“Honestly, Stu, do we look stupid?” Quinn asked.
“Well, we might actually look stupid,” Janus said. “We just aren’t.”
“There is no way you can force that camera out of his hands,” Quinn said. “Are you going to accidentally break it or something? I would think you would know by now how to treat the press. But if not, let me give you a tip: Stop being an asshole.”
“That’s it,” Stu said. “You three are all coming with me.”
“Right, throwing us in jail will improve the sheriff’s reputation in town?” Kate asked.
“Let me put it this way,” Stu said. “You guys are at a crime scene. You are interfering with police business. You’ve been taking unauthorized photos.”
“Unauthorized?” Janus asked. “Since when is a newspaper photographer taking photos of a crime scene unauthorized? Give me a fucking break.”
“Look, you little English shit,” Stu said. “I’ve had it with you. All of you. You’re coming down to the station.”
Kate pulled out her own notebook and started writing everything down.
“First of all, I’m not fucking English,” Janus said. “I’m Welsh. There is a huge difference. For example, you are probably English by blood. It’s the only way to explain your looks. And blind stupidity.”
Stu crossed over to him.
“Gentlemen,” Quinn said. “This is getting a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”
“Another time, Janus,” Stu said. “You and I should have a man-to-man talk.”
“Cut the macho bullshit,” Kate said. “If you want to have us down at the station, we are happy to go.”
“We are?” Janus asked.
“Sure,” Kate said. “But we want a meeting with Sheriff Brown.”
“It’s just past six in the morning…” Stu said.
“I’m sure he is in,” Kate said. “You just tell him we want to talk.”
“Lady, whoever you are, there is no way he will talk to you,” he said. “If you think you can trespass onto a crime scene and then win yourself an exclusive interview, you’ve been drinking from the same water as these two.”
“Just tell him we want to talk about the message found inside the house,” Kate said and pointed.
Stu looked at the cops around him. He paused for a moment and licked his lips.
“What message?” he asked. “We don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Did you think I would stay away forever?” she said.
Stu’s jaw practically came unhinged and he stood there for a moment with his mouth open. Janus grinned at Quinn.
Stu stood still, until finally he sent the other cops away.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said finally.
“Sure you don’t,” Kate said. “Now how about that meeting?”
Stu pushed his tongue out to his cheek and considered.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
Brown was waiting for them in his office.
“This is ridiculous,” he said, before any of them sat down. “I will not have members of the press interfering in police business.”
“And what, exactly, did we do?” Janus asked.
“You were trampling all over a crime scene,” he said. “You were attempting to enter a residence…”
“We attempted to look inside,” Quinn said. “There is a difference, you know.”
“Is there?” Brown said. Stu shut the door behind them. “I want you three to know I’m lodging a complaint with your editor.”
“Go ahead,” Quinn said.
He picked up his notebook and started writing in it.
“What are you writing down?” Brown demanded.
“This conversation,” Quinn replied. “I need to record it for my article.”
“You are not going to write an article about any of this,” Brown said.
“So you’re the editor now?” Janus asked.
“This is ridiculous,” Brown said.
“Call it whatever you like,” Kate said. “The return of Lord Halloween is big news.”
Brown appeared more flustered than ever.
“That is patently absurd,” he said.
“Is it?” Kate asked. “You lied to us about Mary Kilgore. Her husband was off with another woman at the time of her death. And he didn’t stick a knife through her chest with a note on it.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” he said.
“It ought to be pretty apparent I’m not, Sheriff,” she said. “I know a lot more than you think I do. We knew about Fanton, didn’t we? We know about the note on Kilgore’s body and I know about the note in the house today.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Brown demanded.
“You covered up Mary Kilgore’s murder and I bet he didn’t like that one bit, did he?” Kate continued as if she had not been interrupted. “So he’s going to make damn sure nobody misses the point now. The man likes his publicity…”
“He’s dead,” Brown said. “Holober’s dead.”
“Come on, Sheriff,” she said. “Do you think people will still believe that when news of Mary Louise Fanton’s death is released? Do you think you can just hide in denial, watch the bodies pile up and hope no one will notice?”
“There is nothing to deny,” he said.
“Do you really believe that?” she asked. She stared at him for a moment. “My God, you really do, don’t you? Then what? This guy is just a copycat?”
“It’s possible,” Brown said and then shut his mouth. “Never mind. The point is we don’t know Ms. Fanton has been murdered.”
“But I’m right about the note, aren’t I?” Kate asked. “It referenced the earlier one. We’ve done our research. What he wants is publicity. If you deny it to him, it makes him madder. And people will be walking around unprotected.”
“What you are suggesting would start a panic, mass hysteria,” Brown replied.
“Sheriff, people have the right to know,” Kate said. “If you tell the truth, panic may come, but at least people will have a fighting chance to defend themselves.”
“By locking themselves away again?” he asked. “By instilling a curfew? I’m not going to let this happen again.”
“If that is what it takes,” she said. “But you can’t just bury your head in the sand. It will only get worse.”
“How in the hell could it get worse?” Brown asked.
“Your family, Sheriff, how safe are they?”
“How dare you?” Brown yelled. “That sounds like a threat.”
“He’s killed cop’s families before-remember?” Kate said quietly.
Brown paused for a moment.
“My family is perfectly safe,” he said, but he paused for a moment. “This is absurd. Just go. Get out. If you print any of this, you’ll regret it. It would be irresponsible to cause this kind of panic.
“And I’m going to call your editor,” Brown added as an after-thought.
“Call away,” Kate said. “At the very least, we have a missing persons case. And how much longer is your story on Kilgore going to keep? How much longer before someone finds out that you faked documents?”
“You’re crazy, you know that,” he said. “You come in here with a lot of guesses and no facts. You make false accusations so you can get a headline. I don’t play that game. This is a police investigation. I have nothing more to say.”
“Did you think he would stay away forever, Sheriff Brown?” Kate said as she turned to leave.
“Get out. Now.”
And the three of them walked out.
When they got outside the building, Quinn and Janus both stared at Kate.
“That was amazing,” Janus said. “I thought I would be the one to piss him off, but good Christ…”
“Are you okay?” Quinn asked and started to touch her shoulder.
She shook her head.
“Far from it,” she said and stepped away from him. “Because of Brown, that bastard go
t away. And now he is living in some dream world while the body count is increasing. It’s just two now, but there will be more. There may already be more. Each second we waste…”
“I know,” Quinn said. “I know. But what if it isn’t the same guy? What if it is some kind of copycat?”
“It’s not,” Kate said. “I feel it. I just have an instinct about this.”
Quinn thought about telling her Dee’s story, but dropped it. He would sound crazy. They had a real demon to pursue. He couldn’t focus on phantoms. But Dee saw it…
Quinn pushed the thought away.
“I believe you,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s get in touch with Kyle and find out what he can get from the police. By Tuesday, Brown will be having a press conference.”
“How do you know?” Janus asked.
“Because Lord Halloween is not subtle,” she said. “Fanton is probably dead and if they haven’t discovered her body yet, they soon will. And it won’t be in an obscure place. It will be out in the open. He will make sure no one can miss it this time.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Quinn said.
“Me too,” she said.
But she wasn’t.
Blackwell| Rob
A Soul To Steal
LH File: Letter #7
Date Oct. 19, 1994
Investigation Status: Closed
Contents: Classified
Mr. Anderson,
You see now the price of ignoring my wishes, don’t you? You can’t say I didn’t warn you. For this to work, I have to live in people’s minds. They have to see me everywhere. They have to fear me when they take out the trash, or close their eyes in the shower. They are doing that now, I know, but it would have been so much easier-for both of us-if you had just listened to me the first time. But you didn’t.
No, you played along, didn’t you? When the police told your editors what to do, you just did it. They wanted to keep me under wraps. That’s the way it’s always been with fear. Some people think they can just wish it away. But what you fear is always out there, Mr. Anderson. It’s always lurking behind your home, waiting for a moment to strike.
And I struck. You’ve seen just a taste of what I can do. There are eight bodies, but I’m just ramping up speed. I’m sorry about your girlfriend, I really am. Had you had sex yet, Mr. Anderson? I knew you were only just dating, after all. It would make me feel better to know that you had a chance to fuck her good and proper. Such a pretty girl.
I didn’t touch her, rest assured. Rape is so very pedestrian and then you get the feminists claiming all sorts of things about you, your mother and your local priest. But she had lovely brunette hair, those soft, dewy brown eyes and that figure. Oh, that figure was exquisite.
I have to say you were aiming up. Good for you! You have to always have ambitions in life-God knows I did. You can’t accept where other people would put you. So she was out of your class, you made a play and-voila! — you did it. You scored.
Of course, you also killed her. You do know that, right? She wasn’t on my list. Oh, who am I kidding, what list? But I didn’t have my eyes on her until you made me angry. I could have killed you, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I can get around to that any time I want, Mr. Anderson.
She didn’t call your name-I don’t want you beating yourself up about that. That could have been because I cut her throat and she was choking on her own blood, but you can never really tell, can you? She had a lot of blood too, Mr. Anderson.
It’s true she suffered a lot, but I will give you one passing comfort. She died well. So many don’t. There’s the screaming, the crying, the begging, the carrying on. As if I would stop. As if I would consider it. Please. But not your girl. She just sat back and took it. She accepted her fate. Hey, maybe she even wanted it, right? Some people are really sick in this world.
So where are we? Oh, I imagine you’re a little upset and you think you won’t do what I ask you to. We can play it that way if you want to. But there are other people you are close to, Mr. Anderson, and you can’t possibly protect them. So let’s do this my way from here on out and everyone can go home happy. Well, everyone except your little girlfriend. She lives in a box now and I don’t think happiness is on her agenda.
I want a full page spread. I want my name in bold face type. I want it to be all about me. You’ve had a run of good victim stories. Well, they’re done. It’s all about me now. Where am I going to strike next? Are your children safe? Why can’t the police stop me?
That’s what I want and that’s what you’ll give me.
Yours Truly,
Lord Halloween
Chapter 14
Wednesday, Oct. 18
Quinn stared at the headline for almost five minutes.
“Woman murdered in Leesburg,” it said.
It was simple enough, but it didn’t begin to tell the story. In fact, it looked too much like last week’s headline for his comfort.
But it wasn’t like last week, at least not to him. They had found Fanton’s body on Monday. As Kate had predicted, it was hard to miss. Fanton’s body was dumped sometime late Sunday night outside the courthouse. It had not been noticed until early the next morning. Though the police tried to play it down, the news traveled fast.
By Tuesday, there was a press conference. Few details. Unexplained murder. Brown denied a persistent rumor that Fanton’s head had been mailed to police headquarters. He suggested people were trying to panic the populace. Brown squashed any implication that it could have been the same murderer as a week before. He denied rumors of notes found on both bodies.
For now, at least, it appeared many people believed him. No businesses shut down. The Washington Pos t put the story on the front of their Metro section, but even they didn’t bump it to A1 status. On the surface, things seemed normal enough.
But Quinn sensed it all around him. By this morning, people were at least openly talking about the possibility that their long-lost murderer had come home. It had started. A few more bodies and panic would be close at hand.
He put his head on his desk. The bottom of their story made mention of a serial killer 12 years ago, but it didn’t attempt to draw any conclusions. There was no need.
“He won’t like the fact that he isn’t mentioned,” a voice said behind Quinn.
Quinn practically jumped in his chair. He turned around to see Buzz watching him.
“I didn’t see you come in, Buzz,” Quinn said.
“I like to make a stealthy entrance,” Buzz replied. “I don’t like people to know I’m around.”
“Is that where you are at staff meetings-lurking in the corners?” Quinn said.
“Sometimes,” Buzz said.
“Anyway, what are you talking about? Who wasn’t mentioned?”
“The story,” Buzz replied. “You refer to Lord Halloween’s murders, but you don’t mention his name. He won’t like it.”
“Well, I guess he can always write a letter to the editor,” Quinn said, hoping for a laugh. “’To the editor: I may be a psychotic madman, but I would appreciate your using my full name.’”
Buzz didn’t laugh.
“You think this is funny?” he said. “It’s not. He has ways of making his wishes known and though they involve notes, they aren’t exactly publishable.”
“I’m just kidding around.”
“He isn’t a joke,” Buzz said.
“Look, even if the guy wanted his name printed, that’s a reason not to do it,” Quinn said. “We don’t pander to madmen.”
Buzz waved his hand in disgust.
“Spare me the good journalism speech,” Buzz said. “If you don’t print his name, you wind up dead. You aren’t much good to anyone then.”
“Why are you so obsessed with him anyway?” Quinn asked.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Buzz asked. He looked around him. “He is ruthless, inventive, creative and intelligent. If you don’t study up on him, he might catch you napping.”
“Have you really?” Buzz asked. “Then I’m surprised you didn’t mention his name.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Kyle,” Quinn said. “He wrote most of it. I even suggested putting the nickname in there, but he thought it was too ‘provocative.’ This from a guy who thinks wrestling is high art.”
“Yes, well, as I said, he has ways of making his point known,” Buzz said.
“I know, like mailing a head to Sheriff Brown,” Quinn said. “I’ll be careful.”
“You’ll be dead,” Buzz said.
Buzz started to walk away before Quinn remembered. He burst out laughing and Buzz looked confused and then angry.
“No, Buzz,” Quinn said. “It’s a line from Star Wars, remember? Luke says, ‘I’ll be careful’ to some dude in the bar and then the guy says, ‘You’ll be dead.’”
“It’s not funny, Quinn,” Buzz said. “It isn’t like he hasn’t targeted reporters before-ones just as talented as you.”
“Hold up a second,” Quinn said. “What reporter did he target?”
But Buzz was starting to walk away in disgust. When Quinn caught up with him, he wheeled around.
“Everyone likes to make fun of me,” Buzz said. “You say I’m paranoid. And I am. But did you ever think I have reason to be? Tim was just a young reporter when he started here, but he was amazingly talented. I was a little envious, actually.”
“Tim?”
“Anderson,” Buzz said. “He came in just like you. Left college, wanted to write. Worked on the sports desk for two years and started doing general assignments. About a year before Lord Halloween showed up, Laurence moved him to the crime beat. And he was great at it.”
Quinn wasn’t laughing anymore.
“What happened?”
Buzz paused. He had a far away look on his face as if he wasn’t just remembering being back in 1994, but he was actually there.
“He started getting letters,” Buzz said. “I’m not sure when. It could have even been before the first murder.”
“What did they say?”
“I don’t know,” Buzz said. “Nobody here knows but Laurence and Ethan. Tim only ever shared them with those two.”
A Soul To Steal Page 18