by Willow Rose
"Sure am," Mike said and smiled.
"When I told him on Friday that you were sleeping on the porch, he was the one who told me we needed to do something. Isn't that right, Mike?"
"Sure is," Mike said.
"Mike's also the sergeant at the station, a good person to know around here," I added, while we went into the trailer and started to carry out the small things, like the lamps, first.
Next, Mike and I grabbed the mattress and placed it inside. Diane had ripped up all of the wooden planks in the kitchen by now and had started putting in the tiles. I was quite impressed with her craftsmanship. It was rare in a woman. I knew Shannon wouldn't be able to change a light bulb on her own.
Shannon! You've got to call her!
I decided to do it on my way back. Things had just been so hectic all weekend with Tyler being sick and all. Shannon would understand as soon as I explained it all to her. She would want me to help someone like Diane out and, once I explained to her why I hadn't called back, she'd forgive me. I knew she would.
"Where are the kids?" Diane asked as we put the couch down in her living room. "It's Sunday; they're not in school?"
"They're hanging out with my parents," I said. "My mom's looking after Tyler. His fever came down last night, and we actually got some sleep. Today, he was back to running around and being his old spectacular self."
"That's good news, Jack," Diane said.
I looked around, then clapped my hands.
"Now, all we need is to put up the bed. Mike, you wanna give me a hand with the mattress and get it upstairs?"
We grabbed the mattress at each end when someone came up to the open door. Diane went to him. He was holding a huge bouquet of flowers between his hands and wore a shirt that said BEACHSIDE FLORIST.
"That's nice," I said. "Someone sent you flowers?"
Diane looked at the man, then at the flowers. He handed them to her, and she took them, even though it was a little reluctantly. The man told us to have a nice day, then rushed back to his car, leaving Diane inside holding the flowers between her hands.
"Daisies, huh?" I said and let go of the mattress. I walked to her. "Who are they from?"
She shook her head. "It doesn’t say."
"There's no card?" I asked.
She looked up and our gaze met. "No."
"That's odd. Could they be from someone you met around here?" I asked.
"I…I don't think…I’ve barely met anyone."
"Could it be the wrong house?" Mike asked and wiped his sweaty fingers on his shorts.
Diane stared at the flowers, and I noticed her hands holding them were shaking. She stood like that for a few seconds, then sniffled and walked outside with the flowers and threw them in the trash. She came back in with a deep exhale.
"I'm allergic to daisies," she said and closed the door. She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. It stopped short, and her lips started to vibrate nervously. I sensed we needed to leave her alone with this. This was none of our business.
"I have to get back soon. How about that mattress?" I said, addressed to Mike. "Let's get it up the stairs."
He helped me get it up, and we set up the bed for her, then walked down the stairs, where Diane was arranging everything else.
"Now, would you look at that?" I said. "It almost looks like a real home now."
Diane smiled, and this time it was a real smile.
"Thank you so much. You have no idea how big a help this is."
I hugged her. "No problem. I was glad to help. So was Mike, right Mike?"
"Sure was."
We walked to the truck and got in. As the engine roared to a start and I was about to take off, Mike took one last look at the house.
"You do know what house that is, right?"
I shook my head. "No."
Mike whistled. "It's been empty for years. I bet no one told her what happened there. No one else would buy that place. Not if they knew."
I stared at him, remembering the blood on the planks. "You mean murder? Someone was killed in that house?"
Mike scoffed. "Look up the Carver case when you get to the station tomorrow. And don't do it right before lunch. You won't have an appetite for a little while afterward."
Chapter 29
August 2018
I went back to the house before going to pick up the kids. They all needed to shower before school tomorrow, and I had to make lunches for them all and sign their planners and make sure they had done their homework, if they had any. But right now, I just wanted to enjoy a few minutes of quiet before the chaos set in.
So, I called Shannon. Finally, I had the break I needed to be able to talk to her properly. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to her, I desperately did, but I wanted to talk to her when there was time to, not while three kids screamed in my ear or right before she went on stage. I didn't want to rush it; I wanted to talk to her properly and really feel her.
"Hello? Jack?"
"Shannon!"
"Hey! How is everything? How are the kids?"
I chuckled. She sounded happy. There was nothing better in the world than a happy Shannon. It was just like the kids. If everyone was happy, then I was too. If Shannon was happy, then I was in heaven.
"They're great. They're at the motel."
"Why aren't they with you at the house?" she asked. "Don't tell me you're working on a Sunday."
"Why not? You are," I said with another chuckle.
"Jack."
"Of course, I’m not working. Mike and I just took some furniture to Diane's place. Can you believe she had none? I took my old couches from the garage, the ones you can't stand, and then some stuff from my parents’ place that they didn't use anymore. Oh, and the old bedframe too. The one leaning up against the wall in the garage behind everything."
Shannon went silent.
"You did what?"
"I gave some furniture to Diane. You remember her, right? She didn't have any, so I gave her some that we don't use. You don't mind, do you?"
More silence. "No. Of course not."
It came a little hesitantly, and I knew I had screwed up. I closed my eyes. Shannon had trust issues. How could I be so stupid? She knew I used to date Diane and, even though I didn't think about it or about her in that way—in any way—of course, Shannon would think I did. Of course, she would feel threatened by her since she wasn't here.
"Shannon…I was just helping her out. I don't know what she's running from, but I have a feeling she might be in trouble. You should see the house she's bought. It's awful, and now Mike tells me that once someone was murdered in that house. I feel sorry for her, Shannon, that's all."
Shannon was quiet for a little while, then she said with a weak and scratchy voice:
"Of course. Jack Ryder to the rescue, right?"
"That's not fair, Shannon, and you know it."
Silence again. It was killing me.
Say something, Shannon; just say anything.
"Listen, I have a concert soon. I should go get ready. Talk to you later, all right? Tell the kids I miss them."
And without even letting me protest, she hung up.
Chapter 30
August 2018
"He's awake."
It was Joe on the phone. I had barely hung up—and cursed myself for being an insensitive fool toward Shannon—when he called.
"Parker Reynolds," he said. "He woke up."
"You're kidding me?" I said while looking at my watch. The kids could easily stay at their grandparents’ place for a few more hours till we had to start all the routine stuff to get them ready for school tomorrow.
"I'll meet you there," I said.
I rushed to the car and jumped in. Calling the Weasel on the way and filling her in, I drove through downtown Cocoa Beach, careful to stop for a jaywalking tourist. They always seemed to think everyone else had to be on vacation too since they were.
At the hospital, I showed my badge at reception. Not that I needed to since the l
ady there knew me by now, but more out of formality. I took the elevator up to Parker Reynolds' room.
Joe had been the officer keeping guard outside his room all day, and he greeted me when I arrived.
"He's been awake for a couple of hours," he said, "but the doctors wanted to run all the tests and examine him before they'd let me call you."
"You did good, thanks, Joe," I said and tapped him on the shoulder.
I pushed the door open and went inside. A nurse was there, and so was Jim Reynolds. Parker was sitting up, and the nurse was feeding him soup. Jim Reynolds approached me.
"He just woke up. I won't have you torturing him with all your questions. Let the boy come to himself first, will you?"
I nodded. "I'll go easy on him; don't worry. I just need to talk to him as soon as possible. He is, after all, the only one who has seen the killer."
Jim Reynolds grumbled something I chose not to hear since it was definitely offensive, but I took no notice. I approached the boy.
"He was hungry," the nurse said, smiling. "It was the first thing he said. And the only thing he's said so far."
I smiled, then nodded.
"Hi there, Parker. How are you doing?"
He swallowed the soup while looking at me.
"I’m not going to bother you with a lot of questions about what happened," I said. "But I do need to know one thing. Did you see him? Did you see his face?"
The boy sighed. "I…I don't really re…"
"He doesn't remember anything," Jim Reynolds took over. "I asked him the same question when he woke up. He remembers nothing from what happened that morning."
"Nothing?" I asked, disappointed.
The boy shook his head with a confused look in his eyes, which I wondered if it could be fear. I glared at him, scrutinizing him. Was it really true? Didn't he remember, or was he just saying so because he was scared?
"All right," I said. "We can talk later; maybe you'll be able to remember something eventually, okay? You just make sure you get better, then I'll work on finding who did this. Just promise me to let me know if you remember anything at all. Anything will do. Like the color of his hair or his size would be of help."
I felt Parker's hand touch mine as I was about to leave, and I turned to look at him. Fear had struck his eyes.
"H-he's still out there?"
I nodded, thinking that for someone who didn't remember anything, he sure seemed frightened.
"Yes, but we will catch him. That is my promise to you."
Chapter 31
August 2018
Josef Carpenter might only have been five years old, but he wasn't too young to get dressed by himself in the mornings. It was a new thing, yes, and his mother wasn't too certain it was a good idea, but Josef wanted to show her that he could. She had put out his clothes for him and, as he put his feet onto the carpet that tickled his toes so delightfully on this Monday morning, he rushed to put them on by himself, making sure he got his shirt on the right way and not end up with the tag in front like last time.
Proud of his accomplishment, Josef looked at himself in the mirror on his wall, next to the piles of Legos that he had forgotten to clean up the night before like his mom had told him to.
"Looking dashing," he told his reflection with a grin. Just like his momma used to say to him when helping him dress.
There was a light knock on his door, and his mother's beautiful face peeked inside.
"How's it going in here, champ? You need any help?"
Josef smiled, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes. His mother exhaled, relieved.
"I guess you don't," she said. "You even put on your shoes by yourself. I am impressed."
"Told you," Josef said, straightening his back.
"Now, come eat. The bus will be here shortly. I have to wake up your brother."
Josef strode to the breakfast counter and sat on a stool. He grabbed the spoon in his Cheerios and started shoveling them in.
"Hey, doofus," his brother, Mark, said as he came out. He ruffled Josef's hair and Josef grumbled, then straightened it with his hand to correct the mess his brother had made.
His brother sat on the stool next to him, then glanced down at Josef's feet with a loud chuckle. He grabbed the cereal box and poured himself some.
"You do realize you're wearing your shoes on the wrong feet, you moron," he said and shook his head while shoveling in his cereal. He was eating it so fast he finished his first bowl before Josef and then poured himself some more. "Mom, have you seen his feet?"
Their mom gave him a look. "At least he put them on by himself. You didn't do that when you were five years old."
"And maybe I like them better this way," Josef said and slid down from his chair. The shoes felt strange and tight in an odd way, but he wasn't going to let his older brother mock him. If Josef wanted to wear his shoes on the wrong feet, then he was entitled to do so.
Josef snorted happily, grabbed his backpack and lunch pack, then walked to his mother and gave her a kiss. They rubbed noses, and his mother looked deeply into his eyes.
"Who's a good boy?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling like jewelry as she spoke.
Josef sighed happily. "I am."
"There you go. Now, go knock them out in Kindergarten."
"I will," Josef said and walked toward the door. "Mrs. Thomas already loves me."
Josef put a hand on the doorknob and turned to take one last glance at his momma. He had insisted on walking to the bus himself, now that he had started real school, and since the bus stopped right outside their house, his momma had let him.
"Have a wonderful day," she said and waved.
"I will," Josef said, turned the doorknob, and opened the door.
As it slid open, a person appeared on the other side. He was wearing a mask, so Josef could see nothing but his eyes. The mask looked like a woman, with its red lips and light, delicate skin.
Thinking it had to be Halloween soon, which was his favorite time of year, Josef stopped and stared at the person approaching his house with a big smile. He didn't even realize the person's intentions before he was pushed back inside the house and the masked person entered along with him.
Chapter 32
My second kill was a lot easier. Not that it was a surprise to me since it was only natural that I would be better prepared, that I would find it easier once I had done it before. Yet, it surprised me how easy it really was. Come to think of it, my second kill was probably the easiest of them all.
I had studied her for weeks, driving up and down her street, keeping a close eye on her. I knew her routines down to the smallest detail. You'd be surprised at just how predictable people really are. People tend to think that they are not, that they are spontaneous and do things differently from day to day, but they really don't. Even their spontaneity is highly predictable.
If you've ever read much about serial killers, then you'll know that they go through what you call phases. One of the phases that they go through is what I call the trolling stage. This is where you're looking for a victim. You can be trolling for months or even years, but once you lock into a certain person, you go from trolling to stalking. Sometimes, there are several of them that you're stalking at the same time, till you finally decide on the one. While stalking her, you lock in on her every move. You almost become like one with her. That's what it was like with this woman.
The more I know about a person, the more comfortable I feel about what I am about to do. And I knew a lot about this one. I had been watching her, stalking her for a few weeks, going to her work, meeting her on the street, even walking to her door and talking to her, sizing her up. I knew very early on that she would be the one. There was no avoiding it. So, I just selected a day to do it. I usually like doing it in the daylight, often in the mornings when the victims have just woken up. People tend to be a lot more trusting at that time of day. They don't seem to think a bad thing can happen as supposed to at night when it is dark out. But I am here to tell
you; it can happen at any hour of the day. I don't need darkness to cover me up.
The woman lived alone with her children, which is usually preferable. Men tend to mess up the picture. They're stronger, and they fight for their lives and the lives of their loved ones a lot more ferociously. I like it if the woman has children. They're usually very easy to handle and deal with, especially the young ones. They're gullible. I don't mind killing children, but I am not coming for them. It's the mothers, the women I prefer. I come for the women.
I came while she was at work. I parked my car a few blocks away, then walked to her house. I rang the doorbell first, holding the bowling bag with my kill-kit in my hand. I called it my kill-kit. Thought that was pretty clever.
The reason I rang the doorbell wasn't because I expected her to open the door but to make sure she wasn't home. Just in case. And, as I had figured, she was at work. So instead, I walked around the back, found the back door, and opened it. Like so many people, she had a spare key hidden right above the door. I had seen her place it there, so it was no problem for me to find it. Again, people are so predictable; it's almost scary.
Inside her house, I hid in the closet till she came home. It took about an hour till I finally heard the front door slam shut and the footsteps approach. I waited in that closet and listened while she and her children had dinner, and later when she put them to bed and sang to them. The moment she entered the bedroom to change out of her uniform, I considered making myself known, but I wanted to stick with the plan, so I waited. If she opened the closet, then I would attack. I would have to, but I was so hoping she wouldn't. And she didn't. She threw her uniform on the chair next to the bed and got herself ready to go to sleep. I waited all night and listened to her breathing. It wasn't until the next morning when she woke up and went to get her underwear that I jumped out of the closet, wearing my mask.
Chapter 33
August 2018
The person who had entered Josef's house closed the door behind him, locked it, then rushed to the windows, turned down the blinds, and shut off the TV. And that was when he showed Josef the gun in his hand. Josef stared at it, then at his mother, who was standing in the kitchen and had dropped the gallon of milk in her hand. The milk was gushing out from the plastic container onto the tiles, but she didn't even notice. Josef's big brother, Mark, stood like he was frozen, while a dark spot emerged on the crotch of his jeans, seeping through the fabric.