Read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (Free edition, with exclusive excerpt from A Soul to Steal) Page 10
LH File: Letter #2
Dated: Oct. 5, 1994
Investigation Status: Closed
Contents: Classified
Dear Mr. Anderson,
I confess that I’m disappointed. I wouldn’t say angry—not yet anyway—but disappointed. When I chose you, it was with the expectation that you would make me famous. Instead, you appear to be cooperating with the police in covering me up. Since Ms. Verclamp’s death, I’ve seen two articles on her murder, not one of which has even hinted of my existence.
There is no good reason for this. It can’t be that you don’t believe I’m the killer. I gave you the precise location of her body and I’m told you made the call yourself to police after reading my first missive. So what’s the hold up? Did the police tell you that you would be interfering in an investigation? Did they say my letters would only panic the public? Nothing like a serial killer on the loose to get the blood circulating, right?
So you wrote two very drab pieces, the first on the death and the second a profile of the victim. Though the profile was touching—I note with pride you used my suggested color—the whole thing feels pedestrian. I wanted to make a big splash with my first kill and now everyone is probably assuming Ms. Verclamp had an angry boyfriend. They don’t even know I’m out here.
This makes me unhappy, Mr. Anderson, and I wish to warn you upfront that a second mistake of this nature will not be tolerated lightly. Consider this my second gift to you—I’m letting you off easy this time. I’m not threatening you, Mr. Anderson—I have no wish to see you harmed—but you must understand my position. I aim to make a name for myself, and see you as my partner. And right now, my partner isn’t pulling his weight.
Let’s hope things improve this time around. The next body is lying on the outskirts of Ida Lee Park, in the woods behind the tennis court. The police will identify him as Michael Weissman, a promising 16-year-old who attended Loudoun High School. So that police can be sure I’m the killer, I’ll offer the following tidbits. He wasn’t killed where his body is now located—and he tried to fight his attacker. He failed, of course, but I give him credit for trying. I stabbed him in the lower abdomen and watched as he tried to crawl away. He bled to death eventually, but I have to admit it took longer than I expected.
I’ll leave you to find out more about his background. We didn’t have much time to talk. Did he have a girlfriend? What did he want to be when he grew up? How hard do you think his parents will take it? I’m tempted to give them a call myself—that would really give you something to write about: “Killer Taunts Dead Boy’s Family.”
But perhaps that can wait. Fear is a contagious thing, but sometimes it’s best to let it spread slowly. I trust that in this next article, you will mention me properly. Feel free to quote from my letters to you—they are on the record, as always.
Oh, and you might want to get a move on. It’s only Oct 5th, and I have a lot more killing to do before the month is up. I’d prefer it if my victims knew who was gutting them, so I’m trying to keep things slow until the word gets out. Please don’t disappoint me again. I promise you that you will regret it.