“Whoa, take it easy,” he said, “Are you going for your gun?”
“Tell me what you are talking about right now,” she said, her hand on the gun now.
“Sarah,” Delgado said in a warning tone, but he didn’t do anything to come between the two of them.
“I’m a good detective,” Freeman said. “You’ve a well-known name and the internet has been spewing stuff about Spalding being after you for the last couple of years by now. Added how personal this is to you it’s not hard to put two and two together.” Freeman was looking into her eyes and then he added, “Even an FBI agent could’ve figured that one out.” He saw her hard eyes soften, only a little though, and he sighed relief internally.
“I’m sorry,” she said, moving her hand away from the gun. “This case is an FBI one now, but I’m happy to keep you on it if you’d like?”
“I would like to stay on,” Freeman said. “I didn’t like what I found here, and I want him to pay for it. I want to be part of catching him.” Sarah nodded that she understood.
“You’re wrong on the case though,” she said, “But please don’t spread more rumours by talking about it.” Freeman nodded, it was bullshit, but he agreed all the same.
“You’ve isolated the original 911 call to the games room?” Sarah said looking at the file.
“The Billiards room, yes,” Freeman said, and he started up the stairs towards that room. “There was blood on the receiver of the phone. My guess is the killer didn’t finish the job and she tried to call for help but he heard her, came back and made sure of the job the second time.”
“And it was almost an hour before the next 911 call came from the survivors?” Delgado confirmed. Freeman nodded to this. They were on the first landing and making for the door to the room in question.
“What was your gut instinct when you came into the house?” Sarah asked and they all stopped as Freeman turned to face her.
“One or more of the three survivors was in on it. If they weren’t the killer then they knew what was going on,” Freeman uttered grimly. He still felt this way.
“Did any of them admit to anything?” Delgado asked.
“Not yet.” They took the last few steps to the room and went inside. Freeman stood by the door as the FBI agents went about the room carrying out a visual examination. Sarah took out some crime scene photographs and stood next to where the body of Sharon Knowles had been.
“All of the victims were killed in the same way, except her,” Sarah said looking from the floor to the photos.
“She was ultimately killed by a blow to the head, but he tried to kill her the same way as the others but for whatever reason it didn’t work as well with her,” Freeman answered.
“How sure about the order of the deaths are you?” Sarah asked, tapping the report.
“Can’t be fully sure,” Freeman replied. “Time of death is close for all of them and only the survivors word as to who was where and when.” Which didn’t add up to much in his book if they were in on it.
“Background checks on the victims reveal anything interesting?” Delgado asked.
“Not yet,” Freeman said.
“You say that a lot,” Sarah stated.
“What’s that?” Freeman asked.
“Not yet, you say it a lot,” Sarah repeated. Freeman looked at her and grinned,
“In this business it’s always not yet until it happens.”
Chapter 9
Tyler plunged into the icy cold water of the river, the frigid sharpness a shock to his body and mind alike. He felt his face go numb beneath the water and he stayed down for over thirty seconds, unable to see anything in the muddy rush of the river. Whenever he was underwater like this, Tyler always thought about drowning and felt a microscopic desire to experience what that would be like. He’d always heard that those last moments before a drowning death were quite pleasant, but never really understood how anyone could know that. Had he heard the same thing about dying from hypothermia once?
His head crashed back to the surface and he drew in a deep breath and watched the mist of his exhalation on the cold morning air. He swam to the far bank, fighting to stay in a straight line as the current whipped by and tried to take him away. Once he touched the bank he turned and started straight back across for his decked area without a pause for breath. This single back and forth in the heady waters here was like doing fifty laps in a normal swimming pool and made him feel much more alive.
On reaching the deck, Tyler hauled himself up out of the water and stood there a moment letting the cold air envelope his naked body. He felt good after the swim, strong and light but only seconds later the inner urge began to make itself known to him once more.
“Fuuuuuccccckkkkkk!” he screamed out in a long howl, his head back, his face to the grey sky. Turning, he stormed back to the house, forgetting about his clothes on the wooden decking beside him. Inside he went and ran a hot shower and went in quickly, trying to let new water assuage his mind, convince him he felt differently, but it was no good. As soon as he was back out of the shower the urge to kill could be felt again. It was a very low-level need right now, but Tyler knew it didn’t take much for that little urge to become a major driving force if he didn’t take care of it far enough ahead of time.
After dressing in sweatpants and a muscle top, Tyler poured himself a tall scotch and went to his computer. He looked over his notes on a few recent stories he was working on, but each time he found he was trying to link everything back to Dwight Spalding. The notorious serial killer was everywhere in his head. Tyler was even now looking at the research for his book and wondering if Spalding could have been somehow controlling the men he had written about. Whatever it was Dwight Spalding had in his head it seemed to enable him to find other killers. He had even found Tyler and before that happened Tyler felt it would have been impossible to discover what he’d been up to for so many years. But Spalding had done it.
“It won’t matter in the end,” Tyler said smiling as he looked at the mug shot of Spalding, the one time he was picked up for assaulting a police officer before anyone actually knew who he really was. “I have an ace up my sleeve.”
Though he couldn’t explain it exactly, Tyler also knew Spalding was the reason Tyler’s own lust for killing had grown so strong of late. He’d worked murders a lot of times for the ‘Baltimore Echo’ but in the last few years there seemed to have been nothing but serial killer after serial killers with nothing of substance between them. Seeing body after body and knowing how the killer must have felt after each one had planted some seed of yearning within him and now even though he had killed ahead of his usual schedule a few months ago, here he was again fully feeling the need to do so again. It should have been at least a year between murders, and he wasn’t at his best when the urge to kill came over him. He was going to have to do it again very soon or else he might lose the edge he’d felt he’d acquired over Spalding.
Tyler slept badly that night and when he got to work the next morning it just felt like one of those days that wasn’t going to go well. That feeling was confirmed when Briggs came at him as soon as he stepped in the door of the press room.
“I want that mansion murder house piece down for web publication in an hour, Tyler, you got that?” He was annoyed by something already, his face red with white blotches, his eyes wide and making an attempt at threatening. June looked at Tyler from her reception desk and rolled her eyes out of Briggs’ sight.
“It’s done,” Tyler said as he walked towards his desk, “I emailed it to you this morning before I left the house.”
“Well, I didn’t get it, you must have made a mistake, send it on to me again, right now.” This sounded like an order from a drill sergeant and Tyler didn’t like the tone at all. He was the only talented writer at this paper, and it seemed like Briggs was forgetting that. He shot back a glare at the editor and said,
“I didn’t make a mistake, check your inbox again and you’ll see it!” Out of the corner
of his eye he saw June cringe at her desk, but he kept on looking at Briggs.
“What? You think I don't know how to check my emails?” Briggs asked sourly.
“I’m saying check your email again and you’ll see it,” Tyler replied evenly. The two of them stood there a moment, eyes locked and both angry.
“I think you’re forgetting who the boss is around here, Tyler,” Briggs warned. That was it, the last straw for Tyler. He sat down at his desk, flicked the mouse to bring the screen to life and started typing.
“I’m talking to you!” Briggs shouted. Tyler ignored him, finished what he was typing and pressed print. “Can you hear me, you arrogant piece of shit!” Briggs roared at him, taking a couple of steps closer to Tyler though they were separated by half the room and a lot of desks. Tyler got up and locked eyes with Briggs and maintained contact as he walked around the printer. He took the single page that came out and walked over to Briggs and thrust the paper at him.
“What’s this?” Briggs said taking the paper almost automatically and glancing at it.
“Fuck you Briggs, I quit,” Tyler said, and he stormed out of the office as Briggs read the single line resignation letter. Tyler knew he couldn’t just leave today, that he would have to serve notice, but he also knew that there was nothing Briggs could do about him leaving the building and not coming back until he was no longer employed by the paper. There was also nothing he could do to stop Tyler getting a job at any paper in the country. Without him, the ‘Baltimore Echo’ would go down the pan in a year, he was sure of it.
As he bounded down the stairs feeling freer than he had in the long time, Tyler heard the bellowing voice of Briggs coming through the now closed double doors above.
“You can’t do this! You’re contracted to this paper!” Tyler smiled and shook his head. ‘Fuck you’ he thought stepping out in to the morning light. No one owned him.
Chapter 10
Freeman stood outside interview room number five and scanned his notebook as he waited for Sarah and Delgado to arrive. They weren’t late yet, but because Freeman always tried to arrive early for things he felt like he’d been waiting on them a long time. Inside the room was Tammy Wren, the woman who had been at the scene of the murders. As Freeman looked at her though the glass, sitting there with her lawyer, she looked so very different from their first meeting. Now she was glamorous and well dressed and looked like she had money behind her. What hadn’t left though was the fear in her eyes and he noticed she still checked all the corners to the room as though something might come at her when her lawyer was talking to her. It was probably genuine if it was still present, he felt. Still, it wasn’t safe to take everything at face value.
Sarah and Delgado arrived together, and Freeman wondered how many hours a day they spent together. He didn’t get any romantic or sexual vibe from them, but it must be a lot.
“Do you have your questions ready?” Freeman asked.
“Here’s a copy of both,” Sarah said handing him some pages. Freeman glanced down at them and nodded without really reading any of them in whole.
“I’ll lead and you two jump in when you need to. If I don't cover what you have here, then we can follow up again, okay?” Sarah and Delgado looked at one another with bemused expressions. Freeman knew he was chancing his arm trying to lead the case like it was still his own, but it worked. They both looked back at him and nodded that all was okay. They went inside the interview room.
“Detective Freeman accompanied by FBI Agents Brightwater and Delgado, conducting an interview with Tammy Wren in the presence of her lawyer Mr Swift,” Freeman stated as he turned on the recorder. “Are you ready, Miss Wren?”
“Yes,” she answered glancing once at her lawyer.
“Why were you at the house on Sycamore Street on the night of the 15th of this month?” Freeman asked.
“We were at a party,” Tammy replied.
“A party?”
“Like a party,” she corrected herself. Freeman knew the words she didn’t want to say but they were the answer he was looking for.
“What kind of party?” he asked.
“It was an entertainment event,” she said looking down at the table.
“Did you pay money to be there?”
“Yes, it was $200.”
“Where did you hear about the event?”
“Through Tom,” she replied, tears welling in her eyes.
“Tom is Thomas Anwer, who was also there that night?” Freeman asked.
“Yes,” she croaked as she took a tissue from the box on the table and wiped her eyes.
“You were not present for Tom’s death?” Sarah asked. Freeman looked at her but then straight back to Tammy. They weren’t supposed to be butting in like this.
“No, I didn’t see anyone’s death,” Tammy said through her tears.
“But you knew they were dead?” Sarah asked. Tammy looked to Sarah with confused eyes and then she looked to Freeman.
“Do you know who killed Tom?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Did you see his body?” Sarah asked and again Freeman looked at her.
“Yes,” Tammy said, and she broke down completely here. Freeman expected her lawyer to say something or ask for a recess but all he did was place a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Who was with you when you found Tom’s body?” Sarah asked when Tammy had been allowed to cry for a bit and settle down.
“Casey,” she replied.
“Did you know Casey Stone before the event?” Freeman jumped back in. Tammy shook her head.
“How did Casey and you come to be together?” Sarah asked.
“The lights came back on. We’d been told we could start going around the house looking for clues once the lights came on.”
“You were supposed to find out who had been killed in the game too, yes?” Delgado asked.
“Yes.”
“Was Tom’s the first body you found?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” Tammy answered.
“Did you see any bodies before you met up with Casey?”
“No, we were in rooms next to one another and when we came out to the hall we met right away.”
“Just after the lights went on?” Freeman asked.
“Yes, only a few seconds later.”
“Which rooms were you in?” Sarah asked.
“A bathroom by the front door and a walk-in closet just next to it.”
“Those are odd rooms to be in with so much space in the house, Sarah commented.
“We were told where to go,” Tammy replied. “It was on our sheet.”
“Sheet?” Freeman asked, they all knew what she was referring to, but he wanted her to go over it again.
“There was no one to meet us for the party. There was one long note to tell us how the night was going to work and then there was an envelope with each of our names on it. We had to read it alone and do whatever it said. We all thought it would tell us our roles and one of them would say killer,” Tammy said, shaking her head in disbelief at how naive they were- now that she knew what was really going on.
“How long were you in the bathroom?” Freeman asked.
“It felt long, must have been about twenty minutes, maybe a little more.”
“You didn’t think that was strange?” Sarah asked.
“I did, but I didn’t want to go out and ruin the game and have everyone mad at me.”
“So, you played by the rules?” Freeman asked. He wondered if this was possibly why she was still alive. He made a brief note of this idea on his pad. Tammy nodded.
“Yes,” she said.
“What happened next?” Sarah asked. Freeman could feel she was trying to take over, but he didn’t want to let Tammy or her lawyer know there was a power play going on here. He bit his tongue.
“We looked at one another for a moment. I was wondering if he was the killer in the game and he was about to tap me on the shoulder and tell me I was dead and by the looks of him he thought t
he same about me. We smiled then and started walking around to see where everyone else was.”
“Where did you go first?” Freeman asked, looking at his notes to her original statement.
“We walked along the hall and through the alcove that leads into the kitchen,” Tammy said slowly as though she were retracing her steps in her mind.
“You didn’t hear anything or see anyone else during this time?” Freeman asked.
“No,” Tammy said, and Freeman ticked a line on his sheet.
“Go on,” he said to her.
“We found Tom in the kitchen,” Tammy said, her voice cutting as she spoke and then the tears came back.
“How would you describe the body?” Sarah asked before Freeman thought it the right time to resume questions. It was a tough one to wade back in with too.
“He was lying on his back; his throat had been cut and there was blood everywhere!” Tammy wailed.
“Did you move or touch the body?” Sarah asked.
“No.”
“Did Casey?”
“No, I screamed, and he shouted something like ‘holy shit’ and then we started running for the front door.”
“Did you go outside?” Freeman asked.
“No, it was locked, and we couldn’t find a way to open it.”
“What did you do next?” Sarah asked.
“We made for the sitting room to see if we could get out there somehow,” Tammy was crying again. “The windows were all locked shut.”
“Then what?”
“We knew there was a door out back from the kitchen, so we headed there.”
“You passed by Tom’s body again?” Sarah asked and Tammy nodded that she had, “Did it look any different this time?” Freeman looked to her and wondered why she asked that question.
“I couldn’t look at him again,” Tammy responded.
“Did you get out the back door?” Freeman asked.
“No, it was locked too and that’s when we heard someone coming.”
“From where?” Sarah asked.
A Clamour of Rooks (The Birdwatcher Series Book 4) Page 4