by Levi Fuller
“It’s all right, Tanya,” Margo said. “You were the victim. He had all the power. A pervert caught you. Nothing you could have done. You told Mandy about it, didn’t you?”
Tanya’s eyes widened, and she pulled back. She shook her head and then stopped.
“Yeah, I told Mandy. I wanted her to know because she was cute too. Males would be sure to go after her.”
“Tell me, did he do anything else? Did he touch you? Did he ever burn you with a cigarette?”
“No, nothing. Just the pictures. Just those… poses. He wanted them just so.”
“How many times?”
“What?”
“That wasn’t the only time, was it?”
Tanya tilted her head to the side and stared. “How… how did you know?”
“Men like Males, who trap a victim, often repeat what they’ve done, knowing that the victim can’t do anything about it. It’s easier to victimize the same person than to recruit another. So, how many times?”
“Twice more. When I was fifteen, and when I was sixteen. It was like some sort of anniversary. He would pick me up after school and take me to the same place. Then, he would take pictures. Mostly the same ones, as if he was keeping them year by year. It was humiliating and awful, but I couldn’t say no. He had me.”
“Why did it stop? Did he ever say?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
“He saw me after school one day. It was getting close to the anniversary. You know. I thought he was waiting to take me for another session. He didn’t. He just came over and told me he didn’t need me anymore.”
“Why not?”
“He said I was too old. I was seventeen, and I was too old. Why would he say that? I wasn’t old at all. I was still in high school. I mean, I didn’t even look that much older. Why would he say that?”
“He’s not a good man, not a good man at all.”
“Do you think he took pictures of Mandy?”
Tanya shrugged. “She never said so, but then, she died.”
“Were there any other girls?”
“None that I knew of. But we didn’t share that sort of thing. It wasn’t right.”
Margo finished her coffee and took her cup to the sink. It was time to go.
“You know the worst part?” Tanya asked.
“No, what?” Margo turned as Tanya looked up, her eyes sparkling with unwept tears.
“The worst part is… I liked it.”
Margo then left, driving to Becky’s cabin while replaying what she’d just discovered. Marcia had folded all the laundry and was ready to go when she arrived.
“How is she?” Margo asked.
“Sleeping at the moment, but not good. Chemo isn’t as bad as it once was, but it’s still bad.”
They carried the laundry to the car. It wasn’t until they had carried the clothes into their own cabin that Margo told Marcia about Tanya and Sheriff Males.
“My God,” Marcia said. “What kind of monster is he?”
“Maybe not a monster, but certainly a pervert.”
“She said Mandy wasn’t a victim, but what if she was? What if he killed her because she was going to tell everyone about him?”
“That would fit. I think he would do just about anything to remain sheriff.”
“We need to find his other victims because they’re out there. A man with all that authority wouldn’t stop with one girl.”
“It won’t be easy. I’m guessing he chose girls that didn’t want their pictures to hit the internet.”
“We’ll do it. We’ll be discreet, but we’ll do it.”
Marcia’s phone chirped. Margo opened a bottle of wine while Marcia chatted. Margo had just poured two glasses when Marcia put down her phone. Marcia’s face was ghostly pale.
“What?” Margo asked.
“Donna O’Brien is dead.”
CHAPTER 7
Margo couldn’t believe her ears. “What do you mean dead? I saw her just this afternoon. She might be a little whacky, but she wasn’t close to dying.”
“Tell me,” Marcia said.
Margo went through her encounter with Donna O’Brien, from the shotgun greeting to the big barn's his-and-her sides. Marcia could hardly believe Margo’s description of the chapel.
“What kind of person needs a chapel, complete with confessional?” Marcia asked.
“A strange one. And I never got the chance to ask her about that. After the barn, with his tribute to his volleyball coaching career, and her chapel, I had had enough of the O’Briens. Did they say how Donna died?”
“No, since her husband found the body, I was guessing it was a suicide. I mean, I don’t know anyone who would want to murder her.”
“She was a troubled woman. I suppose suicide was not out of the question, especially after her weird confession. I mean, she said it was her fault, that she lied, and bad things happened. I never suspected suicide. I would have never left if I thought she was actually capable of that.”
“I know.” Marcia grabbed her glass of wine. “To Donna O’Brien, may she rest in peace.”
They toasted, both silent for a moment.
“We should eat,” Marcia said.
“I think I’m just going to drink for a little bit,” Margo said. “Maybe later.”
“You’re right. We didn’t know her, but she’s dead, and maybe by her own hand. That’s always hard to take. People always think they should have done something, even when there was nothing they could do.”
“Yeah, I feel like that.”
The sisters sat and sipped their drinks, not talking, each alone with their thoughts. They both knew that suicide was always an option for those who felt guilty. Who wanted to go to prison, especially when they thought they had gotten away with murder? Suicide, to an older person, might be the best option—a sad but true fact.
“Question,” Marcia said.
“Answer. I hope they match,” Margo said.
“Do we keep going?”
“What?’
“Do we push on? We have a death, and right now, I’d say it’s because we showed up to chase down Mandy’s killer. That makes us responsible. Do we keep going?”
“We can’t hold ourselves responsible for the death of a troubled woman. She has probably been suicidal for years. The chapel and her begging for forgiveness testify to that. So, while we might have been the catalyst, we are not the cause. Guilt riddled her mind. She was ready to go.”
“I’m taking that as a yes for going on.”
“More than yes. After what I’ve learned from Tanya, I want to see Males brought to justice. I’m not sure he killed Mandy, but he harmed Tanya, and I’m guessing other girls who became women with problems. So, on for this alone, I say we should carry on.”
“I agree. I just wanted to be certain. We’ll probably catch some flack in the next few days, as people pick out something to blame. I want to make sure this journey is worth the pain.”
“We’ll do it for all of them. People will forgive us when they hear the truth.”
“Do you think Tanya will tell her story to the authorities?”
“Yes, mostly because it doesn’t matter. She’s over that initial embarrassment. She moved on to anger. And she really can’t harm Males, as I’m guessing the statute of limitations has passed on this one. It’s not like he raped her.”
“There’s little downside. And, maybe, her confession will chase Males out of this area. He’ll have to run before some father, brother, or husband comes calling for him.”
“He’ll run at the first sign of trouble. I think he perfectly understands the kind of anger he’ll stoke, especially here in the mountains. People often figure out ways to deal with their problems.”
Marcia stood. “Enough for me. I’m going to bed. I should probably eat something, but I don’t feel like it.”
“I don’t either. You lock the back door; I’ll lock the front. Make sure your Glock is loaded and close.”
; “Why would you say that?”
“I was with Donna this afternoon. Like you say, mountain people might want to avenge her death in some way.”
“You know you’re probably wrong. The folks around here would know of Donna’s difficulties. They’re not going to come looking for you.”
“You’re right. I guess I’m just trying to alleviate my guilt somehow. See you in the morning. Tomorrow, Randy Nokes?”
“Yep.”
In her bed, Margo reviewed her interview with Donna O’Brien, looking for a moment when Donna had decided to kill herself. Margo was looking for the telltale sign that she had missed.
She found nothing.
That didn’t make her feel better.
Finding Randy Nokes was not difficult. There was but one Nokes in the online phone directory. The address led the sisters to a small, brick house near downtown. The grass was spotless, despite the mature trees on the property. Fresh white paint made the trim gleam, and the windows were clean. Someone took great pride in their house and yard, and it showed.
The woman who answered the knock was perhaps sixty, with blonde hair straight out of the bottle. She wore jeans and a plaid shirt. She gave them a pleasant smile. She knew right off the bat who the sisters were, as the gossip in town had provided somewhat accurate descriptions.
“Come in, come in,” she said. “I was wondering when you would get around to Randy.”
Mrs. Nokes herded the sisters through the living room and into the kitchen. There, she served them fresh coffee and a slice of pecan-crusted coffee cake.
“Homemade,” the woman said. “It’s Randy’s favorite.”
“Mrs. Nokes,” Marcia began.
“Call me Alice,” the woman said.
“Alice, you seem to be aware of why we’re here.”
“Oh, everyone in Havermill knows about you. Some are making bets as to whether or not you’ll find the killer.”
“What are the odds,” Margo asked.
“Ten to one… against.”
Margo laughed. “I think that’s a pretty good bet.”
“I’ll pass that on.”
“We’d like to talk to Randy,” Marcia said. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Oh, it’s all right. But before you do, you should know something about him.” She smiled, but her hazel eyes looked troubled. “Randy has… issues. Yes, that’s the word the doctors use. He doesn’t think like he used to. They doubt that he will ever again think like he used to. It’s not like his mind doesn’t work. It’s just that it works funny now. Not like yours and mine. You have to remember that.”
“Before we get there,” Margo said. “Tell us about his relationship with Mandy Salter.”
“I don’t think it was anything more than puppy love, maybe not even that. They liked each other, and I think they went to a dance or two. You know, a spring or fall thing. Nothing really. Neither could drive, so we took them. They were cute in the back seat, but they were just holding hands. It never went past that. I think they were pushed together by peer pressure. Everyone in their class had to have a friend.”
“When Mandy disappeared, what did Randy do?”
“He joined the search teams and marched through the woods from morning till sundown. All the men and boys and quite a few women did that. I didn’t. I was working full-time then. I was in the county clerk’s office. I couldn’t take off. I would have if she were mine, but she wasn’t, and she and Randy were just friends.”
“And when she turned up dead, how did he react?”
“Randy was more shocked than anything. I mean, like the rest of us, he could hardly believe it. Everyone liked Mandy. No one thought anyone could harm her.”
“Any ideas as to the killer? By the way, the coffee cake is delicious.”
Alice beamed. “Thank you. The men around here don’t compliment it all that much. No, I don’t have a clue as to who the killer might be. At the time, I thought it was some stranger, a drifter who lured her into a van or something and had his way with her. But that didn’t make sense since she wasn’t molested. At least, that’s what the papers said.”
“She wasn’t. So, if it wasn’t a stranger, who then?”
She shrugged. “You know, no one wants to go through the town, picking out who might and who might not be a killer. There isn’t much profit in doing that.”
“But everyone had a favorite suspect, right?”
“I suppose so. I would have voted for Billy Peters. He was so strange, and he lived out in the woods all by himself. He could have hidden Mandy for four days. He was so odd; he might not have even thought to molest her. He was my pick.”
“Thank you,” Marcia said. “Now, can we talk to Randy?”
Alice nodded. “He’s in the basement.”
The basement had been converted to an apartment. When Marcia saw it, she thought of a boomerang child, a place where a girl or boy could come back to when the outside world proved too much. It had all the comforts of home, from the big, flat-screen TV, game console to the loungers. If she had seen a few empty beer cans around, she would have thought Randy to be perfectly normal. She was pretty sure he did drink beer. She was also pretty sure Alice picked up the empties.
Randy was watching TV. He was thin, with a potbelly. His arms seemed without muscles. In fact, his whole body lacked muscle and tone. He reminded Marcia of a sick child, someone wasting away inside of a hospital. His cheeks were covered with a week’s worth of stubble. His lank, rust-colored hair hung down into his eyes, and unlike some, he didn’t seem to mind. He had his mother’s hazel eyes, although his lacked any curiosity or interest.
Alice turned off the TV, and Randy didn’t complain. He turned to them with a smile.
“Hello,” Randy said. “I’m Randy Nokes.” He stood and held out his hand, which they shook.
“I’ll leave you three alone,” Alice said. “If you need anything, call out.”
They sat, facing Randy, who grinned, like some kind of sock puppet. Marcia wondered if he ever stopped grinning.
“Do you know why we’re here?” Margo asked.
“Sure, you come to talk about the murder.”
“That’s correct. Do you remember the murder?”
He laid a finger along the side of his nose. “Are you trying to fool me? Are you trying to get me to say something that will get me in trouble?”
“No, Randy,” Marcia said. “We just want to know if you remember.”
“Because, if you’re trying to get me in trouble, it won’t work. I know, I know all about how you people work. I’m not stupid. I keep up. You think I’ll say something dumb. You think you can trick me. No, that won’t happen. I’m still smart. I got to level five of Grand Theft Auto. I won’t make a mistake.”
“We know you’re smart,” Marcia said. “And we’re not here to trick you. That’s not what we do. We just want to know about you and Mandy?”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Randy said and jumped out of his chair. “That’s not right, and you know it.” He ran across the room to a small bookcase and ran his fingers over the book bindings. “That’s the oldest trick in the book. You expect me to correct you, just to spurt out the right name. No, I’m not that easy. I can see, see through that.”
Marcia turned to Margo; she looked equally baffled. What had they run into?
Randy jerked a book out of the row and started pawing through it, flipping the pages angrily.
“Randy, we don’t mean to upset you.”
He shook his head and waved his hand. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you that your tricks won’t work.”
He reached the page he wanted and brought the book to them. Marcia realized that it was a high school yearbook.
“There,” Randy said and pointed to a photo of the freshman football team. “That’s me. I played football.”
“I see,” Margo said. “You must have been pretty good.”
“Great! I was great! Ask anyone. See, see, I was on the team. Great.”
; “About Mandy,” Margo said.
He waved his hand again and started paging through the book. “It won’t work. Do you understand? It won’t work. Everything is still up there. It won’t come out. No, it won’t come out, not right away. But it’s up there. I just have to sort of let it sneak out. The hall monitor is there to keep it in, but it can sneak out. It can just slide by the hall monitor.”
He stopped at another page and pointed to the basketball team. “That’s me. I was great at basketball too. Great. You can’t fool me. It’s all up there. Great.”
“May I see the book?” Marcia asked.
Randy squinted at Marcia. “You’re not trying to trick me? Because if you’re trying to trick me, it won’t work. Great. I was great.”
“No tricks. I’d just like to see it.”
Randy reluctantly handed over the yearbook. Marcia paged through, even as Randy bit a fingernail, observing her.
“Did you play baseball too?” Margo asked, trying to draw Randy’s attention.
“No, no, the baseball coach was all wrong. You can see, if you look through the book, you can see that he was wrong. You can see that he didn’t like me.”
“What was your favorite subject? I liked algebra my freshman year.”
“You’re doing it again. You’re trying to trick me. There isn’t any picture of the algebra class. There wasn’t any algebra club. Your tricks won’t work. I can see right through them. Great, I was great.”
Marcia held out the yearbook and pointed to a photo. “Do you remember her?”
Randy looked at the photo. “That’s not me. It’s a girl, and I’m not a girl. You can’t trick me into saying I’m a girl. Great. I’m a boy.”
Margo looked at the photo of Mandy Salter, Randy’s one-time girlfriend. She knew right away that it was time to leave. Randy was not going to give them anything.
“I was hoping,” Alice said, as she led the sisters to the door. “I thought maybe if you asked, he might remember something.”
“How long has he been like this?” Margo asked.
“Five years,” she answered. “Randy was into drugs, and five years ago, he mixed the wrong thing with the wrong thing. He stopped breathing for too long. His brain, he lost part of his brain. Memories mostly. What you want to know is all gone.”