Catch a Killer

When the box arrived, Emily was thrilled.

She had been waiting for this particular package since March, and, at long last, it was here.

Emily had been trying to get into one of these cold case box services for a while. Hunt a Killer, Cold Case, Sleuth Kings, she'd requested to join them all, but all Emly got back were apology letters and promises that they would contact her when they had room. The folks at Catch a Killer had placed her on their tentative waiting list, which sometimes took months, and she hadn't expected to be added to the list for quite some time. It was hard to get added; they only approved a few hundred people a year, and they were also one of the more popular groups. The service was your typical monthly subscription box where they sent a cold case that the small group you found yourself a part of tried to solve. They would send clues a few at a time, a slow drip of evidence that would lead the group to the end results, and they would follow the trail to an ultimate conclusion.

As she brought the box inside, Emily felt giddy with anticipation. However, some of it was tempered when she stopped to look at the box. The label said To Catch a Killer, but the address label was torn off, and the box looked funny. If this was their way of creating ambiance, then Emily felt they had done a great job. The box was battered and dirty, the clear tape around it looked thick and yellow, and the letter was pieced together out of newspaper clippings.

It was a nice touch, if not a little cliche.

The letter inside was no exception. The whole thing was made of magazine and newspaper letters, meticulously assembled by hand, at least it appeared as such. Emily couldn't imagine how much time this had taken whoever had put it together, especially if they had to build more than a few of them. Emily had to applaud their commitment, but it wasn't something that seemed feasible long term. She would be surprised if this level of detail persisted and took the note out of the box.

This is the case of the West End Tooth Fairy.

He has a kill count of around twenty-six and was most prodigious between two thousand nineteen and two thousand twenty-one. His first victim was Ms. Mary Cline, a retired school teacher who lived alone. It took the police almost four years to place her as his victim, only then because his pattern began to surface. She was stabbed fifteen times, most of them in her chest, and a smile was carved across her mouth from ear to ear. No forensic evidence was discovered at the scene, no sign of forced entry, and she was left in her favorite chair in the living room. No one was charged in her death, and only one item was ever reported missing from the victim, the bottom and top plate of her dentures.

Emily read it over a few times but couldn't figure out what she was supposed to be looking for. This was less of a case file and more of a story. Emily had read a few articles about how the information was disseminated and then picked over by the community, but this read more like a creepypasta. She wondered if this might be one of those things where each group member got a different piece of the puzzle, but that was another point of confusion as she looked through the box. As she looked in the box, Emily saw a plastic baggy with a pair of pliers inside. She took them out hesitantly, the red around the teeth of the pliers looking pretty convincing. Emily gave them a once over, finding them a pretty good prop for the price before returning to the box. Other than the pliers and the note, the box was empty. There was no group code or information on getting up with the rest of her team, and after a thorough search, she found nothing. Emily shrugged, not too upset about it. They had probably forgotten to add it, and she figured that a quick trip to the internet would get her in contact with her group. She was still excited about her quick admittance to the group and hopped on the site to see what she could find.

A little while later, Emily closed her laptop with a huff of frustration.

She had checked every group, but no one was following the Tooth Fairy Case. No one seemed to know what she was talking about either, and it was starting to make her wonder. Maybe the others would sign on soon. Maybe she had gotten her box a little early. In the end, she set up a room for the Tooth Fairy Case, figuring the others would find her, and decided to go to bed.

She'd sign on tomorrow and find that they had discovered her, and then the game could begin.

Instead, she woke up to find another dodgy package on her front porch and only a few messages in the room she had started, none of them helpful.

The people who had found the room appeared to have used her post as an excuse to belittle her. The three or four users who had left comments were quick to remark that the Tooth Fairy case was little more than an urban legend and not likely to be something Catch a Killer would tackle. They made fun of her for even suggesting that she had received a case file on this one and decided she must be trolling.

Today's box looked like it had gotten wet, and the cardboard was dark and distorted.

Emily huffed as she deleted their comments, setting the box on the table as she cleared her inbox. This was what she got for asking for help on the internet. Most of these people were just shut-ins with little more to do than bother her, and she knew she shouldn't take it personally. Even so, Emily reflected, it was frustrating that none of the others who'd received the case file had hopped on to share information.

As she sat grumbling at the computer screen, she found her eyes straying to the box and finally decided to open it. The material felt as damp as she'd expected, but that only added to the mystery. It hadn't rained last night or for the last few days, and she couldn't believe anyone would have delivered a package in such a condition. And why was it here so early? It was near noon, but the mail didn't usually run until two or three in the afternoon. The box had been waiting for her when she opened the door, leading her to believe that it had been dropped off much earlier.

Inside the box was another of those strange notes, the letters made of magazine clippings, and an old envelope that she thought might contain pictures.

His next three victims were the Hughes children, Mary, Shelly, and Clark (ages 12, 10, and 8). Coming in through a window in their bedroom, he tied them up and made them watch as he stabbed them to death from oldest to youngest. Each of them was stabbed twenty to thirty times. Their parents found them the next morning, both having slept through the night as their children died mere feet. The oldest child was found to have her lower canines removed, the middle child her bottom incisors, and the youngest was missing his bottom premolars. The teeth were believed to have been taken as a trophy, and that was when the police began calling the killer The Tooth Fairy, though the press wouldn't start using it until much later.

As she took out the pictures, Emily felt her blood run cold when she flipped the top back.

There were twelve pictures inside, all seemingly taken with a polaroid camera.

All of them were of crying children, their hands tied behind them and their mouths stuffed with whatever had been at hand. The girls appeared to be older than their brother, all of them bearing the same sandy hair and hazel eyes, and as the pictures carried on, Emily could see the fearful children becoming broken children. Their pajamas reddened, their wounds seemed to grow with each snapshot, and by the end, all three were lying on the carpet together.

As their blood seeped into the thick shag, Emily felt the pictures slip from her numb hands.

What was this? It was a little too much if this was someone's idea of a joke or game. She had wanted to be part of this game, but if this was the level they were playing at, she wasn't sure she was up to it. These polaroids looked real, like something taken instead of made, and as Emily held them, they felt dirty in her hands.

She put them back in the box and picked up her computer as she tried to discover anything about the case she was being drip fed. This was the second box she'd received that felt more like a love letter to the killer and less like a case file. There were no clues to follow, no breadcrumbs to lead her to an outcome, just harrowing stories to listen to that ultimately didn't tell her anything. If this was how it was, she really needed to see if anyone else had received the clues she was failing to find.

The forum offered more veiled insults, and Emily huffed as she closed the laptop.

With no word from the admins and no help forthcoming from her fellow investigators, she couldn't do much but speculate.

In the end, she dumped the contents of the box into the first one and threw the new box away. When her eyes kept darting over to it as it sat on the top layer of garbage in the can, she pulled it all out and took it to the outside can. She couldn't stand the way it seemed to be watching her, and as she came back up the steps of the porch, she stopped in her tracks as she saw the last thing she expected to see.

Another cardboard box covered in old yellow tape was on her welcome matt, sitting like a steaming pile of fresh foreboding.

Emily looked around, suddenly not feeling so safe standing in front of her own house. How had she missed it? Surely it hadn't just appeared between her leaving her front door and her putting the garbage in the can. It had taken a matter of minutes, two or three at the most, and someone would have had to place the box quickly and quietly in order to get it here in the interim.

Someone like a serial killer who stole people's teeth and kept them as trophies?

Emily shook the thought off and reached down to pick up the box.

She had just missed it on the way out, must have stepped right over it, but that didn't stop her from locking the deadbolt and throwing the chain across the door.

She took the box to the dining room table, but it would be quite a while before she found the courage to open it. She looked at it as she cleaned her house, returning to it a few times throughout the day. She didn't want to open it, was honestly afraid of what might be in it, but it still hung over her like an omen. As scared as she was, it was a very tantalizing mystery, and Emily loved a good mystery.

As the sun went down and the shadows grew tall in her living room, Emily was helpless to stop herself from ripping off the tape. The box had the same wet, warped look the others had borne, and as the tape came off, Emily was greeted by another of the handmade notes and a long metal tool that made her grit her teeth.

It was an icepick, and someone had clearly used it roughly. The end was dented, the metal flowering up around the point of impact. The tip was malformed, that angry exclamation almost as damaged as the butt end, and it helped the red find its way into the porous metal that sought to drink it. It had worked its way into the crevices, and the dark red made the tool all the more grotesque.

The fourth victim was Doctor Reynolds of the Norves Free Clinic. Posing as a homeless man, he came in before operating hours and killed the good doctor before his staff could arrive. The Tooth Fairy had chosen Doctor Reynolds carefully, the two bearing a striking resemblance. It was easy for him to pose as Doctor Reynolds and continue to see patients. The next twelve victims were homeless people at the clinic, people he invited to come in after hours. The cause of death for all was the same as Doctor Reynolds, a single puncture wound to the side of the neck. From these victims, the Tooth Fairy completed his collection of bottom teeth.

She added the pick to the box of other things before slipping it into the hall closet and going to sit in her room.

Suddenly the living room was too open, the windows too exposing for Emily's taste.

She sat in bed, trying not to think about the boxes and the mystery surrounding them. The more of them she received, the more she had to remind herself that this was just something cooked up by the company. It became harder and harder to justify to herself, though, as the contents became more graphic. She had read a lot of forum posts before signing up, and none of this seemed like the experience she had read about. The cases were spooky sometimes, but there was always a group of people to help you solve them. Doing this alone was making her anxious, and the clues weren't really pointing her toward a "suspect" either. This was reading more like a story and less like a case. She wasn't sure what to take away from this besides the crawling anxiety surrounding her.

She checked the group again and found nothing but more people making fun of her for suggesting Catch a Killer would cover something like the Tooth Fairy case.

"It's not even real. It's an urban legend."

"No, it's real, but the group only handles cases with suspects and evidence. The killer never leaves anything behind."

"The case is too high profile to let a bunch of amateurs mess it up by stepping on what little evidence they have."

It was pages of stuff like that, but nothing helpful. None of the admins had posted either, and Emily supposed they must be on vacation. They couldn't weigh in on forum topics, they couldn't answer her questions, and it seemed like they couldn't be bothered to do much at all. Emily set her phone on the nightstand and got ready for bed, deciding that she wouldn't open any more of the packages until someone else messaged the group to say that they had received their packages. She needed help, she needed some perspective, and she wasn't going to get it in an echo chamber.

As she fell asleep, she thought that at least it shouldn't be possible for them to send a fourth box so soon.

It had probably been a fluke to send her three so close together, and she drifted off, hoping there might be someone to help her when the fourth arrived.

She woke up the next morning to the sound of birds and the gentle chimes of her phone alarm.

Emily felt a little better in the light of day, the megrims of the night before lost with dawn filling her living room. She booted up her computer, intending to get some work done today before her boss called and complained about her lack of progress lately. First, however, she wanted breakfast. As the eggs and bacon sizzled in the pan, Emily felt all the anxiety of the night before dribbling away. She had made too much out of all this. She always psyched herself up too much over these things. Between quarantine and working from home, she'd had too much time to mull over these dark corners. It might be time to get some of this under control. Maybe the box service was a little too much. She should cancel it and try again some other time.

She had taken her phone out to do just that, her breakfast balanced on top of her coffee cup when something caught her eye in the peripheral.

She was standing in the foyer, heading for the little office she had set up in the living room when the spot found its way into her peripheral. She imagined she could hear the tendons in her neck creak as she turned to see if her fears were correct and felt the plate wobble as the coffee shook in her hand. It couldn't be. It was seven in the morning, and the mail hadn't even thought about running yet.

The package was sitting on the front porch, in the center of the welcome mat, leering at her through the glass of the front door.

She stood there for a count of thirty, her mind whirling at the sight of the large brown box, but in the end, she didn't drop her food or dissolve into a puddle of terror.

She turned away from the door and went to her desk.

If she meant to continue buying box services, eggs, coffee, or paying the mortgage on her house, she needed to do some work.

As she set about her work, Emily found that her eyes just wouldn't stay off the package on the stoop. She couldn't see it from her desk, there was a wall in the way, but the mirror in the foyer showed her a perfect view of it from her chair. She had placed it there to see people when they came up, and now it appeared less convenient than she'd thought. She tried to keep her mind on medical coding, but it was difficult with the nonexistent eyes of the package on her. Her mind itched to see what was inside, little as she wanted to. It would be another horror show, she was certain, and it would be for her alone since no one else seemed to be sharing it with her.

Around eleven, Emily finally sighed in frustration and pushed the keyboard away. She had done almost nothing in the four hours she'd been working, and the sooner she got the package out of her mind, the better. She got up to go bring the package in, but as she moved into the foyer, she stopped again.

There was a second package sitting in the shadow of the first.

She stared at it, her mind reeling as she pondered how it had gotten there. She'd had a perfect view of the door. There wass no way that anyone could have snuck up and delivered a package in broad daylight without her seeing them. She stepped towards the door, feeling the tug of curiosity, but stopped as she saw the obvious answer. The second box was a little smaller than the other one. In her apprehension at the sight of the box, she had overlooked the second one. That was all, just a failure to notice.

The thought made her feel secure enough to turn away from the door and go make some lunch.

She was coming back with her sandwich and a fresh cup of coffee when she looked again and saw a third box perched on top of the first.

She had just been thinking that she might be able to get some work done, but seeing that third box, that dark brown cardboard monstrosity, she began to doubt the web of excuses she had crafted. If they could sneak in a third box, they could have easily slipped in the second. If it hadn't been there, they had slipped in while she wasn't looking and delivered it without a sound.

She returned to her computer long enough to find the contact information for Catch a Killer and called their customer service line.

This was getting out of hand, and if no one was going to return her messages, she'd just go to the source.

"Maser Incorporated, this is Janus speaking. How may I direct your call?"

Emily wet her lips, not expecting such a quick response, but plowed on before her anger could cool.

"Yes, I'm trying to reach someone with the Catch a Killer box service. This was the number they had listed online, and I," but the bubbly woman on the other end cut her off.

"Of course, one moment, please."

Thirty seconds of canned music later and another far too happy young woman picked up the phone and asked Emily how she could help her?

"Yeah, I recently signed up for your service, but I think something is wrong. I've received at least six packages in the last three days, and it's always at random times. I also can't seem to find anyone online that's part of the same group as me, and I think I'm getting parts of the case that require other parts to solve. The level of detail is really impressive on the boxes, but the volume is becoming a little creepy. I think I'd either like to be put in another group or just cancel the service altogether, please."

The woman "mhm" ed and "I see" ed through the whole exposition, the background sound of clicking keys making Emily grit her teeth.

"I'm terribly sorry you're dissatisfied with our service, ma'am. We can absolutely issue you a refund and cancel your service. Feel free to keep the materials you've already received for your trouble. Do you know which case file you were assigned to?"

"It's the Tooth Fairy case."

The clicking abruptly stopped.

"You must be mistaken, ma'am. That's not a case we offer at this time and not one we plan to offer in the near future either."

Emily had been pacing but stopped as the woman's words fell on her like a piano.

"That's the information I've been getting in the mail. All the boxes contain these little handmade letters, pictures, and descriptions of the murders."

"Let me get your information, ma'am. I'll see what group they have you assigned to."

Emily gave her the info she'd filled in on the website, and after a few minutes of clicking, she could swear she heard the woman's teeth grinding together.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you aren't on our client list. You're on our tentative approval list, but we haven't taken your payment for the current cycle of case files."

Emily stopped in the foyer, glancing fitfully out the front door as she tried to make sense of all of this.

There was now a fourth box on top of the other one, and as the golden afternoon set over the house, she felt a chill creep up her spine.

"What does that mean?" she whispered, not daring to speak too loudly.

"It means that whoever is sending you those packages isn't anyone in our office."

Emily was speechless, and as the woman called to her from the other end of the phone, she let the it slip out of her hand and tumble to the hardwood.

Emily wanted to walk away and call the police, but her curiosity was piqued. It was the same curiosity that had led her to sign up for the service in the first place, but now it had led her into a mystery that she hadn't been prepared for. As she wrapped her hand around the doorknob, she knew there would be no going back. If she looked in those boxes, if she cut the tape and saw what lay inside, she'd never be able to go back again.

She opened the door, poking her head out like a groundhog from its hole. She expected something to be waiting out there for her, but the porch was empty except for the boxes. She juggled the four of them into her arms and brought them inside, closing the door and twisting the deadbolt before taking them to her bedroom. She left the phone in the foyer, taking all the boxes and locking the door to her bedroom behind her.

Spilling them onto the bed, she wondered what order they would be in? Looking at them again, she realized each was numbered with a thick squirt of magic marker. Taking the largest, the one with the childish four on it, she strained a little at the weight of it. Something rumbled angrily inside, and as she slid her pen knife over the tape, she was unsurprised to find a roofing hammer inside. Like the chisel, the head was spattered with a deep red stain, and the tines at the end were likewise painted. What had the third box said? His victims had been killed by blunt force trauma to the base of the skull? After seeing the pictures of the children, she doubted he could contain himself from cutting and slicing them after the fact. He'd wanted to kill them quickly before they could give him away, but he still wanted the thrill of slicing them up.

The note inside was quite illuminating.

His next three victims were an old fellow looking to have some teeth extracted, a census taker that he suspected might be working for the police, and the private detective that ultimately caused him to abandon the free clinic. The detective had a friend in the local police force, a friend whom he had told before he went to investigate the rumors of missing people at the clinic. The Tooth Fairy avoided the raid meant to catch him and added six more teeth to his collection. From the old man, he took the front incisors. From the census taker, the two top incisors next to them. Finally, from the nosy investigator, he took the top canines and left on a bus as the police raided his hunting ground.

She paused before opening the fifth box.

Had she heard a sound from the living room?

She wanted to check, but the knife made such a satisfying sound on the tape as it opened it.

Inside was a business card for someone named Carol Barner. The legend beneath proclaimed her to have been a webmaster for Mazer Inc, and Emily suspected she already knew what the note would tell her. How easy it had been for the packages to arrive at her house. Almost like someone had her name and address. She thought again that she'd heard a noise from the living room, the breaking of glass, or the crunch of a boot crushing something fragile. It might even be the breaking of a phone as someone stepped on it after she'd carelessly left it in the foyer.

She read the note quickly, wondering how much time she had left?

His next victim was Carol Barner. Carol was selected at random, a crime of convenience that turned out to be very helpful. Carol was his neighbor, someone who worked from home as the pandemic raged. Carol liked to work late into the night, and her keyboard was so very loud. He had tried to be good, tried to lay low for a while as he settled into a new town, but the clack clack clacking was driving him mad. One night as he watched two o'clock roll by with no reprieve, he took the continued noise as a sign from above. He broke into her apartment, and she never even noticed over the sound of her keyboard until he stopped the tapping forever. In doing so, he discovered what it had all been for and found a way to finish his work without the hassle of finding more victims. He discovered the database she'd been working on, and after taking the premolars he needed, he set to work.

Her hands shook as she opened the next box, the knife threatening to cut her as it jittered over the adhesive. She could hear him as he moved through the house, being less than quiet as he yanked open doors and cabinets. He knew where she was, he had to, but this was all a thrill for him. He wanted her good and scared before he went about his business, and Emily had to still her hands as she read the note that lay atop the flier for Catch a Killer.

The flier with the red stain distorting the K in Killer and made it run like a wound.

His next eight victims were just everyday crime junkies, people who love to research and speculate from the comfort of their homes. He had a large pool to choose from, and it was easy to select those who wouldn't be missed and would take time to be discovered. Glenn Howel was a freelance coder with a passion for cold cases. Linda Merlyl was a divorced housewife whose children had flown the nest, leaving her plenty of time to consume true crime content. Courtney Powel and Linda Cain were roommates, and it was a wonder the fifteen cats in their apartment hadn't got them before the killer did. John Boyd, Clair Keen, Reagan Summers, Cassie Greer, they all took the bait and became true crime content all their own. Each kill swelled the legend of the Tooth Fairy, each added another name to his tally, and each gave him another piece of the puzzle. As the police searched for him, looking for anything that could help them discover his identity, the Tooth Fairy found the last piece he needed.

His final victim.

The nob rattled, turning slowly until it hit the lock. Whoever was on the other side didn't kick, didn't yell, didn't fret. He knew they had all night. He knew she had nowhere to go since there were no windows in her room, and there was no escape except through the door that he was now standing in front of. No one was going to come for her, and it was just the two of them until the matter was resolved.

He had to get inside anyway.

Emily had all his tools.

He had sent her everything he would use to make her another case file for some other true crime fan to speculate over. Would they wonder how she had been so easily caught? Would they question the validity of such a killer? Maybe the sheer idiocy of it all would help cement the legend of the Tooth Fairy into something told around campfires and under blankets as flashlights lit ghostly faces.

Sometimes that was what really made the story, the idea that something like that could never happen to you.

She opened the last box as he moved about her house like a fitful spirit, clearly savoring the moment.

When she took the letter out, she yelped in surprise and let it fall to the floor. The last grisly totem fell to the carpet, clacking merrily as Emily watched it. It all made sense now, the name, the trophies, the order of the theft. He had needed them, needed to complete his masterpiece. He had to have a complete set. Otherwise, it wouldn't look right. She tore her eyes away from the grim spectacle and looked at the letter that was likely to tell her of his last victim.

A victim she knew all too well.

His last victim was Emily Colney. Emily fancied herself a true crime enthusiast. She petitioned multiple services since the beginning of the pandemic but was never invited to join their groups. She wrote all of this in her application to Catch a Killer, and when it pinged on the database, The Tooth Fairy decided to make her dream come true, and give her the true crime experience of a lifetime. Emily Colney, the perpetual shut-in on Hawthorn Street, would have the distinction of being The Tooth Fairy's last victim. After her, he would break his pattern and thus become harder to link to the crimes that would come after hers. So thank you, Emily. Thank you for helping me complete my masterpiece.

The door shuddered, and Emily dropped the note. It fluttered down to land on the grizzly trophy on the carpet, and she was forced to put her hand far too close to it as she picked up the note. It was a mishmash, a golem, a creation of love and hate, and it hurt her to look at it. It seemed that Mary's denture plates had been put to good use, and the teeth within were as different as they were misshapen. He had loveling set them into the plastic, and they looked like an animal trap just waiting to bite.

The false teeth were only missing one set, and as the door splintered, Emily grabbed the hammer she'd received the day before and held it at the ready.

A hand slid through the hole in the door, grasping the lock with a smooth and practiced twist as he opened the door and let it swing inward.

She saw him then, rising to his full height as he filled her doorway like a ghoul in a cast-off coat. He was massive, his head looking grotesquely small as it peeked down from between his huge shoulders. She felt the hammer slip from her hands as the smell of him wafted over her, the aroma of dirt, campfires, old chemicals, and ancient blood.

She didn't start screaming until he smiled at her, his spitty, toothless mouth revealing empty gums.

Gums waiting for what lay on the floor between them.

Gums waiting for Emily to complete their reward for years of patients.