Hellraiser: Judgment Page #2

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He put them in a blender and force-fed them

to the son, laced with bleach, of course.

Donut?

Now why would he feed the tongues to the son?

He said they were feeding lies to

everyone, so he fed their lies to their son.

How do you guys know all this?

He's quite the letter writer.

We have copies obviously.

- I'll get you some.

- Speaking of which...

this came from the ME's office this morning.

Got it out of Lanning's abdomen.

"The irony of this killing is that

when people see what I've done,

"their reaction will be, 'Oh, poor dog, '

"with no consideration for the vacuous

vessel in which I chose to store it."

- Nice.

- Forensics has been over the letters?

Local and Langley. Came out with nothing.

Letter was typed on an old

manual typewriter. Common ink.

No prints, oils, residue,

glue, particulates. Nothin'.

The name Preceptor. That's a Masonic term.

Has that avenue been checked out?

It's used by Freemasons,

but it's older than that.

A precept is a teacher responsible

to uphold law or tradition.

In this case, the Ten Commandments.

- Shall I?

- Just one second.

How many victims are we

talking about in total now?

Fourteen.

- Two commandments left.

- "Thou shall not steal."

"Thou shall not covet."

Can I ask you what exactly is your

background? Why are you on this case?

Of course. You can ask me anything.

Can we go through the cases

in order, top to bottom?

You worked forensics two years

before you became a detective.

Did it take a lot of detective work

to find out about another detective?

Someone higher up think

we're screwin' this up?

Someone higher up wants this guy

caught, and it's as simple as that.

Okay. Let's do this.

Okay.

At a point, we're all...

by the word of his power,

when he has made purification his...

at the right hand of His Majesty on high.

I am speaking in human terms

because of the weakness of your flesh,

for just as you presented...

...blazed with the impurities

and true lawlessness

resulting in further lawlessness,

so now present your members

as blazed to righteousness,

resulting in sanctification.

You all right?

Let her go.

Who do you think they are?

Uniforms are going door to door

to check the CCTVs.

F*** me!

Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.

Tiffany Nardico, age 12,

Emily Cartwright, 13.

Susan Allison, 14, and Nicole Panna, 15.

They all have records,

but it's just like petty theft.

Okay?

Yeah.

I just got off the phone with Hodges.

The medical examiner.

Preliminaries for the hair, teeth,

and eyes are a match with the hands.

Same with the blood in the jar.

So it's just the four victims.

The killer injected some kind of epoxy

into the hands to keep them in position.

- Anything else?

- Yes.

No coagulation in the fingertips.

Sh*t!

What?

He cut their hands off

while they were still alive.

Jesus!

- Are those them?

- Yeah.

- What name is that?

- Nicole Panna.

Hm. Does that mean anything to you?

No, why? Should it?

Carl Watkins.

Who?

Local perp.

Flasher. Kiddie porn peddler.

We picked him up a couple times, but he

always pled out or made a deal informing.

So what does he have to do with this?

All of these girls went

to Chase Terrace Academy.

Terrace put a restraining order against him

after he was caught a few times

loitering and jerking off

to the girls in gym class.

That's a real stretch, David.

Guess who also went

to Terrace a few years back?

Crystal Lanning.

Exactly.

Seriously?

Do we have a current address on him?

He's not in.

That cocksucker owes me two months' rent.

- He hasn't been here for a couple of days.

- Think he'd be hiding out inside?

If he is, he's freezing

his ass off in the dark.

I cut his power yesterday.

Seriously? No windows?

Honey, with what those boys are doin'

in there, no windows ain't a bad thing.

Shut the door when you leave.

What an incredible smell you've discovered.

Oh, this shouldn't take long.

This guy seems to have quite the right arm.

Doesn't really seem like the Preceptor type.

Speak of the devil.

Looks like it's typed

on an old manual typewriter.

Let's get that back to the lab.

- Uh-hm.

- Put out an ATL on Watkins.

In the meantime,

let's hit the usual suspects.

You go with David.

Anything?

Nope.

Done for the day?

Yeah.

I'm going to swing by Watkins'

apartment on the way home.

What's up?

Somethin's been buggin' me about it.

Give our regards to that

sweet-mouthed landlady for me.

I'll give her your number.

Thanks for turnin' the power on.

Excuse me. Detective Sean Carter.

Mr. Carter.

Mr. Carter. You're a man

of some interest to us.

What do you want to know?

- Excuse me?

- You obviously have questions.

Why would you say that?

Because if you wanted me dead,

I'd be dead already.

That's very true. What else?

If I had to guess, I've stumbled into

a painful, possibly fatal situation,

the agenda of which you'll soon tell me.

Ha!

What can you tell me about Carl Watkins?

A man of impeccable taste, apparently.

- What can you tell me about the Preceptor?

- I was about to ask you the same question.

What are those?

Well, since you've been good enough not

to waste our time with the usual drudgery

of who are you and save me, et cetera,

perhaps a reward is in order.

Dear God! Where am I?

You wanted to know about these.

They are a linking mechanism

between our world and yours.

They are judgment and redemption

to those who open them.

They are sensation,

rebirth... death,

lust... hate.

All manner of emotions.

They are a conduit to the unimaginable.

In a wooden box.

You'd be amazed what they can do when opened.

What on earth is this place?

It isn't.

So now what?

This is the beginning

of a process, an interview.

An audit of sorts.

And you want honest answers.

Absolutely.

So then let's just get on with it.

Hmmpf.

Tempus fugit after all.

Tell me, when was the first time

you hurt something?

Be honest, Mr. Carter.

The sooner you tell the truth,

the sooner you will be free.

Four.

We had a pet dog.

I hit it.

- Should I go on?

- March 31, 2004.

I was 25.

The bullet hit him in the throat.

I saw a fist-size chunk

blown out the back of his neck.

I stood over him and watched him die.

And after that?

Two kids.

Grenade.

It was the first time I'd ever

seen a body blown to pieces.

Skin stripped from muscle.

Flesh stripped from bone.

You were a man protecting his country.

You were permitted to carry out these acts,

but what were you permitted to feel?

- What did you feel?

- What did I feel?

What the hell was I supposed to feel?

You have killed a great many people.

I was doing my job.

You will purge from yourself

the guilt of shedding innocent blood.

For you have done what is right

in the eyes of the Lord.

Only God can judge me!

And God will judge both

the righteous man and the wicked man.

Ecclesiastes 3:
17.

Deuteronomy 21:
9.

Ha!

I would like to dig a little deeper.

What choice do I have?

None.

On my second tour, the convoy hit, and I...

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