The Killing Pit

by Wes Markin

  “Marissa, where’s Maddie?”

  Ring-ring.

  “Do you hear that, dear? The old bastard ringing a little bell?”

  “Why is he doing that?” Piper asked.

  “Hunger, no doubt. He smashed some teeth, and he hasn’t eaten since last night.”

  Jake took a deep breath. “How did that happen, Mrs. Thompson?”

  Ring-ring.

  “I was thinking of soup,” Marissa said. “Chicken is his favorite. Do you think he could eat that?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Thompson,” Jake said. “How did he damage his teeth?”

  “Went over an old fencepost in the dark last night.”

  Accident prone, your family, aren’t they? Jake thought, eyeing the young man with the split lip.

  Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

  Marissa smiled and faced her son. “Don’t just stand there. Get your father some goddamn soup!”

  Jake and Piper both flinched. The sudden rise in volume from a seemingly frail old woman was surprising.

  Devin walked across the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

  Marissa turned back, smiling. “They never fall far from the tree, do they?” She looked down and took a deep breath. “But my daughter … my Maddie … now she’s different.”

  “Where is she?” Piper asked, for possibly the third time.

  Marissa looked up. “She’s gone, dear. Didn’t you know?”

  “I didn’t, no. You told me on the phone last night that she was sick.”

  “Did I? No, she’s not sick. No. A mother would know that, wouldn’t she?”

  Devin stepped up and put his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mom.”

  Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

  Marissa placed her hand on Devin’s. She closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s in Vermont with family. Didn’t my son tell you that at the door?”

  “He did, Marissa. But not why she’s there.”

  “The plague of all families, dear—arguments. She’ll come back when the tension has gone.”

  “Arguments about what?” Jake said.

  “That’s none of your fucking business,” Devin said.

  Jake was about to reply, but he felt Piper’s hand on his arm.

  “Can I do anything to help with these arguments?” Piper asked. “I know she listens to me.”

  “No, dear, it’s fine. My sister will handle it just fine.”

  Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

  “Old bastard,” Marissa said and pushed her son’s hand off her shoulder. “He’ll wear that bell out. I’ll do it. No one else seems capable of soup around here.”

  “Please, Marissa,” Piper said, “can I just have your sister’s number? I’d love to talk to Maddie, see how she is doing.”

  Marissa smiled and took Piper’s hands again from across the table. “Aren’t you a sweetheart? My beautiful girl is so lucky to have friends like you. I’ll be sure to tell her you were asking after her.”

  Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

  “Goddamned bastard. Will he not shut the hell up?” She raised her voice again and turned from her two guests.

  Jake looked down at the four untouched coffees.

  Piper drove away from the farmhouse.

  “Well, I’ve had some bloody strange experiences in my time, but nothing quite like that,” Jake said.

  “That bell. Jesus, Jake, that bell. I can still hear it ringing. What the hell have they done with Maddie? Vermont? How did she even get there? Did they throw her on a plane last night? Surely Marissa’s sister didn’t spend most of last night driving here and back again?”

  “I don’t think she’s in Vermont.”

  “What have they done with her?”

  “I can’t answer that. But I can tell you they’re terrified.”

  Piper nodded. “Sean looked like he was going to collapse from a heart attack when he saw me at the door.”

  “Yes. And that aggressive little shit, Devin, was ready to wrestle us off the property. Marissa, the mother, is in a complete state of shock. And the father? God knows … I wasn’t in any mood to find out what was behind that little bell. There’s only one place we can go with all this, Piper. I know you don’t like it, but we really have no choice.”

  Piper sighed. “You’re right.”

  “But just because we’re going to the police doesn’t mean I’m trusting them. Especially if the town is as corrupt as you say it is. But a young girl missing is a young girl missing, and someone has got to give a shit about that.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Also, I’ll go. I want you to stay out of it as best you can.”

  She glared at him. “So, the big man is speaking for the little lady now, is he?”

  “No, the sensible person is speaking for the concerned friend.”

  “I can take care of myself, Jake.”

  Jake smiled. “Nothing I’ve seen so far has suggested otherwise. But, if I wind up the wrong person, I can disappear from this town. In other words, I’ve got far less to lose than you have. Drop me off at the station, please.”

  “I don’t know … I think it’s best if―”

  “You want my help, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, trust me.”

  She thought about it and sighed. “Yes, boss.”

  The stink of death had never bothered Jotham. Growing up on a farmyard with all that slaughter and decay had desensitised him. But his lab stank like cat piss, and that was one animal he simply could not abide, so he forced the charcoal nose plugs in deep before summoning out Jenna Hanson.

  As she came to the door in a powder-blue oversuit, he regarded his lab with some degree of pride. Before having his built, he’d visited an array of them. Many were unkempt, unsanitary, and stank far worse than this one. Supplies were often piled high in obscure places—a mountain of Sudafed in one corner, a mound of lithium batteries in the other, used coffee filters scattered on the floor, and smashed beakers kicked to the side of the room. His lab was clean and orderly. He wanted it to resemble a kitchen in a five-star restaurant, and the people he’d employed to build it had not let him down. No expense had been spared—air-conditioning, stainless-steel surfaces which were disinfected every day, clearly labeled equipment and storage bins. He also spared his staff the paranoia he’d seen in some of the other labs. They worked in a calm environment with no need to fear law enforcement. He provided them with fresh sanitary equipment daily, including masks, gloves, hairnets, overshoes, and oversuits. He also paid them well above average and gave them leave and sick pay. And all they had to do was get in the van driven by Oliver every morning at ten a.m., Monday to Saturday, cook meth, and return home, and when anyone asked—although most were not foolish enough to do so—they were simply cleaners working for Mr. MacLeoid.

  “Mr. MacLeoid?” Jenna said with her facemask hanging from one ear. “Are you okay?”

  Jotham closed the lab door and put his hand on her shoulder. “Been a long time since anyone asked me that.”

  “I’m sorry. You just look tired.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He smiled. “I like it, Jenna. I need your help.”

  “What can I do, sir?”

  He withdrew his hand and took a deep breath. “You’re going to think me a bad father.” He looked away. “I seem to have lost my daughter.”

  “Kayla … I don’t understand. How?”

  Jotham looked back at her. “Try not to worry, Jenna, not just yet. I suspect she’s had a teenage moment and is staying with a friend somewhere.”

  “Cody?”

  “Yes, that was my hope. I know they’re close. If I get Oliver to drive you home now, can you see if your son knows anything?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you, Jenna. I’ll have Ayden wait in the van so you can report back to him. Then you can have the rest of the day off.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. MacLeoid.”

  “I insist.” He put his hand on her should
er again, smiled and walked away.

  Jotham held Bo’s leash. It wasn’t necessary; his dog was obedient and simply sat at her master’s heel, but every now and again, Jotham liked to remind his bitches who was in charge.

  He surveyed his twenty soldiers. Some were young and just starting out on their careers; others were much older, and like any other profession, they would be coming up to retirement. Yet, there was no retirement in this game. They couldn’t complain; they’d been fully aware of this when they’d started out.

  Jotham liked the younger soldiers more—Anthony, Cole, Isaac, and Lucas. He recalled their effectiveness the previous night in rounding up the Thompsons. An eagerness and energy existed in youth that quickly disappeared in middle-age.

  He’d sent Ayden with Oliver to drive Jenna. He didn’t want his son here. He was angry with him for his hesitance last night at the pit. It wasn’t behavior befitting of a MacLeoid. If necessary, Jotham would beat him daily to remind him of that. He also held his son responsible for Kayla; he was supposed to have kept an eye on her. Also missing from the crowd were the Thompson boys. After watching their younger sister disappear into his pit last night, making them search for a younger girl might inspire thoughts of mutiny. It was best not to test them when their feelings were still raw. Besides, he still needed some of his mules in the other towns. He couldn’t have them all out of action today. This was costing him money as it was.

  “You all know about Kayla, and most of you have tired faces, so I thank those who tried throughout the night.” Jotham pulled the monkey with the broken eye from his pocket. “But to those of you with sleep in the corners of your eyes and coffee on your breath from breakfast with your families, I want you to hear what I have to say.” He kneeled, unclipped Bo’s leash and stroked her muscular head. “A missing MacLeoid is not just a MacLeoid problem. It’s everybody’s problem.” He gripped Bo’s collar and held the monkey under her nose. “I assumed you would all know that. So, it got me thinking.” Bo strained against Jotham’s grip. She had Kayla’s scent. “Maybe someone here knows more than they’re letting on.” He released Bo.

  She moved quickly toward the crowd of men.

  The men exchanged glances as the terrier approached, and some backed away.

  “If anybody moves, I will feed Bo their fucking balls. If you haven’t touched my daughter, you’ve nothing to worry about.” Jotham scanned his frozen soldiers. It was impossible to spot guilt amongst them because every single one had grown pale and clenched their teeth.

  Bo weaved around them, sniffing. She paused at Anthony, intrigued by his work boots.

  Anthony’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

  This worried Jotham. Anthony had been his most promising soldier for some time now. Still, Jotham narrowed his eyes and prepared himself to do what was necessary if the boy was in any way connected to his missing daughter.

  He wasn’t. Bo continued her hunt. When Bo had circled the men and had failed to find Kayla’s scent on any, she returned to her master’s side.

  He heard several sighs of relief. Jotham kneeled, clicked on the leash, stroked her head and handed her beef jerky. “Good girl.” He stood. “Next time, if any of you disappear when I need you, I will just assume responsibility and give one of my bitches a real treat.”

  Everyone nodded vigorously, even the many who had toiled throughout the night.

  “But I understand what I expect of you, so I’m offering five thousand dollars to anyone who can bring my daughter home safely.”

  The crowd exchanged glances again, but this time with less anxiety and even a few smiles.

  5

  THE POLICE DEPARTMENT was more welcoming than Jake had expected. The desk sergeant heard his concerns with a raised eyebrow and showed him through to a small room with a sofa and some magazines. The sergeant gave him coffee, which he received gratefully following his previous night of over-indulgence, and he took a seat.

  Many photographs of Blue Falls decorated the wall. He stood and wandered toward a grainy black and white one of Main Street. He recognised the Rogers General Store. The storefront looked identical. Only the clothing of the passers-by betrayed its era which, according to the handwriting below the image, was 1883. Jake’s eyes moved along to another old photograph, this one of the Blue Falls Taps, the watering hole responsible for his growing headache and, in a way, his existence. If the owners, the Bickfords, had not been run out of town and back to the UK all that time ago, Jake may have never come into being.

  The door opened, and a man not much shorter than Jake entered. “Gabriel Jewell, Chief of Police,” he said, shaking Jake’s hand.

  “Jake Pettman.”

  “Ro from the front desk told me.” Gabriel smiled. “Where have you been all my life, Mr. Pettman? I was the tall kid who everyone wanted to prove themselves with. I’m surprised I made it this far. If you’d have turned up thirty years ago, my life would have been easier.”

  Jake returned the smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I had similar issues growing up in Wiltshire.”

  “If you come through with me, Mr. Pettman, we’ll go to my office to discuss the concerns.”

  Jake counted five officers in total as Gabriel led him through his department. Four male officers clustered around a desk, chatting and laughing. He recalled his days in Wiltshire HQ. He didn’t remember many moments like this one.

  One short female officer sat alone at her desk with blond hair tied back so tightly it glowed. She smiled a welcome at Jake. He returned her smile, and she refocused on a report she was filling out.

  Gabriel opened his office door for Jake at the precise moment when someone shouted, “You fucking pricks!”

  Jake turned to see the female officer’s calm demenor was no more. She was red-faced and on her feet, holding a G-string in the air. The drawer beside her was open. The unimaginative chauvinists had obviously planted it there.

  “Get a fucking life.”

  One of the male officers called over, “We can order in the pole for you to dance around if you’d like, Lil.”

  “I’d skewer you with it,” she shouted back.

  Gabriel was red-faced. “Please, Mr. Pettman, wait in there.”

  Jake sat in the chair in the front of Gabriel’s desk and let him rage at his staff.

  Following a stream of incomprehensible expletives, he told them to do some work, and came into the office. “Sorry about that.”

  “Seems like you’ve got an issue with workplace bullying,” Jake said.

  “What? That?” Gabriel waved his hand. “They’re all friends. They just like to joke sometimes.”

  “There’s banter, and then there’s misogyny. That looked like the dark ages to me.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. After exhaling, he took a seat. “Well, how can I help you, Mr. Pettman?”

  Jake told him about meeting Piper in the Taps, her concerns over Madeline, and his visit to the Thompson farmhouse this morning.

  “And you went alone?” Gabriel asked.

  Jake nodded.

  “And how did they respond to a complete stranger on their doorstep?”

  “Graciously,” Jake said, continuing the lie.

  Gabriel made a few notes while Jake surveyed the photographs on his desk. All of them were of an elderly couple, presumably his parents. No wife or children. Jake was about to ask him if he was married or in a relationship when he quickly remembered what side of the table he was on and not to push his luck.

  “Okay,” Gabriel said. “Before I look into this, I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Pettman.”

  Jake nodded, knowing this was inevitable.

  “It always helps if an out-of-towner brings a passport to the station when they make reports, Mr. Pettman.”

  “I understand.” Jake removed his passport from his pocket and slid it across the table.

  “American … Except you’re not American, are you?”

  Jake nodded. “You have t
he passport that says I am.”

  “But the British accent?”

  Jake explained his history as he’d done with Piper the precious day.

  When he mentioned the Bickfords, Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he sat back in his chair. “Do you know what happened with the Bickfords?”

  “Not in its entirety, no. Is it relevant to the reason I’ve come to see you?”

  “I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “There’s relevance in a lot of things. You don’t always know until you look.”

  “Well, let me assure you then, Chief, that my ancestry will have little to do with the whereabouts of Maddie Thompson.”

  Gabriel leaned forward in his chair again, reviewing his notes. “Well, thank you, Mr. Pettman. I believe I have all I need for the time being. I’ll ―”

  “So, what’re you going to do about it?”

  Gabriel looked up from his notes with narrowed eyes. “I’ll be in touch if we need anything else. You can leave your contact details with Ro out front.”

  Jake shook his head. “That’s not good enough.”

  Gabriel sat back again with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m reporting a fifteen-year-old girl missing.”

  “And I said we’ll look into it.”

  “You”—Jake thumbed toward the unruly staff—“or them?”

  “We, Mr. Pettman.”

  “You could start by trying to phone the relatives in Vermont to see if she got there okay.”

  Gabriel smirked. “Are you still a policeman, Mr. Pettman?”

  Technically, yes. “No. It just seemed the most obvious course of action.”

  “And the reason it seems so obvious to you, Mr. Pettman, is because you’re not from around here. And an ancestry of that nature really doesn’t count. To be honest, you really wouldn’t want it to count for much.”

  “There’s a missing girl, Chief―”

  “And there’s an ecosystem. In this town, as well as any other. And it’s our ecosystem. If I start calling up the relatives of some of our most respected residents, how does that make us look?”

  Capable? Jake thought. Proactive?