The Guardian

sick son-of-a-bitch that did this.”
    He wanted to know everything about this guy, who he was, where he lived, what he did for fun, work, habits, what kind of cereal he ate. Somebody had a reason for doing all of this to him and he wanted to know exactly what that reason was. If the evidence was right, he liked children; he liked them too much.
    Everyone went about his or her business. The medics loaded the lone figure into the ambulance, and they sped off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The CS guys went about taking pictures, picking up anything and everything that looked even remotely like it might be evidence. It was going to be a long night.
    Chapter 4
    Halloway sat in his office going over the information that he had in front of him. This was a hell of a thing, even for Las Vegas. He had seen a lot of shit in his years on the streets. The city had grown to one of the fastest growing cities in the country. The city of Henderson was right behind them. The crime rate was escalating just as fast as the population.
    Of course, they blamed all of it on all sorts of excuses. There wasn’t enough manpower on the police force. There were not enough teachers. The corrupt politicians were led by a flamboyant mayor who was an X-mouth piece for the mob. Nevertheless, the fact of the matter was, with all the other stuff, it was the increasing illegal immigration population. Over crowding had proven to be a major factor in increased violence and crime. Known as the capitol of the adult entertainment industry, Las Vegas was at the top of the list. It was an adult playground. Their motto, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” It spoke volumes of immoral decadence. It drew the sick whacko types like a damn magnet.
    Every single perversion, habit, addiction, desire, kink, you could think of was here. It was here, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Sexual deviates, pedophiles, whacko nut jobs come here to either hide or feed on their sickness. They even have a bar that brags, “The only transgender bar in town.” You see the she-males and transsexuals, parading up and down Karen Ave. Their main source of income is prostitution.
    He had lived in Vegas all of over 39 years of his life. He had seen it grow from a city run by the mob where things were actually good, to this. Sure, the mob had their way of dealing with problems. Nevertheless, locals were taken care of; the city was clean overall. Now, it was just an immoral, politically corrupt toilet where every perverted, sex crazed, out of control party animal can live and thrive. They could pretty much hide and get away with what ever they want. We have strip bars and gay bars like 7-11’s. Massage parlors specializing in “happy endings” lined on end of Paradise Road. The other, the gay bars. Commercial Center on Sahara Ave. caters to predominantly gay clientele. There’s the Green Door for the swingers, two men’s clubs, Plutos being the forerunner. It was just another fancy word for gay bathhouse. These things didn’t exist when the mob ran things.
    This was not a mob hit though. It wasn’t a gang related thing either. If it were, he’d be dead. The gang bangers didn’t have the balls or the stomach for something like this. No, their thing was strength in numbers, drive by shootings, cowardly stuff. Gang bangers would kill you to show they were tough, initiation rights, what ever. They were always in a crowd, never alone, and always with a gun. Whoever did this took his time. He knew what he was doing, and did things for a purpose.
    So, what did he know so far? All he knew was, just the basic information. He had a white male, approximately 40ish. All his senses attacked, the perpetrator was definitely leaving a message. Nevertheless, what was the message? They wanted this guy found, that was obvious. He knew that there would be very little if any evidence at all to lead them to whoever had done this.
    He knew he couldn’t do any more tonight. He had to wait for lab results and tests to come back. He may as well just go home, take a hot shower and a cold beer. He needed to get some sleep. Halloway had a feeling that this wasn’t going go be the last message. They were going to get more from this person or persons and it may very well get worse.
    Halloway had been on the force for over fifteen years. He’d worked his way up, faster than most the hard way, busting his ass. He was lead investigator and his job was pretty much his life. Divorced,