When James heard the knocking at his front door, he stopped piling old firebricks against the walls. He didn't know if they were enough to stop a bullet but he had no other ideas. The knocking continued. He placed the brick in his hand against the wall and went to the back of his trailer. A rapid survey of the back yard revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Carrying his shotgun, he went out the back door. He peered around the corner of the trailer prepared for anything but Lori. He tried to speak but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he finally got out, "Hello?"
Lori jumped when she heard the voice from her side.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. I've had some trouble so I've had to be careful checking who was at my door."
"I heard... "
Lori broke the awkward silence, "I've got good news. The union is filling charges against Shermon and Kawalski. Our lawyer, Sandra, thinks the State might even file criminal charges of blackmail against them... "
"That's good news but I'm not sure if that will help me much. I think I'm out of teaching. The district will never hire me back. With Jenny dead, I'll always have an open record of an investigation of having sex with a minor. The new background-check laws mean that no school will hire me."
"Jenny's dead? What happened?"
"You heard about the body found in Deer Lake Falls?"
"Yes."
"That was Jenny. It was pretty bad, and her being seventeen and all, they aren't releasing her name. I found out because Hakanen talked to me."
"Who's Hakanen?"
"Oh, Henry is the deputy sheriff handling Jenny's complaint against
me."
"They don't think you did it, do they?" For some reason, the thought that anyone would suspect James of murder bothered Lori more than Jenny's death. At the time, Lori dismissed her thoughts, because Jenny was a bitchy girl who always had a snide comment. But later that night, Lori would spend hours wondering if her dismissal of Jenny's death and her worry for James meant more.
"No. Henry stopped by to warn me." James hesitated. He didn't want to alarm Lori. "He thought when the reporters found out about her murder, they might track me down." His own explanation sounded lame to him but he realized the Lori was still in shock about hearing of Jenny's murder. He dropped his explanation with a pause.
"Thanks for telling me about the suits against Shermon and Kawalski.
But you'd better leave now. Those kids that attacked me might come by or maybe that preacher might hear about you being here by somebody driving by." James had walked up to her and was trying to lead her back to her car. He was having trouble leading her away. She smelled good. He hadn't remembered how good a woman can smell to a man. He had forgotten until now how, when he had been courting his ex-wife in college, he would bury his face in her hair to catch her fresh clean scent beneath the smell of her perfume. As he walked her to her car, he kept stumbling. Somehow the hand he was using to guide her to her car kept interfering with his walking.
Lori pulled away. "No. I don't care if they know I came here!"
"But I care."
The sadness in that statement stopped her. Before she recovered, she was in her car and he was walking away, his shoulders slumped. Lori drove away. She made it back to her apartment despite the tears that she couldn't understand clouding her eyes.
* * * *
The killer snuck into the school's bus garage and stole a sledgehammer from in back. He was going to kill Jenny's pimp. The sledge was for any of the pimp's friends, if they were around.
The killer found Pike skulking in the back corner of the school parking lot waiting for the baseball team to finish practicing. Pike alertly scanned the parking lot for any cops. With both Arne and John still in jail, he was worried about being caught selling his little bits of _joy_ to the baseball team. Pike saw the killer approach but dismissed him as a _nobody_ just crossing the lot. As the killer continued to approach, Pike's thoughts changed to a new customer.
When the killer came closer, Pike heard the soft whisper, "I sure do miss talking to those young high school girls."
Pike's thoughts immediately turned to big money. Here was definitely any easy mark! He leaned close to offer a crude reply. Suddenly, something exploded in his midsection. As he gasped for air, sparks erupted between his eyes and then blackness.
The throbbing woke Pike slowly. He tried to move his hand to his throbbing head but nothing happened. As the agony in his head slowly retreated, new pains seeped in, shoulders ... elbows ... wrists ... groin ... knees. Slowly he realized he had to be dangling spread eagle, suspended by his ankles and wrists. He tried to open his eyes. They were crusted shut. He turned and twisted against his bonds trying to rub the crust from his eyes.
The pain increased, nearly bringing back the blackness.
Finally, his left eye was open. He saw blackness. A dull red glow came from the left. He turned dazed. It took him minutes before he associated the red glow with heat he now started to feel. An electric space heater! Cold, clammy everywhere else ... A basement? _Wait a minute! I'm naked!_
Pike slowly drifted in and out of consciousness for minutes, hours or days. His mind only registered the pain and the hot red glow. Insanity and terror slowly crept in.
He woke to the unbearable glare of a single light bulb suspended from the floor joists overhead. He heard a noise. Turning his head, he saw a scrawny old man he vaguely remembered from when there was light. The old man had placed a metal bucket on the concrete floor of the basement. It must have been the noise that awoke him. The old man had placed a bar of soap and a towel on a chair near the bucket and was removing his clothes. The old man looked at him. He smiled. His mouth moved and from a distance Pike heard, "Don't want to get my clothes dirty."
Pike watched as the scrawny old man turned away and walked to a workbench at the far wall. As he followed the scrawny man's steps, he saw the stairs and the faint glow from the ceiling where a doorway to the outside must be. Pike watched the glow. He forgot the old man until he heard, "We don't want you to bleed to death. No sir, we'z don't."
Pike jerked his head in pain to look at the old man who spoke those words. His vision blacked out for a moment. When it cleared, he saw the naked old man still smiling. In his hands was a small propane torch. Its flame was being played across the blade of a kitchen knife. The blade slowly turned a cherry red. Pike opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. He felt a searing pain between his legs. As darkness descended, he finally heard a noise. He knew he was screaming for his mouth was open but the noise he had heard was a girlish giggle from the old man.
An incessant humming woke Pike up. It seemed to take him forever to place the song. It was the theme from the _Brady Bunch_! He smelled burnt meat. Why was he at a barbecue? _"I must be drunk,"_ he thought. He opened his eye and watched the naked old man washing something dark off his body into a bucket. He remembered! He opened his mouth to scream but all that came out was a small croak.
The old man turned. "Awake. Your throat must be dry. Here." The old man brought a sodden corner of the towel he was using to Pike's mouth. A squeeze and foul tasting fluid dribbled in.
"Why?" softly cracked from Pike's mouth.
The old man gave him the same sickly smile he had before. As the old man dressed, Pike's eye caught a flash of light off the old man's shirt. His eye focused on the flashing object. A uniform shirt ... embroidery ... letters ... What does it say? B ... I ... L ... Oh, my God!
The old man still had a smile on his face. "I see you finally recognize me. Well, I'll have to talk to you more later. I have to get this in the refrigerator upstairs and get to work." The old man held up a small plastic wrapped bundle. "You know a person would think these would be bigger, being how proud you were about fucking so many girls." Giggling, he reached up and pulled the chain on the light bulb hanging from the joists.
Pike watched the old man's shadow as he turned and walked up the stairs. The door closed. All Pike had left was the dull red glow of the heater and a t
hroat so badly used that it could scream no more. Unconsciousness came as he tried to understand what the old man had done to him.
* * * *
_The light turns on. Again the hands reach for the deck of cards._
This time the card has a yellow orb with a face on it. A winding road twists under the orb. The road travels from a pond with a crayfish between two howling, frightened dogs and two gray towers to the dark distant hills.
_The hands hesitate, seemingly not wanting to extinguish the only light in the room. Finally, a_ *click* _and darkness._
CHAPTER 9: The Moon
Frank read over the forensic report from the crime lab. He knew that it was a preliminary report with more details coming later. He only got it this soon because the press had gotten ahold of the story of Jenny's death and they had been putting pressure on the state offices of the BCA. There had been large gaps in the report. He had called the coroner and the lab to try to fill in the holes. His biggest surprise had been the inclusion of a partial profile of the killer that had been requested from the FBI.
Frank waded through the techno talk slowly, listing the facts that he thought he could use. The estimated barbiturate and alcohol level in her body was enough to incapacitate her but not enough to render her completely unconscious. Since there was no trauma to her brain, it was felt she had been at least partially aware of what was happening when most of her blood was drained. There had been shearing marks on one of her ribs and a knife wound nicking her right lung. The pathologist felt that the killer had no medical skill and had used a set of heavy-duty shears, like metal snips, to cut open her rib cage. The killer had then removed, at least, her heart. To mask the removal of the heart he had cut her open with the chain saw. The pathologist believed this because she could find no cardiac tissue in the body. She had found trace tissues of all the other major organs except the heart in the body cavity. The pathologist had noted that a chain saw would shred tissue, carry some tissue in its teeth and throw pieces back into the wound when the chain came around again. No fiber analysis or analysis of the chain saw cut had been completed yet. There had been nothing of significance found under her fingernails and no semen had been found in or on her body.
The FBI profile had even less information, White male in his twenties or thirties, highly intelligent, a loner, asexual, abusive parents ... He lusted for notoriety and probably had copies of all the newspaper reports of the girl's death. He was antisocial...
Frank decided to give Henry a call. He needed local knowledge. He knew that he could trust Henry. This case was a career breaker. Frank looked out his motel window. Two TV news trucks were parked outside. He would have to meet Henry somewhere private.
* * * *
The old man had a headache. He had such a rush from cutting on Pike he couldn't relax afterwards. He had called a couple of friends and they had gone drinking. They had closed the bar they had gone to, five full hours of beer and whiskey. The old man went to the office and rummaged in a desk until he found a bottle of aspirin.
When the old man got off work, he prepared for his next visit with Pike. He got to the basement and found Pike gone. His body was still there and he was breathing but his eye was vacant. The old man prodded and cut him. Pike's mind didn't come back. A zombie's body just dangled from the floor joists. The old man felt tears flow. It was nearly over. Pike had gone too fast. Next time...
* * * *
Henry was worried. He reviewed his case notes and the information he had gotten from Frank. In the back of his mind he knew that something was missing, or wrong, in the information. Pike Borland was missing. He had to fit in the equation somewhere, but how? What did Jenny's complaint about Makinen have to do with her death? The events didn't logically fit together, yet they must.
He walked over to the window and looked out into the night. He sensed a presence in the darkness. He had looked out this window and watched kids play. Three winters ago a moose had trotted across this yard and last spring a small bear had ambled into view. Tonight he could see nothing but he knew something black matching the darkness of the night was out there.
Then Henry realized his mistake. The killer wasn't logical. He might be legally sane but his thoughts followed an insane path. Henry needed more information. He would have Al stick with the news reporters around the school. Everything seemed to be linked with the school. Al would have to take notes on everything happening at the school. Al looked like a reporter. Reporters got different information than police. He would ask Frank to run background searches on everyone that had access to the school. He would start interviewing people in and around their homes.
Henry wished he knew more about the crazies. Maybe when he talked to Frank about the background searches, Frank could give him some ideas about how serial killers thought. There, he'd said it. Could this be the work of a serial killer?
* * * *
Kawalski burst into Shermon's office. His immediate ranting was stopped when he saw the subpoena on Shermon's desk. Shermon was talking on the phone. His hand was raised, silencing Kawalski. It took a few minutes for Joe to realize that Shermon was talking to the district's lawyer.
Shermon put the phone down. "The school board members also received subpoenas. Joe, they have a tape of you trying to put the moves on Waithe. My God, Joe. Twenty years after Nixon and you never thought about a tape recorder?"
"How was I suppose to know? It worked before... "
"Joe, go home. Pretend that everything is fine. If you have anything else going on, just stop it." When Shermon saw Joe starting to say something he continued, "Hold it. Don't tell me or anybody else anything, just quit whatever plans you have. I will be talking to the district's lawyer tomorrow. I'll call you then. Remember, nothing to anybody."
They continued talking for a short time before Kawalski left. Shermon decided that it was time to cut his losses and run. A little pressure on the school board and he would get a favorable recommendation. It would be easy enough to put everything on Kawalski. A few backdated letters in Kawalski's file, questioning his ability and judgment ... The embezzling had been done through Kawalski's secretary, Amy.
Kawalski was big, mean and dangerous. The only problem Shermon saw was timing his betrayal so Joe would be in jail before he found out he was set up. But then, that should be easy. After all, Joe was pretty stupid.
Shermon leaned back in his chair. Where to go next? The South. He'd had enough of the cold winters. Besides, the South was notorious for poor State monitoring of the schools. It would be easy to start his own fiefdom. Why had he waited this long here?
* * * *
_There is impatience in the hands as they reached for the next card. When they reach the deck, the hands hesitate. They had turned over the Hermit and the Moon. Would the next card be even worse? The card is flipped._
Eight staffs with green leaves sprouting from their sides fly across a green landscape.
_The hands relax. The light is extinguished._
CHAPTER 10: The Eight of Wands
Lori woke Saturday morning, head throbbing, body weak and limp. Her sodden nightgown stuck to her flesh. The sweat-stained garment would pull away from her body when she moved, immediately causing tremors of chills to travel to her throbbing head.
In the bathroom, Lori took two Tylenol. She turned the shower on hot. She stood shivering on the cold tile floor waiting for the steam to rise from the shower. After Lori felt the heat roll from the shower, she threw her sodden gown to the floor and stepped in. Under the hot spray, she leaned into the wall and waited for the streaming water to soak into her body.
As the Tylenol and hot water slowly worked on her throbbing head, Lori was able to think back over her night. She had twisted and rolled and turned until her bed covers had pulled loose. She had opened her eyes to watch the red digital clock change from one to two to three o'clock. She had drifted into a fretful sleep and would wake to sadness. Finally, when the sky started to turn pink, she had fallen into a sound sleep. When
she woke, before she had moved, she remembered the essence of a dream, sadness and being all alone. She had moved and her head exploded in throbbing pain.
Lori took a bar of soap and slowly started to lather. As her hands traveled over her body, a face to the sadness appeared in her mind, James. It took Lori a while for her to realize her hands were doing more than washing her body as she soaked under the hot water. She left the shower more confused than when she entered.
Lori dressed, and made breakfast. She turned the Saturday morning cartoon shows on, anything to escape the sadness. Nothing worked. She thought about calling her father but didn't. She thought about shopping or calling friends. Finally, she got into her car to drive to her father's. Suddenly she realized, she had turned the wrong way on the road.
Lori knocked on James' door. She turned to watch him appear around the corner of the trailer. She saw the sad loneliness in his eyes that had kept her from sleep last night.
Lost in their despondency she said, "We need to talk."
She entered the trailer and saw the walls of the living room had been lined with old firebrick up to the height of about three feet. The unusual
sight of broken brick lining the inside of a room gave an eerie desolation to the trailer. The stark bareness of the room with the mismatched furniture broke down her last restraint. She started to cry. Wrapped in the misery that engulfed her, she felt an arm go around her. Behind the tears she couldn't stop, she felt herself being guided to the floor. Sitting there her back touching the cold bricks, she gave up trying to control her tears and buried her face into Jim's shoulder.
The Duce of Pentacles Page 6