The Beast of 1977 (Book 1)

Completely deflated, Bruin dragged himself past the murder scene on his way back into the living room to find Fitzpatrick holding a tape recorder. He then watched as his partner pushed the rewind button and allowed the recording to play.

Everyone that was gathered in the living room stood and listened with disgusted faces as Cummins huffed and wheezed to a Chicago song playing in the background. It wasn't too difficult for everyone to figure out what the man was doing in the recording.

"Damn shit." Fitzpatrick growled as he placed the machine back down onto the glass table without stopping the recording.

"Hey, Jones," Bruin motioned to the floor, "there's a thing of Vaseline beside the couch there."

"Where's the fellow that he snatched yesterday?" One of the other officers asked.

"Maybe he's downstairs." Bruin miserably replied before starting for the bedrooms.

"I guess it makes sense in a way," Fitzpatrick mentioned while gawking about the sophisticated living room, "he's been using his own vehicles to snatch people."

"We've got a live one down here!" A voice gleefully shouted out from the basement.

Like little boys on summer vacation, both Bruin and Fitzpatrick raced through the living room, into the kitchen and down the basement stairs to see fifteen naked, dead bodies lying all over a bloodied floor, and one living, naked person curled up in a secure ball, holding her thin hands together as tight as she could while her blue eyes bulged out of her head in a horrific manner.

"Someone get Donaldson down here, now!" Bruin feverishly screamed as he got down to his knees and attempted to tenderly hold the woman in his arms.

"It's okay, honey. It's all over now." He gently reassured the girl while taking off his coat and wrapping it around her shockingly warm body.

Right around the corner at the top of the stairs was a plump, blonde white female officer. The woman came rushing down the steps only to stop midway at the sight of the sadistic death that took hold of her eyes.

"Shirley, come here, we need you to take her upstairs!" Bruin yelled.

But Donaldson appeared too afraid to make another move forward. She slowly began to back away until she stumbled against one of the steps behind her.

"Get your ass down here now, Donaldson!" Fitzpatrick furiously gestured with his left hand.

The petrified woman skittishly stepped down the stairs and approached the young lady on the floor. From there she coddled the woman in her arms like a child.

"Talk to her, Donaldson, she's a baby girl!" Bruin urgently ranted.

"Hold on...sweetheart, we're gonna get you out of here real soon." Donaldson stammered while caressing the woman's long, brunette hair.

With his hands shaking, Bruin stood back up and surveyed every corpse that was lying on the floor. Each body, including the young woman's, had deep puncture wounds to the stomach area.

Their pale, distraught faces told the story of their final moments of life. Handsome, young black men and pretty, young white women were all scattered from one end of the basement to the other. Even the overwhelming stench of the room couldn't tear the officers and detectives away from the bludgeoning sight of all the death that stared ever so lifelessly right back at them. Every moment passed by in surreal slow motion.

"There's Calvin over there." Fitzpatrick pointed straight ahead.

medics helped the young

and

the stairs and began to examine the bodies one by one. After he had overturned each corpse onto its stomach, he coldly stated out loud, "Forced insertion wounds

is

that was located next to the steps. "Yep, it came out of here

all up last November when their supposed bear attacked those Jamaican guys. Everyone down at the lab was in such a hurry to get home for the holiday that they would have said an elephant did it. This fur resembles that of a wolf rather than a bear. You saw the bite marks all over Cummins; it even left a tooth behind, for

that to Cummins?" Fitzpatrick stepped up beside both men. "C'mon, Brice, you saw that faggot bastard,

of wolves, that's not too uncommon for these

set of paw prints tracked in

"Well, let's only hope that this Mercer guy escaped while

"If he did end up escaping, he did so a naked man." Fitzpatrick said. "His clothes are still upstairs on the couch. I'm gonna call

the bizarre roars of an angry animal shot out from upstairs. Every officer and detective that was in the basement pulled out their weapons before racing back

living room, to their stunned surprise, the sounds that they were hearing were coming

stood in the middle of the living room and listened to the

"Is that a bear?" Fitzpatrick's

never heard a bear sound like that before." One of

all continued to eavesdrop until the crashing of wood came into earshot,

"That's not all." Another officer

to see news vans and reporters all descend upon the residence like a swarm of hungry

the big TV star here." Fitzpatrick sarcastically grinned at

last thing Bruin wanted at that stage was to speak with nosey reporters, or anyone else for that matter, but

feet, the detective stepped outside onto the icy porch with his hands slipped tightly into his coat

the residence of the B.O.D. kidnapper?" A

his early twenties accepting a ride from

"Wait a minute, Detective, are we talking about the same Leroy Cummins that owns Cummins' Chevrolet here in town?" A

head. "We discovered sixteen bodies located in

one, so far,"

"What about this person

able to locate Mr. Mercer. We're only hoping that he managed to escape and is on his

that Cummins was found

his tongue for a few seconds before uttering, "We

are rumors that an animal, possibly a killer bear, murdered

in conjunction with Cuyahoga Falls' authorities

turned and stepped back into the frigid confines

"Just how the fuck did the bear story get out that quick?" Bruin snarled at Fitzpatrick who

too. Look at this." Fitzpatrick said while holding up