by Deryck Jason
“Did you find Kyle’s head?”
The man simply shook his head. Oates nodded, pondering. Officer Freddy Brady stepped into the room and stood behind Oates quietly. Officer Brady hated his name; it made it way too easy for people to coin a nickname for him. Always the last to enter the scene of any crime he was unfortunately known as “Fraidy Brady” or simply “Fraidy” for short. The name was birthed in high school, some reckon this was what prompted him to become a cop but, sadly for Freddie, the name followed.
“Whad’ya think did it Sheriff? Animal?”
Broken from his ponderings Oates weighed what Freddie just asked. Without offering the young cop the respect of eye contact Oates calmly asked.
“What kind of an animal would decapitate someone and steal their head? Or better yet, what kind of an animal would yank a phone cord out the wall so no-one could dial out?”
Oates turned to Freddie, secretly praying the youngster was going to have his first enlightened moment, but instead Freddie just shrugged.
“A smart one?”
Oates pursed his lips before uttering.
“Go wait outside.”
Dutifully Freddie did so. Deputy Lynch pushed past Brady to come in beside the Sheriff.
“Sir?”
Recognizing his trusted deputy’s voice, Oates thought out loud.
“What could possess someone to do something like this?”
“I don’t know Sheriff, but I know who did it.”
Oates turned to Lynch in disbelief.
“That was fast.”
CHAPTER 20
“We should be watching this in private Sheriff.”
Lynch was referring to the other officers and the coroner who were also in the building. Oates would normally question such a decision. After all, besides the coroner they were all cops. But something in Lynch’s eyes convinced him to agree. With a deep breath Oates called out a general announcement in the small living area.
“Ok guys, I’m going to need you all to step outside until further notice.”
Two officers and the snap happy coroner grumbled at first but they reluctantly obeyed and headed outside.
“Ok Deputy. Why all the secrecy?”
“I was reviewing the video footage from last night. A single camera pointed at the door to the room we’re in right now, presumably because the safe is in here. Now, when we arrived, the fire escape was opened from the inside, meaning whoever killed these two must have come through that door.”
Lynch said pointing to the door that led to the front office.
“Ok, I’m with you, but I repeat my question. Why the secrecy?”
“Just bear with me” said Lynch as he fast forwarded the tape, stopping when Amanda went out to check who was buzzing.
The view of the camera was from above the front desk, letting the viewer see the whole office, but thanks to the lack of crime (and the thriftiness of the motel chain) in Staunton the lone camera had not been upgraded for years so the picture quality was not very good.
“I’m coming for Christ sake!”
Amanda’s voice rung out from the video.
The two cops watched as Amanda walked out of the room, grabbing the doll from the counter. They heard her yell some more and she headed out to look for the kids she believed were tormenting her. Taking his opportunity, Dummy came out from his hiding spot behind a plant and slipped past her into the living area. Oates was stunned.
“What in hell was that? Rewind that!”
Lynch did so.
“I’ve watched this a couple of times Sheriff, I’m not sure what it is. My brain tells me it’s a child but it looks like a doll.”
“It could be a child wearing make-up” said Oates, trying to convince himself more than anything.
“I don’t know Sheriff…” said Lynch as he paused the tape on a sideways angle of Dummy’s head, “…You can see the joints on the mouth.”
Oates just stared at the well-dressed image in front of him.
“There’s something even more disturbing Sheriff, listen to this.”
Lynch turned the television volume up to maximum causing static to blare out. Loud with emptiness, Oates was mesmerized. They watched Amanda leave the building and a soft gurgling sound was heard from the living area.
“What was that?” asked Oates curiously.
“It’s Kyle! It sounds like he’s choking, but he couldn’t have been killed before she was, there’s just no way.”
“Why?” asked Oates.
Lynch didn’t respond. He was too engrossed in the video and what was coming up. Oates waited patiently. Amanda walked past the screen as Lynch turned the volume back down to a reasonable level.
“Kyle! Stop eating my popcorn!”
“Here’s the weird part Sheriff, this is how I knew Kyle couldn’t have been killed first. Listen…”
Oates listened as Amanda screamed at the sight of the dummy in the room. After a moment she could be heard trying to dial from the phone. It’s what Oates heard next that chilled him to the bone; Kyle asking Amanda to “play.”
“What the hell?” asked Oates, confused “why would he ask her that? Did he know the killer?”
To which Lynch somberly replied.
“And that’s it! Whatever that thing was it went out the back door after that. What really worries me Sheriff is the bite marks.”
“I know. It’s unlikely a child could have done that, unless he used some kind of tool.”
“That’s not the only thing though. We saw the large bite to the face, but the coroner reckons there were smaller bites too. And when Amanda walked back into the room she was carrying two smaller dolls, similarly dressed to our killer.”
“Lynch, I understand what this looks like but you’re talking like a madman. We don’t even know if these are bite marks yet, Ralph Murray was purely speculating.”
“All due respect sir we don’t need to speculate about anything right now, we have it on tape, it looks like a dummy!”
“You’re right deputy. It does look like a dummy.”
Oates spoke calmly.
“But dummies are not capable of murder, they are simply toys. Now, the quality of this video is not good. It makes more sense that this is a child. Though I have to admit if you asked me yesterday I would never have thought a child could be capable of...”
A realization hit him.
“A child...”
“What about it sir?” asked Lynch.
Oates looked somber.
“Andy Williams’ kid…”
Instantly, without speaking about it Lynch knew exactly what Oates was referring to. The two had done a good job sweeping the incident under Staunton’s rug but they decided it would be best if they never spoke of it.
“But isn’t his kid locked up sheriff?”
“Maybe not. I need to make a call. Until we know otherwise, our official story is that the investigation into suspects is still ongoing. Look Dorrian, I don’t need to remind you how bad yesterday was. The last thing I want after a high profile death is stories of psychotic children or even worse, dolls getting out. Now I know you would never deliberately go against my orders and leak this but I have to tell you anyway how serious it would be if you did. Can I count on you?”
Lynch breathed out, visibly shaken.
“Yes, Sheriff, of course you can.”
Oates nodded.
“Good. Now take this video down to the station and lock it up, I’m going to make a call.”
Greg MacNamee felt he just had closed his eyes when the phone rang. In truth, he had been sleeping for a few hours now, but these days it seemed like his head was just hitting the pillow before he had to get back up again. Not her usual jovial self, Greta simply groaned and, as the phone was on Greg’s side she had been woken up for no reason.
“Yes, hello?”
MacNamee answered formally after clearing his throat.
MacNamee always answered the phone formally at this time because ninety nine times out of a hundre
d it was the hospital and he always felt it was important to remain professional.
“Hello, Doctor MacNamee?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“This is Sheriff Oates from the Staunton police department.”
MacNamee was surprised; he was not expecting this. Sitting up in bed, disturbing Greta further he responded:
“Yes Sheriff, what can I do for you?”
“Well, first of all I apologize for bothering you at home, I called Hallcombes and they put me through to you. I would rather not discuss this with one of your nurses.”
MacNamee wasn’t bothered about being woken up by important matters; it was the trivial ones that always got to him. Like the day a young nurse called him at home to ask him where they kept spare stethoscopes. He was not happy about that, however, this seemed different.
“It’s no bother Sheriff. What would you like to discuss?”
“The Williams boy, he’s in your care yes?”
“Yes, that’s right. Myself and another Doctor, Doctor Crass. He’s in the care of both of us. Why do you ask?”
Suddenly the realization hit MacNamee. Sheriff Oates was the name on the police report listing Andy Williams apparent cause of death. He must have been half asleep up until a few moments ago not to realize this straight away.
“Can you tell me, is the boy currently housed in Hallcombes?”
MacNamee was puzzled by this strange question but he tried not to show it.
“Yes, yes he is.”
“He is physically in the building right now?”
A little more put out now MacNamee pushed for the point
“Yes, he is in there right now Sheriff, I saw him only a few hours ago.”
“So you haven’t seen him in the last few hours? Is it possible you could send someone to his room and make sure he is still in there for me?”
Now MacNamee was really frustrated; this made no sense and he did not appreciate being left in the dark with issues concerning his patients.
“Excuse me? Sheriff Oates I can personally assure you...”
“Please Doctor” interrupted Oates “I would look upon it as a personal favor if you would send an orderly down to check on him for me.”
Realizing the Sheriff was persistent and with the possibly murderous nature of the falsified accident report on the back of his mind MacNamee grudgingly relented.
“Alright Sheriff, do you have a phone number I can call you back on?”
MacNamee was tired, he knew that was a dumb question, of course he had a phone number he could be called back on, he was the Sheriff. But this wasn’t the time to be caring about such trivial things. MacNamee reached into the drawer of his bedside table and took a pen and paper out. Scribbling down the number he wondered if he would actually get any sleep that night.
Down the long dark corridor of the west wing of Hallcombes psychiatric hospital, right at the very end there was an office where Tim Jackson has fallen asleep trying to watch the fight on the little portable. He almost fell off his chair startled when the vintage black phone rung, shaking profusely as it did so. Blinking sleep from his eyes he answered monotonously.
“Hallcombes security office.”
“Tim, were you sleeping again?”
Tim recognized MacNamee’s voice and instantly relaxed.
“No, sir, wide awake, performing my duties.”
“Tim?” asked MacNamee sternly.
“Might have dozed off a little sir.”
“All that sitting tired you out huh?”
Tim chuckled.
“It’s hell.”
MacNamee wasted no more time with small talk; he would like to see the inside of his eyelids again tonight.
“Tim, I need you to do something for me…”
“Sure Doc, whad’ya need?”
“Go down to 101 and check on Connor Williams for me.”
Tim didn’t want to hear that; he would just as happily never go down to see Connor at all.
“Sure thing Doc; am I looking for anything in particular.”
“Nope” said MacNamee trying to be as reassuring as possible “Just check on him for me.”
“You only really notice echoes at night”
Tim thought to himself as he closed the office door behind him. He often heard things echoing during the day but it was only during the night he would be scared of them. Something about the way the sound bounced off the walls down the corridor unsettled him, emptiness unsettled him. “Why can’t I just turn on the lights” he thought as he beat his flickering flashlight against his hand until the beam stayed on. Doctor Crass did not want lights to go on while patients were sleeping; the old doctor had been called in too many times to calm down sick people who were disturbed during rest. Besides, Crass never felt any need to turn them on. There were flashlights in every office; more than enough light for checking up on individual patients. Tim was wishing for a little more now though. Normally he wouldn’t be worried, but this kid was a notorious killer, he had heard rumors that he was really smart and very cold to the Doctors. But, a job was a job and Tim just wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. Only a few feet down the corridor Tim stumbled down a depression in the floor.
“What in the world…?” He cried out loud as he almost fell over. Whipping round the flashlight he recoiled at what he saw.
“What are those?” Again, he said out loud, as if the volume of his voice would comfort him in some way. The marks looked like paw prints but Tim knew that was very unlikely. His eyes noticed something which prompted him to lift the beam up to the wall beside the prints. His eyes widened as he traced the long score all the way down the corridor wall. This time, Tim did not say anything, instead he quickly but quietly paced down the corridor, keeping the flashlight fixed halfway between the floor and the wall. Not realizing he was now jogging he finally reached “Room 101” trying to complete his task and get back to the office as quickly as possible. With a swirl of the light, Tim made sure he was alone in the corridor before looking through Connor’s window. The darkness felt heavy, the silence was all he could think about it. Normally you could hear patients snoring, or beds’ squeaking as they tossed and turned but now, everything was quiet. When he was sure he was alone he decided to check to see if Connor was in bed as he should be. The light crept up the door slowly; the last thing he wanted to do was wake the boy. He had never done this before, shone a beam through a window at a patient with the intent of not waking them and-as he was discovering-it wasn’t as easy as one might think. The chequered safety glass made him feel a little more at ease as the beam reached the floor beside the bed. Moving silently up the bed he could make out a shape under the blankets, but it could have just been ruffled. Moving up what appeared to be the body he made out hands.
“Oh thank God!” he cried, his atheism being no match for his relief.
Still, he had to be sure they were the boy’s hands in order to confirm Connor was actually in his room. Moving the beam up slightly he peered closer to the glass. When the beam reached a chin he still could not make out a face. Tim stole an opportunity and quickly flicked the beam up over the face to reveal Connor staring back at him; the boy’s gaze boring through him causing him to lower the beam and step back.
“Thank God!” he repeated. Connor was already awake but as long as the door was in between them he felt safe. Taking a moment to compose himself he stepped back away from the door. Moving the flashlight away from Connor’s room helped Tim relax. With nothing to illuminate the room he was able to convince himself there was no danger in there. However that logic did not apply to the long open corridor he was still standing in. Feeling incredibly vulnerable turned to head back to the office. Only a few steps into his journey -in the dead silence-he started to hear breathing behind him, heavy breathing. Turning round quickly Tim shone his flashlight straight down the hall. He could not see anything but he could feel something. The breathing echoed roughly down the long corridor but he couldn’t figure out w
here it was coming from. Feeling like it could be everywhere and nowhere at the same time he knew it was too loud to be human.
“Hello?”
His voice echoed repeatedly down the corridor and he was convinced some of the echoes were someone else’s voice.
“If anyone’s out there…identify yourself now! I am armed!”
Tim’s bluff through a shaky voice would intimidate no-one and so the breathing continued. Trying to hold his ground he could not be sure if it was coming from behind him or in front of him. He was sure of one thing though, he did not want to be standing there any longer.
“Fuck this!” he exclaimed and turned back towards the office.
Running down the corridor his heart raced, the sound of his footsteps did nothing to drown out the heavy breathing. The office approached fast as the large orderly bolted down the long stretch of hallway. Grabbing the handle he pushed the door open and slammed it behind him. He stepped back and watched the door handle for a minute, making sure nothing was going to try and enter. Out of breath and nervous, Tim decided to wait a moment before calling MacNamee. Once he came to his senses he surmised he was simply spooked by the darkness, especially as nothing had tried to enter the office after him. He was reluctant to tell the doctor he was scared so badly but he had to tell him about the marks on the floor and the walls. The phone rung only for a second before MacNamee picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey Doc it’s me. So I have good news and some...weird news. The good news is Connor is in his room, little bastard was wide awake too.”
“Ok, so that’s good” said MacNamee “Now what’s weird?”
“There are marks on the floor that weren’t there earlier. To be honest, I know this is going to sound crazy but they kind of look like paw prints.”
“Sorry, what?” asked MacNamee, vaguely recalling a nice dream he was having not so long ago.
“I know how it sounds but I guess you’ll have to see it for yourself. They look like paw prints.”
“Paws? You mean like a dog?”
“No” said Tim nervously “More like a bear”
“Tim...” MacNamee sighed “What the hell are you talking about? Have you been getting into the drug cabinets again?”