The Teddy Bear Killer

Hide your kids. A monster's lurking.

The papers called him the “Teddy Bear Killer”. Some protested that the label was too insensitive, but the truth was never meant to be something pretty. Not according to the Daily Week anyway. The facts were there, and there was no need to sugarcoat them, they’d publicly stated. The man had kidnapped and murdered those children. All twenty-four of them. For Ivan Keller this was the opportunity he’d been stalking his entire career. Five frustrating and tedious years as a journalist he’d spent waiting for a major story to cover. A story that would be way bigger than the crappy, banal articles he had been writing every day about traffic jams downtown and healthy ways to wash your genitals. A hit that would spring-board him right at the heart of the promising land of world-class journalism and champagne parties, and allow him to play golf with the likes of Robert Fisk and Anderson Cooper. An outstanding scoop that, most importantly, would give him a strong sense of belonging in the cruel jungle he’d been battling inside. Ivan’s mouth watered at these very fantasies. The ringing of his desk phone ripped him out of his reverie. He eyed it for a moment, as if hoping it would shut it up, then picked up the receiver. ‘Keller,’ he started. ‘Hey, Ivan, it’s me,’ said a sweet voice. He immediately straightened up in his seat. ‘Hey, what’s up?’ That was Alex, Ivan’s flamboyant love. If only he had a larger set of balls to let her in on how he felt. They’d first met at a journalism convention in front of a buffet table. He’d been instantly hooked on her glamourous, naturally-drawn silhouette and her fast way of speaking. That was almost two years ago and, ever since, not once has he hinted or suggested having so much as a flirty, friendly crush on her. Maybe there’s still hope, he would tell himself. She exhaled loudly and said, ‘I left Danny home with the sitter. That boy’s gonna cause me a nervous breakdown someday, I swear. Anyway, I’m on my way to you now. You’d better be ready.’ ‘What’s better than your own son destroying you?’ he said jokingly. ‘Wait, you’re on your way here? At the office? What’s going on?’ ‘I’ve got the passes, Ivan. For both of us.’ ‘You’re kidding me.’ His pupils widened and his eyebrows jumped up. Alex didn’t reply. ‘Holy s**t, you’re not kidding. How in the world did you pull that off?’ ‘Let’s just say that someone at the Bureau owes me a big favor, and today was the day he had to pay me back.’ ‘What do you mean by “had to”?’ ‘Jesus Christ, Ivan, I blackmailed the damn guy, okay?’ she admitted. ‘Alex, you are one amazing evil creature,’ he said with an ear-to-ear grin. ‘Yeah, I know. I just hope your phone isn’t tapped, though. I’ve seen Orange is The New Black, so I know what happens to pretty curvy women in jail.’ Ivan was completely baffled by the news. It was huge, and he knew it fully. The passes Alex had just mentioned were access cards granted by the FBI to allow journalists and reporters to occasionally attend interviews and, on extremely rare occasions, interrogation sessions with criminals. It was every journalist’s wet dream. And getting hold of such a pass was almost as impossible as trying to rub a cat’s belly without getting yourself mauled. Ivan Keller was going to be among the very few privileged people on the planet to have the chance to talk directly to the “Teddy Bear Killer”, look him in the eye and ask him a question, maybe even two. ‘I’m coming. I’ll meet you as usual,’ he finally said after letting the news sink in for a moment. He hung up, snatched his coat from the window handle and swung his sling backpack on his shoulder.

Thirty minutes later Ivan and Alex arrived at the FBI’s headquarter where the open interview was to be held. The whole event was referred to as “Inside the Mind of a Madman” and, naturally, it was heavily mediatized. Dozens of vans with their satellite dishes deployed invaded every square inch of space around the building. While crossing the parking lot Alex placed her pass around her neck and handed Ivan his to do the same. They badged their way through security check, took the elevator to the second floor, and joined a small group of reporters and journalists jammed in a large, bright room. They rushed to a couple of empty seats on the third row and settled down. The seats were all facing a wide wooden stage at which center was a black iron chair with metal chains dangling from it. Four uniformed police officers were standing by it, two on each side, looking extremely vigilant and stiff as a plank, eyes barely blinking, tirelessly sweeping every movement in the room. Alex leaned over Ivan and nodded towards the stage. ‘They’re gonna bring the shooter any minute now,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll chain him up in there and we’ll get to engage him with questions.’ And like she said, a few seconds later a thick-mustachioed man wearing a dark-blue suit -- most probably the detective who was working on the case, Ivan guessed -- emerged from a backdoor, walking a handcuffed slender man in an orange jumpsuit with dirty-blond hair and a set of baggy eyes, then shackled him to the chair. Every person in the room held their breath. Nobody dared flinch. They were in the presence of a monster now. A man devoid of any kind of human emotions. A ruthless child killer whose very gaze, if locked long enough on you, could siphon every single drop of happiness from you. The detective stepped forward and spoke. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming’ he said, in a loud, resonating voice, ‘I’m detective Ford, I’m in charge of this on-going investigation. Mr. Shell will now answer your questions. I expect you to keep this interview organized and civilized. Thank you.’ As soon as he was done, Alex’s hand sprung up like a mongoose out of its burrow. Detective Ford stared at her for a moment then gestured for her to speak. ‘Hi, my name is Alex Banner from The Daily Week. Mr. Shell I have one question for you,’ she said calmly. She paused, breathing in, then continued, ‘Do you believe you’re innocent?’ The metal chains rattled as the man shifted in his chair. He eyed Alex with a terrifyingly friendly look, a hint of a smirk hanging from his lips. Ivan kept looking at him and Alex back and forth, picking up the intense vibes between them. He could feel her nerves sparking up and could feel him drilling his way through her skull. Heavy, exhausting seconds passed by. ‘You couldn’t have come up with a better starter, could you?’ he abruptly broke the silence, leaning back. His voice was raspy and low and his teeth were repugnantly discolored. Ivan felt an unexplicable uneasiness the instant he heard him. ‘Excuse me?’ Alex was incredulous. ‘Excuse me?’ he mimicked her words the way a child would. ‘You’re a f*****g moron. What kind of question is that? Of course I’m not innocent, the police found bodies of kids buried in my backyard. Do I sound innocent to you, Ms Banner?’ ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Shell. What I meant was--’ ‘Tell me, Ms Banner’, he ignored her and kept on, back to his calm, low voice. ‘How long do you think a little boy can live without food or water?’ A dark atmosphere suddenly dropped on the room like an atomic bomb. People whispered and glanced at one another, stricken with shock and curiosity. Some stood up and stared, not certain what they heard was right. Ivan turned to Alex to see her usually-lively, bright face now crunched in horror. Then he spoke again. ‘I bet Danny’s pretty hungry by now.’ Blood drained from Ivan’s face. The words came in like razor blades through his spine. He didn’t need to turn to Alex to know she already reached for her cell phone and dialed her babysitter’s number, hands trembling violently. The man in the chains observed the scene with immense satisfaction. Ivan couldn’t take his eyes off of him. The smirk was now a wide, perverse grin.

Author's Note

I understand this deals with a sensitive subject, but I felt this only reflects the twisted, sordid reality we live in.

Reviews

[Beccy]

This is so very well written Moody. You created a threatening and very ominous atmosphere that in no small part put me in mind of Silence of the lambs.

Shivers down the spine with this one.

Beccy.

[Moody]

Hi Beccy,
First of all, sorry for the late reply, I've been out of the Café for quite some time.
Secondly, thank you so much. You warm my heart! There's certainly a Silence of the Lambs air to the story and I liked this influence, to be honest. Close enough to be picked up, distinct enough to stand on its own.
Moody

[Amy]

Good flow to the story line and I do so love a thrilling read.

[Moody]

Thank you Amy. There's more to come

[Woody]

the narration and wording are top notch, moody. the build up is quite good, too. very well written indeed. I'm with Andronicus in that it begs a continuation, be it another chapter if a novel scares you.

[Moody]

Thanks pop, I'll keep this in mind :D

[Samuel Dickens]

Evaluating this on it's technical merits, I think it's pretty good. I like a good scary story when it's about ghosts, monsters and creatures that probably don't exist, but when we're talking about the real kind, like this teddy bear killer, I have a hard time with it. Many are not like me, however, and would find this compelling.

[Moody]

Thanks for the review Sam
I'm on the opposite side of the street on this. I like more the stories about 'real' monsters than those with ghosts and ghouls. Growing up watching crime shows and movies, I think, has its effects.

[Stan Lee]

Then what happens....!!?? *screams in horror*
This is scary, like petrifying scary. Are you going to keep going with this story? I feel like this could be the start of a novella or even a novel. It's very well written, the flow, the build up of tension. Very well done.
Impressive writing Moody - but so scary!!

[Moody]

Thank you so much Andronicus :D
Well, the idea's crossed my mind. I don't know if I'm able to write a novel, or even a novella. It takes a lot of time and research. But maybe I'll keep on writing this one! I like how it turned out, I might add a head and tail to it.

[Stan Lee]

You're welcome. And good luck. Don't get lost in dark scary places.