Murder Mountain

by Stacy Dittrich

  Focusing my attention on the fire pit, I became even more concerned. These people weren’t into leaving much evidence around, and burning someone was just as good as shredding them into pieces. My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a car pull into the clearing; it was a shiny red Mustang being driven by Captain John VanScoy. I could see he had a passenger, but couldn’t tell who it was from where I was sitting.

  VanScoy, dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt, got out of the car, and walked over to the trio, where he whispered something to Big Al Davis.

  Andrea, upon seeing VanScoy, began to cry louder and struggle harder, making my own heart jump, knowing the party was about to begin. The passenger stayed inside the car while VanScoy walked over to me.

  “Well now, girlie,” he said sternly, his hands on his hips, “here we are. If ya just woulda left well enough alone we wouldn’t have had to do this.” He shook his head.

  “What is the matter with you people?” I cried. “You think you’re going to get away with this, Captain? You’re a disgrace to the badge you wear, and a disgrace to all of law enforcement! I swear to God, you will be in prison when this is all said and done, whether I’m alive or not. The FBI has your name and knows you’re involved. If you’re smart, you’ll let me go and walk away!”

  VanScoy leaned over and backhanded me right across the face, knocking me down. Then he set me upright again, pulled out a switchblade from his jeans pocket, and put it to my throat. “You little bitch!” he yelled right into my face. “Don’t ya ever threaten me, ya got that, girlie? We’ve been smarter than y’all this whole time, and it ain’t gonna stop now! I got me two hundred thousand dollars comin’ to me from our business, and I’ll be damned if I let a little whore like y’all fuck it up!”

  “That’s enough, John!” called out the passenger, who was getting out of the Mustang.

  I still couldn’t see who he was, but when I heard the familiar cough, I knew he was one of the men who’d chased me through the woods. The man walked over and stood before me, dressed in full uniform: Sheriff Garvin B. Conroy—at your service.

  “C’mon Sheriff,” VanScoy pleaded. “I say let’s just do her now and git it over with.”

  “No,” the sheriff told him. “We will do it the way we planned, when E gits here.” He leaned towards me. “We weren’t expecting ya, ma’am, and haven’t been able to give ya the proper West Virginia welcome party that ya deserve.” He smiled and tipped his hat at me.

  “Sheriff,” I pleaded, “Think about what you’re doing. I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake and they already know you’re involved. Use your brain and let me go!”

  “All the more reason to take care of ya, darlin’. It wouldn’t be the first time I took care of a copper. Your buddy back there in Ohio pulled up on us at the wrong time, lookin’ for this loud-mouthed gal, here,” he pointed to Andrea, “but we showed him. We tole him she was down in the woods, pickin’ mushrooms, and we’d be glad to show him where. That dumb motherfucker believed us, and drove his car right to the woods where we was waitin’. Ya see, we was at this bitch’s house lookin’ to see if she left anything that would lead y’all to us when that cop pulled in, but Allen and Tim took care of him real fast.”

  He smiled. “Today, ya ain’t gonna be so lucky.”

  I started to cry, thinking of Boz again. Hearing the real story of how he died, I saw how ruthless and fearless these people were. It was all coming together. The sheriff was clearly the boss, and all his followers enjoyed their cruelty. It was still gnawing at me who the other man was that I recognized, but my memory and sanity were fading fast. As soon as E arrived, the party would start, and I would die. It didn’t sound like it would be a quick, easy death, either.

  The Sheriff pulled over a cut-off tree stump and sat on it, facing me. “Yup, girlie,” he began, taking off his hat, “you woulda never figured it out, but ya was gettin’ close enough that I had to put a stop to it. I’m gonna do somethin’ I don’t usually do, but I’m gonna tell ya everything that ya missed, since ya think yer such a big-shot detective.”

  Big Al, Tim, VanScoy, and the other man all gathered around the sheriff to hear his confession to me. All of them were smiling, knowing that once the confession was made, the deal on my death would be sealed, and there would be no more glimmers of hope for me. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to see their faces. But it was too late. I knew I was finished.

  “Ya see, it was E that turned us onto the meth. His brother-in-law was turnin’ a pretty good profit from it, and y’all know that West Virginia don’t pay its cops shit, so we joined in. Karen Cummings hooked us up to Roseland, and boy did the money flow then, except she threatened to run her mouth and, well, ya saw what happened to her.”

  He shook his head. “Then came Delphy. He found us all them girls to do the runnin’, and our profits skyrocketed, except they all complained they wasn’t gettin’ enough money and threatened to tell. So Lisa Grendle, I know ya heard the stories, was the best bitchburger I ever ate, and Lizzie Johnston—here’s the part I’ve always wanted to see yer face if ya found out, well Lizzie, pretty gal that she was, threatened to tell, too. Her poor daddy, if he only knew that every day he was in his backyard waterin’ his garden he was pourin’ water on his only daughter.”

  “I did that one myself,” VanScoy chuckled. “Her daddy was inside watchin’ his TV while I was out back, buryin’ his girlie! Ya woulda never figured that one out!”

  “You people are sick!” I cried. “These were young girls with lives ahead of them! All over money and meth!”

  “That’s right! Now pipe down, I ain’t finished.” The sheriff settled back to telling his story. “That Hensley dick-head was just an extra. I honestly thought when he came here with Lizzie, things might work out with him, but as ya know, he ran his mouth to y’all. We had fun with him, in the old prison and all. Gave it kind of a movie feel to it, didn’t ya think, Al?”

  “Sure did, Sheriff,” Al replied.

  “Anyway, we figured luck was on our side the day ya offered Delphy the deal. We was gonna have Stuart here take care of him, but Delphy went and hung himself. Now, we couldn’t of asked fer anything better than that!”

  I looked at the man I recognized and figured out where I knew him from, the sheriff having just given him up. He was the new corrections officer at our jail. He’d called me the day I was out smoking, waiting for Delphy and his attorney to take my deal. He’d heard and seen everything that went on that day. He also had access to the employees’ home phone numbers and addresses, which is how they found out where I lived. I remembered that the other corrections officers had referred to him as Stuey.

  “Stuey, right?” I asked him.

  “That’s right,” he said smiling. “Thought you’d recognize me long before now, but that just shows me what a stuck-up bitch ya are, lookin’ down at corrections officers when ya come there, not payin’ any attention, actin’ like ya better than everybody!”

  “You’re just a sniveling, wormy, little son-of-a-bitch,” I shot back.

  “Now there’s no need to be rude. After all, ya did shoot at the poor boy that night at yer house,” the sheriff said before being interrupted by the sound of a car nearing.

  I looked to my right, and saw an old, tan Blazer pull into the clearing. Braking but not parking, the driver poked his head out the window.

  “Everythin’ alright, folks?” the man asked, smiling.

  My glimmer of hope was back. The man driving was Eddie Lewis from the motel, and I began to scream.

  “Mr. Lewis! Help me! Drive away and go get help!” I screamed.

  Eddie got a strained look on his face, and started eyeing the men standing around me, who, to my surprise, did nothing but stare back at him. Eddie put the truck in park and started to get out.

  “Eddie, No! Get back in your truck! They’ll kill you!” I yelled, but he didn’t listen.

  He got out of his truck and started walking our way, stopping about ten feet away from us
. He could see from the truck that I was tied up, and could also see Andrea Dean. I didn’t understand why he would get out and confront these men.

  “What’s goin’ on here, boys?” Eddie asked sternly.

  No one said anything. They just stood there smiling, and I thought any minute someone was going to pull out a gun and shoot Eddie, but that never happened. Unfortunately.

  “Nothin’ E. Just waitin’ on ya and gettin’ ready for the party,” VanScoy smiled. “Detective Gallagher, I believe you’ve already met Major Eddie C. Lewis of the Sheriff’s Department. We just call him E.”

  Eddie broke out into a smile, walked over and slapped the sheriff on the back, and told Big Al to get him a beer. I didn’t think I could bear another surprise that day, but they kept coming. Never had I misread someone like I did Eddie Lewis, not that it made much difference just then, as the party was getting ready to start. Eddie was talking to the Sheriff loud enough for me to hear their conversation and get smacked with another surprise piece of information.

  “Did y’all git rid of the fed?” Eddie asked the sheriff.

  “Yup. When he wakes up he’ll never find his way here, and we got rid of his keys. And from what I hear on the scanner, the state police are all tied up on some chemical spill. By the time this is all over, ya and I will be clankin’ beers on the coast of Brazil, my friend,” the sheriff laughed.

  Michael was alive? Michael was alive! Thank God! My hope came flooding back, until it struck me that there was no way he could possibly find me. He was probably in agony over my capture and would be doing anything he could to get to me, but that would take time, and time was what I didn’t have a lot of.

  “No doubt ’bout that Garv. Did ya make sure ya got the tracking device off their rental car?”

  “Done. No worries, E.” The sheriff turned to his troops and yelled, “Now, I say we crack open a couple more beers and get this party started!” receiving whoops and laughter from the other men.

  That was how they knew where we were every minute. They’d put a tracking device on our car; probably had one on my detective car at home, too. No, these were not stupid people, and I had clearly underestimated them. It was party time, so said the sheriff, and I was the birthday girl.

  Big Al, Tim, and Stuart grabbed tin buckets that were sitting beside the table, fanning them off as if they were trying to cool down whatever was inside. VanScoy grabbed a plastic grocery bag full of something off the table and started towards Andrea, the others following with their buckets. Eddie came, stood by my side, and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Now, ma’am, ya gonna watch the big mouth have her party first, even though it spoils the surprise. Ya gonna have yer first ever West Virginia welcome party, honey.” He patted my shoulder.

  This was it. I didn’t know how much time I had until I would actually be dead, put I prayed it would come swiftly, because by the looks of things they intended for me to suffer greatly. I started to feel dizzy at the thought of dying soon, and my stomach turned upside down. I also was having a hard time catching my breath, my heart was pounding so hard, and I thought, Maybe with luck I’ll keel over from a massive heart attack.

  Luck didn’t appear to be on my side. I watched Tim and Big Al pour the liquid from the buckets onto Andrea. The smell from the liquid drifted my way. It was an odor that I associated with low-income apartments, and that I identified immediately as hamburger grease. No matter what apartment I went into, everyone in the projects made Hamburger Helper and kept the leftover grease sitting on their stovetops for days. I was at this point confused by why they were using the grease, but they weren’t done there. They took bottles of honey from the bag that VanScoy was holding, and squirted that all over her, too.

  Andrea was screaming at the top of her lungs the entire time. The grease was pure liquid, so it had to be hot. I’m sure it burned her all over, and I could see it dripping into her eyes. When they were done with Andrea, they went and retrieved three more buckets of grease and started towards me.

  “Make sure it ain’t too hot,” Eddie warned them. “I don’t want her passin’ out before she gits to see the good stuff!”

  There had to be a way out of this, somehow. I began trying with everything I had to free my hands from the ropes, cutting my wrists in the process. I felt nothing just then except fear—fear of the unknown and fear of the known. I fell over trying to free myself, and heard laughter from Eddie and the sheriff, who yelled, “Sit her up!”

  Big Al grabbed my arm and began to pull me upright, but since his arm was in front of my face, I bit into it as hard as I could, tasting blood.

  “God damn bitch!” he cried. “Git her off of me!”

  I was overcome by arms and legs throwing punches and kicking me, but I held on, biting down harder, until a blow to my ribs, the ones that were already bruised, came driving into my side. I screamed out in pain, and was promptly grabbed by my hair and forced back into an upright position. My ribs, undoubtedly broken, throbbed with pain.

  Spitting out blood, I watched as Big Al ran to the table, holding his arm and grabbing at a roll of paper towels. Unrolling about half of it, he wrapped it around his arm. I began laughing hysterically.

  “Ya sure is a feisty thing,” Eddie told me, no longer smiling. He punched the side of my face. “Laugh now, bitch!”

  And I did. I laughed and laughed while each of them took turns punching me in the face, on the side of my head, and in my stomach. They all spit on me. I felt none of their punches. I was beyond hysterical and knew I was close to completely snapping. Only when I heard Andrea yell did I stop laughing.

  “Detective! Stop!” she screamed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. It was getting to her, watching the life get beat out of me, and as I looked at her, covered with grease and honey, I didn’t want to cause her any more grief than she already had coming.

  “Ya done now, whore? ’Cause we kin keep this up as long as ya kin!” VanScoy snarled.

  I couldn’t respond because both of my lips were cut open and swelling, along with every other part of my face, and I envisioned myself as looking like the elephant man right about then. I saw Big Al grab one of the buckets again, and I pretended to pass out.

  “Damn it,” I heard the sheriff yell. “Git some water and throw it on her. I tole y’all I want her awake for the welcomin’. Who the fuck hit her in the head so hard, anyways?”

  I didn’t hear anyone answer, but felt the cold water being dumped on my face. Since I’d anticipated it, I did my best not to jump when it was thrown on me, and still lay there with my eyes closed. I heard the sheriff tell someone he had some smelling salts in his Mustang, inside the first-aid kit, and to go get them.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to lie still when those were put to my nose, but I was at least buying some time. Some time for what? I thought. No one is going to save me; maybe it’s best that I just cooperate and get it over with.

  As I’d predicted, I jerked my head back when Eddie broke the salt pack under my nose, unable to keep up my charade.

  “There now,” VanScoy ordered, satisfied. “Let’s sit her up and git her ready.”

  Tim and Stuart were already pulling me up again, dragging me closer to Andrea, before sitting me upright and grabbing their buckets. When they poured the grease over me, I let out a scream like I’d never let out before. The grease was hot, very hot, and I had open cuts all over my face and head that the grease got into. This time, I honestly had to keep myself from passing out, but I couldn’t keep myself from vomiting.

  “Whewee!” laughed Big Al, “I guess ya had ya some bad FBI dick, didn’t ya, whore? Give ya dick poisonin,’ did it?”

  They continued to laugh while Tim squirted the honey all over me, which actually helped to ease the pain a little, since the honey was cool. I still couldn’t imagine what part hamburger grease and honey played in this little party of theirs, but I bet it was best that I didn’t know until the last possible minute.

  When they were all finish
ed, Big Al and Eddie grabbed my arms while Tim and Stuart grabbed Andrea’s, dragging us both over to the fire pit. They are going to burn us!, I thought.

  But this still didn’t explain the grease and honey, unless in West Virginia they were both known as crude fire accelerants, which was a distinct possibility. As I neared the edge of the fire pit, I heard a sound coming from the middle of it. I wasn’t close enough to see over the edge yet, but it sounded like squeaking and squirming. What the hell is that?, I wondered as they stopped me, while taking Andrea and placing her on the top piece of plywood, directly on the edge of the fire pit.

  Andrea, who had quieted down significantly until then, looked inside the fire pit and began screaming, loud. Every nerve ending in my body came alive. I didn’t want to see what Andrea was screaming at, so I closed my eyes. As soon as they were closed, Eddie smacked me hard on the side of my head.

  “Open yer eyes, girlie,” he said, breathing hard. “I’ll be damned if ya miss all this. It’s the best part!”

  Eddie and Big Al began dragging me to the opposite side of the pit, where another piece of plywood rested on top, with a small ramp to the side of it.

  “Now, walk up there, girlie, and kneel down like the big mouth is doin,” Big Al said, still holding my arm.

  My legs felt like rubber, and I was shaking so badly I literally crawled up the ramp and took my place on the plywood. Only when I was ordered to kneel and sit upright, did I look inside the fire pit, which brought forth a scream that was so foreign to me I wasn’t sure came from my own mouth at all.

  It wasn’t a fire pit, but a well, one that had been filled in with dirt until it was only about twenty feet deep—seventeen feet deep, if you included the three extra feet that the hundreds of rats took up. The rats were crawling all over each other, shrieking and squirming. These were all extremely large rats, too.

  More things came together for me then. They’d planned this long ago, leaving the dead rats at my house, mailing one to me at work, all leading up to this. My mind could barely comprehend what I was looking at, and worse, what they were planning to do with us.