Never Dead: From the Case Files of Jason Aldward

By Andrew Holcomb

Jason Aldward hates his job. His department, The Bureau of Paranormal Analysis and Apprehension, is a joke. He's the only field agent, the only cases he gets are ridiculous, and you can only take so many calls about Bigfoot before you lose your mind. When out of nowhere the Director of his department pushes him into a murder investigation, Jason thinks he's finally found his shot, but between the FBI agent dogging his every step, and the disturbing challenges from the killer. Jason can only hope his wit and courage will be enough to close the case. But what kind of man is this fiend in Jason's path, and why do Jason's nightmares suddenly begin to foretell the future? The hunt for answers is on, and it will take everything Jason has to bring in this monster the press has dubbed "The Modern Jack the Ripper."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329611047

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Never Dead: From the Case Files of Jason Aldward

Never Dead

From the Casefiles of Jason Aldward

By: Andrew T. Holcomb

© 2015 Lulu Andrew Holcomb. All Rights Reserved. ISBN 978-1-329-59737-2

Dedicated to:

Mike Karlix, For Talking me into Writing this in the first place, and everyone who listened to me when I thought out the plot out loud

Table of Contents

Never Dead

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

I approached the door hesitantly, everything in my being screamed for me not to enter, I knew I couldn’t handle what was on the other side. I had to remind myself that this was my job now, to go where others can’t, to see what others need not. The scene beyond the door fit both categories in a single scarring image. The door transported me to a world I had never wanted to experience, much less examine. The walls were painted a sickening shade of red and brown, the bed sheets, formerly a bright bluish hue, now haunted the floor in shreds of bloody maroon cords, removed from tying the remains of a young woman to the bedposts. Her body was slashed and torn apart, reminiscent of a demented, yet methodical creature. Whoever this murderer was, they knew what they were doing, and they would do so again. I looked around the area, almost afraid that I would turn a corner and find more examples of this creature’s horrid agenda. There was nothing else, which in a way scared me more. This thing had a purpose, it came in, did what it wanted, and left without so much as anybody calling the police, which means that this thing was capable, and could get around without attracting attention.

My train of thought was derailed by the entrance of the local police captain, who clearly was not happy I was there.

Who the hell is this guy, what’s he doing screwing with my crime scene? he proceeded to exclaim to no one in particular, as we were the only people in the room.

None the less I extended my respect; after all, I wasn’t even sure if this was my kind of case. The Captain eyed me like he was expecting me to jump him. I’m told I have that sort of look about me these days. I figure it’s the uniform haircut and the fact that I stand a little more than six feet tall. With just enough bulk muscle and a stern disposition, laced with the fact that my eyes always look dark from too many late nights. I imagine I would look a little intimidating.

Special Agent Aldward, BPAA, I announced as I reached for his hand.

The Captain shook my hand, but was clearly more interested in why there weren’t any officers guarding the scene. He took a quick look around the room before storming outside and screaming obscenities to the officers down the hall until his face had blended between several different colors. Three officers swarmed inside and began sealing the place off with yellow tape. From what I gathered from the captain’s aneurism, they were supposed to have done that thirty or so minutes ago. Given that information, I suppose I could sympathize with the man’s fury.

He asked me politely to get the hell out of his crime scene, and as I had already gotten my information, I left him my card and complied quietly. That’s the first thing they teach you when you work for the government; get what you need, get out, and don’t make a scene. I was a little steamed about the Director not letting the local PD know I’d be there, since it was his idea for me to check it out. I hadn’t even made it back to my office before I had our office assistant, Alexis, all perturbed because of a bunch of crank calls.

Now I know what you’re thinking, who crank calls a government agency? Well, let me put it to you this way, the BPAA, stands for the Bureau of Paranormal Analysis and Apprehension. That’s right; I am the government’s response to that which goes bump in the night, if you’ll forgive the obvious cliché. Investigations into claims of paranormal activity are my day job. So naturally, my department is two things, very small, and very much made fun of. Today had been no exception to the rule.

The morning’s events repeated themselves while I waited for Alexis to find a free moment and deliver the morning’s messages. I had approached the hotel at around a quarter to seven, which the file told me was an estimated six hours after the murder. The policemen at the scene were all jumpy, something had them riled. I didn’t expect what I had seen in there, but from the way they were acting, I could almost swear that they had encountered the victim before. It was a few minutes after I flashed the badge and began examining the scene before any of them said anything that could be considered important to the case.

I’ve seen a lot on this beat, but this has to be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever come across, and to such a nice girl, the older cop had muttered.

Didn’t the captain know her? said the rookie.

Daughter of a friend, he’s pretty shaken up about it.

Should we really let that guy in? He says he’s with the Government, what would they want with this kind of case?

Not sure, but then I’ve never heard of the BPAA either.

I examined the corpse as quickly as possible, took maybe four photographs. Most agencies have field agents for this kind of thing, but the powers that be apparently don’t approve of hiring photographers for departments that they only keep around for plausible deniability. The wounds were fairly predictable, considering. Stabs and cut wounds to the stomach, probably when she resisted, strangle marks on the neck, and two clean cuts across the throat. This girl looked like the typical mid-twenties girl, probably met up with the killer at a party or something, came back here when she was intoxicated. Something about the body was bugging me, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Something about this scene was strange, even for a murder. It wasn’t particularly occult worthy though, so I let the thought hang. When the captain came in, I was on my way out anyway.

As I returned to my office, my thoughts returned to the gut feeling I’d had at the scene. Other than the sheer amount of blood spilled on the scene, I didn’t see anything that could be considered paranormal, so the question was, why did the Director want me to check it out? There had to be something more to this. I needed another look at the victim, but for the time being, I had a lot of paperwork ahead of me.

Ok, so I’ve got a total of thirteen calls and four e-mails… Alexis greeted me with her usual high pitch.

How many of them are about something other than Bigfoot or UFO sightings? I responded almost angrily, which wasn’t fair.

Alexis Tash is our office assistant, and a twenty-some year old blonde. Currently she works full time trying to pay her way through to a law degree. She’s a bit on the irrational side of the fence, and I think the Director may have hired her because she was cute, but she’s a very qualified bookkeeper. She never missed an opportunity to make my job easier, which I appreciated more than could be accurately measured. Her small stature and soft features made me feel guilty about getting mad around her, but let’s face it; you can only get called by drunks who think they’ve found Bigfoot so many times before it stops being funny. To be honest, Alexis had to deal with them more than I did. She’s been with me long enough to know when to ignore my comments.

A couple, but there is one thing that takes precedent.

Oh yeah, what’s that?

You’ve been called in by the Director, seems he wants to talk to you about the murder scene at that hotel on the south end at 5.

I’m caught somewhere between the CIA and the FBI on most occasions, and on all others, I’m constrained under the Director’s supervision. The Director had requested that I meet him at five, which hopefully meant I would get some answers. I wasn’t holding my breath though.

It wasn’t the first time I had been called by the Director. Overall, a decent enough guy, the only real issue that I had was that he always had another angle. There is always a bigger reason when he asks you for something. His office was at the end of a really long hallway, presumably to give people time to imagine a worst possible scenario on the way in, which works on most people.

The Director had this kind of ‘follow the rules or I will break you’ aura around him. His stare seemed to overlook the world, as if to see all the cogs that make the world turn. It wasn’t a good idea to get on his bad side, something I particularly excelled at with everyone else. He called me in but it took a few minutes before he was ready to tell me what was going on.

Agent Aldward, tell me, what were you’re impressions of the crime scene? said the Director.

To be honest sir, as pre-meditated murders go, even though it was kind of demented the way it was done, I don’t understand why you wanted me to take a look at the scene.

The Director didn’t seem disappointed or angry, more like amused.

You didn’t have long to examine the body did you?

Well, no, but I don’t see how…

He slid a file over to me and I flipped it open. Two other girls had been murdered in the past couple of weeks, but what struck me as odd, was that there were no connections to be made, different races, jobs, didn’t go to school together, wouldn’t know any of the same people, didn’t live anywhere near each other. The only thing connecting them was their deaths. Slit throats, abdomens cut open, a couple of organs missing…

Wait, what’s this about organs missing? This girl at the hotel didn’t have any…

Are you so sure? You only got a quick glance; am I correct?

He had me there, though I never could figure out how he knew stuff like that. But if I had been given more time, would there have been organs missing? I needed to see the coroner’s report.

Ok, let’s assume for a second that this is in fact another mutilated corpse, and for the sake of argument, in the same way as these other two girls. That would be the only connection, everything else about them is different.

They were all picked up at the same bar, and go to the same gym.

But that’s all they have in common, besides there’s no way to know how often they go. Even if they went every day, they wouldn’t have the same trainers, or the same account manager, and there is no guarantee that they ever came into contact with one another.

Charles said the same thing, and I’ll grant you, there are a great number of demented people in the world, but you are both overlooking one detail.

And what’s that?

He came over to me and flipped to a list of the organs that were taken, and the way each one was taken. The first girl had lost her uterus, and one of her kidneys. In the second, the heart was missing. The list of missing organs was accompanied by the phrase, possible medical training.

How many demented killers do you think have surgical training or experience?

That question meant two things, either this