himself but then quickly turned the conversation to the reason he had come – The Bristol Burglar.  Jim was only all too eager to talk him through all the details but first told their companion that their current theory was that Bristol was the training ground for the Reading Rapist who would later become the Irish Ripper.  Elizabeth gasped, saying that she didn’t realize The Ripper was also on the radar. 

The Bristol Burglar operated over a period of twenty-one months.  During that period, he was responsible for one murder and a hundred and twenty-five burglaries.  Most of The Burglar’s activities involved breaking into houses, searching through and vandalizing the owner’s possessions, scattering any women’s underclothing he found, stealing coins and low-value or personal items, while often ignoring banknotes and other valuable items in plain sight. 

Sean knew that this signaled that this was no ordinary thief motivated by a desire for monetary gain, but instead he was seeking a different thrill of power over his victims.  This was the very beginning of the evolution of The Ripper. 

Jim further expanded that the MO or method of operation also mirrored his later suspected crimes albeit with much lower levels of violence – 

• scaling fences and moving through established routes such as parks, walkways, ditches, and trails. 
• attempting to pry open multiple points of entry, particularly windows. 

• leaving multiple points of escape open, especially windows as well as house, garage, and garden doors. 
• moving removed window screens onto beds or into bedrooms. 
• placing “warning items” such as dishes or bottles against doors and on door handles. 
• wearing gloves (given the absence of fingerprint evidence). 

It was only upon reaching the hotel where Sean would be spending the night that Jim with a wide smile relayed what could be the most important detail.  They had retrieved DNA from two of the crime scenes and would have the results the next evening.  Sean could feel his heart almost stop.  Finally, he – the infamous Ripper -would be within their grasp. 

Sean woke early the following morning having had a restless night.  His mind was too excited for rest with different thoughts constantly zipping in and out of his mind, and he found himself moving from side to side unable to sleep.  This could be D-Day and he might yet be returning to Dublin a hero. 

Jim was somewhat surprised that Sean was waiting for him in the lobby when he arrived but was starting to get used to the peculiarities of his Irish friend. 

“So, are you ready to see Bristol.  I thought we’d drive around a bit to try and get a better idea of the place?” he said in his loud and strong Yorkshire accent. 

He merely received a nod in return but that was enough for him to know that Sean was satisfied with the idea.  As they drove through the city, Jim explained that the city was smaller than Dublin but still quite large.  It was the suburbs they were most interested in and especially those neighborhoods that had been most ravaged by the Bristol Burglar.  It amused them somewhat that they might even be driving past where he had grown up.  Just like his later crimes, the neighborhoods targeted were filled with bungalows.  It was thought they were easier for him to do his surveillance on, he didn’t want any nasty surprises in the midst of an attack. 

As midday approached, they headed to the local police station to see if the DNA results were back.  They needn’t have bothered; the results were in but there was no match on the databases of known offenders in either the United Kingdom or Ireland. 

A sense of shock and disappointment emanated from both Sean and Jim.  This was supposed to be a moment of triumph but it felt like the man that they were after was just as elusive as ever.  Sean wondered if this was the way it would always be; that The Ripper was just too good and would never be caught. 

That night they both retired to the bar at the hotel would be staying for still three more nights.  He had worried that his stay in England would be too short, but that when he was contemplating a major breakthrough, in the case.   That seemed like little more than a pipe dream now.   

He asked Jim if he should just go home the next day but Jim urged him to stay, that he should at least see some of the sites.  Sean decided there was little harm in staying and sure he could do with a bit of a break anyway.  Jim stayed late into the night as they regaled each other with tales of previous cases that they had worked on. 

Two mornings later and Sean was really wishing he had left as he lay on the bed when he received a text message from Jim that something had happened and he would be there in thirty minutes to collect him.  Sean knew that it must be something very important so he quickly got dressed and went down to the lobby. 

Jim was there anxiously waiting for him.  His face was pale and he looked quite sickly.  For a moment, he just stood there in silence. 

“It’s The Ripper!” Jim said in a broken voice. 

“What?” Sean replied, trying to coax another few words out of him. 

“Hee’s struckk here in Bristol!” 

Sean could hardly believe what he was hearing.  The monster must have followed him he thought to himself.  The attack had occurred less than five kilometers from where he was staying.  It was probably a message for him personally.  There were two victims, both women. They were butchered during the previous night. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Jim was there to collect him and bring him to the scene.  Sean had never previously been to a murder scene but didn’t want to seem weak or disturbed in front of the Englishman so he raised no objection.  In fact, he thought, this was a great opportunity to further immerse himself in the case. 

It didn’t take long to reach the scene.  There was a mournful crowd of people surrounding the cordon that they had to push through.  Once more, it was a single-story house that had been targeted.  Sean thought he was prepared for what he was about to see, but he was wrong.  Crime scene photos don’t convey the smell of death or show you the happy family photos on the mantlepiece with the mutilated corpse a few feet away. 

Both officers could only stomach it for a few short minutes, although neither said it explicitly to the other.  It was unspoken.  Sean had seen enough though to know it was the work of The Irish Ripper, unexpectedly far from his usual stomping ground.  From the photos, it was easily ascertained that the two female victims had been in a lesbian relationship, with one being quite butch and taking on more typically masculine characteristics like short hair and wearing a workman’s clothing; the other more femme, with long blonde hair and wearing dresses. 

It appeared that The Ripper was happy to accept these gender roles judging by the macabre scene that was before them.  The femme woman took the most punishment.  As in previous murders, she had been raped and left terribly mutilated having suffered multiple stab wounds with one of her breasts removed.   

The more butch woman simply had her throat slit; her role was simply to watch horrified as her loved partner was savaged. 

Jim mentioned it would probably for the best if they left the scene before journalists showed up, which was likely to be any second now.  Sean nodded in agreement; he didn’t want his face appearing in the papers either.  The two men spent the rest of the day together discussing the implications of the latest development. 

As they chatted gloomily in the hotel bar, they both agreed that it could be no mere coincidence that The Ripper struck in England while he was there.  The Ripper knew about Sean’s trip and had given him a sick surprise present.  This meant that the killer was either a police officer in Ireland or England or one was feeding him information perhaps inadvertently.  This was a disastrous scenario.  If the media got hold of it, which was probably only a matter of time they would have a field day.  It was as if The Ripper had found a new way to taunt them.  

So, it was with a dark cloud hanging over him that Sean returned to Ireland and Laura’s warm embrace.  It appeared that the trip had only been to document a further slaying.  However, his superiors didn’t seem to share his pessimism being particularly impressed that Sean had the gumption to visit the murder scene and wondering why he had never done so in Ireland.  When he replied that he had simply never been asked, he was told that was to change from here on in and to keep a mobile phone on his person at all times.  Although it may have just been the hope that The Rippers move to England would become permanent that had lifted the mood somewhat, they wanted out from his shadow any way possible. 

Laura would never admit it, perhaps not even to herself, but she was immensely relieved on Sean’s return even if she would never admit it, not even to herself.  She wasn’t even sure why exactly and perhaps it was even nonsensical. 

It started a few weeks before Sean had even left: a feeling of being watched.  She knew that she was being silly, and thought it was perhaps a figment of her imagination, but the feeling persisted.   A feeling some of her stuff had been moved.  Her apprehension had gradually grown so bad that she had more or less moved in with Sean.  Even though he was in a wheelchair, his presence made her feel secure and safe. 

This was an embarrassing fact for someone working in the drugs branch of the force where bravery was expected as a given.  But the strange thing was that she felt fine when she was on the job.  When it was patrolling the street or charging headfirst into a drug bust with the possibility of getting a bullet there was no problem whatsoever; it was when she was in a house on her own that her fear surfaced. 

Maybe, she had just heard one too many tales of The Ripper from Sean; he was always telling her how he would leave his tools around the house prior to an attack and she constantly found herself searching everywhere for them just in case she was the next one on his list. 

So, when Sean left for a week, she made arrangements to stay with her Mum who was a bit perplexed but kept her counsel not wanting to bother her daughter.  It was a longer drive for Laura to go to and from work, but it was worth it for peace of mind.  Then news reached her of the attack in England.  At first, she could not believe what she was hearing.  She wondered what were the odds of The Ripper and Sean visiting England at exactly the same time? 

Very low, she thought to her herself and her mind turned back to when she was investigating Sean and the murder of Billy.  The Ripper must be keeping a close eye on Sean.  Her heart swelled with terror but mostly for Sean’s safety, as she was now deeply in love with him. 

Her fears were compounded when Sean rang her and told her excitedly that he had been given the opportunity to visit the latest murder scene telling her all the grizzly details.  She tried her best to sound no more or less interested than normal so as not to show her distress or give him an idea of her concerns.  That could wait for some other time, she just told him that she couldn’t wait for his return.  But also, so she could prepare for any future attack. 

So, it was with a warm smile and a loving kiss that she greeted him as he disembarked the ferry.  His disheveled appearance and obvious hangover were inconsequential. 

Chapter 18

Months passed and once more there was no more sign of The Ripper.  It was as if he had just vanished once again but few thought it would become permanent.  Christmas was now fast approaching. 

Usually, it was a time of year not relished by Sean but this year was different, and Laura was that difference.  Her enthusiasm and exuberance gradually rubbed off on him and he found himself looking forward even if he knew it meant getting her an expensive present. 

He would be spending the day at her mother’s house.  Laura had assured him that she was an excellent cook.  Her father had died two years previously and didn’t want her Mum spending the day alone.  In any event, she lived in Navan, so it wouldn’t be much of a drive in any event.  He wondered what her Mum thought of her daughter dating someone in a wheelchair. 

In the intervening period, Sean’s notoriety within the force had grown immeasurably.  He was now considered somewhat of an expert on the behavioral science of homicide and had found himself being called out to multiple murder scenes to give his opinion.  It didn’t matter if the scene was up a flight of stairs, his fellow Gardai were happy to lift him and his wheelchair up. 

It was assumed that because he had voluntarily gone to see one of The Ripper’s slayings, that there was nothing that could phase him.  But that wasn’t totally true and he found himself having sleepless after visiting one particularly gruesome scene.  Though the Garda who found it first had to retire afterward. 

He had moved office as a result and was now playing a central role in the new Garda Behavioral Unit.  The central focus was still the hunt for The Ripper, but it also encompassed much more than that with three Gardai now under him and at his disposal.  In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what he thought of that as he had never seen himself as a boss or manager.  At times, he felt awkward giving orders and being responsible for discipline but he persevered.  He was also very lucky with the young Gardai who had been top of their class, that were allocated to him.  They were eager to learn everything they could from him and hung on his every word, so unlike him during his early years.  They also worked ferociously; Sean was almost always the first one to head home at the end of the day.  But he did find himself wondering if they would have the required grit for what lay ahead. 

For instance, Sean already had to visit a crime scene where a man with very severe mental health issues decided to attack and kill his roommate for no particular reason whatsoever.  There had been no disagreement, nothing to cause the frenzy of stabbing.  Then he decided it would be a good idea to cut up his victim to examine his heart and brain whilst smearing the walls with blood.  Nothing can prepare one to witness such things. 

But as cases go, it was an open and shut case.  He said that voices told him to do it.  There was no need for a court case, it was straight to the Central Mental Hospital for him, where almost certainly he would reside for the rest of his days. 

That was the worst he had come across; the rest were more palpable.  The young woman stabbed violently by her jealous boyfriend and the old homeless man kicked to death for a few laughs amongst others.  Sean could compartmentalize all these murders without difficulty.    

But still every night, it was The Ripper that he thought about last at night.  He wondered where he was now and what he was up to.  His instinct told him that he had returned and it was only a matter of time before his next atrocity.  He hoped that his fellow officers wouldn’t end up with their own Ripper to torment their nights.   

There was one other thing that bothered him too and it was the thought of the work Christmas party. It was scheduled for the week prior to the big day itself.  Strangely this used to be the only thing he liked about this time of year but this would be the first year that he would be going coupled up.  Nobody else would know that though and they had decided they would arrive at different times, but still, he worried he might get drunk and snap if he saw someone chatting her up.  Still, they both had to go, not showing up was not an option as their colleagues would not be impressed.   

Some decorations had been put up around the station by now, save for the public areas.  They couldn’t allow the ordinary criminal to think they were going soft but behind closed doors, there was a bit of a buzz.  It was a pleasant distraction from what seemed his ever-increasing workload. 

Ireland as a country loves to do Christmas.  Whether it’s the round the clock of ads on television with a Christmas theme, the office Christmas party or the street lights you’ll always know it’s that special time of year.  On the day itself, the country literally comes to a halt.  It is a religious or family day, like it or not.  Some Irish people find it strange when they visit other countries and the day is barely marked.  Maybe you need long nights with dreary weather to really appreciate the celebration. 

Sean need not have worried about the party.  It passed by without incident.  Sean behaved impeccably not even having much to drink.  It was all so different than his old life, at times he almost felt nostalgic.  The old him would have spent the night trying to get drunk and get laid.  Of course, that life was far easier when he didn’t have to rely on a wheelchair.  Whereas once as midnight approached, he would have gone looking for ladies to occupy him for the night; he now found himself hemmed into a corner forced to chat with those closest to him.  Fortunately, he was quite content with this knowing that Laura awaited him that night. 

She didn’t know, but he had bought an engagement ring the day before.  Yes, it was fast but he was certain that she was the girl for him so there was no need to wait.  Furthermore, she had hinted at times that it was what she was hoping for.  As they would lay in bed at night, she would instigate conversations about their future lives together and how they could still have children together.  These were the type of conversations that Sean thought would never happen to him in the days after his accident. 

He was planning to do it Christmas Day after dinner; it would be perfect.  Hopefully, she would say “yes” and then they could celebrate with her Mum.  If things went badly, he could drive back to his own house to rethink everything.  But he was optimistic that things would go well. 

As the day grew closer, Sean found himself growing more and more nervous, and unsure if he was doing the right thing.  But all he had to do was think how much his life had improved because of her and it refilled him with a steely determination. 

So, it was that he found himself at Laura’s Mum’s house on a crisp Christmas morning with a ring in his pocket.  Both women gave him a warm hug on his arrival.  He had only met his Mum, a petit old woman with flowing gray hair once before and he was glad he was already being welcomed as a member of the family.  It was hopefully a positive sign for the rest of the day. 

He went into the sitting room to watch tv while they continued preparing the dinner.  Then just as Laura came in to offer him a cup of tea, his mobile phone rang.  This was most unexpected and he answered it immediately.  It was the dreaded news he feared, The Ripper had struck again and he was expected at the crime scene as soon as possible. 

He knew from Laura’s shocked facial expression that she knew what had happened.  She told him that she would keep some food for him for later as he wheeled himself out to the car.  Sean grimaced as he thought about how The Ripper had spoiled his big day.  But there was nothing for it but to see his latest handiwork.  All he knew was that the latest attack happened on the outskirts of Swords from the GPS coordinates he had been given, which would take about fifty minutes to reach.  During the drive, he began to fear what he was heading to.  This was almost certainly going to ruin the day for the whole country. 

It took what seemed an age to reach there.  The house, a large two-story mansion surrounded by a formidably tall wall had already been cordoned off.  Sean drove down the long driveway through an opened electronic gate, this would have been the last place that he would have expected that The Ripper to target.  Garda Cummins, one of his subordinates was there waiting outside for him.   

As Sean got out of the car and into his wheelchair Garda Cummins tried to speak but couldn’t.  Sean looked up and saw not a Garda but a broken man with pale, sickly face and tears rolling down his face.  For most people, there is only so much grisliness the mind can take, so Sean told him that he would go in alone once he saw there was no step in the front door. 

As Sean entered the house the first thing he saw, was a large majestic Christmas tree adorning the central hall, full of decorations with numerous presents laying unopened underneath.  It stood in stark contrast to the horrendous scene just a few feet away in the dining room. 

It was another family annihilation.  Sean tried to numb his mind before entering the scene but to only limited avail.  It is impossible to inoculate oneself against such a stomach-churning scene.  The scene was eerily similar to the last family attack. 

A male in his forties and presumably his two sons, not yet teenagers tied to chairs with their throats slit.  The blood had flowed from their necks and into a puddle that was just a few feet from the woman who bore the greatest savagery.  Her naked, battered and mutilated body bore all the hallmarks of The Ripper.  Sean felt incredible disgust, the horrific scene with the joyous decorations, it was as if hell itself had been to visit. 

Nevertheless, Sean knew he had to steel himself for what lay ahead.  The family deserved justice and he was probably the only one that could deliver it.  Yes, the scene was similar to previous murders but also very different.  Something had irked The Ripper and he hadn’t chosen as soft a target.  This time he had attacked an upper-class urban area.  There were likely to be CCTV cameras everywhere. 

Sean immediately took control of the situation and set up Garda teams to go house to house and to talk to people in the neighborhood to see if they had seen anything suspicious. 

It wasn’t long before Sean’s suspicions were proved correct.  For the first time, The Ripper had left valuable evidence behind.  Part of the attack had been captured on CCTV from the house on the opposite side of the street.  For the first time, after many years he had been caught on camera. 

It showed that the previous night The Ripper already wearing his ski-mask and black clothes had easily managed to scale the wall, a formidable athletic feat.  Several Gardai would try it the next day but only one came close to accomplishing it.  As suspected, The Ripper was a very fit, athletic and agile man.  He simply opened the electronic gate on the way out as it still remained. 

Unfortunately, The Ripper had destroyed the CCTV recording at the victims’ house, although given that he was already in full regalia it may not have provided more clues in any event.  There was more surveillance gleaned further down the street showing him walking on the footpath towards the house.  Irritating though, he appears out of a small park where none of the cameras catch him. 

Over the following days, one of the largest funerals ever to be held in Ireland occurred on a damp, miserable day as all the victims of the latest atrocity were laid to rest in a joint ceremony.  Sadness pervaded the city and disillusionment grew about the effectiveness of the Gardai.  Sean and Laura attend, Sean all the time trying to keep an eye out for suspicious mourners.  He knew from the FBI materials that he read that serial killers often attended such events in order to glory in their actions.  Laura told him to relax, that there were too many people and anyway, the whole thing was being recorded from afar in any event.  Later, Sean would spend hours poring over the videos but to no avail. 

The investigation now felt very personal.  Sean was beginning to feel like he knew all the victims personally; he had spent so long looking at their photos and reading about them.  For instance, the latest victims were a banker, his much younger wife, and children.  Their oldest son suffered greatly from dyslexia but had started making good progress at school.  That was all for naught now.  As Sean saw the coffins in the distance, he thought of the battered and mutilated bodies he had seen.  Sometimes, it was all too much as tears rolled down his face.   In that, he was similar to most people at the time, broken and terrified; wishing the nightmare would finally come to an end. 

Then for a split-second, Sean thought he saw something as he glanced up and away from the casket being lowered.  It was fleeting and in the far distance as the burial of the youngest and final child was taking place.  Later, he would check the CCTV for that location but it was obscured by a large oak tree.  Perhaps, it was nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him.  Perhaps, it was something and a missed opportunity. 

Over the next few weeks, the pressure on Sean grew more and more intense.  The country as a whole no longer cared about drugs, sex slavery, robberies or even crime generally.  Nobody talked about homelessness or hospital waiting lists anymore.  There was only one topic of conversation – The Ripper. 

Parents would complain about their children being terrified and wetting their beds; teenagers and young adults stopped venturing outside and the elderly tried to stay awake all night.  He had already captivated the country but now, true to his name, it seemed he might rip it apart too.   Where once there had been marches, now there were protests; the largest of which was held in front of the Dail. 

It was having a major effect on Sean.  It had been a long time since he had a full night’s sleep but now it was the overwhelming pressure to find a breakthrough, or at least have something meaningful to say at the next meeting rather than just the nightmares that made it impossible for his eyes to remain closed throughout the night. 

He was also starting to argue with Laura each night.  He knew that none of this was her fault, but it seemed now even the most minor of things would set him off.  This fact made him feel even worse about himself.  All he knew was that he now dreaded the thought of life without her and he couldn’t risk losing her like he had lost Aimee no matter what.  So, then thoughts of just quitting the force entered his head.  Perhaps they could just both sell up and go live on some quiet Caribbean island and never have to hear tell of The Irish Ripper again. 

It was while he was daydreaming of that island that he got a call from Jim in England.  It was a call that would change things utterly.

Chapter 19

Sean had never heard the company name Gen Search X before, but he knew all about them by the end of that day.  It was founded in England a few years previously in a back garage and had now become a worldwide enterprise after exponential growth employing thousands of people all over the world that was most famous for allowing individuals to discover their genetic history.  After you sent them your DNA, they could tell you what percentages of your DNA came from each region of the world.  This had proved incredibly popular especially with Americans who had varied ancestry throughout the world.  Less so, with the likes of Sean who was Irish through and through, and had no doubts about where his ancestors had come from in the last thousand years or more. 

Sean really couldn’t understand the excitement in Jim’s voice when he said that he had sent a sample of The Rippers DNA for them to analyze and cross-reference with their datasets.  Its Chief Executive Officer had contacted him, first via email but then on the phone when that was ignored and explained that her company had heard that that the investigation had hit a roadblock with The Rippers DNA and that they may be able to help.  Her name was Dr. Jennifer Winston, a quite brilliant woman of immense intelligence who had been with the company since the get-go; fluent in multiple languages with a doctorate in Biology.   

Jim informed her that the police on both sides of the Irish Sea had already failed to find any DNA match for The Ripper and couldn’t see how this company, despite their immense resources, could be of any further assistance.  But then in exquisite detail, she explained what they could bring to the table.  There would be no fee, this was to be a philanthropic exercise and the company was only to get credit of any kind if the help they provided led to his arrest. 

“You see my Irish friend; this time is very different.  They have a huge bank full of the DNA of ordinary people who have used their services.  Who knows maybe The Ripper was interested in his ancestry?  Nah, we wouldn’t be that lucky,” he chuckled. 

“But there has to be a good chance that he has an inquisitive second cousin or maybe even a few fourth cousins.  We can discover his identity through the connections they have with each other, join the dots so to say.  By linking the related DNA from each person.  Now you see why I’m excited!” he finished sheepishly. 

Suddenly, the grounds for optimism dawned on Sean and he too became entranced by the idea.  There was no way that The Ripper would have foreseen this development and Sean wondered was that this the reason his last attack was so different, even desperate.  Compared to his previous butchery, it was far riskier, as if in a panic.  Perhaps, that’s because he had heard of the new-fangled partnership and did just that.  That would point to the leak coming from England.  Without hesitation, he relayed his thoughts to Jim. 

“Well yeah, lots of people have heard about the sample being sent just prior to Christmas.  Oh good gawd, I see what you mean.  It definitely points to some sort of connection with the police service over here,” he replied almost sympathetically for what had later happened, “but it is a good sign we’re getting closer.  To think of all the lives that have been ruined though.” 

It was unlikely to be one of the police officers or an administration worker.  There were none on leave at the times of the different murders, so there was no way they’d have the time to travel to Ireland to commit them.  It must have been someone who is close to a police officer and one that is quite content to talk about the case at that.   

“I’ll put out a general edict to tell officers of my now grave suspicions and for them to come forward if they suspect anyone,” said Jim.  “To be honest I always presumed the leak was in Ireland.” 

Both officers agreed that their discussion would remain private for now, it would be cruel to raise the hopes of so many people only for them to be dashed.  It was just as important that each police officer was fully motivated to follow each line of possible inquiry. 

 Of course, there was one person Sean was always going to tell, no matter what he had promised, but Jim would have guessed that anyway – Laura.  It made for a good nighttime chat as they lay in bed.  Other couples would have been engaged in a passionate embrace or a nighttime snuggle but this was just as good for them.  She was just as excited as they had been if a little disappointed that the potential breakthrough was still a few weeks away.  She was further intrigued by Sean’s theory of why the last murders were The Ripper’s riskiest to date. 

“I don’t know how you do that,” she said, impressed as she gazed affectionately into his eyes. 

“What?” he replied inquisitively. 

“Keep a level head, like in the midst of such horror.” 

Sean had never looked at it like that before.  In many ways, it was a gift but at times it must make him appear cold, unfeeling.  Either way, he had a job to do and that was all that really mattered. 

A few minutes later, they turned off the lights but they both struggled to fall asleep, though hiding it from the other.  Sean was both excited and wary about what lay ahead; the nightmare was hopefully finally coming to an end but how many more murders would be committed first and was there anything he could do to stop them.  Restless, he found himself switching from side to side all the time trying not to disrupt Laura’s sleep. 

Laura was anxious although she hid it well.  She found herself growing Increasingly worried for Sean; he was under so much pressure, but the worst of it he put on himself.  Although it did seem like a very significant breakthrough, she fretted about his reaction if it turned out to be another blind alley, he was putting so much hope in it.  But all she could do at the end of the day was to be there for him and give him as much support as she could.  She knew that Sean would be there for her too and that is what being involved in a committed relationship meant to her. 

With each passing week, Sean grew tenser.  There had been no further murders since but Sean was anxious for things to progress to the next level.  It had not taken long for the secret to get out and now his superiors on the back of the Minister for Justice were constantly seeking updates that just didn’t exist.  Sean had to keep giving the same tepid response – soon. 

Of course, with each passing day that became a less and less satisfactory response and he soon found himself ordered over to Reading once again to personally oversee the investigation on the British side and communicate with Dublin.  This time though only a select few knew of the arrangement so as not to give any encouragement to the Ripper to carry out a further murder in England like last time.  Laura wasn’t happy to see him go, this time there would be no fixed return date but duty called. 

He was to stay at the same hotel, which he now guessed he should look at as his home from home, at least for the time being.  This time he had to make his own way from the bustling airport using a taxi but Jim promised to meet him first thing in the morning with the promise of news. 

Sean waited patiently for Jim all morning but he did not make an appearance till the early afternoon.  He was quite bored with England now long having lost its luster. Their reunion though when it did come was like that of two old friends who hadn’t seen each other in an age.  For a few moments, they discussed old times like when they first met and how they would never have predicted that they would end up seeing so much of each other.  Then the conversation turned to the matter at hand; the Gen Search results were back. 

As expected, there was no direct match, that would just have been far too fortuitous but some relations had been found.  There were four that were of particular interest, three in Britain and one in the United States.  In fact, one of them lived close by, only an hour away by car.  Jim had already contacted him by phone that morning and much to Sean’s excitement that was where they were heading right that moment.  

With that, they went outside and got into the police car with two other officers.  Jim was too engrossed with the case to bother with any introductions.  It was like he was excited to have a peer to talk things through with, excitedly leaping from one aspect of the case to another.  On the way he explained that they were going to see a student who took the test, like most people, just out of curiosity; he had not yet been told of what the interview was about.  Daryl Cockburn was his name. 

The journey only took about forty minutes so Sean had no time to dwell on what lay ahead.  He was now outside his jurisdiction in any event and had been instructed that his role was only to observe and report.  They pulled up in the parking lot of what appeared to be large, student flat complex, which was teaming with life. 

One of the officers promptly stated that he was in flat-number fifty-seven and reassured Sean that there was wheelchair access.  Sean would certainly have hoped so or else this would have been a wasted journey.  They promptly got out of the car and after asking one of the students for directions headed to the flat that turned out to be just two minutes away. 

Daryl was not what they would have expected from someone related to The Ripper.  He was thin, bespeckled with long, curly black hair in ripped jeans and stunned by the number of coppers that had shown up at his doorstep.  Jim, who had talked to him earlier that day quickly introduced himself but it was soon apparent that he was keener on talking to Sean, whose photo he had seen on the internet. 

The other three students who resided with him were at lectures or had gone off for the day so Daryl invited them into the living room and turned off the television.  Jim whispered into Sean’s ear that protocol would be set aside and he could ask the questions, an opportunity he relished. 

He started off by telling Daryl exactly why they were there and that they hoped he would be willing to assist in their endeavor.  The smile on his face told them that they had his full committed attention.  It turned out that Daryl was quite the talker and only too happy to tell them everything he knew.  This was more interesting than anything he could have expected when he sent away his sample. 

It quickly became clear that there were a few snags.  One was that he came from quite a large family, with over thirty first cousins alone.  The other was that he struggled with some of their names and had no idea when it came to more distant relations. 

“You don’t know the names of all your first cousins?” Sean said somewhere between amusement and agitation. 

“No, some of them sure I’ve barely ever met,” he replied before adding, “It’s my Mum you should really talk to, she’s great with that sort of thing.” 

Sean asked for her number and gave it to one of the officers to see if he could get her on the phone.  Then he turned his attention back to Daryl. 

“The man we’re looking for is athletic, fit, intelligence and strong.  But he’s also a psychopath who would have struggled with relationships and forming a normal human connection with anyone.  Now, I want you to think hard for the next minute or so, does anyone in your family remind you of that?” he said in a deadly serious tone. 

Daryl for the first time went quiet for a few moments. 

“No, sorry sir I can’t think of anyone.  Like, a few of them are a bit mental but nothing on that scale.  Then there are others who like to keep fit, but in all honesty, I wouldn’t call them athletic,” he replied quietly. 

Sean reassured him that that was fine, this was about collating as much information as possible.  Then he thanked him for his assistance.  By then, the officer had his Mum on the phone, who was reticent about divulging any information at first till her son managed to talk her round by telling her that she would never forgive herself if she didn’t help. 

She was of much greater assistance, all of which was dutifully taken down by the officer.  It was with a great sense of accomplishment that Sean was left back to his hotel.  Alas, the next person of interest was a much greater distance away in Grimsby, so they would be setting out early the next morning.  That night, Sean typed up his report and emailed it back to Dublin; though he downplayed his own role in case it would cause any difficulties in the future. 

Then he rang Laura on her mobile and was surprised to find that she would be staying at her Moms while he was away as she was getting a creepy feeling staying on her own.  That was not like her, but he tried to put any worry out of his mind. 

The next morning Jim was there in the foyer as arranged.  There would be only the two of them this time, as no other officer could be spared.  Sean could tell from Jim’s demeanor straight away that he wasn’t overly hopeful of making progress today.  After Sean had maneuvered into the passenger seat, Jim told him that this time, they were heading to a nursing home.  This was not something either of them had expected. 

Sean immediately asked if he was serious, but he insisted that he was.  They were going to see a woman called Martha Delaware.  He wasn’t able to elaborate any further only that she was in her late eighties. 

It was a long drive and the two men had by now exhausted their list of things to talk about leaving long periods of silence.  Sean found himself daydreaming of Ireland and especially Laura.  It was with a sense of relief that he saw the nursing home that was their destination.  It was a large complex, all on the one level.  Everywhere was white, giving it a medical aura.  Most of the residents were in wheelchairs, some looked alert whereas others appeared to be sleeping. 

An attendant, a young woman with a wide warm smile immediately approached to ask if she could be of assistance.  Sean let Jim do the talking. 

“We’re here to see a Mrs. Delaware,” he said in an official tone whilst showing his badge. 

“Oh yes!” she replied excitedly.  “They are expecting you.” 

She pointed to the door that they were to go to.  Neither of the two men was quite sure what to expect as Jim knocked on the door. 

It only took a few seconds for the door to open and they were met by a slender middle-aged woman with a posh accent. 

“My name is Mary.  Please come in.  My Mum is the woman you are here to meet, you really have caused the most unexpected excitement around here!  Even if it somewhat macabre.” 

Martha, who was sitting patiently in her wheelchair beside her hospital bed, gave them a warm welcome.  They were only too eager to answer any questions the officers may have had.  When Martha’s memory became fuzzy, her daughter was there to fill in the blanks. 

It was still painstaking work though as there were multiple large families in her ancestral line.   

“Well Mommy was from a family of eight, her Mom from a family of twelve and her father had six siblings,” Mary said expertly. 

Sean couldn’t but roll his eyes, which led to much laughter all round.  He left Jim the arduous task of jotting down all the names.  Eventually, though he got bored with the recording and decided to go for the jugular. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking Martha but is there any part of the family that as we say, a bit odd?” he interrupted inquisitively. 

“Well, there’s quite a lot odd in the extended family, but I guess there is odd and then there’s what you’re looking for, I guess.  My brother Robert had a strange one alright, her name was Jackie Huntington.  Some fool knocked her up and did a runner.  She married a right bastard too from what I heard.  None of the rest of the family would have anything to do with her.  She wasn’t just odd; it was much more than that.  She was a cruel and heartless woman.  If there was something she could jeer or torment you about, she would.  She had a younger sister, who was what you call slow and she was awful to her, I was told.  Now that was many moons ago and it is a man that you are looking for but maybe, I don’t know…” 

Martha’s lucidity then failed somewhat and she went off on an unrelated tangent.  Unfortunately, Mary a few minutes later when Martha had needed to rest could add nothing more except to say that Robert was still alive, but only just, having been riddled with cancer.  He was currently getting end-of-life care at a hospice and was only expected to last another two weeks at most.   

“It’s probably nothing, we’ll be in touch if we need further details,” Jim informed her before taking down her telephone number.  The two officers thanked her for the assistance before heading back to the car. 

The drive back seemed to take longer, perhaps it was because they were both tired.  Eventually, Jim broke the silence. 

“Well, my Irish friend do you think we’re getting any closer to our man?” 

“Oh yes, we’ll get there.  Soon the fog will lift and we’ll have him in our sights, there will be nowhere for him to hide,” he replied with a steely conviction that surprised Jim. 

The comments were to prove prescient.  Two days later, interviews had also been conducted with the other two people that harbored some of The Rippers DNA.  Jim raced to the hotel to inform Sean of the results.  They should have listened more closely to the old lady. 

Jim saw that Sean was having his lunch in the hotel restaurant through a window but that wasn’t going to deter him; simply flashing his ID at the waiter and walking past.  Sean was quite surprised when Jim suddenly pulled up a chair beside him waving a piece of paper with a neatly laid out diagram with different people’s names and their relation to each other.  Such was his excitement he didn’t bother with the usual pleasantries. 

“Look!  This explains everything and we’re so very close.  Martha is related down the maternal line whereas Daryl is related paternally.  The other two people’s DNA confirms this.  See, here it appears that the old lady could have been on to something.  It could possibly be a son of Jackie Huntington.” 

Sean immediately set aside his dinner and asked if they had already contacted her.  Jim said that he rang on the way over but she hung up once he said that he was police and from her tone, she didn’t seem like the cooperative type. 

Sean instinctively knew that they needed to get to Robert, while they still had an opportunity.  Taking charge of the situation, he told Jim to ring Mary and find out his whereabouts.  Fortunately, Mary perhaps expecting the call was able to give him the location, but she added that he was now in his final hours. 

Just a few moments later, the two men were driving to St Michael’s Hospice, in the heart of London.  They turned on the siren, every second could prove vital.  For a time, they made great progress but their frustration grew as they hit outer London and were hit with gridlock on all five lanes.  They turned off the siren and tried to be patient.  Gradually, they crawled into the city proper and Jim then had a good idea of the best streets to take.   

“I always wanted to visit London again even if the circumstances are not what I would have expected,” Sean said jokingly to lift the mood. 

“When we get this bastard, you’ll be coming again and I’ll show you all the good spots,” Jim replied sternly. 

A few minutes later they had reached their destination.  It was not what Sean would have expected.  It was on a busy street and it actually took them a few minutes to find somewhere to park that Sean could actually get out safely into his wheelchair.  Apart from the name hanging over the entrance, there was nothing to signify that the red brick six-story building was any different from the ones that surrounded it. 

Anxious to reach Robert in time, they hastily went inside.  The change in atmosphere was immediate.  The hustle and bustle of the street immediately changed to serenity.  There was a shop that was covered in flowers immediately on the left side and a reception desk with seating on the right manned by nurses.  They skipped the queue and went straight to the top where a middle-aged nurse began to admonish them. 

“You can’t do that! Please take your place at the back!” she said in astonishment but once Jim showed his ID, her tone immediately softened and she checked for Robert’s location on the computer in front of her. 

“Oh yes, he is on the fourth floor, in the L Block.  I tell you what I’ll go with you.  This place is like Fort Knox without a swipe card and I’m due a break,” she said helpfully. 

Jim immediately agreed and they began their journey through a labyrinth of corridors and lifts.  Every turn was indistinguishable from the last, the only noticeable change is a change of lettering on the overhead signs.  A chill went down Sean’s spine as he thought of the anonymity of death in places like this.  Sure, the patients smiled as he passed by, but he wondered if they were little more than a number to the people who worked here.  Or perhaps, it was just his distaste for medical settings since his accident. 

After a few minutes, they reached Robert’s room, which he had all to himself though it immediately became clear that probably didn’t make much difference to him one way or the other.  Looking extremely frail and pale, he was being attended by a petite, young attendant who inquired if they were family or friends.  Her face became somewhat despondent when the nurse that had come with us told her they were not, but police who wished to speak with him. 

“I fear that you have come too late, he’s been unconscious now for a little over an hour and I doubt he’ll open those eyes ever again.  I had hoped you were family; I hate when we’re the only people here to say goodbye,” she said with a smile. 

“Did his family visit at all?” Jim inquired noting that there were no photos or flowers in the room. 

“Not that I’ve seen,” she replied sadly, “Well apart from some distant relations.  He did mention when pressed that he had a daughter and a grandson but they’ve not shown up.  I gathered that they were estranged and haven’t spoken for many years.  Shame, because he really was a sweet and lovely man.  To be estranged at ninety-six years of age…” 

“Well he couldn’t have been perfect if the police want to talk to him, was he a bit too fond of the kiddies back in the day or something?” the middle-aged woman who was still standing inquisitively in the hallway interjected. 

This alarmed Jim, who didn’t want to tarnish the old man’s reputation in his final moments and insisted that he was not suspected of any wrongdoing.  Sean then asked if they could have a few moments alone with him to at least pay their respects giving a knowing glance to Jim.  With that, they closed the door leaving the men alone with Robert.  Sean took charge of the situation and told Jim to stand in front of the camera that he had spotted in the corner, hoping it was the only one. 

“Well it doesn’t look like you are going to be able to willingly give us your DNA, now does it?” Sean whispered to Robert, “But you know from what people have told us about you, I have no doubt you would have.  Ah, look, at that drool coming from your mouth.  You’re at least entitled to some dignity.” 

Sean took a tissue from his shirt pocket and wiped the man’s mouth.  Then he handed it to Jim who placed it in a small plastic bag.  Then they waited a few minutes.  In that time, Robert took his last breath.  The two men said little to each other until they were back in the car.  They now had a prime suspect for the Reading Rapist and The Irish Ripper, and possibly the proof to imprison him.

Chapter 20

Jim didn’t bring Sean back to the hotel this time but straight to the police station where he worked.  The first thing they did after Jim had scheduled a meeting for an hour’s time with his team, was to head straight to the cafeteria as both men were famished.  Unlike Sean’s Garda Station back in Ireland, this station was large, modern and set in suburban surroundings with a fleet of police cars parked outside.  Jim became so occupied introducing “his Irish friend” and talking rather than eating, that they ended up in a rush to make it. 

Sean was surprised by the number of officers that were waiting for them and how the room immediately fell silent when they entered.  Jim immediately took control of the situation and went to the front to face his colleagues while Sean took up a position off to the side.   

“You all know why we’re here.  To catch the Reading Rapist and quite possibly The Irish Ripper.  We have a major new lead thanks to our work with Gen Search X and our Irish friend.  Her name is Jacqueline Huntington and we believe that a very close male relative is the Reading Rapist, most probably her son. 

I know I don’t have to say this, this is to get your total and absolute attention, there is no room for any fuck ups.  The victims deserve their best.  I most certainly want to be able to look them in the eye when this is over.  I have made promises that this bastard will be caught.  Don’t make me a liar!” 

Once he stopped speaking, they all began working like a well-oiled machine. Sean even found Jim’s speech inspiring and found it difficult to just sit there and wait.  However, Jim told him to wait around a while, that his team worked fast.  They had access to a multitude of records, perhaps more than they strictly should have. 

Scarcely two hours later, they had the name of her son, Charles Huntington, his poor school record and the fact that he joined the military for a number of years before leaving for an unknown reason.  Critically, it showed that he was assigned to a barracks near Reading. 

“It’s him Jim, but we could do with further confirmation all the same.  Let’s go the barracks right now and get in front of this,” Sean implored. 

Nothing needed to be said, Jim nodded in agreement with Sean and they were off.  It only took twenty-five minutes to get there; it took longer to meet the Sergeant who was in charge but at least when they did, he was all too happy to be of assistance. 

“Oh yeah, I remember him, he made quite the impression,” said the balding, middle-aged but fit-looking man, “He was some physical specimen, top of his class in that respect.  Normally, when you have a soldier like that, the others would look up to or maybe even aspire to be like him.  But not this time, everybody despised him.  I mean like he had no friends whatsoever.  Not only that, he never had any visitors either.  Even during the holidays, he used to stay in the barracks as if he had nowhere to go.  A bit sad I suppose really.  He did wonder off quite a lot though, nobody had a clue what he was getting up to.” 

Then he continued with a grin, “They had a funny nickname for him, what was it?  Oh yeah, little man Huntington.  Apparently, his wiener was on the small side.  Mind you, none of them dared say it to his face.  Even his superiors were afraid of him and he only ever loosely understood the idea of following orders.  I’d say he would have been brilliant to have on your side in the thick of battle when you just wanted someone to slaughter the enemy, you know what I mean?  A real fucking psycho, but the last person you want to have around, the rest of the time.  Eventually, he just had to go.  Why is it that you’re asking about him anyway?” 

Sean thought it best that Jim should be the one to explain.  It would be better coming from a fellow Englishman.  Jim didn’t sugarcoat it. 

“We have very strong reasons to believe that he is The Reading Rapist and most probably The Irish Ripper,” he replied sternly. 

“Oh good God!” he replied flummoxed before Jim continued. 

“It’s likely that this news will break shortly.  There will be lots of television cameras and journalists around asking questions.  Best to prepare oneself and if I was you, I’d inform my superiors straight away.” 

The Sergeant indicated that he would and they parted.  Sean was now getting anxious to get back to the hotel and his laptop to write an urgent report updating Dublin on developments before the news broke on the television or on the internet; they would not be best pleased. 

The following morning, he felt more refreshed than he had in quite some time as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.  The Ripper had finally become the hunted rather than the hunter.  He decided to turn on the television and watch a current affairs program prior to getting his breakfast when it cut to the BBC newsroom with a photo of Charles Huntington in the top right corner of the screen.   

“We are interrupting this broadcast to bring you this breaking news.  Our sources from inside the police are informing us that the Reading Rapist and quite possibly The Irish Ripper has been identified.  The Reading Rapist is one of the most prolific rapists in British criminal history who terrorized women in the greater Reading area.  A revolutionary new DNA analysis was used in his identification.  His name is Charles Huntington and he is a former member of the British Army.   

His exact whereabouts are currently unknown but he is thought to be currently residing in Ireland.  Please be advised that he is extremely dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances.” 

Sean turned the television off somewhat disappointedly.  The same news would now break in Ireland on almost all channels almost simultaneously.  It would have been better to try and catch The Ripper unawares but he knew the temptation for someone to leak would prove too much.  Sean was sure that Charles Huntington wouldn’t be the type to just give himself up and worried that further bloodletting now lay ahead. 

At that moment, he no longer felt hungry.  Better to get straight back to Dublin.  That’s where all the action was going to be, for better or worse.  With that, he began to make arrangements for his trip. 

Laura, as ever was there anxiously waiting for him when he arrived and did not waste any time in updating him about the turbulence of the day.  Once the news broke, all hell broke loose.  The phone lines just went off the hook.  She had even been drafted in to deal with some of the calls.  Some people just wanted confirmation that it was true, that we had finally identified him, others thought they had seen him them here, there and everywhere.  Of course, then there was a multitude of prank calls, even Laura had received one.  In the darker corners of the Web, The Irish Ripper and his heinous acts were something to be joyous about, especially to many in the Incel community who saw him as the ultimate anti-feminist and took joy in what he had done to the women.  Sean had been told by Jim that were hundreds of websites dedicated to him.  This, of course, meant that the whole force had just been taken up recording telephone calls and callers to the different desks across the country.   

“Damn, that’s what I was worried would happen.  It was inevitable.  But there was nothing that could be done.  Jim had tried to stop the information from leaking but he had privately told me that it was only a matter of time.  The news agencies over there offer big money for important news stories.  Apparently, it was the Daily Orbit that broke the story,” he said somewhat tiredly after what had been another exhausting journey before holding out his hand tenderly for her to hold briefly as pushed his wheelchair along. 

On the drive home, Laura told him that she had something important to tell him. 

“Yeah,” he replied anxiously thinking it was something about The Ripper. 

“No, nothing like that!  It’s not bad, well hopefully you won’t think so.  A few days ago, em well I was chatting with some other female Gardai at the station and they started talking about you.  Your kinda famous at this stage, almost as much as The Ripper himself.  Well, I let slip that we are a couple and now everybody in the station knows.” 

There was a brief pause for a number of moments. 

“What were they saying that you blurted it out?” Sean replied light-heartedly. 

“It’s a bit embarrassing really.  One of them said that she quite fancied you and she started saying sexual stuff.  I just got really annoyed and said that you are my boyfriend.” 

“Well that’s that sorted,” Sean replied with a grin, “and nice to know I have some admirers.” 

At this point, Laura sheepishly slapped his shoulder in mock aggression before they both burst out in laughter.  The happenings though were quite a boost to his ego and Laura could tell that his lovemaking had been quite reinvigorated that night. 

The next morning Sean was restless to get up as quickly as possible and get to work.  He wasn’t quite sure if this had ever happened previously but there is a first time for everything.  His breakfast tasted nicer and the morning seemed brighter.  It was a day of promise.  Even the traffic seemed lighter and Sean was quickly in at his desk.  But this was where things turned.  There were over six hundred emails in his inbox and he could see that an important meeting had been scheduled for first thing in the morning.  He wasn’t even sure how they knew he would be back in time for it.  He only had time to read the first few emails, all about alleged sightings of The Ripper in different locations in the four parts of Ireland.  From the subject lines, Sean could guess that most of the rest was something similar.  Exasperated, he locked his computer and was just about to leave when the phone rang.  He immediately recognized the number as being Jim. 

“Well hello Jim, missing me already?” 

“You did leave all of the sudden,” he replied with a chuckle, “we found the mole.  The man got some shock when he saw Huntington on the television.  He worked here in the station in administration and knows Huntington from his school days, said he was a real loner and would rarely talk to anybody apart from himself.  Said he felt sorry for him.  They had always sent emails back and forth about crime, so it would only seem natural when the conversations turned to discussions of the Reading Rapist or The Irish Ripper.  The poor mite is inconsolable. 

There was another thing, probably nothing.  But he mentioned something about Huntington having this idea that The Irish Ripper had helped some Irish copper once, but that would have to equalize if his back was ever to the wall.  He may have been hinting at something truthful.  I wouldn’t like to be that copper, whatever the hell “equalization” means, it can’t be good.” 

Sean thanked Jim for the call and hastily went to the Chief Superintendent’s office for the scheduled meeting, not quite sure what to expect.  All the time his heart was beating ferociously. 

The Chief and a few other senior Gardai were there waiting for him in a large semi-circle.  He was met with smiles and the Chief shook his hand hard and began to speak. 

“Ireland owes you a debt.  The English officer Jim told us that you made a great contribution while you were over there.  We’re all very proud of you.  The Nation owes you a huge debt.  We’re going to nail this monster.  In fact, we now know that he was residing in a flat in Drogheda.  Alas, it seems he quickly vacated the premises almost certainly after he saw the news reports.  Now, maybe you can bring the rest of the team up to speed on what you know about this Huntington fella.” 

Sean quickly told them everything he knew about the suspect, even that his friend said he was a loner.  What Sean didn’t mention, though was anything about a Garda being indebted to The Ripper.  Then the central question arose – so where is he now?  It was the simplest of questions but with the trickiest of answers.  This was, after all, a man who had managed to evade capture for years.  Sean was the first person to try and take a stab at an answer. 

“He’s a solitary individual who does not tend to get on with those around him.  He has also been expertly trained thanks to the British Army to survive in harsh conditions.  There is a strong chance that he has retreated to the wilderness, perhaps somewhere like the Dublin mountains.  But that is not what I think.  I reckon he’ll try and get in one more kill before he is caught.   After all that is the compulsion that has dominated his life.” 

The room suddenly quietened at the chilling implication.  None of them wanted a repeat of those horrifying murder scenes.  Each Garda station already had a plaque to his murder victims as a symbol of their unending determination to catch The Ripper and the last thing they wanted, was to be adding to it. 

Sean patiently waited in his office for the rest of the day, which passed with more alleged sightings all over the country.  Psychologists on the television were stating that mass paranoia had engulfed the country.  That people were starting to believe that The Ripper was something of a ghost who could hide behind every wall and branch.  They had reason to be terrified but that didn’t help the Gardai. 

All-day, Jim’s message resonated through Sean’s mind, that The Ripper would equalize with the Garda whom he had helped if his back to the wall, which it certainly was now.  As Sean drove into his driveway that evening, he could see from the curtains that Laura was already there. 

He shuddered at the thought that he might already be too late.  Perhaps the attack had already commenced and he had done nothing to prevent it.  For a few panicked moments, he struggled to leave his car.  He was relieved to see that she was perfectly okay when he opened the front door but he knew that now was the time he would finally have to act. 

“How was your day darling,” she cheerily greeted him.  But once she saw the look on his face, her tone quickly changed. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It might be best for you to sit.  There’s some stuff you need to hear.” 

Instinctively she knew that this something very serious.  So, she stopped working on the dinner and pulled up a chair to see what he had to say.

Chapter 21

It’s been the worst of days but I hope it will become the best of days.  Imagine my shock at turning on my television to see my own reflection staring back at me.  There was a time when I felt that this day was inevitable but I had been so careful and it had become so damn easy. 

There is nobody to blame but myself.  Somewhere I must have slipped up but I cannot fathom where.  One of the reports mentioned something about a new DNA technique but I don’t understand how they could link anything to my name and photo.  There was no time to ponder in any event, only to flee.  I have no doubt that the horrid old woman across the road will report my location to the authorities at once; she never liked me anyway.  Pity I didn’t have time to slit her throat before I left, that would have been fun. 

At least I am finally getting some of the recognition I deserve.  Everybody now knows my name, not just my monikers.  They will realize how truly great I am compared to them and their ordinary, pathetic and meaningless lives.  I will be remembered forever and they will be forgotten.  It is true what they say, there is a silver lining to every cloud. 

Now I am in the unnatural position of being the hunted or at least that’s what everybody thinks.  As if I would be that weak and cower going quietly into the night.  No, there is still time for one last night of fun, a final crescendo.  Just as well all the preparation had already been done and I was already ready to go. 

The target is perfect, my nemesis Garda and his whore.  Oh, how I cannot wait to see the terror on their faces as I rip her to shreds.  They have it coming, which makes it sweeter if that is even possible.  He should never have interfered in my business, the damn fool.  Now he has destroyed my happiness and I will destroy his.  I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on her as I followed from a distance.  Part of me hopes she will resist so I can destroy her physically and emotionally as she gasps for her final breath. 

The house alarm has already been dealt with.  There will be little difficulty getting through a sliding door at the rear of their property.  They really should be more security conscious; you never really know who might come along at the dead of night. 

Now it is only a matter of timing.  It should be a surprise attack and they should have no opportunity to offer a reasonable resistance.  That copper has already caused me too much trouble.  From my surveillance I know that his girlfriend sometimes gets up for a snack around midnight, the pig.  So, it will be, let us say around half one in the morning.  It will be so good; people will finally realize how great I truly am. 

It took patience but finally the allotted time has arrived.  The house is dark and there has been no movement for hours.  She never appeared at midnight, a small break from the usual routine, but not enough to call off the attack given the circumstances.  Those idiots would never be a match for me in any event. 

It is finally time to leave my hiding spot in the hedge but first I look at my surgical knife and wonder how much greater his terror will be, as he knows what the scene will look like at the end.  I can already feel the stirrings of an erection building.  As expected, I can simply walk up the long back garden.  With every step, the excitement builds but then there is albeit momentarily, tension as the sliding door is reached.  But in truth, it’s something that I have done hundreds of times before and it is an easy obstacle to pass. 

Now is the time for stealth.  I must make as little noise as possible.  Having been in the house a few weeks prior, I know what room they are sleeping in and make my way slowly towards it.  Now is the time that makes the rest of my life worthwhile.  I am not a harbinger of death but of unconstrained life.  I gentle push the door open and through the moonlight can see them at rest.  Slowly I go towards their bed, my knife at the ready.  I will follow the usual routine, put it to the throat of the woman to subdue them both. 

But then the stillness of the night is broken, in a flash so fast there is nothing I can do to react.  I hear the sound of something, perhaps the cabinet opening behind me and then the sound of a gunshot.  A second passes before I feel the pain pulverizing through my body as I stumble and then fall to the ground; something has gone seriously wrong, what exactly I cannot fathom. 

A few moments later and the lights have been turned on, dazzling me.  Then I am turned on my back and my ski mask violently torn from my head; I feel naked.  Much to my surprise, it is the cripple’s girlfriend that is standing over me, cursing and jeering me.  It’s like I’m that little boy again being laughed at by my half-sisters.  She had never been in that bed but had rather been waiting for me ready to pounce. 

She discusses with the cripple if they should call an ambulance as I start to choke on my own blood.  Hopefully they will let me die, there is nothing left for me in this world now.  The argument goes back and forth a for a few minutes before they eventually ring nine, nine, nine. 

A few hours earlier 

“I knew.” 

They were the words that shocked Sean the most.  He had no choice but to tell her everything, come what may.  But she had revelations all of her own that came out in tears.  That for a time she had been an undercover agent but that now she truly loved him.  Perhaps such revelations would doom many relationships but not this one.  Instead, they reaffirmed their love for one another. 

Then matters turned to the business at hand. 

“So, we could next?  That’s what you’re saying, right,” Laura said in a concerned tone. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so.  Given, the circumstances I fear it will be tonight.  If you want to get in one of those cars and just keep driving, I totally understand.  I’ll face him alone.  I can’t tell anyone else or I’ll be implicating myself in serious crimes.  Please, just go!” 

“Never, you hear me,” she replied steely, “we will face this threat together.  Both for you and for what he did to all those women.  For this last while I have had this feeling that someone was matching me.  That’s why I left the house while you were away.  I have even taken to checking the security round the house.  The alarm and the security lights are not working so I think it will definitely be tonight.  I’ll stay awake with my gun in the closet all night if I have to and catch him by surprise.” 

“I’ll put one under the pillow too.  If it comes down to it, I’d rather shoot you than let that monster have his way,” Sean said, his voice shaking.   

“It won’t come to that,” she replied clutching his hand across the table.

Chapter 22

For the first time in years, a sense of euphoria pervaded through every street corner on the island of Ireland; a black fog had finally lifted from the people’s hearts.  A parade of celebration passed through O’Connell Street to a huge cheering crowd.  Laura had become something of a female icon for her role in capturing The Irish Ripper as was later definitively confirmed, right up there beside Katie Taylor and it was only a matter of time before a major promotion.  Some questioned how it all happened but these voices had been lost in the chorus of affection. 

The Irish Ripper was now behind bars in solitary confinement.  The doctors had battled for hours to save his life to the dismay of many who would have preferred for him to die in agony.  But that was their job and they did it well.  There was enough evidence to lock him away for the rest of his days in any event. 

Sean preferred to stay in the shadows and the public rarely heard mention of his name.  Everybody, in the force, knew though that he played a pivotal role in what had occurred and his reputation had soared still higher.  It left him with a great sense of satisfaction.   

The terror of that night had also rid him of any lingering doubt that Laura was the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  He could no longer imagine a life without her and the recent events had drawn them still closer. 

He was waiting there on the floor holding the ring outstretched in the kitchen one evening after she got home from work.  She gasped in astonishment; then tears rolled down her eyes. 

“This is the closest I could get to being on the bended knee!” he said anxiously. 

“Oh yes!” she replied passionately before gripping him in a tight embrace. 

It seemed that he now had everything he could ever want.  But life was quiet now, there were no night terrors but also there was no buzz or intrigue.  The Ripper or rather the hunt for The Ripper had become such an integral part of his life that he now felt somewhat lost without it and had to readjust to ordinary life once again.  But he was still relieved the killings had come to a halt. 

Gensearch X had received the positive publicity it craved at the beginning but then there was something of a backlash, especially outside of Ireland which hadn’t experienced the fear.  The power of genetic technology was now all too evident for some.  Sure, it had been put to positive use on this occasion but there was nothing to stop private enterprise putting it to nefarious use in the future or so many people thought.  There were huge privacy issues and people questioned how much power the state should have.  A wall of new regulations was erected, dramatically reducing the method’s future effectiveness.  

Sean logged off his computer, he had an appointment with the Superintendent in five minutes that he had been told that it would be best not to miss.  As he pushed his wheelchair towards the meeting room, he wondered what lay ahead, at least he didn’t have time to ponder too much. 

As he drew closer, he could hear the sound of chatting and laughter in the distance.  A few Gardai were waiting outside the door and told him to go in, that everyone was in there waiting for him and they were, even Laura and Jim from England.  A large round of applause broke out as he entered the room as everybody turned to face him.  Then Jim, dressed in an immaculate suit approached giving a firm handshake and whispered into his ear that it was good to see that his Irish friend was as loved at home, as he was abroad. 

The Superintendent then took center stage. 

“We are here today to honor the great work done by Detective Sean O’Callaghan in the pursuit of The Ripper.  Without him, justice may never have been served.  It is my pleasure to award him the highest medal that An Garda Siochana can award – The Scott Medal for bravery.  It’s something that he richly deserves. 

I know that many people here thought Sean O’Callaghan was finished after his accident.  But that day I visited him in the hospital I could see a determination and steel to thrive, and by God he has. 

But I also have another announcement, I have nominated Sean to work with an elite international group that will have component parts from different police forces around the world, including Scotland Yard and the FBI that will offer support in the hunt of these kinds of killers around the world. 

Will you accept the position, Sean?” 

Sean smiled and nodded that he would, this was exactly the kind of thing he wanted to be involved in, even if he hadn’t realized it right till that moment; the thrill of the chase without putting himself in jeopardy.  Laura frowned, although he didn’t notice.  With that, the Superintendent walked towards Sean and put the medal on his neck as rapturous applause once more broke out.  

Sean was still to stay in his old office, something that he was thankful for as he could continue with his normal daily routine without adjustments.  A week later, he had been officially assigned his first communication.  The subject line was immediately worrisome – 

The Happyface Killings (Worldwide). 

Even Sean was shocked by what he read next.  A group on the dark web was organizing murders.  Members were to put a happy face close to the scene so that they could be tallied.  It is thought that they were responsible for over thirty murders to date and we were to review homicides in our jurisdiction to see if any of them could be linked to the phenomenon… 

/ 

(If you enjoyed reading this novel, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads)