The Outkast

by Craig Thomas

  Holly hugged herself, as if trying to ward off some internal chill that had vowed to take up residence in her bones. And Brian could read the harrowing horror of the agony written all over her gaunt face. “If that’s the next thing you’ve chosen to do,” she said with a voice laced with tremor, “then, why not? I mean, it’s not like I can obstruct the flow of investigative procedures.”

  She walked past Brian even as she spoke, and was out of the reading room.

  They followed her.

  ******

  Robert Smallwood curled up in bed, a tiny figure almost completely submerged under the blanket. Although thought of as the young serial killer, he could conveniently pass for an embodiment of perfect contradiction to the prevalent sentiment, considering the peace and quiet that surrounded him in his cozy, dimly lit bedroom. Or, at least, so Brian thought.

  Brian stood beside Holly, about two feet away from Robert’s bed. He closed in and gingerly touched a bump formed underneath and along the edge of the blanket—another book, Ekron Temple, also by Robert’s favorite author. The lad had developed a profound literary crush on Orobbs Porter, no doubt.

  Apparently, Robert had gone to sleep in the middle of reading Ekron Temple, and it was bookmarked three-quarter way into the story with a sharp metallic letter opener.

  Brian grabbed the opener, flipped it over, and did a quick check of the blade, looking for a giveaway.

  Nothing.

  When he cast a glance backwards over his shoulder, what he saw in Holly’s eyes spoke volumes even before she opened her mouth.

  “There’s no blood on it, Sheriff Stack,” Holly said, curling her lip. “And no dead bodies, either. Are you satisfied? Have you found what you’re looking for, or do you wanna linger a bit and look around some more?”

  Brian started to say something, but Holly walked out on him. She went into her room, locked the door, and left them out there.

  They called out to her that they were leaving.

  She ignored them.

  ******

  Outside, the drizzle had been upgraded to a veritable downpour. Lightning flashed, making multiple cracks along the face of the momentarily illuminated sky.

  The Sheriff’s cruiser was parked about ten yards away. They ran across the road like two drunken flamingos, zigzagging along as they tried to avoid this puddle only to end up stepping in that.

  Behind the wheel, Brian thought about how much surprise remained—about how much the entire drama was poised to spill out when it was all said and done.

  Chapter 8

  Friday, August 14

  At a quarter of eight in the morning, Brian was sorting through a stack of files on his desk when a rap issued from his office door.

  “Yes?” he said, and looked up as the door was eased ajar.

  Deputy Allan Moore poked his head through the narrow space. “I have nothing against early-morning appointments with civilians, Sheriff. But when it involves a disdainful asshole of a man, and especially when I’m the one who has to fill in for some sick secretary to deal with such a douche, then I ain’t no game for such shit.”

  “Close the door, Allan,” Brian said. “Calm down, step inside, and close the door.”

  Allan did.

  “Who’s it this time?”

  “Donnie … says he’s got an appointment to see you. And I get it, but he needs to learn a bit of patience if he wants to get past a lot of obstacles in life.”

  Brian frowned.

  Allan quickly added, “Just saying I don’t appreciate his “right-now” attitude. Not a bit.”

  “Appointment with Donnie?”

  “Yeah,” Allan said. “Weren’t you expecting him?”

  Brian sat back in his chair, fingers interlocked. “Not really,” he said, casting a glance at Allan, whose features had changed and begun to speak volumes even before his mouth opened to seal the deal. “I haven’t scheduled any appointment with him yet.”

  “Awesome,” Allan said, turning around to stomp back out of the office. “I’ve always known he’s a good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch.”

  “What’d you plan doing now?”

  “Going to order him to leave right away and go make a genuine appointment. Only then can he return to drive me nuts.”

  “And if he didn’t leave?”

  “I’d suppose somebody might be itching for a lock-up in that case.”

  Brian laughed. “Sounds a tad personal to me.”

  “Oh, it is. Very much so. He’ll never pray for our paths to cross again when I’m done with him.” Allan was at the door, turning the knob.

  “You didn’t happen to get up on the wrong side of the bed today by any chance, did you?”

  Allan couldn’t help but smile a little in spite of his current mood. “I almost always do.”

  “Relax, you don’t need to kick him out,” Brian cautioned. “You know … it’s funny.”

  Hand still perched on the doorknob, Allan turned around. “What is?”

  “I actually made a list last night.” Brian moved forward in his seat, shoving a sheet of paper to the edge of the desk for Allan to see. “This contains the names of the people I intend to contact before the day expires. His name tops the list.”

  “Donnie’s?” Allan was back at Brian’s desk.

  “That’s right.”

  Allan skimmed through the list with disinterest and slid it back towards Brian, as if in a speedy dismissal of such an exonerating point. “That still doesn’t offer him a carte blanche to act like he has a couple screws loose.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s in Donnie’s make-up to be impatient, rash, and even unreasonable every so often. Let him in. I’ll handle the rest.”

  ******

  “Arrest the boy and send him to the juvenile detention right away? Why’re you suggesting this, Donnie?” Brian asked for the second time. “There’s an ongoing investigation, as you’re well aware of. Men are working round the clock to unveil every mystery surrounding Robert Smallwood’s case. So, what do you mean by ‘justice must not go unapplied?’”

  “Yes, Sheriff Brian,” Donnie said, rubbing his balding head customarily. “I understand every bit of what you’ve said so far, which is why I believe we’re speaking the same language, as evident in—”

  “Not sure we are,” Brian cut him short. “To be honest with you, we actually aren’t. Listen—we need to follow protocols, Mr. Murphy. But if you’re suggesting we cut corners and play it fast in the name of letting justice have its way …” Brian finished his statement with a shake of his head.

  “That idea sits well with me, Sheriff. I’m not interested in cutting corners any more than you do. Never been an exponent of such degrading act.”

  “Good, I’m glad to know that.” Brian sat back in his chair.

  “I’m also proud of you for following protocols. That’s why the people voted you in at the outset. One can always rest assured you’ll get the job done very well. However, Sheriff Stark,” Donnie said, but then paused, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the door, as if wary of a possible eaves-dropper.

  “However what?” Brian asked, leaning forward in his seat, wondering where all of this was heading to.

  “I suppose I’m attempting to observe that, in spite of everything you’ve said regarding your position on this matter, we should be extremely vigilant. There’s a very dark evil living among us, and we can’t afford to let our guards down at any point in time. That’s like offering the roofs of our houses up for the arsonists to set ablaze.”

  Brian said nothing. He only propped his chin against his palm and watched as the man whom Allan would have thrown out of the department spat out gibberish from the plethora of his brainless reservoir.

  Donnie cast one more glance behind him. Then, assuming a conspiratorial posture as he leaned forward a bit over Brian’s desk, he whispered, “Have you even heard a thing about the boy’s mother, Sheriff? And I don’t mean by dint of police investigation, because there’s actually no n
eed for one—not when the stories about her are so obvious and widespread even a toddler can pick up a clear picture of what her life is made up of. Have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. Fill me in, please.”

  “Really?”

  “Really what?”

  “That not even a bit has filtered through to you—in this close-knit, small town.”

  “Well, I haven’t. But now that you’ve broached the matter, could you be a sport and let me in on it?”

  “Sure, why not?” Donnie adjusted his bulky backside in his seat. It was time for the real business. “This isn’t just me telling you this, Sheriff. It’s the joint voice of the people talking to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Been flying around for a while now—the issue of people living every single second of their lives in fear, without having any rest of mind,” Donnie said, seeming to play it the mealy-mouthed way at first, but then decided calling a spade a spade would serve the occasion much better. “She killed Charles Smallwood. That woman murdered her own husband in cold blood.”

  “Wow,” Brian said.

  “Yeah, that’s right. It wowed us all, too—when we learned of it. But that isn’t everything.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Oh, no. It’s just the beginning.” Donnie swallowed, preparing to keep the words of revelation rolling off his lips without any impediment. To Brian, the potbellied man appeared to be having a whale of a time divulging the clandestine handiworks of the ‘evil lady.’ “It’s been found out that she committed similar atrocities against the two men that came ahead of Charles, whom she called husbands.”

  “Murdered them, too?”

  “Correct. Murdered them and thought she could bury the secrets forever.”

  “But she should’ve understood better,” Brian said. “She should’ve known the truth would out at some point. It almost always does.”

  “Oh, not within her own assessment. A wicked woman destined for a massive shame and destruction just at the peak of her evil carrier couldn’t have seen beyond her heart, a place that is nothing but absolute darkness.”

  “Hmm … appropriately put,” Brian observed. “I must acknowledge I didn’t sniff around hard enough on the case, which explains why I never had access to this golden piece of info that was supposedly at my disposal. A man in my office couldn’t be disappointed in himself any more than I am at present—disappointed for letting my people down.”

  “It’s all right. That’s why I’m here. Now that you’re in the know, it’s time you acted with great speed. Holly’s hell-bent on wiping this peaceful community out, and she’s started doing so in dribs and drabs, one man at a time, until every soul is consumed. But we can’t let her.”

  Brian shook his head. “Not in a million years. I’ll see to doing everything within my power to stop her before she gets too far.”

  “Awesome,” Donnie said, brimming with exhilaration. “While you’re investigating the case of the little boy, who has been a kingpin of his mother’s heinous company for a while, I’d suggest you do an even more intense one on Holly herself.”

  Brian kept on nodding, like a man completely enthralled by another’s profound rationality.

  “I really don’t want to appear unreasonably outspoken, Sheriff—but allow me to say she’s the real brains behind Trevor Carter’s murder.”

  “No, you’re not unreasonably outspoken. In fact, you’re not outspoken at all. You’re only presenting the case in its true light. I’m really appreciative of your effort to make things right.”

  Donnie relaxed in his seat.

  “So,” Brian said, “why on God’s green earth are you doing this?”

  Donnie tensed, building an instant scowl that spread widely across his features. Apparently, the question hit a raw nerve. It made him appear somewhat thrown

  Brian proceeded. “I mean, what’s your gain in this bold venture? What do you intend to obtain when it’s all over?”

  Speechless, Donnie shook his head slowly, still wearing the big frown, as if he was in great shock that such an irrelevant question had been posed at a moment when he should have scored big.

  “Come on, Donnie. There’s gotta be something in it for you.”

  “There’s nothing in it for me,” Donnie snapped, having found his tongue at last. “My interest only lies in the well-being of my people—your people. I’ve come to let you know she’s gone to town on killing more people. My interest—my gain, as you’ve put it—is the people’s safety.”

  “And you’ve done a marvelous job telling me. No one could’ve done it better. There’s an opening in the department—as you might have gathered, since you hear and see a lot. Deputy Todd Kilgore is leaving. You might want to step in his shoes so you could express your true devotion to your beloved town more effectively.”

  Donnie recoiled, lowering his gaze.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about Rob, but not about the rubbish you’ve been spouting since you stepped in through the door.”

  Donnie grunted.

  “Saying stuff like this, based on mere hearsays that are largely unfounded, can easily land you in jail.”

  “I can provide witnesses—sure witnesses, who will—”

  “What’d you know about Robert Smallwood?” Brian cut him short. “What’re the possible challenges he might have been going through?”

  “There are no challenges besides the ones common to every student. Not that I know of, anyway.”

  “Common challenges like what?”

  Donnie shrugged. “The common experience. The teenager’s inevitable struggle to keep from being unruly and stay obedient. Some of them—a fairly good number—also struggle with their academic works. Stuff like that, you know.”

  “How’re his academic and extracurricular standings?”

  “No great shakes, but there’re worse kids in his class.”

  “Does he get bullied by other students capable of such act?”

  “No.”

  “You ever observed he’s lonely, Donnie? Has there ever been a time you noticed the boy might have been thrown out of the walls of the school and left forgotten in the cold—in a manner of speaking?”

  “No.”

  “Not even on a single occasion?”

  “I’ve never made such an observation, Sheriff. Not even once.”

  Brian realized the acting principal’s replies were coming really fast—too fast—and he had stopped meeting Brian’s gaze as he spoke. He had also become taciturn since the switch of subject. “Well, one can safely assume the boy’s never suffered a bout of loneliness at any point in time while at school. Is that correct?”

  “Maybe, maybe not—I don’t know. It’s pretty hard for me to give any reliable reports on what the boy has or hasn’t suffered. The things I know, I’ve already shared.”

  The things Donnie knew were wrapped in his effort to cast aspersions on the personalities of Holly and her son. Brian didn’t bother about that aspect of their talk. It had been rendered a forgotten territory. “How so? Why’s making a dependable report such a difficult task?”

  “I’m not the one directly responsible for the boy. Don’t even teach his class any subject. Cheryl Ferguson and Blake O’Neal might be the suitable pair to help you in that regard.”

  “Oh, sure—I understand that,” Brian said. “I get it you’re in the towering office, attending to things much more important than babysitting one irrelevant boy. But I thought perhaps—just perhaps—there might have been at least one instance where coincidence had played itself out, allowing you a glimpse into the boy’s world, even amidst your super-busy schedule.”

  Donnie didn’t utter a word. He kept his gaze on the floor.

  “Do you care for every single kid at your school, Donnie? I mean, besides nourishing them academically, do you really look after them every step of the way to sufficiently familiarize yourself with what they’re going through, as though they were your children?”

  Donnie looked u
p, face burning with anger. “Of course, I do. Isn’t that supposed to be my duty?”

  “Sounds a bit contradictory to me, but it’s all right. I must say I’m glad to hear you’re willing to do that which is expected. On that note, I’d like to ask a favor of you before letting you go.”

  Donnie cocked his head to one side, a funny posture akin to a dog waiting for its master to drop a rejected drumstick for its own lovely consumption. “I’m all ears.”

  “I want you to keep your eye on Rob henceforth. I want to know what goes on between him and every other student he comes in contact with when he gets back to school.”

  Donnie’s eyes widened. “When he gets back to school?” he said. “You dropping the charges against him, Sheriff?”

  “I’m not dropping any charges because none has been preferred against him in the first place. Not yet, Donnie. And if it would make you feel a little better, I’d say he might be locked up like a monster he is at the end of the day. Or he might escape it and rejoin your company. I don’t know—let’s wait to find out. In the meantime, if he gets back to school, keep your eye on him.”

  Chapter 9

  He was an outcast—The Outcast.

  He had no friends, just enemies.

  Well, that wasn’t purely true. He had one friend, who made his heart leap for joy, warts and all. He was his only True Blood. And he would kill anyone who got in the way of either him or his True Blood.

  Now, Sheriff Brian Stack had begun to poke his nose where it didn’t belong, doing everything to interfere with The Outcast’s noble assignment. He and his deputies had commenced investigation, hoping to find an adequate explanation for the enigma surrounding the recent murders. But they would get none—adequate or not. In lieu of an answer, they would be inundated with more questions—more riddles to solve. They would continue to lose sleep and keep worrying at it till they saw their lives fade away. He would stop at nothing. The killing spree had just begun. Soon, he would hit again.

  The Sheriff was on his hit list, somewhere down there, but The Outcast would drag him up and make him breathe his last on a timely fashion. The fool had been messing around a little too much. Very soon, he would be licked away by the fury of The Outcast. He would be no more.