by Dan Padavona
Detective Presley and Deputy Aguilar walked back from the tent and joined Thomas beside the railroad tracks. Aguilar handed him a cup of coffee. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“You told me this stuff would eat a hole in my stomach.”
“Good luck finding herbal tea out here,” Aguilar said, scrunching her face after she sipped her coffee. “If it keeps us awake, we’ll make do. You seem preoccupied.”
Thomas glanced up the road. A roadblock prevented looky-loos from interfering with the investigation. Taking another sip, he told Aguilar about Mark Benson.
“Benson is a fool if he returns to Nightshade County,” Aguilar said. “Once we finish here, I’ll be happy to check on Raven.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“It was Officer Stanton who called Chelsey Byrd last night,” Presley said. “Kane Grove PD is searching for Benson. If he shows his face, we’ll catch him.”
Thomas’s mind flashed back to the Jeremy Hyde case. While Thomas and the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department searched for the man murdering prostitutes in Harmon, the psychopath stalked Thomas and the Mourning family, breaking inside his house and painting Hero on the upstairs wall. Killers hung in the shadows and found you before you identified them. Locked doors didn’t stand in their way. Was Benson a murderer in the making?
Aguilar must have recognized the worry on his face. She touched his shoulder.
“Mark Benson isn’t getting past me. Even if he does, Raven Hopkins is the last person he wants to mess with.”
“I’m not convinced he’ll come to Kane Grove,” said Thomas. “If he’s motivated by revenge, Benson will head for Wolf Lake.”
“Any chance Benson killed our John Doe? I realize it’s a shot in the dark, but Barton Falls is the first town Benson would pass through if he was making a beeline for Wolf Lake.”
“What’s his motivation? Benson and Damian Ramos kidnapped Ellie Fisher and placed a ransom on her head. Then he went after Raven because she was close to solving Fisher’s disappearance. No, he wouldn’t randomly murder a kid in Barton Falls.”
“He might have done it for money,” Presley said. “We didn’t find a wallet on the teenager.”
She had a point. Maybe Benson murdered the boy and stole his wallet. He’d need money to escape the country.
Aguilar nodded and said, “Whoever our killer is, he has transportation.”
“Your witness spotted a dark sedan driving erratically on the access road,” said Thomas.
“Shortly after midnight, yes. She couldn’t determine the make or model because of the fog. But there was someone out here around the time Kane Grove PD received the screaming complaint.”
Presley lifted her chin at a heavyset man with a gray, bushy beard strutting in their direction.
“Looks like the techs are ready to walk us through the scene.”
Thomas drained the last of his coffee and tossed the cup into a garbage bag. The lumbering tech was named Griffith.
“If you’ll follow me, Sheriff,” Griffith said, motioning for Presley and Aguilar to join them.
The tech used fluorescent paint at each evidence point to reconstruct the murder.
“I found tire tracks leading off the road and along the shoulder,” Griffiths said, sweeping his flashlight over the tracks. “Notice how the footprints trail away from the passenger side.”
“Those must belong to the victim,” Presley said.
Griffith nodded and strode into the field where the tire tracks ended.
“There’s a new set of shoe prints here,” the tech said, flashing his light over the indentations. “Two of the prints are clear enough to cast. Our killer leapt from the driver’s side and pursued the victim on foot.”
“Which tells us the killer acted alone,” Aguilar added.
“Right. If he had an accomplice, the partner could have caught the victim sooner by jumping out on the passenger side.” Griffith led them along the road to a muddy streak amid the weeds, marked by glowing paint. “The victim lost his footing in the weeds and scrambled up. That explains the muddy jeans and the dirt on his palms. But the killer hadn’t caught him yet.”
The tech aimed the light along the meadow. Two pairs of shoe prints arrowed toward the kill site. Another splash of paint highlighted where the fatal struggle had taken place.
“Our killer caught the teenager here and stabbed him seven times in the chest. No wallet or identification on the boy, but we sent the phone Stanton found back to the lab. Once we unlock the phone, we’ll determine who he is.”
Officer Stanton had found an iPhone in the tall weeds off the road. The screen cracked when it fell, and the case was caked with mud. Thomas hoped the phone still functioned.
After the walk through, Griffith returned to his team and helped them take the tent down. A Kane Grove PD cruiser pulled off the curb and headed out of town.
“This doesn’t feel like a robbery,” Thomas said.
“Could be a drug deal gone wrong,” said Presley. “Nothing good happens after dark in Barton Falls, especially outside the old train yards.”
“How bad is the drug problem in town?”
“It gets a little worse every year. There’s no hope in Barton Falls, and people turn to narcotics to escape reality.”
“Who supplies the town?”
“We have a few smalltime pushers in Barton Falls. But the largest players are the 315 Royals in Harmon.”
Thomas lifted his gaze. Jeremy Hyde had been a member of the Royals.
“The Royals come out this far?”
“We suspect they do. With the Harmon Kings out of the running, the Royals are feeling their oats. They’ll take over the county if we don’t rein them in.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
October 31st
7:00 a.m.
Scout stayed inside her room and feigned coughing until her mother’s car pulled out of the driveway. Then she wheeled herself down the hall and into the kitchen, where she toasted a bagel and lathered it with strawberry jam. She hadn’t played hooky in years, and her head swam with anticipation. After listening to Violet Lyon’s murder, Scout had barely slept a wink. By the end of the day, she’d figure out the girl’s identity and learn if Violet was dead, or if the podcaster had swindled her listeners.
She opened the closet and reached for her winter jacket. Halloween was too soon for this much cold. A tug dislodged the coat from the hanger. After Scout shrugged into the jacket, she slipped through the deck door and pushed herself across the frosty yard, following the concrete path Thomas paved last spring. Before he carved the path, she always got stuck in the soggy ground.
The cold took her breath away. LeVar’s house seemed a million miles in the distance. When she finally reached the door, she knocked once and waited, her teeth chattering as the frigid morning froze her nose hairs. Before she knocked again, the door opened. LeVar leaned in the entryway, wiping the sleep out of his eyes, his dreadlocks spilling off his shoulders. She held back a snicker when she noticed his Batman pajama bottoms.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“I told Mom I had a sore throat.”
“So now I’m aiding and abetting. Great.” He motioned her inside with a sweep of his arm. “Come on in before we freeze to death.”
The guest house was too small for a full kitchen. LeVar kept milk and cold cuts in a small refrigerator beside the sink. They passed the kitchen nook and entered the front room. An expansive window offered an unencumbered view of Wolf Lake. Nobody was on the water this morning. Fog drifted off the lake and blanketed the shoreline, concealing the path to the state park and Darren Holt’s cabin. LeVar fell into a chair. A half-eaten bowl of Cheerios rested on a card table. He spooned his breakfast into his mouth before it turned soggy.
“Why are you ditching school?”
“Didn’t you get my message about Violet’s show?”
He tapped his phone.
“I got it. What’s all the excitement abo
ut?”
Scout retold her story. LeVar leaned back and laughed at the ceiling.
“You got played.”
“It sounded real.”
“Violet Lyon is a drama queen, aight? She probably planned that show for months. Ain’t nobody dead, Scout. Call your Mom and tell her you feel better. I’ll drive you to school.”
“Not until I’m sure Violet is okay.”
“She duped you. Tonight, she’ll announce it was all a joke.”
“Perhaps, but consider the alternative.”
“What alternative?”
“That a girl died last night and nobody knows.”
As she pushed the wheelchair around the table, LeVar glanced up.
“Now what are you up to? Don’t tell me you’re starting another investigation. My brain don’t function before nine.”
“Then I’ll handle the investigation on my own. Anyhow, it’s my computer.”
Scout had donated her desktop computer so their amateur investigation team could research cases. The guest house had become their unofficial headquarters.
“When Violet appears on her show tonight, don’t act like I didn’t warn you.”
While Scout opened a browser and called up Violet Lyon’s website, LeVar shifted his chair and peeked over her shoulder.
“I thought you said you weren’t interested.”
“Never said that. Only said Violet Lyon pulled a fast one on you.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Hey, haven’t you searched for this girl before?”
“Yeah.”
“And how did that go?”
“Not as well as it will this time.”
He gave an unconvinced shrug.
“If you say so. Some people don’t want to be found.” He rose from the chair and carried the bowl back to the sink. He returned with two apples and set one beside her on the desk. “You need something healthy to eat.”
“How do you know I didn’t eat a healthy breakfast?”
“’Cause you got bagel breath.”
Scout didn’t acknowledge his comment. When he glanced out the window, she breathed against her hand. Yeah, her breath smelled like an onion bagel. Clearing her throat, she lifted the apple. Honeycrisp, her favorite. Two weeks ago, before the weather had taken a turn for the worse, LeVar drove Scout and Naomi to an apple orchard in the Finger Lakes. She was pleased the orchard still had Honeycrisp apples on the trees. They’d stuffed two bags with Gala, Fuji, and McIntosh before LeVar found the Honeycrisp trees. Scout bit into the apple, closed her eyes, and grinned.
LeVar sat beside her.
“They’re the best, yeah?”
“Thank you,” she said. “I needed this.” As she worked, she noticed LeVar glaring at his phone and scratching the back of his neck. “You look stressed.”
“Got a text from Shep Dawg this morning.” That was the nickname LeVar had given Thomas after he became interim sheriff. “Remember those two guys who abducted Raven and that Ellie Fisher woman?”
Scout set the mouse aside and turned her chair to face him.
“Damian Ramos and Mark Benson?”
“Benson escaped prison, and Thomas is worried he’ll make trouble for Raven.”
Scout’s skin prickled.
“If the sheriff wrote you, he must be concerned. What’s your plan?”
LeVar dropped his face into his palm and let out a breath.
“I got class at nine and work at noon. Can’t be in three places at the same time.”
“Have you spoken to Raven?”
He tapped the phone against his thigh.
“I’ll call her. But first, I gotta shower so I’m not late for class. You okay working on your own?” Scout raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I figured you would be. Have at it.”
The bathroom door closed. When the shower started, Scout played with the mouse, suddenly distracted. The cold terror of Jeremy Hyde stalking her family returned. The serial killer had recorded video of Scout in the backyard and uploaded it to the internet, a boast to prove he could reach Scout anytime he desired. Now Raven had her own stalker.
Scout straightened in the chair. Not only would she locate Violet Lyon and solve the mystery today, she’d track Mark Benson and keep Raven safe. There were too many eyes in the world to hide forever. Everyone left breadcrumbs to follow.
CHAPTER NINE
October 31st
7:55 a.m.
“Awesome show last night, Valerie.”
Valerie Leonard smiled over her shoulder and thanked the sophomore boy. She recognized him from the halls—Barton Falls was a small school—but couldn’t recall his name. More compliments followed her down the corridor as she swung her knapsack over her shoulder.
“Oh my God, you’re alive!”
Nancy gave Valerie a high-five as they passed in the hallway. Valerie didn’t need to party and get high like her friends did. Reactions from the podcast gave her the rush she craved. And she’d grown her bank account to five figures over the last year, all from advertising and T-shirt sales. Since she’d fooled her friends, imagine how many listeners bought the gag. She was going about this the wrong way. If she dragged the storyline out another few weeks and spiked her ratings…
No, that wouldn’t work. Who would host tonight’s show? Derek?
Valerie’s stomach fluttered with butterflies, and it wasn’t just from the excitement her latest show had generated. Ever since Derek kissed her and made his intentions known, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d hoped for this for months. Now they were a couple. Spending the weekend alone in his house with his parents on vacation made her heart pound.
She stopped at her locker and screwed up the combination twice before getting it right. After trading her social studies book for her trigonometry notes, she fished the literature essay out of her folder. She’d stayed awake until two in the morning writing the paper, and her body dragged despite the excitement coursing through her veins.
“Good morning, Ms. Leonard.”
Valerie jumped and whipped around. Mr. Pierpoint loomed over her, his eyes shadowed by his prominent brow. In his middle-thirties, the literature teacher pulled eyes. He was blessed with high cheekbones and wispy blonde hair. The teacher’s lean physique spoke of a man who exercised daily and ate healthy. Still, something about the man gave Valerie the creeps. Maybe it was the way he always appeared out of nowhere, right behind her. Valerie brushed the hair out of her eyes.
“Mr. Pierpoint.”
“I trust you finished your paper on time. Rumor has it last night was a busy one for you. Priorities, Ms. Leonard.”
“I finished my paper.”
She reached into her knapsack for the essay, and he held up a hand. Valerie’s gaze traveled to his ring finger. A pale stripe marked where his wedding ring had been. Had Mr. Pierpoint separated from his wife?
“You’ll turn it in during class like the others. I expect your work will be better than last time.”
“I did my best.”
“Did you? You’re capable of so much, Ms. Leonard. If you put half the effort into your schoolwork as you did your internet broadcast, you’d be a straight-A student.”
She lowered her eyes. Mr. Pierpoint loved Derek and always gave him high marks, even when his work was sub-par. A pang of guilt hit Valerie. So what if Derek got better grades than her. If teachers favored Valerie the way they did Derek, she’d accept the praise and high grades.
“I’ll try to do better,” she said, biting her lip.
Mr. Pierpoint edged closer, their bodies nearly touching.
“See that you do. This time next year, you’ll be a freshman in college. Your professors won’t be as forgiving.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. Inside, she squirmed. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? This was borderline sexual harassment. Teachers weren’t supposed to touch their students.
“Thank you, Mr. Pierpoint.”
Satisfied for now, he smiled down at her, flashing perfect teeth. Swiveling on his
heels, he strode through the crowded hallway toward his classroom. Two popular girls giggled and whispered, shooting glares at Valerie. Great. Now the entire school would talk about her encounter with Mr. Pierpoint. She imagined the crass rumors, the innuendos.
Where was Derek?
Valerie glanced down the corridor. Derek usually beat her to school. Worry fluttered inside her chest before she figured out where he was. Odds were Derek never walked home last night. He probably stayed at Leland’s house and got high. A grin hid behind her lips. Derek played the bad boy role now and then, and she liked it.
Straightening her hair in the mirror, she closed the locker, tugged her skirt to her knees, and walked to homeroom. Her flats made slapping sounds against the polished floor before the bell rang, announcing she was late. She picked up her pace as students passed her on either side. Halloween decorations hung from the walls. Cardboard pumpkins plucked from a craft store, silhouettes of witches on broomsticks, a black cat in front of a full moon. What this place needed was a Michael Myers dummy, or Jason Voorhees wielding a machete. Anything except the safe, family-friendly Halloween decorations the school pedaled every year. She wasn’t in kindergarten anymore.
Her footfalls echoed off the walls as she climbed the empty stairwell toward the second floor. As she rounded the landing, a man appeared out of nowhere. She yelped and covered her mouth. Except it wasn’t a man, just a dummy dressed in a janitor’s uniform. A mop and bucket stood in the corner, the floor wet and glistening, as though the dummy had come to life and mopped the floor moments before Valerie arrived. It was the orange pumpkin mask atop the dummy’s head that froze Valerie in place. The Halloween Man.
She touched the mop and glared black holes for eyes. Someone had played a trick on her. For a split second, she was sure the dummy had moved.