Junior climbed out of the hatch and went to the sink for a drink of water. All the excitement and his trek through the mine left him parched. His little cabin was a comfort, and in many ways it was home. He was always happiest when he was alone in the woods. No one ever bothered him out here. The water was cool and refreshing going down his throat, and even more refreshing when he washed his face. Dripping wet he grabbed a towel and walked to open the door. The view from his cabin was one the most spectacular on the mountain. A broad vista that spanned many miles that lay before him. And due to some careful pruning he could also see the entrance to his mine and the road leading to it. To his horror there was some movement, a car was pulling down the road to his mine.
In a flash he ran back in the cabin, he had to have a weapon but his rifle was in the mine. Being too far to climb down quickly he had to find something, now! The shotgun he had over the door was in the mine as well, placed in a pose with Taipei’s skeleton. Then he remembered the pistol sewn into the mattress for emergencies. With his pocket knife he opened the stitching, grabbed the pistol and ran back outside. Easily maneuvering through the trees he quickly ran down to the bend in the road next to his roadblock. Off to his left he heard a car engine and he quickly ran toward it, weapon at the ready. But he was two seconds too late, only a cloud of dust remained. He could almost see the outline of a car speeding away, and it was already well out of range.
No time to lose, he ran back to the cabin and collected his tools. He had to finish securing the hatch and get back inside where it was safe. The anxiety consumed him again and he felt terribly afraid. Clumsily nailing the hatch closed behind him he retreated deep into his sanctuary.
At the bottom of the ladder he stopped to catch his breath. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for this. For the first time since his father’s death he didn’t know what to do. After the RV incident the voice in his head had become a terror. A voice that he hadn’t wanted to hear. One that he had finally been able to quiet. The voice of guidance that had aided him all his life was now silent. A few tears of desperation ran down his cheek and he walked blindly through the passage. Twice he stumbled into the wall, the dirt filling his shirt. But his self-defense mechanisms refused to admit defeat and he stopped crying and started laughing. As he passed the cavern of skeletons he stopped to view his prizes.
He beamed as he walked the length of the wall, checking each carefully. He wired his victims bones together with such mastery that they almost looked alive. The new additions were seated together, posed as they died. Taipei was holding the shotgun over his head, a feat Junior was very proud of. Fudd was standing next to him with his pistol drawn, and on the arm bone he had tried to redraw the tattoo. A treatment that he thought was particularly funny. At the other end of his collection was Marty. A comparatively sloppy looking skeleton, his skill was much more refined now. And he felt triumphant that he had accomplished so much in his life. He stood at his father’s feet and stared blankly into his empty eye sockets. The dim light cast a ghostly glow to the bones.
Tears and dirt had collected on his cheeks and the mud ran into the corner of his mouth. In a slow detached movement, he wiped the dirt from his mouth never changing his gaze. The cold empty eyes of a madman, wide-open and blankly staring. Slowly he looked down at his hand and the mud brought back a flood of memories. Memories of his father’s death and of his traumatic escape from certain death. The most horrific time he had ever known and to think of it now only gave him strength. A twisted grin formed in the corner of his deformed lips and he mumbled something under his breath.
“I beat you….not going to give you another chance to get me.” He started to move about the chamber talking louder and louder. “You thought you could claim my soul all those years ago, but you couldn’t. You got daddy but you couldn’t get me.” he laughed out loud and strutted confidently, shouting to the heavens. “No way you’re gonna call me up before I’m ready. I was scared of the tunnels then, but not now. I can stay down here forever if I want to.” Walking proudly up to Marty’s skeleton he stopped at his feet and put his hands on his hips. “You ain’t talking now. What’s the matter? Got no tongue?” The look on his face was one of sheer delirium. “I don’t need you to tell me anything anyhow. I can take care of myself.” An evil grimace crossed his lips and he bent closer to Marty. “And if that special agent comes poking around again I’ll take care of him too.” A sudden calm came over him and his expression changed from irrepressible evil to an almost angelic placidness.
He turned away, put his hands in his pockets, walked toward his apartment and started singing. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor……”
Chapter 26
Ramone walked into the Sheriff’s office and immediately caught Rosa’s attention. She had the phone cradled on her shoulder and the radio mike in her hand when she waved him over. Her long black hair stuck to her forehead in a patch of sweat. Her pudgy fingers flew over the dials and buttons that was the nerve center of the police department. The chatter over the radio told him that the rest of the officers were on the lookout for his comrades and also looking out for Junior. It made him feel reassured that Bontonville had a competent Sheriff. A fact he was made sure of as he watched and listened. She signed off the radio turned to look at him while she finished her phone conversation.
“Yes sir he’s standing right in front of me now. I will….ok…ok goodbye.” Pulling her hair back she managed an insincere smile and stuck out her hand. “Rosa Perez, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Ramone shook her hand and held on to it for a brief moment. “Well, I’m sorry that we had to meet like this. I can see that you really keep everyone on their toes around here.”
“You better believe it. Your friends are on their way. Agent Taylor and six others will be here in about twenty minutes. How’s Clyde?” She held on to his hand and led him toward Clyde’s desk.
“He’s going to be fine, just a flesh wound to his arm. Have you been with him a long time?”
“We went to school together, played hooky together and…” She choked on her next words and pulled a tissue from her pocket as they sat at the desk. “I just can’t believe that Junior would do something like this. He’s always been such a quiet boy, always helping out other people.” A pained look crossed her face and she wiped her eyes repeatedly.
“It seems like everyone thinks the same way, unfortunately the quiet ones are the ones you have to look out for. Didn’t your mother tell you that?” Ramone turned on the charm and tried to comfort her.
She grinned slightly and looked up at him. “Momma didn’t mention it, just as long as he was Catholic and spoke Spanish.”
“Is that all?” They exchanged glances for a second. She quickly gained her composure and decided to get back to work.
“Thanks, you must have had a good mother too. She taught you well. Are you married?” Her normal jovial manner had returned and she stood up waiting for an answer.
“No, aren’t you?” He curled up an eyebrow and looked at her left hand for a ring.
“I’m not asking for myself young man. I have a niece that is just beautiful, and she can cook almost as good as I can.” She cast him a sideways glance and put her hands on her well-rounded hips. Without waiting for a response she turned to leave. “I’ve got some coffee coming and a few more chairs. The radio and phone lines have been cleared. Some of our local hunters are on their way with their dogs. And if there’s anything else you need, holler.” With a flip of her head she sauntered back to her desk and back to work. He could only marvel at her efficiency. For a moment she had taken his mind off the task at hand and he was certain that she would be a big help.
In the quiet of the office he was able to relax a bit, a brief respite before the hell that was to come. He sat and leaned back in the overstuffed chair, closing his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts. There wasn’t much to go on, but he knew where to go. And even though he was anxious to finally get to the bo
ttom of this case, he knew that rushing in was the easiest way to die. He pulled out his briefcase and retrieved a laptop computer. He always tried to record as much information as possible, even if it didn’t get into the official report. Sometimes his notes were long and jumbled but while writing he often found the unobvious answers. He entered the date and time and began typing only to stop after seven words. The wallet in his pocket came to mind again, the very thought made him cringe. He tried to envision what had happened, but he couldn’t get past the mental image of Junior peeling the skin off a corpse. He felt vulnerable and caught himself looking over his shoulder, twice. There was an overshadowing evil that followed this case and he was beginning to understand why. If this guy had skinned Fudd, it was logical to assume that the other victims had met a similar fate. Which could explain why none of the bodies had ever been found. His stomach knotted up again and he had to take a walk for some fresh air. When he reached for his handkerchief he remembered that it was wrapped around the wallet, so he left it and went to the restroom, quickly.
A sudden burst of voices filled the station with excitement. When Ramone re-entered the office he found Clyde at his desk. His left arm was bandaged and in a sling, and a fresh cigar in his mouth. Rosa and Ellen were talking to him at the same time and saying the same thing. But Clyde quickly took command of the conversation.
“I’m all right, I’m all right. It’s just a flesh wound, no broken bones. I’m not going to die just yet. And I‘ll go to the hospital right after this, I might be able to help.” He pulled deeply on his cigar and looked hard at Ramone as he came in the doorway. “You don’t look so good. You need a doctor? There’s one outside waiting for me.”
“No, I’ll be ok. Just a little unsettled.” Ramone put on his professional face again and pulled up a chair. “I need to talk to you…in private.” He looked around at the ladies and waited. Rosa grabbed Ellen’s arm and led her away closing the door behind her. Both men looked at each other. Ramone’s grimaced face gave away the sick feeling in his gut.
“Ok young man, what is it? I can tell there’s something eating at you. What did you find?” Clyde offered him a cigar and after a brief hesitation Ramone took it. He pulled the wallet out and unwrapped it, laying it in front of Clyde. It sat unmoved for nearly a minute until Clyde finally spoke. “Is that what it looks like?”
“I’ll have to have it tested but I’d bet a months pay that it is. I saw that tattoo on one of the guys in the rental car just about a week ago.” Clyde put his cigar down and raised a hand to his mouth, never taking his eyes off the wallet. He didn’t touch it. They only stared in silence. Outside his door there was more noise and a group of federal agents were ushered in.
“Agent Hitchcock? I’m Agent Taylor, Mike.” They shook hands as the rest of the crew filtered in. Rosa was right behind them pushing a trio of plastic lawn chairs.
“I’ve got a few more coming in a minute.” She excused herself and returned to her ringing phone.
Introductions were short, the five men and one woman quickly gathered around the desk. One at a time they all noticed the wallet on the table and one at a time they all fell silent. The female agent picked it up and examined it more closely.
“Where did you get this? Have you had this tested?” She looked briefly at Ramone and then back to the wallet. She, as were all the agents, was dressed casually. A pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt gave her the appearance of a teenager. Only five-foot three with long blonde hair, she could be the girl next door. But when she pulled out her glasses and her briefcase, the teenager turned into an investigator.
“It was in a display at the suspect’s leather shop. I was hoping you could look it over. Do you need a lab?” Ramone felt relieved with all the help and his stomach quieted at last.
“Nope. It’s human, the tattoo ink is faded like it is years old, and the texture of the skin is unmistakable.”
“Are you sure?” Clyde spoke up sheepishly. “I mean... Junior is quite talented with leather.” The tremor in his voice must have been terribly obvious to her because she answered him in a very tender manner.
“I’m afraid there’s no mistake, I’m sorry. I’m a forensic specialist. The faded look of this ink is the clincher. It wouldn’t fade like this unless it was on a living being, our body chemicals slowly break it down and absorb it.” She glanced around the table and saw all her cohorts in a collective state of shock. “This guy is really good, but very sick.”
Agent Wilkes pulled off her glasses and started typing on a laptop. “Human isn’t the easiest to work with, do you know who it belonged to?”
Ramone reached across the table for a light and stoked up the big cigar before speaking. “This was taken from a guy named Fudd, we don’t know much about him other than some drug trafficking. But he and his partner were definitely involved in a lot more. I had been tailing them after a double homicide. They disappeared a few days ago and their car was found in our suspect’s back yard.”
“If he made this in a few days…then he is really good.” Agent Wilkes only looked up from her laptop long enough to answer and quickly resumed typing.
“What lead you to him?” Another agent chimed, they were all aghast at what they were hearing.
“Some computer gear from one of the hijacked trucks that he bought at the flea market. I was only fishing for a lead and he came out blasting.” He took a slow pull off his cigar and looked across the table at Clyde. “This is Sheriff Clyde Stokes, unfortunately the suspect, Junior, is a lifelong friend. His mother is right outside….and she doesn’t know anything about this.” He pointed at the wallet and gave them all a glance they understood. This was going to be a grisly job, and most probably a bloody one. “I don’t know what else we’ll find, or what to expect from our boy. When we questioned him earlier he was behaving very erratically. He gave me the heebie jeebies when I locked eyes with him. If it hadn’t been for Clyde here I would have caught the bullet.”
“Does he have any special skills we should worry about?” Mike was checking his sidearm as he spoke.
“He is an avid hunter and an excellent shot as I understand it. Clyde can you tell us anything else?” Ramone sat back down, putting both elbows on his knees.
Clyde looked across the table at him wishing all this was a bad dream. “He is very good with many weapons, rifle, pistol, and the blade. And he can track anything. It’s going to be hard to find him back in the woods.” He glanced through the office glass. Ellen was still seated in the next room. She hadn’t moved since the others came in and her face spoke to him. A face he knew well and right know he could read her thoughts just as clearly as if she was talking to him. She knew Junior was guilty of a terrible crime. She knew that he had to hunt him down. She understood that it was what he had to do. In one look he felt assured that she was behind him, no matter how it turned out.
When he looked back at the officers he was able to continue with confidence. “He’s certainly hiding somewhere on his family property, on hundreds of acres of dense mountainous forest. We can be sure that he will be ready to put up a fight. I’ve never known him to back away from a disagreement.”
“Do you have any idea where we can start?” Mike chirped in with a hint of irritation.
“He’s got a hunting shack, but other than that…” Clyde’s voice trailed off and he shook his head.
“I have a starting spot, I followed his tracks to a dead-end road. The odd thing is that the road leading in was well maintained, but it had a really old blockage.” Ramone pushed back up to the table and looked across at Clyde.
“Where was this?” Clyde looked at him intently.
“I went straight in a ways and took the first right, the cut-off was a few hundred yards to the left. He looked at Clyde’s face hard and he could see the confusion.
“That’s right near his shack, he must have headed there.” Clyde pulled back from the table and winced as he moved his arm.
“I didn’t see any structure, all I saw wa
s a dead-end into a mountain.” As Ramone looked around at his allies he began to wonder if there were enough.
“Could you show us where it’s at on a map?” Mike’s voice was even more anxious now.
“Well, a map isn’t going to tell you much because Junior has cut trails all through those hills. That dirt road is on the edge of his property and he maintains it. I’m not sure if it’s on a map.” Clyde could feel the wound throbbing and he flexed his fingers to test his wrist. A sudden pain made him grimace and he paused for a drink of water before continuing. “That’s all old coal mining country, ain’t never been any other development back there. And the mine roads changed over the years, it could get very treacherous.”
“Is there still a mine there?” Ramone peered at him intently. He was the only one not typing.
“No, they all closed forty years ago when the coal played out.”
“Do you think he could have found one and reopened it?” Ramone drummed his fingers on the table and puffed hard on his cigar.
“I don’t think so, he would have to have some heavy equipment…” Clyde stopped in mid sentence; a flood of thoughts filled is mind. Many times before Junior had done or said things that seemed odd, and he didn’t give it any thought. But now he was looking back across the years in a different light.
“You said he maintained that road. What with?”
“A backhoe….one he bought...bought at the flea market.” With that admission he stood up and walked to the window. Every agent but one stopped typing. “
Those items you pointed out at the restaurant, and many other things, all came from the flea market. Didn’t that seem a little unusual to you?” Ramone was starting to get a vivid picture of what had been going on.
“You’ve been there, it’s more like a wholesale auction at times, and you can get just about anything. I just accepted it, I guess I …I just believed him. I wanted to believe in him.” He sat back down, suddenly very tired. He had turned his back on the truth for many years. Ignored his better judgment and accepted plausibility. The way Junior told a tale made you believe him, he was an easy person to trust. And the thought of him flaying the skin off a man was something he couldn’t digest. “You don’t think he’s the hijacker, do you?”
The Final Shortcut Page 26