“Ripper,” Dan put in. “How exactly do you plan on finding out the identity of the new ‘Ripper’? I’ve been confused with your information gathering technique.”
“The police proceed according to their computer models furnished by the FBI, who now has an omniscient presence on site, with an agent in charge more worried about making the criminal square pieces fit into her round holes. The Feds are not incompetent catching bad guys if they’re actually connected to their victims. When they get a killer murdering people on a random basis, these task forces lose all sight of reality. I don’t blame them in a way. I never came close to being caught. Granted, I was a professional assassin, but it’s even more difficult to take down a random killer. In most cases there are no people with any kind of connection or reason for the victim to die.”
“Those are all great excuses for the locals and FBI to miss catching the killer. I’m interested in how you’ll do it.”
“Come along, and I’ll show you OG. Right now, I have more writing to do. Diego romance stirs my creative instincts.”
“I can’t wait to hear what your pet Marshals say when they get the word you have Carte Blanche to handle the ‘Ripper’.”
“They’re used to it, Gus. Go home. I have one hour to write before my agreed upon Dagger throwing knives lesson starts. I’ll be in touch.”
Nick gave them a final wave and shut the door, looking down at the ever present Deke at his feet. “See, this is what causes writer’s block, Deke. When we literary artists are constantly interrupted, it leads to multiple excuses as to why we can’t write. The dreaded ‘Block’ could start at any time with what I’ve gone through these past days.”
Deke snorted on cue, shaking his head, before staring into Nick’s face once again.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m full of shit. Let’s go get Diego on the path of love before Dagger tears into any more targets.”
Deke fell in behind Nick with wagging tail.
*
Jean threw with force while on the move, hitting the target.
“Nice hit! You’re getting the move to either side very well,” Nick complimented his pupil. “You’re taking the extra split second now to hone into your target. I love your progress. Ask your Mom. She’s really doing better than anyone I can think of at her age, not that I have much experience in underage knife throwing competitions.”
“Yeah,” Rachel agreed with rolling eyes. “She’s deadly. I wish I could get more behind this exercise; but with no other positive outcome than killing things, I find it on the same basis as violent video games.”
“Except that if someone were to try and take Jean off the street by surprise, I believe you’d think differently about her reactions,” Nick said. “Throwing knives hones concentration. That is an excellent life lesson. Throw your knife, kid.”
In a split second, Jean drew her Italian Stiletto and hit the target dead center. She smiled at her Mom. “I’m deadly, Mom. No one will ever blindside me into the back of a van on my way to be maimed and tortured… ever again.”
Rachel sighed, walking over to hug her deadly daughter. “I’m with you, but discipline means more than killing people.”
“Dad has that covered too. He’s teaching me combat knife strategy.”
“Oh goody,” Rachel said, eyeballing the suddenly uneasy Nick.
“Gee… thanks for throwing me under the bus, kid. Maybe you can get your teacher at school to instruct you on combat skills from now on.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Jean replied with confidence, while collecting all thrown knives. “If the Momster tries to limit our lessons, I’ll blackmail her into submission.”
“Momster?! You’re toast!”
Nick barely scooped the ‘Momster’ into his arms in time before she reached her intended target. “Easy, babe, Jean’s eating your lunch. She’ll be skilled in all the self-defense I can teach her. She has good moral fiber, and she won’t kill anyone not deserving of it. I’m sorry, but that is what you married. I’ve tried not to allow my more psychopathic leanings infect us, but they can’t be simply ignored. I see all things in black and white, with very little gray.”
Rachel’s body relaxed into defeat once again. She covered Nick’s hands gripped around her. “Although I acknowledge I cannot keep my sanity when baited by this offspring of the devil, I do once again recognize your point, Muerto.”
Nick patted her shoulder as Jean giggled. “It was the ‘Momster’ tag. Take comfort in the fact you will have your revenge with my backing at Dagger’s most vulnerable moment.”
Rachel brightened instantly, pointing at her now uneasy daughter. “Oh yeah, baby! This disrespect shall not go unanswered. Thanks Muerto. We’ll work out our signals later.”