by Ben Follows
One thing was for certain, however. The world in which they were living had just become a little worse.
“What happened?” said Curtis.
“Me and Dad were talking,” said Monica. “We were talking about Nate.”
“Your ex? Why?”
Monica sighed. “Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nate and I started fighting a lot once we were married. I pulled my gun on him once when I was angry. He came at me and I fired at him. I missed, and he thought it was a warning shot. It wasn’t. I was trying to shoot him. I just missed. He moved out the next day.”
Curtis nodded along, thinking of the bullet hole in Monica's house, feeling as though nothing could shock him at this point. “Nate never told anyone?”
“Not that I know of.” Monica took a deep breath. “I stayed at dad’s last night. When I came here, he looked fine. We talked. He was in and out of focus. The doctor came in this morning and said he would be fine.”
Curtis nodded. “He just died? Fine one minute and gone the next?”
Monica nodded.
“He deserved better.”
“He wouldn’t have complained.”
Curtis smiled, wondering what Gordon Mackley would say to them now. Probably something along the lines of “suck it up and move on.”
Not yet, thought Curtis.
Monica leaned over and put her head on Curtis’s shoulder.
They sat there, letting the weight of the world rest on their shoulders. For that moment, it felt like their entire family was back together. Curtis, Monica, Josh, their parents Gordon and Barbara. They were together, like they had always dreamed.
Just for that moment.
47
Trevor Marshall stood at the edge of the Sally's Bar and Grill parking lot. A team of dogs had been borrowed from the FBI team which was searching for Sam Marino.
The dogs and the searchers fanned out through the parking lot after the instructions had been given. Sally stood beside Trevor, looking concerned.
“I told you he isn’t here,” she said. “He and Kendra left. We would have heard something. A scream, a gunshot.”
“How loud was the music last night?” said Trevor.
“That’s not important.”
“Yes, it is.”
“A gunshot is a gunshot. It’s loud.”
“Have you ever heard a gunshot before?”
“Ten years ago there was a shooting here," said Sally. "Back when Marino was in charge. Suppose that might be happening again? With him out of prison and the FBI moving through town?”
Trevor ignored her attempt to rile him up.
“You might not have recognized the gunshot," he said. "You might have thought it was a car backfiring, or maybe the gun was silenced. There are a lot of variables to consider.”
“You think I don’t know how to take care of my own property?”
Trevor turned to her. “Two people are missing. They're linked to this bar and to a prison escape of a major crime boss. Would you prefer to let him free on the town again?”
Sally looked back at the bar. Some people in the town, Trevor knew, would support a return to Marino rule. There was less money coming into the town. The price for a higher standard of life in Blind River was ignoring the occasional atrocity and denying any knowledge of it to law enforcement who came asking. Trevor had always been shocked at how willing people were to look away.
“Yo, Detective!” one of the FBI K-9 agents shouted over. “We got something!”
Trevor smiled at Sally, who scoffed back at him. He walked to the edge of the parking lot where the FBI agent and his dog were standing. Beside him was another K-9 team. Both dogs were barking at the closed trunk of a car.
“Got him,” said one of the Agents.
“Should we open it?” said Trevor.
“Go ahead and try.”
Trevor took a deep breath and stepped up to the trunk. He tried opening it, but it was locked. “Can we get a locksmith out here?”
“I’ll get one of the FBI guys,” said the Agent.
Trevor stepped back from the car. The dogs continued barking at it as though they knew exactly what was inside. Trevor glanced at Sally, standing by the entrance to her bar and looking more worried than before.
The question wasn’t what was in the trunk. It was who.
48
Natasha leaned back as Joe Hagerty and Matt Oberman stepped into the jail and walked to Bobby Randall’s cell. The two officers stood at the bars, staring at the man suspected of murdering their loved ones.
Natasha smiled, hoping she was about to see something for the ages, something that would fit perfectly into her best-selling book. She was considering the title The Tragedy of Blind River: The Crumbling Town One Reporter Stood Up for. She leaned forward, not wanting to miss anything.
Ken Hagerty leaned back from the bars and stopped the endless tirade of insults and threats to which he'd been subjecting Bobby to. Instead, his eyes passed over his brother and the other officer.
“So, this is the man who killed my sister,” said Matt.
“I didn’t do it!” shouted Bobby Randall. His lawyer had been there earlier, but the lawyer had only told him not to say anything else without him present. Bobby had asked that he be transferred to another jail, and that his innocence be noted. The lawyer had said he would do what he could, but couldn’t promise anything.
“Why is the FBI talking to you if you haven’t done anything?” said Joe. “You know, Officer Oberman and I have offered to watch the jail for the next few hours. The other officers were a little reluctant, but they came around.” He grinned. “Until then, we can do whatever we want.”
“What are you talking about?” There was a nervous stutter in Bobby’s voice that hadn’t been there before.
Natasha stood and walked closer to the bars.
“Ken,” said Joe Hagerty, turning back to his brother and ignoring Natasha. “What would you do if you could get your hands on the man who killed your daughter?”
“I'd rip him limb from limb,” said Ken, his hands grasping the bars of his cell. “I'd smash his head against the wall until his brain was dripping down the stone. I'd beat him until he could never hurt anyone ever again.”
Bobby sunk farther into his cell. The cops laughed. For a moment Natasha thought they would stop there.
Joe took a key from his belt, glancing toward the door which lead into the main station, and unlocked Ken’s cell.
Ken frowned at the two officers as he stepped out of the cell.
Joe walked over to Bobby’s cell and put the key into the lock.
“What the hell are you doing?” screamed Bobby, receding to the back of the cell. “Help!”
Natasha’s heart pounded with excitement. They seemed to have forgotten she was there. She had a front row seat. Bobby continued to scream, but the soundproof walls of the jail held firm.
The door to Bobby’s cell slid open as he continued to scream. Ken gave a questioning glance to the officers, like a child asking his parents for permission. They both nodded and stepped back.
Ken smiled and stepped into the cell with the man he thought was his daughter’s murderer, cracking his knuckles. He lunged, grabbed Bobby Randall, and threw him to the floor. Bobby’s screams reached a new decibel. Ken straddled Bobby and began feeding him one punch after another. Teeth and blood flew into the air along with Bobby’s screams and desperate protests. Blood coated Ken’s fists, but he didn’t slow. Matt turned away and took a few deep breaths.
“Stop!" Bobby screamed. "Please! I never touched her.”
Matt glanced at Natasha, then looked away. They must have decided that her seeing the assault and murder in front of them was a necessary price. This was justice.
Natasha leaned through the cell bars, trying to improve her view of the blood and covering the floor of the cell. Ken had lost all semblance of control, adrenaline, anger and animalistic rage taking over.
Unlike the o
thers, however, Natasha knew Bobby was innocent. She knew that his cries were genuine, that he'd never touched the girls and didn’t have the slightest idea what had happened to them. She also knew that she wasn’t going to stop what was happening in front of her. She'd never seen a murder before, and it was better than she could ever have dreamed.
She'd been told in depth about the murders of the girls from the murderer's own lips, but there was something about seeing it with her own eyes she would never forget.
49
Trevor stepped back as the FBI agent unlocked the trunk and it popped open. A disgusting scent hit them like a tidal wave.
“What the hell is that?” said Sally, covering her nose.
“That’s a dead body,” said Trevor, plugging his nose. “Bowels emptied themselves. Is it Williams or Matheson?”
One of the FBI agents wearing rubber gloves stepped forward and examined the body. His calmness bothered Trevor more than it should.
“Male,” said the Agent. “Prison ID on his belt. Nate Williams. Dead more than twelve hours I’d guess.”
“Shit,” said Sally, taking a step back. The smell finally got to her. She ran to the ditch and lost her breakfast.
Trevor nodded and walked away, taking out his phone. He dialed Frankie’s number.
“What is it, Trevor?” said Frankie, answering on the first ring.
“We’ve got Nate Williams.”
“Good. Where was he?”
“Stuffed into a trunk outside Sally’s Bar and Grill. Dead.”
“God damn it. Is it the same killer?”
“I don’t know. There’s something else.”
“What?” Frankie had the same calmness the other FBI agents had. Trevor wondered if they taught it at the academy.
“He was last seen with Kendra Matheson. We can’t find her either.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Put out an APB on her.”
“Do you think it’s the killer?”
“We need to assume that," said Frankie.
“So it’s not Bobby Randall?”
“He’s certainly got a damn good alibi.”
“Yeah.”
“Get the body to Dr. Novak. Shut down the scene. Anything you find might point us to the killer. You’re in charge.”
Trevor glanced back at the FBI agents around the car. “Okay," he said. "I'll take care of things here."
50
Frankie hung up her phone and looked back at the O’Connell’s' house. She'd been on her way out when Trevor called.
The O’Connell’s' had been delighted to hear that their daughter was alive based on Dr. Novak’s discovery that the blood type didn’t match. Unfortunately, however, they'd been unable to give Frankie any new information. She'd been hoping that Miranda had contacted them, but she'd had no such luck.
Curtis wasn't answering his phone, and so she called the hospital and learned that Gordon Mackley had passed.
She had met the man just once a few nights earlier, but she'd heard enough about his legacy to understand what a tragedy it was for Blind River.
There would be a funeral with a grand attendance, and his coffin would be expensive and well made. Chief Tucker would give a eulogy, and the town would mourn. A local hero, a pillar of the community, and a key part in expelling Marino, was gone from the world.
She didn’t have long to think about the ramifications of Gordon's death when her phone rang again.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hey," said Chief Tucker.
There was an uneasiness in his voice Frankie didn’t like. “What happened?”
“We’ve had an issue at the station," said Tucker.
“What happened?”
“Two of our officers made a mistake, and there will be consequences.”
“What happened?”
“Oberman and Hagerty went into the prison and something happened.”
Frankie took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened, right now, in as few words as possible. I don’t have time to talk."
“Ken Hagerty beat Bobby Randall to death.”
Frankie took another breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. She was barely holding her anger in check. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“We made a mistake," said Tucker sheepishly.
“Tell me what happened. Everything.”
Tucker recounted what had happened in the jail in extreme detail, frequently pushing the blame off himself and onto other members of the police force.
When he'd finished, Frankie said, “Where are Oberman and Hagerty now?”
“They’re in the jail, as prisoners. Ken is back in his own cell. A doctor tried to save Bobby Randall, but there was nothing she could do. The body's in the morgue with Dr. Novak. Not that she’ll find anything new. We have the security footage. We know exactly what happened.” He paused. “I suppose you’ve heard about Gordon Mackley.”
“And I suppose you’ve heard about Trevor’s discovery.”
“Yes.”
They were both silent for a few moments. Despite their combined experience, neither had ever been confronted with so many concurrent major issues.
Frankie tried to think it through.
The town was crawling with FBI agents, Sam Marino was loose, two cops had gone rogue and murdered a probably innocent murder suspect, a serial killer was probably still free somewhere, and the former chief had died.
Frankie came to the silent conclusion that she needed to write everything down.
Frankie let out a deep sigh. “Leave Oberman and Hagerty in the jail, but tell them about Trevor’s discovery. We’ll deal with them later. They'll charged as accomplices to Ken Hagertys' first degree murder. I’ll pick up Curtis from the hospital and meet you there. We’ll try to figure out our next move.”
Tucker agreed and they ended the call. Frankie got to her car and drove away from the O’Connell’s' house. She wondered what had become of Miranda O’Connell if she was still alive somewhere, and also who the fourth body belonged to.
For now, those questions could wait.
She pulled into the hospital and parked in the waiting zone, making sure her FBI credentials were hanging from the mirror.
She walked inside. Hospitals always made her feel uncomfortable, as though she was seeing too deeply into the human experience.
She entered Gordon Mackley’s room. The bed was empty. Apparently, the body had been moved to the morgue.
At the bottom of the bed were Monica and Curtis, sitting in silence. They looked up when Frankie entered.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said softly, “but we need to go.”
Curtis’s voice was monotone, devoid of emotion. “My father’s dead. Can’t you take care of it?”
“Bobby Randall and Nate Williams are both dead. Marino is still out there, and Kendra Matheson has been taken.”
Curtis’s gaze focused. He became serious and concerned, the look of a man who had never wanted to do anything in life except help people. “What happened?” he said.
Frankie brought him up to speed as quickly as she could. When she finished, Curtis was already standing and walking out the door. The moment she'd mentioned Bobby he'd jumped to his feet.
“Monica,” he said, “are you coming?”
“No,” said Monica, staring blankly forward. “I’ll stay here and deal with the stuff for dad.”
“Are you sure?”
Monica nodded then turned to them. “Find Kendra and that asshole Marino. I’ll be here.”
Curtis considered pushing the point, then decided against it. “Okay,” he said.
They left the hospital without another word and drove to the police station. Chief Tucker and Trevor were waiting for them in the war room.
“I want to speak with Oberman and Hagerty,” said Curtis as they took their seats.
Chief Tucker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we certain Bobby Randall isn’t the murderer? This other kidnappin
g could be a fluke.”
Frankie shook her head. “The chances of another kidnapper in a town this small are so low as to be non-existent.”
“What about Marino? Could he be the new killer?”
“It’s possible, but wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he attack someone when he first got out of prison? He’s home free, why leave a trail of breadcrumbs?”
“But it’s possible?” said Tucker.
Frankie shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but it doesn’t make sense. Marino is trying to stay out of prison and rebuild his connections. A lot of the citizens in this town aren’t convinced their lives are any better than when he was in charge. He’s probably hiding out with one of them right now.”
Tucker nodded, although he seemed like he wanted to defend his town.
Curtis leaned forward, between Frankie and Tucker. “Why don’t Frankie and I go speak with the officers? Then I’ll speak with Robert Randall about how his son was brutally murdered in a prison cell for a murder he didn’t commit. Any objections?”
Chief Tucker and Trevor both seemed about to protest, but decided otherwise.
Curtis nodded. He walked out of the office and toward the jail. Two FBI agents guarded the entrance. Curtis and Frankie presented their identification before being let inside. Ken Hagerty was back in the first cell on the left, leaning against the wall, his expression blank. His hands and shirt were covered in blood.
Across from him was Natasha Nolowinski. Curtis tried not to imagine what Natasha would write when she was released. They still hadn’t found Frankie’s notepad and had no proof she'd taken it.
Natasha's expression as she watched him made Curtis uneasy. She had a smirk which normally meant she knew something he didn’t.
They walked to the two back cells of the jail. On the left was the cell where the murder had taken place. Blood was smeared on the ground. It looked like an unenthusiastic janitor had come through with a wet mop and spread the blood around in an effort to clean it. Across from that grisly scene were the two officers.