Next Move, You're Dead - Book 1 of the Next Move, You're Dead Trilogy

by Linda L Barton

  As John got closer to the sign, he realized it was, in fact, a small motel with a neon sign flashing VACANCY.

  Thank God, I need to get out of this car before I get arrested, or worse, he moaned while pulling into the motel parking lot.

  John was thankful he had found a place to sleep off the headache forming in the back of his head.

  No one was in the office, but a sign hanging on the door told any late arrivals to ring the buzzer for after-hours service. John looked inside the room, pressed the buzzer several times, and waited for the night clerk to appear.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Take your damn finger off the ringer, or you’ll wake the whole county!”

  When the clerk entered the office, John had to fight the urge to laugh. He appeared to be roughly 5’6” tall, thin, maybe in his mid-sixties and dressed in a plaid robe with fuzzy lime-green slippers.

  He scratched his balding head and yawned while he walked up to the service window.

  “Well, I guess you need a room. Are you alone, or will someone be joining you?”

  “No, it will only be me. Do you take credit cards?” John reached for his wallet.

  “Of course, I take credit cards. It’s $49 the night for one person. We also have breakfast in the morning from six to ten, and check out is at eleven.”

  The man took John’s credit card and handed him a registration form to fill out.

  “I’ll need to reserve the room for two nights.” John finished filling out the registration form and slid it back to the night attendant.

  “That’s fine. I don’t guess we’ll be seeing you in the morning for breakfast. You look as though you’ve had a rough night,” the little man smiled, making idle conversation.

  “I’ve had better, and I won’t need a wake-up call in the morning either.” John picked up the credit card and put it back in his wallet.

  “You’ll be in room twenty-three; it’s down on the right side of the building. I hope you find the room comfortable.”

  The clerk handed John the key, and then motioned in the direction of the room.

  “Thanks, I’m sure it will be okay. Goodnight.” John put the key in his pocket and walked to his car.

  “Goodnight.” The man turned off the light in the office and walked back to his room.

  ***

  John parked in the parking space in front of room 23. He got out, locked the car, and then walked to the door of the room. He could not believe everything happening to him lately. First, Erebus had made him question the findings in his cases. Then he learned Kathy and Tom had been conspiring behind his back. How could things have taken such a turn? He put the key in the lock, opened the door, and reached inside to turn on the light.

  “Oh crap, what a dump!” he moaned.

  The room looked horrible. Flowered wallpaper covered the walls, resembling the same one his aunt still had in her kitchen since the seventies. There were large orange flowers with green vines connecting them, and he had to admit it was the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

  The bed looked as though it had been around for as long as the wallpaper, judging by the large crater in the center of it. Then to finish off the unsightly room, avocado green shag carpeting covered the floor with strange stains all over it.

  John took a deep breath, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

  The day had taken its toll on John, so he decided a warm shower before bed might help him to relax. He stripped down to his briefs, walked to the bathroom, but when he turned on the light, he discovered the bathroom was even worse.

  Attached to the wall next to the toilet was the sink. They had connected the right corner two inches lower than the left, but what caught John’s attention was the fact they had mounted the sink maybe two feet from the floor.

  “Damn, who designed this room, a midget?”

  He looked closer and noticed a steady stream of water flowing from the faucet making a dark, rust stain inside the sink. “Well, that’s about right.”

  Next, John glanced over at the toilet and realized it was so low to the floor he was sure they must have bought it at an elementary school. “Oh, great,” he moaned.

  However, it was the sight of the small, rusty, metal shower stall with no shower curtain, in the back corner of the bathroom that dashed his plans for a relaxing shower. “So much for cleaning up,” he groaned.

  John looked around the bathroom and noticed something dark all over the ceiling.

  “What’s that?” He looked closer, “Oh shit, its mold! Well, that’s just about right.”

  John looked one more time at the shower stall. No way, I just can’t deal with that tonight.

  As he turned the light out in the bathroom, he prayed some sleep would help to clear his mind.

  John walked over to the bed. “How is anyone supposed to sleep in this?” The queen sized bed looked as though used as a trampoline, due to the large crater in the center. John was exhausted, but merely looking at the bed made his back hurt.

  He reached down and pulled back the blanket. “What the hell is that?”

  Lying on the rust stained sheets was a large, strange looking bug. Unsure if it was dead or not, John decided not to take any chances. He quickly threw the blanket back over it, hoping it stayed there for the rest of the night.

  Things just keep getting better. John knew there was no sense in waking up the motel owner to complain, so he decided to sleep in the recliner by the front window. It was a tattered and old, but more inviting than the bed.

  John could not shake the image of Kathy’s face as he was leaving. Maybe I should call and, at least, let her know I’m all right.

  He reached for his pants, “Shit, I left my cell phone in the car. Oh well, I’ll call her first thing in the morning.”

  John sat in the recliner, trying to find a comfortable position when he suddenly noticed a strange smell. “Oh, now that’s just great!” He had no idea what the smell was, or even if he should care because sleeping in the bed with a giant bug was not an option. John decided to ignore the offensive odor and try to get some rest.

  ***

  John awoke to the sound of the room telephone ringing. Crap, who could that be; no one knows I am here. “Hello,” he murmured as he picked up the receiver.

  “Good morning, John, I’m glad to see you are all right. I imagine the dog in the road last night gave you quite a scare.”

  “How do you know about that, and how do you know where I am?” John could not believe how Erebus always managed to be one-step ahead of him.

  “You do need to be more careful. How are we going to continue with this relationship if you’re so careless?”

  “Relationship, what relationship? The only thing, I want, is to prove you killed those people!”

  John felt his blood burn with rage. How did he know where to find me? “What do you want now?” John demanded.

  “I only wanted to make sure you were okay. You appeared rather upset last night, John. I know it must have been shocking to learn of their deception. To learn how they kept that secret from you all, this time, must make you feel like a fool. To discover your career and marriage is nothing but lies must be painful. Poor John, you’re just not the man you thought you were.” Erebus enjoyed watching his opponent as they realized their life was crumbling around them.

  “You asshole, I can’t wait to arrest you. You may believe you have the upper hand now, but you will make a mistake, and then...” John could barely contain himself.

  “Then what, John; you’ll lock me up for the rest of my life? How heroic of you. Just as the lawmen did all those years ago. Oh my, I’m quaking in my boots,” Erebus chuckled, barely able to contain his joy. John was more fun than he had expected.

  “John, I truly am thrilled to have found you; you’re a rare treasure. Tell me, have you solved the mystery of each piece in The Game yet? I’m guessing not, based on your behavior.”

  “So
lved? I’ve looked into each of the cases you refer to as your pieces, but they’re just what they appear to be; the evidence is clear-cut and precise. You say they’re not because you set all this up as part of a game, but how do I know you’re not lying? Hell, you seem to know all about me, as well as what I will do before I do. How do I know you’re not trying to make me second-guess myself? Is that what your game is?”

  John had no idea if Erebus just enjoyed getting his rocks off by pretending to be a killer, or if he was one for real. If the former were true, how did he already have the picture of the lawyer’s wife? How did he know about the photos in Charles Everett’s safe, and the prostitute’s nipples were in the jeweled box? Only someone deeply involved with each crime would know that information.

  “John, please don’t give up. You need to have faith in your superior abilities as a detective. You haven't given up before, so don’t begin now.”

  “How is it you know of my past? How long have you been watching me?” A chill suddenly washed over John.

  Do I know this, Erebus? Is he someone I arrested, who now has come back to extract revenge? Maybe he’s someone from the department who’s jealous of my success.

  John knew he had stepped on a few toes over the years, but everyone has, right?. He knew he had not been a team player since Ray died, but he could not bring himself to get close to anyone he worked with again.

  “You need to focus on the details, John. Don’t worry about how long I’ve watched because it’s not going to help you play our game. You must concentrate on the moves, as well as what’s coming up next. John, you are so close to getting into The Game. You have everything you need, and I know you will make it very stimulating,” his voice was gentle and reassuring.

  “Well, I am glad you find me so damn interesting because, to be honest, you’re becoming a bore! You say all this crap of setting up moves and pieces in a game we’re playing. The only thing, I see, is a sick bastard who wants to feel important by trying to make me believe he has something to do with cases I’ve investigated. To be honest, I think you’re a coward who pretends you’re some mysterious killer, setting up murders and suicides just to get your rocks off.”

  John fought to remain calm, but he hoped this would strike a nerve with the asshole.

  “Magnificent, John; you are now an active participant in The Game. It’s very exciting to see the passion come alive inside you, but I need to end our little conversation for now because you have work to do. You need to get busy as there is much more to come.”

  John stood, grasping the receiver with the dial tone sounding in his ear.

  “So, he wants me to get busy? Don’t worry, you bastard; I’ll get busy. I’ll get busy, and find your sorry ass, and then I’ll watch your smug attitude disappear.”

  John picked up his keys and wallet from the dresser and headed out the door. As he climbed into his car a feeling of empowerment, surged through him, and for the first time since this whole thing began, he felt back in control.

  I know just where to begin.

  John started his car and backed out of the parking space then turned toward the highway.

  ***

  As the morning sun peeked through the curtains, Kathy was thankful the long night was finally over. She had gone through the folder several times, but none of it made any sense to her. There were several typed letters, but she did not type any of them. As for the handwritten notes, they were the greatest mystery of all, as none was in her handwriting. In fact, they were all in Johns.

  Why would he create that folder, and why would he blame me for a cover up?

  Kathy had nothing to do with the investigation after Ray’s death, and John knew it. She was still working at the shelter when it happened, so she never would have been involved with it, regardless. Her loyalty was and has always been with John.

  Maybe his drinking is worse than I was led to believe. No, that can’t be it. I was only gone for a couple of days.

  She shuddered at the memory of the look of rage on his face the night before. “What’s going on with you, John?”

  Kathy had never seen such him so angry; he looked as if he could have killed her without the slightest regret.

  She rubbed her temples trying to relieve the pain pounding in her head when a thought suddenly occurred to her. Maybe this last case triggered something in him.

  She knew John had worked hard on the case, and she wondered if it had bothered him not to be in on the arrest.

  Surely, that’s not it? John had spoken with Kathy about the case while trying to gain an understanding of a serial killer and their thought process. She told him there were many theories, and then gave him some examples of well-known serial killers, as well as a few ideas of what drove them to commit their horrific crimes.

  Kathy told John how something would trigger a desire in them, driving them to feed their hunger through the suffering of their victims. Abuse as a child was one theory used by most psychiatrists; however, the perpetrator was usually either a psychopath or a sociopath.

  Kathy had never treated one in her career, but she had often wondered if, in some cases, it was they were just evil. Through the years, she had treated many people abused as a child, and none had become serial killers due to their abuse.

  Kathy never believed abuse was the single, driving the force, but merely a trigger for a psychologically unbalanced mind.

  It frightened her how so many were good at hiding their dark side and fooling everyone around them while committing their heinous crimes. She also found the most dangerous of them had an image of themselves being far superior to the victims.

  Charles Everett was an excellent example. He wanted to create the perfect city and was willing to kill prostitutes to feed his hunger for perfection. In his mind, he believed he was doing the city a favor by ridding it of the street trash as he called them in his many press conferences. Charles felt there was nothing wrong with killing prostitutes as they had no value to anyone.

  Charles Everett was the least likely suspect, and no one would have solved the case had the officer not stopped him for a broken taillight.

  Kathy always found it amusing how people would go on about what a pleasant person someone was, and then act surprised once they learned the person committed such a heinous crime.

  Unfortunately, none of that mattered now because she needed to figure out what was wrong with John.

  “John must be experiencing some a mental breakdown, but what brought it on? Maybe Tom will have some answers.”

  Kathy looked at the clock again. “He should be in the office by the time I get there,” she grabbed her keys and walked out to her car.

  Chapter 24

  The Death of Friendship

  Tom was sitting at his desk when his phone rang, “Riggs.”

  “Sir, Mrs. Cooper, is here and she says you’re expecting her,” the officer at the front desk relayed the message.

  “Please ask her to come to my office.” Tom could not believe the call he received from Kathy the night before. John has gone off the deep end this time.

  He knew when John was in his office the last time he was drinking again, but he did not think it had gone as far as it had.

  Tom took another sip of his coffee as Kathy peeked in the door. “Come in Kathy, please, sit down,” he motioned toward the chair across from his desk.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Tom. I don’t know what to do; I’m so scared for John.”

  Kathy sat in the chair and wiped a tear from her eye. “He hasn’t come home or even checked in. I’ve tried calling his cell phone, but it goes straight to his voice mail. I don’t understand, Tom. None of what has happened the last few days makes any sense. He’s changed, and I don't get it.”

  “I wish I had seen this coming the other day when I sent him home, but I never thought he would react this way. I’m sorry, Kathy. I just can’t have my detectives second guessing the evidence once a case clo
sed.”

  Tom regretted he had not realized John was in trouble. “Did you bring the folder with you?”

  Kathy handed Tom the folder. “Well, let’s see what we have here.”

  Tom opened the folder and spread its contents on his desk. He looked at each page, carefully reading each one, and then he read them again. “You’re right, this doesn’t make any sense; we never wrote any of these.”

  “I know, Tom, and look at all the handwritten notes; that’s John’s handwriting! It must be something he put together himself, but why? What would he have to gain by doing this?”

  Kathy fought to hold back the tears. “I know this wasn’t there when I left for Florida. I cleaned out my desk a couple of weeks ago, and it wasn’t there at the time. I wish I knew what was going through his mind. What am I going to do?”

  “Kathy, I have no idea. I have to agree with you, though; I never saw this coming. After the Everett arrest, he began to say how he had doubts, and maybe someone else committed the murders. I have to tell you I was surprised when he went to the jail and spoke with Everett, and afterward went to talk with the man’s wife. The poor woman was very upset, and I sure didn’t enjoy the ass-chewing I got from the Mayor’s office over John’s little visit with her. I could’ve gone my whole life without that phone call.”

  The Mayor had made it quite clear to Tom that John was never to bother Mrs. Everett again. He then told Tom if he wanted to keep his rank to make sure John left the case alone.

  “Kathy, he ruffled some feathers at the mayor’s office. We need to make sure he lets go of this for everyone’s sake.”

  “Oh Tom, I’m sorry. No one should have to go through that.”

  Kathy had heard how the mayor could be a difficult man, and she knew he did not want the press to learn John was still investigating the Everett case.

  “Tom, why do you think John believes someone framed Charles Everett? Do think he was upset for not being the one to make the arrest? Surely that’s not it?”

  Kathy knew John took pride in his job and put his heart and soul into solving every case, but for him to question the evidence was so out of character.

  “Tom, why do you think he made up the contents of the folder?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.