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Nov. 2, 2022

Ep.163 – Angel in Babysitting - Killing is on Her Resume!

Ep.163 – Angel in Babysitting - Killing is on Her Resume!

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A babysitter with deadly secrets is confronted by the Babysitter Killer in an unlikeliest of manners.

Angel in Babysitting by Rob Fields

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Support us on Patreon

A babysitter with deadly secrets is confronted by the Babysitter Killer in an unlikeliest of manners.

Angel in Babysitting by Rob Fields

Get Cool Merchandise

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Music by Ray Mattis

Executive Producer Rob Fields

Produced by Daniel Wilder

This episode sponsored by

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One Week Ago


Rayleen Smith had the pizza in her hands when she came back inside. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with me babysitting tonight?” she asked Shelby Phillips, who was sitting on the couch playing video games with Douglas Kazmierczak. 

“Why should I mind?” Shelby replied. 

“Well, we were supposed to have a double date tonight,” Rayleen said apologetically.

“Hey, we both make good money babysitting,” Shelby reminded her. “Besides, it’s not like we were going to a concert or anything.”

Rayleen laughed a little. “Good point. Anyway, thanks for coming by and keeping me company tonight.”

Then Douglas spoke up. “What, am I too much for you, Rayleen? You know what Uncle Jeffrey would say if he knew you had your friend over here?”

Rayleen looked at the ten-year-old boy. “I thought you liked playing video games with Shelby.”

Douglas pointed at Rayleen. “But you’re supposed to be here with me – by yourself.”

Rayleen sighed. “Come on, Douglas, I even ordered your favorite pizza. And you know Uncle Jeffrey said no pizza.”

“It was that, or I tell him you’re letting your friends hang out here at his house,” he threatened. 

Shelby turned to him now. “I can leave, Douglas.”

“I just wanted the pizza,” Douglas replied. “Don’t worry, Rayleen, I won’t tell on you. I’ll tell Uncle Jeffrey I ordered it when you weren’t looking.” 

Rayleen raised an eyelid. “Promise?”

Douglas smirked. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Shelby said. “I didn’t get to shower after track practice.”

Rayleen smiled. “Go ahead, honey. You know where everything is.”

Shelby set her controller down. “I’ll be back in a few, Douglas. Then we can play some more football.”

“All right!” he cheered. 

As soon as Shelby disappeared up the stairs, Rayleen took the pizza into the kitchen and put a few slices on a plate for Douglas. Just then, Rayleen’s phone rang. It was her boyfriend. She tried to send him to voicemail, but he called her right back. She answered it. 

She brought the pizza to Douglas. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be back in a few.”

Before Douglas could say anything, Rayleen was moving and was out the back door. She moved behind the garage and apologized again for canceling their date. Then the talk turned to scheduling a sexual rendezvous for later. 

Suddenly, she felt the knife plunging into her side, making her drop the smartphone. She hissed in pain as her attacker yanked the knife away. When she fell, the attacker got on top of her and stabbed her repeatedly until she was a very bloody and dead mess. 

The killer never bothered to address the smartphone with Rayleen’s boyfriend still on the other end. The killer turned and walked to the back door. The killer soon headed upstairs and found the bathroom door slightly open. 

The killer opened the door a little to see Shelby soaking in a bubble bath. She had her eyes closed and was moaning softly. She never heard the killer come into the bathroom, nor did she scream when her hair was grabbed and the knife brought across her throat. 

Blood quickly poured from Shelby’s neck and into the bubble bath. The killer let go of her hair and let her sink into the mixture of lavender soap, water, and blood. 

Without another thought, the killer left the bathroom and headed back downstairs. 


One Week Later

It’s Saturday morning. I should be back at my dorm with my boyfriend, Drake. We’ve gone well past the point to where he’s just shadowing me as part of my college internship with the Strickfield PD. In fact, we began seeing each other a few months after he started shadowing me. Our relationship became more cemented after we finally started having sex, which was after our run-in with some vampires. This was almost nine months ago. 

I got up earlier than I should have, not because I couldn’t sleep. No, my bloodlust has become increasingly demanding as of late. In fact, this is the longest I’ve gone without taking a life. Recently, I found a lead and did my usual homework. Soon, I can satisfy my bloodlust. 

Those of you who have been following my exploits know who I am. For those uninitiated, my name is Raigen Devereux. I’m the serial killer your society has labeled the Angel of Death. I destroy those who claim innocent lives. I’ve been called the good serial killer by people who are glad I’m out there. However, there are others who would see me arrested and locked up for the remainder of my days, or even given capital punishment. 

I’ve been claiming the lives of those who claim innocents, because Mama both taught me to be a good girl and that punishments are made to fit the crime. Mama doesn’t know I’m the Angel of Death, and she’s a high-profile detective for the North Ridgeway PD. Thankfully, I’ve never had to be concerned about Mama hunting me. My boyfriend, on the other hand . . . 

Detective Drake Kazmierczak requested to be transferred to Strickfield PD from Erie City upon deducing that the Angel of Death was located here. As it turned out, I claimed a woman named Annie Judge. She used to be someone special in Drake’s life. He swore he would find me and bring me to justice. Drake is clearly looking for a man and doesn’t realize I’m right under his nose. Perhaps those of you who follow me are thinking maybe I’m toying with Drake. I’m not, I assure you. For me to toy with him, I would require the very emotions that nearly all of you feel. I only operate on physical feelings: instinct, hunger, thirst, sleep, cleanliness, sex . . . 

Especially sex!

Over the years, I’ve been able to resist my sex drive. But the time came when I needed sex like I need victims. I needed a mate and sought one out. I thought I’d finally found one with Franklin Sloane, but certain unfortunate events caused him to end things with me. It was only a few days after New Year’s when I met Drake who showed immediate interest in me upon his arrival to Strickfield PD. He was more than happy to be my shadow as we worked cases together. Drake’s a very good detective. Between the two of us, we’ve solved many cases together. 

The only reason I stay with Drake is because he’s truly a good man. While I can’t feel emotions, I can read his facial expressions and listen to the way he speaks. Through these, I learned that Drake had fallen in love with me. I often wish I could reciprocate his love, but I can’t. I’ve never felt a single emotion since I was born. I can only pretend to reciprocate his feelings and be the best mate to him that I can be. Even though he’s after the Angel of Death, I choose to remain with him and always have to stay many steps ahead of him. 

Ah, but I’ve gotten off track here. I said I was up earlier than I wanted to be. Right now, I have a Strickfield Academy science teacher strapped to my table. She reminds me of Annie Judge from back at North Ridgeway High. She’s not a sexual predator like Annie Judge, but she did deal heavily in drugs. 

Patricia Miller had injected a girl against her wishes at Strickfield Academy with some experimental heroin. The girl had never done drugs in her life. Not only did the shot get her quite high her first time, she became very sick and died. In doing my usual homework, I got hold of Miller’s smartphone and hacked it to find the last bit of crucial evidence that would condemn her to me. 

I slap Patricia Miller to wake her up. When she sees me standing above her, she screams for me to untie her. She can scream as much as she likes. We’re secluded enough to where nobody will hear her. 

When I decide I’ve had enough of her mouth, I direct her attention to the pictures I’ve got taped to the walls. Lisa Marley wasn’t the only high school girl that Patricia Miller killed with her drugs. I found similar evidence on other victims also. 

“You’ve preyed on innocent girls who could have gone on to have long and fruitful lives, Patricia Miller,” I say. “I’ve compiled evidence for at least five girls you’ve killed. There may be more, but I don’t have the time to keep compiling evidence while you continue to poison more girls with your shit.”

I hold up her smartphone. “The police will find the rest of those victims here.”

Patricia looks annoyed now. “Am I supposed to start crying and tell you how sorry I am? Do you have any idea how tired I was of seeing these little bitches get everything handed to them on a silver platter? Why I –”

She gasps when I show her a series of syringes. “You’ve got the pictures! You’ve got my phone! You’ve got those needles! What more do you need, you little bitch?”

“It seems you understand, Patricia Miller,” I reply. “This is how justice will be administered to an unfeeling predator such as yourself. There are six syringes here, all filled with the same experimental heroin you injected into those girls you destroyed. How many of these needles do you think it’ll take before you’re finally destroyed?”

She shows me she has emotions after all when she shakes her head quickly and screams as she tries in vain to free herself. She reminds me of Annie Judge in doing this. Patricia Miller’s death will be swift compared to Annie Judge. Patricia screams at the top of her lungs and makes one last valiant effort to free herself from my bungee cords. When she understands she’s not going anywhere, she starts crying and begging me for her life. 

Unfortunately, I have no emotions for her to appeal to, though I again find myself conflicted. Part of me wants emotions to be able to reciprocate what Drake feels for me. Then again, I may be better off without emotions. A vast majority of my victims have been blessed with emotions. Yet, they’ve shown very little to none when they’ve destroyed the innocents who’ve come across them. It may seem I’m conveying empathy, though I can’t feel any. 


I pick up the first syringe and push a little fluid out of the needle. “And now, Patricia Miller . . . Let the punishment fit the crime!

She sobs as I hold her arm down and inject the heroin into her vein. Quickly, she starts showing me results. She doesn’t cry so much now. In fact, she doesn’t even know where she’s at. I’m sure I administered more than she should have received. I wait a bit. When she doesn’t die, I inject her with the second syringe. She really starts sweating before she screams and starts jerking on the table violently. After almost a minute, she finally stops forever. 

I check her pulse and confirm she’s quite dead. I moan softly when I feel my bloodlust has been satisfied once more. Patricia Miller is now my latest victim to be stored in my highly photographic memory, where all of my victims are. How many predators have I claimed? I’ve killed literally hundreds – since I was ten years old. 

After making sure no evidence of me is at the scene, I leave the shed where I’d taken my latest victim and head back to Strickfield University. I’ll make my usual anonymous phone call to the Strickfield PD later. 


Drake is still in my bed when I return. He’s just waking up when he sees me wearing jogging clothes. I wasn’t wearing them when I left to take care of my bloodlust, but I changed into them and worked up a little sweat coming back from Denoyer’s Grill with breakfast. 

“You should’ve got me up, Raige,” he says softly. “I would’ve gone to Denoyer’s with you.”

I fake a smile before I put the bag of food on my desk and get on the bed. I pretend to show love for my mate as I let him lay me on my back and kiss me. And then, what he feels for me in emotion, I now feel in the physical as I let him undress me. 

I show Drake my acting skills once again. “Honey, no! I’m all sweaty and gross.”

He kisses me again and brings me under the covers with him. I submit to him, and we give each other what we need. 

*                              *                              *

Later that afternoon, Drake and I shower and leave my dorm. We stop by his apartment so he can get his wallet. When he brings me into his bedroom with him, I’m wondering if he wants to make love again. Then he regards me and eases his arms around my waist. 

“Move in with me, Raige,” he says. 

“Really?” The truth is . . . I just didn’t know how to respond to that. 

Ever since Drake and I started seeing each other and spending our nights together, I’ve never pressed so much as a single issue with him. I’ve observed how things happen with couples and relationships. The only reason I’ve basically delegated everything to Drake is because of my lack of emotions. Drake is my mate now, and I know I need to be an understanding girlfriend. That means I do not press any issues with him. I decided that whenever he’s ready to institute the next phases in our relationship, he’ll tell me. 

He gazes into my eyes. “Raige, I’ve loved you since that first day I was assigned to be your shadow. We’ve been seeing each other for over a year. Also, you’re going to be graduating soon. That means you’ll have to leave the dorm and move to another place. Move in with me.” He pecks my lips. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take your time and think about it. Unless you think we’re moving too fast?”

“No, not at all,” I reply. “I don’t think there’s any set timetable for things like this. I guess . . . I just wasn’t expecting your invitation.”

Drake kisses me again. I kiss him back. I’m feeling we may be making love again shortly. It’s then when his smartphone rings. The ringtone tells me it’s his Uncle Jeffrey, who’s the chief of Strickfield PD. He’s the closest thing to a father figure that Drake’s had in his life for so many years. Drake became a police detective because of Uncle Jeffrey. 

As Drake talks to his uncle, I step away to give him privacy. 

“Yeah, hold on a minute.” Drake removes the phone from his ear and looks at me. “Raige, Uncle Jeffrey needs to ask you a favor. He’s wondering if you’re free to babysit tonight.”

Again, I have no idea how to react. Drake has actually caught me off guard on many things. All I can do is agree to whatever he asks of me for the sake of us being together. Drake has been a very good man to me, and I want to be equally as good for him. 

“Tell him I’ll do it,” I reply. 


Drake brings me to Jeffrey Kazmierczak’s house. I’ve never known where our police chief lived until now. The truth is I never really needed to know that information. As Drake and I are on the front porch, the door opens. 

Jeffrey comes out onto the porch and puts a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “Thank you so much for agreeing to do this on short notice, Raige. As it turns out, the PD called me with a hot lead on this babysitter murder case. I’m going to need Drake to come with me. I’m supposed to be watching Douglas tonight, and I can’t get anybody else. His mother’s out of town with her boyfriend, and I agreed to watch him.”

I fake a smile. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ve got this.”

Thank you from the bottom of my old heart.” Jeffrey is probably old enough to be my grandfather. On the other hand, Drake is thirty-nine – seventeen years older than me, which makes him old enough to be my father. I’m twenty-two. 

Drake takes my hand. “You’re going to be okay, Raige. Uncle Jeffrey and I will be back as soon as we can.”

Then I see Douglas Kazmierczak looking at me. He doesn’t smile or look upset. He just looks . . . blank. He doesn’t even blink when Jeffrey tells him that I’ll be babysitting him. Jeffrey waits for me to go into the house before he and Drake jump into his car and leave. 

I look at Douglas again and see his blank, emotionless stare. And then the serial killer in me begins to question things. Perhaps I’m reading into things I shouldn’t, but I did say I was ten years old myself when I started claiming predators. 

“So . . . what would you like to do?” I ask him. 

Douglas looks at me a while longer before he turns and heads to the stairway. I follow him upstairs, keeping my distance. He goes into the room Jeffrey prepared for him and closes the door. I know I shouldn’t invade his space, but . . . I just can’t stop thinking about his blank stare. I’m sure I was just as blank when I was starting out. 

I leave Douglas alone and go back downstairs. I look around the house to become familiar with everything. Thanks to my photographic memory, I now know every room in the house, aside from the guestroom Douglas is in and the attic. 

I won’t have any issues regarding babysitting since I used to do it regularly during my teenage years. I patiently wait to hear whether Douglas comes out of the room. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Douglas out in the backyard. He climbs the fence and starts moving. I quickly leave the house and go after him. 

I follow him discreetly until he leads me to a house. He finds a key under a plant and uses it to get inside. This must be where Douglas lives. I make my way to the back door and get inside. 

I don’t see Douglas anywhere as I move quietly through the first floor. Then I move to the stairway and go up. 

When I nearly reach the top, I almost don’t see the baseball bat coming at my head. I quickly duck and let the bat hit the wall beside me. Douglas steps back to take another swing at me. 

“God damn you!” Douglas yells as I easily sidestep him and relieve him of the bat. 

I’ve had a few problem children during my teenage years in babysitting, but they were mostly just mischievous. I did win their respect, and we got along great. Those kids came to love having me around when a babysitter was needed. I’ve never had anyone quite like Douglas here. 

Douglas points right at me. “You goddamn bitch!” 

Douglas turns and tries to escape downstairs, but I snatch him to me and hold on tight. He growls and tries to fight me, but he won’t get away. 

It’s time to question Douglas. “Ten years old and you’re a serial killer. How long have you been killing, little boy? You’d better just come clean with me because I’m the one person you won’t be fooling.”

“How . . . ?” he stammers. 

“How do I know?” I consider my next words carefully. “I work with the police. It’s my job to make out serial killers. And you triggered so many red flags with me. Now talk to me! How long have you been killing? If you don’t tell me, I have ways of finding out. Trying to kill me was a dead giveaway. And I’m the last person in the world you want to try and kill.”

Douglas continues to struggle against me as I lift him up and force him to his bedroom. I bring him inside and scan everything. His bedroom is as blank as a kid’s room can be. I’ve seen many children’s bedrooms, which are usually colorful and have personalized decorations. Not Douglas! He doesn’t even have so much as a single poster. Then my eyes come across a vent where I see a box inside. Classic Dexter Morgan here. Still keeping hold of Douglas, I pull open the vent and take out the box. 

“Leave that alone!” Douglas yells. Then he strikes and bites my forearm. 

The way my brain is wired, I almost never feel pain. I don’t feel the bite, but he does draw blood. I quickly put the box on the bed and take Douglas down to the floor. I sit on top of him and keep him pinned while I look in the box. He’s got a journal and some telltale artifacts. I open the journal and start scanning. 

Bitch!” he growls underneath me. “You slut!

After scanning every entry, I confirm he’s just like me. I know the connection to the mementos in the box. Douglas has actually killed other babysitters! Thinking about it, there were some missing persons reports filed with some of the girls’ names in this journal. I know because I helped fill out a few of the reports for their distraught parents. Drake and Jeffrey are following a cold trail. 

My bloodlust is satisfied from this morning, but I feel it demanding I claim Douglas. 

“That’s all you babysitters are!” Douglas yells. “Just a bunch of sluts!”

I look down at Douglas. When he sees how hot my eyes are glowing, he cowers in fear. “No! No, get off me! Help!

“You and I are about to have a nice little bonding experience,” I say. “I’ll teach you what it means to be a serial killer and cross me.”

I get off him and yank him to his feet. Knowing how dangerous he is, I lock him in a sleeper hold I learned watching UFC. When he’s sound asleep, I lift him into my arms and take him with me. 


Douglas shows me he’s awake when he starts moving. “What the . . . ?” 

He struggles and finds he’s quite bound. Even my patented bungee cord technique works on children. I decide to remove his blindfold. 

You!” Douglas yells. “I’ll kill you!”

He cries out in fear when he sees my glowing eyes again. “Oh, shit! Help me! You’re evil!”

“Says the kid who’s murdered eleven babysitters in two years,” I contradict. “Why would you even do that? Did they abuse you or something?” I know he wasn’t abused, based on his journal entries. I just want to hear what he has to say. 

“All those sluts were too stupid to abuse me,” Douglas declares. “I killed them because I could. Not all of them were my babysitters. Many of them were babysitting near me, and I went and killed them. I even killed a few of my own babysitters. It was so easy to kill Rayleen Smith when she was on her phone with her boyfriend behind the garage. And then there was Shelby Phillips. She never expected me to just come in the bathroom and slice her throat while she was taking a bath in Uncle Jeffrey’s tub. You can’t possibly understand how good it feels killing those girls.”

“I understand more than you think,” I disagree. “I read your journal, which is quite detailed. In fact, I found where you buried all your victims. For a ten-year-old boy, you sure are gifted. Who would ever suspect a little boy?”

Then Douglas sees the photos I’ve got taped to the walls. “What the . . . ?”

“Hacking both your computer and your smartphone wasn’t hard, Douglas,” I say. “It didn’t take me long to print these pictures.”

Douglas looks at the pictures. Then he starts laughing. “You just wait until I get loose. I’ll kill you and make you look even worse than the others. You think you’re so smart just because you’re a stupid girl?”

“Watch your words, little boy. I can’t be smart and stupid at the same time.” I fake a smile and raise my finger. “Now, I said we were to have a bonding experience. You see, there’s one thing serial killers like you always forget. You are not the only ones who are the hunters. You can also be the prey. Much like right now, Douglas Kazmierczak. In fact, there are certain people you would do well to never get the attention of. Oh, you got the attention of the police, but they don’t always think outside the box. It doesn’t make them stupid. It just means they need to think outside their comfort zones.”

I pick up my knife off my instrument table. “Most importantly, you would do well to never get the attention of the one person who would kill you for preying on innocents.”

When Douglas sees my eyes burn hot one more time, he cries out in fright. “Oh, shit! You’re that one killer! You’re . . . you’re the Angel of Death!

“You said it, not me,” I murmur. “And what does the Angel of Death do exactly, Douglas?”

“Oh, fuck! You’re gonna kill me!” he shrieks. “But . . . you’re a fucking girl!

“I’m twenty-two, so that makes me a woman. And now that we truly understand one another . . .” I fake a sinister smirk as I raise my knife just above him. “Douglas Kazmierczak . . . Let the punishment fit the crime!

Douglas screams as I slam the knife down hard and fast, making a huge impact!


Drake and I are at his apartment a few days later. Every now and then, he keeps shaking his head slowly. “I-I-I just can’t believe Douglas could . . . How, Raige?”

I shrug. “Serial killers can be anybody, Drake – even children. You told me that yourself when you first started mentoring me. I know it’s hard to fathom, but it’s a fact. What’s going to happen to Douglas?”

Drake looks at me. “He’s already locked up at Strickfield PD, after they got him cleaned up. He’s heading off to a special psychiatric facility in Erie City tomorrow morning.”

As you understand now, I did not hurt Douglas in any way. By all rights, I should have claimed him. My bloodlust would have been most appreciative. Like innocents, children are another line I refuse to cross as an adult. Even if they are serial killers themselves. Let’s just say Douglas soiled himself pretty good and cried like a blubbering baby. 

Then Drake gets upset. “Did you see that shit in Uncle Jeffrey’s basement? That fucking Angel of Death was actually in his house! That’s his handiwork – the pictures and the other evidence he left on Douglas.” He shakes his head again. “I don’t understand! Why didn’t he kill Douglas?”

I shrug. “I’m sure the Angel of Death had reasons.”

Drake’s been staring at me intently while trying to come to terms with his little cousin being a serial killer. We’ve been sitting on the couch together all this time. Then Drake moves to me and pulls me into his arms. We share a passionate kiss. When we stop, he looks deep into my eyes. 

“I can’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened,” he tells me. “When I saw the bodies of those girls being dug up . . . Raige, I kept thinking . . . What if Douglas would have killed you?

“He didn’t,” I reply. “I’m right here in front of you. You’re talking to me. You just kissed me.”

Drake really takes a good long look into my eyes now. “Raige, I love you. You’re a good woman, and I just can’t see a world without you in it.”

Then he kisses me again, a much longer one this time. 

When we stop, he looks into my face again. “Marry me, Raigen Devereux.”

Once more, Drake has me at a disadvantage with my complete lack of emotions. He’s just initiated yet another step in our relationship. 

“Yes, Drake,” I reply. “Yes, I’ll move in with you . . . and I’ll marry you. If that’s really what you want.”

“More than anything,” he assures me. 

He gets off me and lifts me into his arms. From there, he carries me to his bed. I’ve chosen to give myself to a man who both knowingly loves and unknowingly hates me at the same time. I’m at great risk in being with him, but he’s a good man and I want to be his perfect mate. But I will never truly be perfect. Not as long as I’m broken and defective. 

There are lines I will never cross as a serial killer, but now I know I will do whatever I must to protect you, Drake Kazmierczak. I can’t love you, and maybe I never will. But I’ve committed myself to you, body and soul. Perhaps this is as close to love as I’ll ever be able to achieve, especially when all I feel . . . is constant numbness. 

I know the day will come, Drake, when you’ll wish to destroy me. Regardless of how you feel for me, I will die to protect you. 

This is my promise to you!

Now . . . 

. . . and forever.