by Willow Rose
I approach the door. The rain is pouring down, a lightning bolt strikes not far away, and I jump from the sound. Joey is parking the car. I wait for him before I knock on the door. The house is small and in serious need of a little TLC. The wood on the porch is falling off and all the light blue paint under the ceiling and on the shutters is coming off.
“Why do all the porches around here have that same blue color?” Joey asks, as he comes up behind me. He has parked the car a block down and had to walk in the rain. He is soaked.
“A blue porch ceiling mimics the sky and evokes the feeling of an extended day, while some people believe painting the window and door frames blue can trick evil spirits into believing it is water, which they can’t pass. Others think it repels bugs…wasps and bees and stuff. At least, that’s what I once read,” I say. “Shall we?”
I knock on the door and take off the hood of my raincoat. Joey is next to me, his pants dripping on the wooden porch. I feel bad for him. At least it is extremely hot, so he won’t get cold.
The door is opened and a bearded face peeks out from behind the screen. “Yes?”
“Mr. Marks?”
“Yes. Who is asking?”
“My name is Mary Mills; this is Joey Wilson. We have come to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
The man seems shaken. He looks from Joey to me and back again, seeming indecisive if he wants to trust us or not.
“I have been looking for you for quite some time, Mr. Marks,” I say. “It’s about The Axeman.”
It is Chloe who has found him for me. After Lisa Klein was killed, I asked her to find the names of all the victims believed to have been killed by The Axeman. At first, she only found the couple from the hotel, since they are so far the only ones in the case file, but as she dug a little deeper, she found a Cindy Haven, who was attacked and killed back in March in a very similar manner. The case isn’t considered to be part of the investigation of The Axeman, and that surprised me. They seem to be very alike.
The man behind the screen finally decides to trust us. He opens the door fully and now I can see him better.
“Come on in,” he says.
We follow him inside the kitchen, where a little girl looks at us with big brown eyes. “This is Mia,” he says. “She is Cindy’s daughter. I take care of her now. I was just making dinner for her.”
“Don’t mind us,” I say and wink at the girl. She seems to be a few years younger than my Salter. “We can wait.”
“Sit down,” he says and points at a pair of worn out kitchen chairs. We each grab one and sit down.
“I would offer you dinner, but…well, I didn’t really make that much and money is a little tight right now so…”
“That’s perfectly okay,” I say, then shoot him a little polite lie: “We already ate.”
I look at the girl as Ian serves her mac and cheese. I feel a pinch in my heart thinking of all the many nights I have served the same for Salter, especially when we were on our own and I didn’t have the energy to make a proper meal. Salter used to love it. All kids do.
We lost track of Blake. Since that woman, Lisa Klein, was killed, we haven’t been able to find him again. For obvious reasons, he stopped stalking the girl, so we don’t have a way of finding him anymore. The past days have been desperate for the both of us and so far I believe Ian Marks holds the only key for us to find him and Salter. He has been face to face with The Axeman and lived to tell about it.
As soon as the girl is done eating, Ian sends her to her room to get ready for bed, then turns to face us. He grabs a chair and sits down.
“Okay. What do you want?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
October 2005
Suzy is doing a lot better in school. Robyn likes to think that she has a little something to do with that. Every day when she comes over after school, Robyn makes sure her homework is done and on her latest report card Suzy received her first C in math. They celebrated by going out for ice cream at the small place on the corner where they have the chocolate and mint ones. They both love that flavor. Come to think of it, they have discovered they have a lot in common.
“Let me see your planner,” Robyn says, as Suzy rushes inside and throws her backpack on the floor. She runs to Robyn and hugs her tightly. “Do you have a lot of homework?”
“Some math, and oh, yes, we have to make a timeline of my life.”
Suzy sits down at the breakfast counter and eats the fruit that Robyn has cut up for her. She starts to eat it with her fingers. Robyn clears her throat and looks at the fork next to the plate. Suzy chuckles, embarrassed. “Sorry.” She grabs the fork and puts a piece of banana on it.
Robyn smiles. “There you go. That’s better. And when you’re done eating, you can pick up your backpack from the floor. That’s not where it is supposed to be, am I right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Suzy smiles and salutes Robyn.
Robyn laughs and cuts up another apple for her, since she has eaten almost all of the fruit. She likes to see how much healthier Suzy is looking now that she is getting proper food. It took Robyn awhile to get her to even try fruit or vegetables. It was obvious she had never encountered either while growing up.
“So, a timeline, huh? That sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, but it’s of my life.”
“Of your life, well, I guess that’s going to be a little hard for me to do, since I have only known you for less than a year.”
Robyn walks to Suzy’s backpack and takes out her folder. She reads about the project and soon Suzy joins her. They draw a long line and plot in when Suzy was born.
“My dad died when I was one,” Suzy says.
“One year old,” Robyn says and plots it in. “Do you know where you lived at the time?”
Suzy looks at her then shakes her head.
“All right,” Robyn says. “But you know that you used to live in Baton Rouge, right? When was that?”
“Probably when I was three, maybe four.”
Robyn plots it down.
“No wait, I think I might have been two. We lived in Lake Charles when I was three, I think. But that was only for a few months…”
Robyn sighs and puts down the pen. “You know what? I think you need to have your mom help you with this one. She knows all this stuff better than anyone.”
Suzy bites her lip, then nods. “Okay.”
They move on to her other homework, even though Robyn gets the feeling that something is bothering Suzy. As they are done eating and it is time for her to go home, Robyn reminds Suzy once again to ask her mother for help on the timeline, and Suzy says she will.
Robyn lets go of it, thinking it is all done, until the week after when Suzy comes home with her project in her backpack and a big F written on top of it. Robyn looks at the timeline and realizes nothing has been written on it since she and Suzy wrote the first two things.
“What’s this?” Robyn asks and shows it to her.
Suzy blushes, then shrugs. “My project.”
“You haven’t added one single event. It’s not finished at all.”
“Well, I didn’t have time.”
“You forgot to ask your mom about it?” Robyn asks, thinking it is odd that she remembered to turn it in when she didn’t remember to make it.
“Yeah…well…sure.”
“Suzy. Look at me.”
Suzy lifts her head. “What? I forgot.”
“You didn’t forget, did you? You never asked her.”
Suzy blushes again. “Ooops?”
“Why didn’t you ask her?” Robyn says, a little angry with her.
“I…I…well… she was asleep when I came home and I couldn’t wake her up,” Suzy says and avoids Robyn’s eyes.
“But you had several days to turn it in. You could have asked her the day after. Wait. She was asleep when you came home? Why wasn’t she at work?”
“I didn’t tell you? She doesn’t go there anymore.”
“She was fired?” Robyn ask
s in surprise.
“Yeah. But it’s okay. Her fiancé will take care of her now.”
Robyn pauses to let the new information sink in. “What? She has a fiancé now? She is getting married?”
Suzy nods while eating crackers straight from the box. Normally, Robyn would have told her to get a plate, but right now she has other things on her mind.
“His name is Jamie,” Suzy says. “He’s over there with her now. He lives with us now.”
Robyn rubs her forehead. There is so much she doesn’t understand. “So, let me get this straight. Your mother no longer works. How long has this been going on?”
Suzy shrugs again. “About a month.”
“And you say she was asleep. Is she asleep a lot lately?” Robyn asks.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And Jamie too?”
“Yeah.”
“And you can’t wake them up?”
“Well, yesterday they were awake when I came home from school, but when I got back from here, they were asleep again.”
Robyn nods, feeling very unsettled. They are obviously both on drugs and she doesn’t like Suzy being around it. For a few seconds, she wonders what to do, how best to help the girl. Should she involve the school? DCF? Should she go over there and tell Melissa off, tell her she’ll call the police if they don’t take better care of Suzy? But that will only make Melissa stop Suzy from coming to Robyn’s house. She doesn’t want to risk that. Right now, this is Suzy’s safe haven. Her only place of stability.
Why does she still send Suzy over here if she is at home anyway? Because it is easier? Because she knows Suzy will be cared for here? Because then she doesn’t have to deal with her own daughter? Am I being used here? And how on earth does she afford drugs if she is not working?
Robyn looks at Suzy. She knows the girl doesn’t understand everything, but she is smart and sees a lot. She decides to ask her.
“How does she pay her rent? Groceries?”
“I don’t know. Oh, wait, I do. She sold the car you gave her.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
July 2016
“We want to know everything about the attack that night on March thirteenth,” Mary asks.
Joey is sitting next to her, his elbows leaned on the small kitchen table. He is not as sure about all this as Mary is, but he doesn’t tell her. If she feels like this could lead them to Blake, he is willing to give it a chance. Even if he thinks this Ian Marks fellow seems a little unstable. He looks mostly like he has lived the life of a drunk. The fact that he only owns a bike tells Joey that he has had a DUI.
“I woke up in the middle of the night,” Ian says, looking anxiously at the end of the stairwell where the girl went up a few minutes before. “There he was. The Axeman. His axe was in the air. He had already hit Cindy once and seconds later he did it again. He cut off my ear, see?” he says and lifts up in his long greasy hair to show us the missing ear. “I passed out. When I woke up again, Cindy was dead. I swear, all of her blood was on on the floor. It’s still between the planks. I couldn’t wash it all out. If you step on them, you’ll see it coming out between them and the bottom of your shoes will be colored red. I don’t go in there anymore. Mia and I sleep together in her room now. Damn ghosts.”
Ian Marks has tics and they get worse as he speaks. He doesn’t seem very credible, Joey thinks.
“Cindy’s death isn’t a part of the investigation of The Axeman, why is that?” Mary asks.
Ian laughs. “Hah. Because I am known to be a drunk. They never believed my story. Besides, who cares about a couple of lowlifes like us? It’s not like we were attacked in some fancy hotel or somethin’.” Ian’s tics get worse and he is shaking his head in rapid movements as he speaks: “Damn ghosts.”
Ian clears his throat. Joey feels uncomfortable in his presence. It is hard for him to see where this is going. The guy is obviously sick. How is he supposed to help them find Blake?
“I told them who did it,” he says. “But they sent me home telling me I had lost it, that I had been drinking too much, but I haven’t touched any alcohol since that night, I can tell you that much. I’ll keep my head clear from now on. For her. For Mia’s sake. Damn ghosts.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Mary asks.
“Saying what?”
“Damn ghosts. You keep saying damn ghosts.”
“Well, you probably won’t believe me either, but I know who The Axeman is. And that’s what I told the police, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“And who is that?” Mary asks.
He is going to say something crazy; I just know he will.
“He lives out back. In the small shed in my back yard. He is dark as the night. I see him every time before he kills someone. He sits on the porch, like he is waiting for the night to arrive so he can claim his next victim. I tell you, it is him. He is back. He was here a hundred years ago and now he is back.”
“Wait a minute,” Mary says. “Let me get this straight. You have a man that is more than a hundred years old living in the back?”
Ian Marks laughs and shakes his head with a deep cough. “Not a living man. A ghost. He even wears the old clothes. I tell you, he did this. Both times.”
Mary sighs, disappointed. “A ghost?”
“Ghost, devil, evil spirit or being, call him what you will, but he is there and he is the one that killed Cindy that night.”
“And just how do you know that?” Joey asks.
“Yeah, in the police report you stated that you didn’t get a good look at the killer’s face, since it was inside a cloak,” Mary says. “How do you know it was him—or should I say it?”
Ian Marks leans over the table and looks at both of them. Joey feels uncomfortable. All this talk about ghosts leaves him with an eerie feeling. He knows Mary doesn’t believe in any of it, but Joey isn’t so sure.
“Cindy knew him,” he says. “She recognized him. Somehow, she saw him. He was closer to her than me.”
“How do you know?” Mary asks skeptically. “How do you know that she recognized him?”
“I’ll tell you how. Right before she was hit the last time, she screamed. She kept screaming for him to forgive her. She knew him alright.”
“Okay, so let’s say they knew each other,” Mary says. “Still doesn’t tell us it is a ghost and not a living person that knew her from earlier in life.”
“True, but I know it was him. He was out there lurking for days before he made his move. Next day he was gone. He didn’t come back till the day of his next kill.”
“All right, but I might have another theory,” Mary says and pulls out her phone. She finds a photo of Blake that she shows Ian Marks. “This guy. Does he look familiar?”
Ian Marks shakes his head. “I don’t know. I see so many faces every day. I might have seen him. I don’t know.”
Mary pulls the phone away. “All right.”
A small voice sounds from behind us. “What’s going on?”
The girl is back. She is standing on the stairs looking down at us.
“Mia,” Ian exclaims. “I’ll be right up to tuck you in, baby. Let me just show these nice people to the door. They were just leaving.”
Joey and I look at each other, then we both get up. I write my number for Ian Marks so he can call me if he remembers anything else.
“Now that was a huge waste of time,” Joey says, when we get back into the street.
“I’m not so sure,” Mary says, as they run for the car, getting soaked in the warm rain.
They find the car and get in. Water is running from Joey’s hair into his face. “What do you mean? You believe that whole ghost theory all of a sudden?”
“No, of course not. But did you notice the look on his face when he saw Blake’s picture? He has seen him before. He knows who he is.”
Joey starts the engine. “You think that is why he was in such a hurry to get us out of the house? You think he just used the girl as an excuse?”
“Y
ou got it.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Joey says and drives into the street. They have to go really slow because of the heavy rain. The wipers can hardly keep up. The traffic is stopping. It’s almost like at home during a thunderstorm. “You think he knows Blake from somewhere and that Blake killed his girlfriend back in March?”
“Yep. I believe Blake killed her for a reason. You heard…he told us that she begged for forgiveness. I have a feeling he knows why. And when I showed him the picture, I think Ian added up the numbers and realized it too.”
“But wasn’t Blake in Florida in March?”
“All we know is he was in Cocoa Beach in April. He could have been in New Orleans before then, when he was still on the run. He has always loved New Orleans and used to come here a lot when he was an artist. The town has always felt alluring to him. I am beginning to think he has more business here to attend to than hiding Salter from us.”
“So you still believe he is The Axeman?”
“Yup. He was stalking the girl who was killed. He was checking her out, finding out her routines and so on. I think he was preparing his attack. And what better way to cover it up than to use this old story? Make people believe it is the ghost from the past that has revived again? It has Blake written all over it. He loves this type of stuff. Why else send the email to me? Why not send it to the real media? He likes to toy with me. He knows I am here. If not before, then he knew I would come after I received the email. He is setting a trap for me, and so far, I have walked right into it.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
July 2016
The rain is drumming heavily on the window. Peggy Dixon looks at the blank Word document on the screen in front of her. She has been sitting like this all day and not a single word has been allowed to stay on the page. She doesn’t understand why. For the past two years, words have been spurting out of her when writing her stories, but not today. Actually, not for the past three days.
Just write something, you old fool. Anything. You can delete it later if it is no good. Just put something on the paper and get the story going.