by J. R. Adler
Sam eyed the gun with an air of suspicion. “I suppose not, but what’s wrong with this one?” He motioned to the revolver.
“Oh, she’s been with me ever since I joined the force and, unlike your men’s firearms, she’s gotten me out of quite a few jams and I don’t mean toe jams,” Kimberley said with a laugh, running her fingers over it.
“Well, I hope I’ll never have to hear her, while you’re with us.” He smiled. “And if it makes you more comfortable, be my guest. Just make sure you have Ms. Glock registered with the department.”
“It’s actually Ms. Betty,” Kimberley said sarcastically.
Sam uncrossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Betty?”
“No one ever suspects a Betty.”
“Well, alright then. Go ahead and keep Mr. Reliable.” Sam pointed to the revolver. “He’s already registered to you, so he’s yours anyway.”
Kimberley picked up the revolver and the Glock and held them out. Pointing them at the side wall, she stared down the barrels of both guns, feeling the weight of them in her hands.
“I think Ms. Glock and Mr. Reliable will make a great team.” Kimberley raised an eyebrow, looking back at Sam. She perked up the corner of her lip while she put the guns back in their cases.
Sam picked up his mug of coffee and took a drink of it. “I reckon they will. Before I forget.” He pulled a badge from the front pocket of his shirt and extended it out to Kimberley.
The badge was a shiny gold six-pointed star. At the top of it read, “Chief Deputy.” At the bottom, “OK.” Text wrapping around the middle in a circle read, “Custer County Sheriff’s Office.”
“Welcome to the force… officially, Detective King,” Sam said with a nod and a smile.
Kimberley slowly took it from him, reading the few words on it over and over, running her fingers along the points of the star. It was heavier than it looked. This was it. She was formally Chief Deputy King of the Custer County Sheriff’s Office.
Kimberley looked back at Sam. “Thank you… It’s an honor,” she said with a tight smile.
He nodded and exited her office, walking toward his own.
There was only one thing left to do, she thought to herself, looking down at her blue jeans and white tee. She walked to the door and closed it and then drew the blinds blocking her window that saw out into the rest of the sheriff’s office.
The long-sleeve tan button-down shirt fit her perfectly and Barb had thoughtfully already pinned the stars to her collar and her nametag to the right side of her chest, just above the front pocket. Engraved in the gold bar was ‘K. King.’ Her olive-green pants fit flawlessly. Barb must have had them tailored, however, Kimberley assumed she had done it herself, because it seemed like that was the kind of woman she was. Everything she had encountered in the sheriff’s office had a personal touch from Barbara. Kimberley rocked back and forth in her boots. They’d need a little working in. She smoothed out her hair that was tied back in a low ponytail, a memory flashing into her mind.
Kimberley turned side to side, ensuring everything was perfectly in place. Looking at herself in the mirror, she found herself looking through it. She always did. Like it was a portal to a past she’d never forget.
“Kimberley, this is not okay,” Detective Hunter said, holding up a photo. It was the photo of the mirror with the message written to Kimberley from the crime scene. “I think you need to get off this case.” She slid the photo in front of her and took a seat.
Kimberley folded her arms in front of her chest. “Why?”
“He is taunting you. He knows who you are. This is unfamiliar territory to me, so as your mentor and your partner, I can’t be like this is fine. Because I don’t know if it’s fine.” Lynn furrowed her brow.
“I’m not going to drop this case because of some asshole. I owe it to these victims.” Kimberley grabbed three photos from her desk and slid them in front of Lynn. They weren’t crime scene photos. They were pictures of the women before they were murdered. Jenny Roberts seated in Central Park eating a piece of bread on a bright sunny day. Maria Velasquez stood beside her husband in front of a lit Broadway marquis for Cats. Stephanie Weisman lying out by a pool wearing a two-piece bikini, a beach hat and oversized sunglasses reading a book.
Lynn glanced at each photo and back at Kimberley. “I know. But it’s not safe. We have no idea who this man is. He seems to know more about us than we know about him, and we’re the detectives!” She shook her head.
“I’m staying on the case,” Kimberley said defiantly.
Lynn took a deep breath and winced. “Ugh.” She pushed at her lower abdomen, leaning slightly forward.
“Are you okay?” Kimberley half stood.
She waved a hand at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s these IVF injections. They bloat me up like a balloon and it’s just tender and uncomfortable.”
“Here.” Kimberley handed over a bottle of water and a couple of Tylenol.
“Thanks.” Lynn tossed the pills in her mouth and washed them down with the water. She took another deep breath and looked directly at Kimberley.
“Tell me about the latest victim, Stephanie Weisman.”
Kimberley nodded, giving a tight smile. She knew this was Lynn’s way of saying, “I won’t recommend your removal from the case.”
“Stephanie Weisman is a thirty-two-year-old investment banker. Worked at Wells Fargo and lived in Greenwich Village. Married. Pregnant with her first child, and she was seven months along. She was missing twelve days before we found her.”
“A waitress, a legal secretary and an investment banker. All from different classes. Stephanie and Jenny were white. Maria was Hispanic. They lived vastly different lives. What’s the connection?” Lynn was thinking out loud.
“Pregnancy?”
“Maybe.” Lynn scratched her chin. “What do we know about the killer?”
“He’s a ghost. The places he’s picked are always abandoned. No CCTV. We have no witnesses from when the women are taken. He must watch them for a while, get to know their routine, and he finds an opportunity. A window in their life when no one else is looking,” Kimberley said as she looked at the photos of each of the women.
“What are you thinking for a profile?” Lynn asked like a teacher would with their student, and that’s what she was to Kimberley. Lynn was the reason Kimberley had risen through the ranks so quickly. She had taken her in under her wing when she first joined the force because Lynn had seen so much potential in her.
“He likes control, feeling like a god. Could be a sexual thing. I’d say he’s in his early thirties, white, well-educated. He takes care of himself, works out. The way he targets pregnant women… something must have happened to him as a child, perhaps childhood abuse,” Kimberley rattled off.
“That’s a solid profile, Detective King. But I want to know who Jenny Roberts, Maria Velasquez, and Stephanie Weisman were. They’re the key to discovering who murdered them. Find their connection.” Lynn stood from her chair, giving a tight smile, before leaving the cubicle.
Kimberley refocused her eyes, bringing them back to the present and to her reflection in the mirror. For the final touch, she secured her new badge to her shirt just above her heart. She pressed her lips firmly together, taking her whole image in one final time before closing the wardrobe closet door.
11
Kimberley walked through the doors into the desk pit of the sheriff’s office. Her chief deputy uniform was perfectly pressed and clean, like her old blues used to be, and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Deputy Bearfield and Deputy Burns were seated at their desks, typing away at their computers.
“Good morning,” Kimberley said.
Burns looked up first, stopping his work immediately. “Morning, Chief Deputy King.”
Bearfield finished up his typing and then looked up, greeting Kimberley.
“Whatcha guys got?” Kimberley stopped in the middle of the room, just before Burns’s desk.
“Some pap
erwork from the night shift. DUI, traffic violation and a couple of assault charges from a fight that happened over at The Trophy Room late last night,” Burns said, reading them off several sheets of paper.
Kimberley nodded and looked over at Bearfield.
“I’m taking care of some quarterly reporting for Walker,” he said, slightly raising his chin.
Before Kimberley could ask about the reporting, the doors behind her opened and closed. Immediately, Burns pulled out his phone and clicked a few buttons. The song “Footloose” played loudly.
“Goddamnit! It’s been four months. When are you two going to let that go?” Deputy Todd Hill whined.
Kimberley hadn’t met him yet as he had been out on vacation the past few days. She turned around to find a tall, lanky man with a long face and a pointy nose. He was clean-shaven with a well-quaffed haircut, mid-to-late thirties, she presumed. He walked with a slight limp that was almost unnoticeable.
Bearfield and Burns let out belly laughs. “You’re never living that down,” Bear said.
Kimberley couldn’t help the slight smile that creeped onto her face. She loved the banter. It was necessary for a job like this.
Deputy Hill walked slowly to his desk, trying to show no signs of his self-inflicted foot injury. “It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone,” he groaned, but he didn’t actually seem all that annoyed.
“Deputy Todd Hill,” Kimberley greeted. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Chief Deputy Kimberley King.”
Hill walked the extra few steps to Kimberley and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. The boys filled me in. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Yeah, we didn’t want him to get off on the wrong foot,” Burns howled.
Bearfield slapped his knee as he erupted into a fit of laughter that was deep and controlled.
Hill rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to get used to them.” He looked at Burns and then Bearfield with a smirk. “Well, glad to have you on the force,” he added with a nod.
“Likewise.” Kimberley nodded. “Carry on,” she added as she walked toward her office.
Kimberley took a sip of her coffee. The mixture of heat and acidity biting at her tongue and throat helped to keep her alert and focused while sorting through papers at her desk. The rest of the deputies had taken off to patrol, while Kimberley sat finishing up some paperwork before heading out to join them.
“How’s it going?” Sam entered her office with a cup of coffee in his hand. His walk was slow, but his presence made it clear that this was his domain. His permanent five-o’clock shadow and buzz cut made him look rugged and authoritative. The past few days she had worked with Sam, Kimberley had found him hard to read. He was kind, but any hint of a smile was few and far between, only appearing when he was truly amused.
Kimberley looked up and tilted her head to the side. “Same old, same old.”
“You’ve been here four days and you’re already at ‘same old, same old.’” Sam chuckled, half amused by her blasé response.
Kimberley leaned back in her chair and smiled while shrugging her shoulders.
“You met the crew?”
“All of them, except night shift and Lodge.”
Sam nodded.
“How have the first few days been?” Sam half sat on her desk, one leg on the ground, one cheek on the table.
“Exactly as you said it’d be. Quiet with a sprinkling of paperwork and a dollop of DUI.” Kimberley tilted her head.
Sam nodded, set his coffee down on her desk, and folded his arms across his chest. “Look I know this job isn’t going to be the—” He stopped abruptly as his phone began to ring, and he quickly pulled it from his utility belt. “Sam.”
Kimberley watched him carefully as he pressed the phone to his ear and stood up straight. He nodded several times.
“I’m on my way,” he said into the phone, ending the call. Sam looked at Kimberley. “Let’s go. A fisherman found a body near Big Deer Creek.”
“A body?” Kimberley rose from her seat immediately, excitement swelling up inside her. Now, this was more like home, she thought.
In the car, Sam immediately flicked on his sirens and sped off toward the outskirts of the town. The tires of the squad car spit up gravel, leaving a trail of dust behind it. Kimberley buckled up and held the handlebar on the passenger’s door to brace herself.
“Wait, you said Big Deer Creek?” Kimberley confirmed.
Sheriff Sam nodded. She looked at him and then back at the road.
“Like where Katie DeWitt James was found?”
“You know the story.” Sam cocked his head.
Kimberley nodded. She had learned about Dead Woman Crossing’s gruesome history well before she applied for the position at the sheriff’s station.
“A Google search told me all I needed to know. Young local woman by the name of Katie DeWitt James was murdered back in 1905 down by Big Deer Creek. Shot in the head. Decapitated. Young daughter found alive in a stroller nearby.” Kimberley recited it as if she were reading it verbatim. She’d read the short Wikipedia page over a dozen times.
“Yep. That’s the story,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“It’s strange the town took its name from the unsolved murder.” Kimberley creased her brow, looking over at Sam for a moment. “It’s just awful.”
He gave a slight nod, not saying anything more, too focused on the open road ahead of him as he sped toward Big Deer Creek, the horizon and surrounding wheat fields a blur of color. His shoulders were high, his hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched. She understood why Sam was tense. This was his town, his responsibility.
“Think this could be a copycat?” she asked, trying to pull Sam out from the hard exterior he was hiding in, like a turtle crawling back into its shell.
“I don’t wanna jump to any conclusions,” Sam said. “Not until we see the crime scene.”
“Homicide is rather unusual for Dead Woman Crossing, right? Aside from the 1905 case?” Kimberley arched an eyebrow.
“It’s very unusual.” He briefly looked at her with tight eyes and then redirected his attention back at the road ahead of him.
Sam pulled the car a little off the road, right behind another squad car. Several police cars were parked up and down the street just before the bridge.
Kimberley stepped out of the vehicle and took in the surroundings. Dead, leafless trees. The twisting creek running off into the distance. The slanting hills jutting up from the bed of the creek, covered in tall, rolling wheatgrass. And the bridge. The ominous concrete aperture like a massive mouth swallowing the creek, a slight fog rising to its underbelly. This was the scene of the murder more than a century ago, and the area was still dank and heavy with gloom and despair.
“Down here,” a voice called out from below the bridge.
Sam and Kimberley carefully walked down the steep valley off the side of the road leading to the creek that cut beneath it, pushing wheatgrass out of their way as they threaded through.
Deputy Hill stood off to the side of the creek bank. An older man dressed in olive-green chest waders, a red flannel shirt, and a worn fisherman’s bucket hat was sitting on a rock holding his head in his hands. When Kimberley got closer to him, he stood abruptly, and she could see the terror on his face; skin paper white, eyes darting back and forth in low-slung half-circles, like a pendulum trying to sweep away the horror he saw. Past Deputy Hill, under the bridge, the crime scene had already been sealed off, yellow tape twisting and flapping in the wind. Several deputies, including Burns, walked up and down the creek, their mag lights scanning the ground during the heavily overcast day, searching the area for God knows what.
Deputy Hill greeted Sam and Kimberley with a quick nod. “Teddy here found the body around an hour ago.” He gestured to the fisherman with his hand. “Said he was out doing some fishing and just walked up on the body over yonder.” Hill tilted his head back toward the yellow tape.<
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“It was ju-just horrible.” Teddy shook his head and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, two flesh dams closing to stop the spill of water. “I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life, but… nothing like that.” His shoulders trembled as he began to cry, the dams unable to hold back the force any longer.
Sam patted Teddy on the shoulder to comfort him. “It’s alright, you don’t have to say any more right now.”
The fisherman nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Deputy Hill, would you kindly take Teddy away from the crime scene and get him something warm to drink and eat? Take down his official statement whenever he is calmed down and ready,” Sam advised.
Hill nodded. “Come on, Teddy, my car is this way.” They started walking, Hill with his slight limp, but he stopped six feet from Sherriff Walker and Chief Deputy King. Turning back, he said, “The pathologist is on the way in from Oklahoma City, should be here any minute. And one of the other deputies is with the baby down past the crime scene.” Deputy Hill pointed his finger at a man in uniform crouched down by a stroller.
“The baby?” Kimberley’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, did they not mention it when they rang you? The baby was discovered wrapped in blankets in her stroller a hundred yards away from the body.” Deputy Hill scratched the back of his neck.
“Fucking Jesus. You guys have baby killers here?” Kimberley shook her head. The taste of iron formed on her tongue. She swallowed hard.
“The baby’s alive,” Hill confirmed with a nod.
“Is the child alright? Approximate age?” Kimberley asked, almost in a panic. She thought of her own daughter, and couldn’t bear the thought of her sitting in a stroller alone all night outside.
“She’s fine. We’re guessing around a year.”
Sam and Kimberley exchanged a look as they let out a sigh of relief.
Hill motioned to Teddy and the two walked away in the opposite direction of the crime scene.
“Ahh, if it isn’t my favorite Custer County sheriff,” Megan Grey greeted as she walked down the valley from the road.