Chapter 20
Marcus had dozed off shortly after he’d pulled Angie close. He awoke slowly and laid silent for a few minutes, content with listening to Angie’s breathing. Then, ever so carefully, he eased out from her grasp and slid out of bed.
He pulled on his pants and stood there watching her for a few minutes more. Then he grabbed his shirt and pulled that over his head, too, and made his way out into the kitchen. Laying on the table was his revolver. He didn’t know if he wanted it any longer.
He could have been lying. But in his heart he knew that West hadn’t been lying at all. He didn’t know anything about his father. So why does it matter if I’ve found out something about him that doesn’t mesh up with what I imagined him as?
Because what if I turn out like him?
Marcus shuddered at that thought.
I won’t.
But what makes us so different? How many people have I killed over the years? My wife, Mayor Copeland, Agent Lester. When will it stop? West? Or will I have to keep going further and further, doing anything to keep Angie and me safe?
Should I stay with her?
Or should I disappear? The law will come after me for those murders. I can find West. Kill him, and run. Keep Angie and our unborn child safe.
He made his way back to the bedroom and watched her for a few moments. He looked down in his hands. He’d unconsciously grabbed the revolver.
I could leave right now. Leave everything in Angie’s name. Maybe I could even turn myself in. Give myself up.
His thoughts were a jumbled mess as he made his way back down the hallway, unsure of what he should do next. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Angie – and he knew if he stayed with her, that’s exactly what would eventually happen.
I’m dangerous. Maybe I’m cursed. It doesn’t matter, though. She’ll suffer because of me. One way or the other.
He went outside and stood underneath the bright sunlight. The breeze was warm, the sun high overhead, and he walked down the sidewalk, crossed his driveway, and entered his little tool shed. He found an old lockbox and opened it up, dropping the revolver with a clang into it. Then he grabbed a rusted shovel and went outside.
Overlooking his twisting driveway was a line of trees. He selected one at random and walked over to it, dropping the lockbox on the ground and began digging. He dug until he had a hole sufficiently deep for the lockbox, then he set it inside, then filled the hole back up and tamped the ground down.
Somehow, he felt better – like he’d severed ties with a part of his life that he didn’t like.
Which isn’t even fair – I never knew my father. For all I know, West lied. But it doesn’t matter.
He stepped away from the hole, and satisfied that it was well hidden, he went back and put the shovel away. Then Marcus made his way down towards his cattle, which had made their way back to the trough looking for food.
He fed them and watched them eat for a few moments.
Why did I ever think I could make this work? I should have known it would never be possible.
Marcus went back inside, taking a look around his property.
Angie can have it all. She can raise our child here. It would be good for her. Safe. What I would have wanted.
He went back inside, grabbed the keys to the car, and took one last look at Angie. She was still sleeping peacefully, the warm breeze ruffling her hair.
Then Marcus left his house, intent on leaving it forever. But he had one stop to make, first. The Sheriff’s Department, another place he was sure he would never see again. He was going to sign everything over to Angie, write a letter stating what had happened with the FBI agents – leaving Angie out, of course – and placing the blame on West and his men. He knew it would never fly since all guns were aimed at Marcus, anyway, but it was the only chance he had to keep Angie and his child safe.
What is she going to think when she wakes up to find the FBI knocking at her door? Her car missing? Me gone, forever?
Will she be thankful that her life will finally be peaceful? Or will she resent me for the rest of her life, cursing my name, hating that she ever met me?
He suspected it would be the latter, though he hoped it wouldn’t.
He pulled up to the Sheriff’s Department and was unsurprised to find that the front door was unlocked. He’d suspected that West would return to the scene of the crime, after all – so he opened the door and prepared to step into the crime scene.
What he saw instead made his heart leap in his chest. He instinctively reached down for his sidearm – but it was buried, 10 miles away, in a lockbox.
He’d expected to enter the Sheriff’s Department and find the bodies of Lester and Waller laying on the floor, blood on the walls, the place a disaster.
He couldn’t have been further from the truth.
The table that had been overturned during the fight was slid up against the far wall, all papers, pens, and trays put back exactly where they had been before. The bullet holes had been filled in – unnoticeable even to Marcus’s keen eye. The blood that had spread across the floor and been splattered on the walls was gone, wiped clean.
But that wasn’t what really drew Marcus’s eyes.
On either side of the room, spaced evenly apart from each other and the walls, were the bodies of who he assumed were Lester and Waller – it was impossible to tell, because they had been skinned – hanging from the ceiling, a noose wrapped around their necks.
Marcus approached hesitantly, unsure of what he was seeing. He reached a hand out, tempted to touch one of the bodies, but resisted. Their bodies were completely drained: no blood dripped from beneath them and none had pooled underneath their bodies.
Who did this? West? That doesn’t make any sense.
Their clothes were gone, as were all of their possessions. The shattered cell phone was gone as well. The only thing left was their skinless, naked bodies on display.
Marcus walked past the bodies, unsure of why he was even doing it but unable to stop himself. He found himself going back into the holding cells, growing dread in the pit of his stomach. He heard – not felt – his heart hammering in his chest.
Inside of the back cell he saw something that didn’t surprise him in the slightest, though he couldn’t exactly say why.
He had found West.
He, too, was skinned and stripped down, and hung from the ceiling by the same type of rope as before. Marcus had wanted this man for himself – but he found that he was glad he was dead, even if he hadn’t been glad as to how it had happened.
Who could have done this? And why?
And then he knew exactly who had done it. After all, it had been on the news for the past few months. The serial killer had been moving steadily westward, killing as he went, skinning his victims.
Only… why did he choose these men? These Shifters?
He didn’t have time to ponder the question because he heard the door to the Sheriff’s Department opening and rapid footsteps coming into the building.
Who? But he didn’t have time to wonder that, either, because shouts of, “Get on the floor! Get down or I’ll shoot!” filled the air. Marcus dropped to his knees, placing his hands behind his head and lacing his fingers behind him. He prepared for the impact of the police officers as they tackled him to the ground, smashing his face onto the hard concrete floor. Then he felt the cold embrace of handcuffs on his wrist, the mutters of, “Jesus… who could do something like this…?” and then a few of the officers were kicking him in the ribs. He gasped in pain but didn’t say anything.
They hauled him bodily to his feet and he saw Officer Tancredi, the police officer Marcus had met in what seemed a lifetime ago, giving Marcus the most disgusted look he’d ever seen.
“I knew there was something wrong with you, boy,” Tancredi muttered, then slammed a fist into Marcus’s stomach. Marcus doubled over in pain and then felt a fist collide with his nose, shattering it. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought that both he and
Angie had broken noses. But the grin faded when Tancredi hit him in the stomach again. “Take him away.”
Marcus was yanked out of the cell room, then hauled through the main room of the Sheriff’s Department. He kept his eyes down, unwilling to glance at the dead bodies and the cops that were there watching him.
“Thought you could get away with this?” Tancredi asked, leading the way. Marcus just grimaced and kept his mouth shut. He wanted to remind Tancredi that he’d been in Charming the entire time these murders had been taking place – but he knew that the man wouldn’t listen to reason, so it would do nothing but earn him more hits.
Marcus was thrown bodily into the back of a police car, left to sit for nearly 15 minutes as the officers discussed what was going on. By now, a large crowd was gathering. Marcus kept his head down but looked up when there was a knock at his window. He expected to see a police officer but instead saw Joanna Rivers, looking concerned.
“Tell Angie what’s going on!” Marcus yelled through the glass. A police officer was pulling her away as he yelled, “Tell Angie!” and then she was gone, blocked off by a line of police officers. An ambulance had pulled up and there was a line of police tape keeping onlookers back as the body bags were rolled out one by one.
Marcus felt disgusted at what had happened.
Finally, the ambulance rolled away and the police officers started to dissipate. Marcus kept his mouth shut when he found out that Tancredi would be his driver all of the way over to the Haven police department.
The car fired up with neither of the men saying a word. Marcus watched Charming flash before his eyes on the way out of town, the sun low in the sky to the west.
What happened? How could I have gotten myself into this?
But he knew that soon this would all be sorted out. There was no way that this could be blamed on him. He had alibis, witnesses, hell, he had been on duty when some of those murders had taken place. How could anyone think that he had done this?
But, truth be told – that wasn’t what he was worried about. He wasn’t worried about being framed for the murders. He was worried that the serial killer that had so long plagued the country was now in Charming. Thinking that almost made him laugh. It didn’t seem possible.
What’s he doing here? Why is he killing Shifters? Am I next? Or was it random?
And Angie’s at home, alone. He could be on his way to her even now. Those thoughts made him sick to his stomach and he hoped against hope that Joanna Rivers had heard what he had said and was on her way to their house even now.
And to think I was going to leave her. How could I be so stupid?
The police car, lights flashing and sirens blaring, rolled towards Haven.
Chapter 21
The knock at the door woke Angie from her slumber. She took a few minutes to come to, realizing that the sun was going down on the horizon and sunlight was streaming in through the open window. She blinked and cleared her mind, noticing that she was still in bed naked from the passionate sex that had filled her and Marcus’s afternoon.
Where is he? she wondered, noticing that Marcus wasn’t in bed – and she hadn’t heard him get up. She laid in bed, deciding that he was probably seeing whoever was at the door – and then the knock came again.
She swung her legs out of bed and found her pajama pants and a shirt, pulling it over her head quickly. Then she made her way down the hallway. She was in the kitchen when she heard the third knock.
Where is Marcus?
She wasn’t worried about West being at the door – the last time she had seen him, he was knocking on death’s door, and she knew he wouldn’t be courteous enough to knock.
She scowled when she saw it was Joanna Rivers knocking on the door. They’d had their share of adventures – many that Angie would like to forget – but that didn’t mean she liked the woman much.
Angie opened the door and gestured her inside. The two of them made their way to the kitchen where Angie sat down at the table exhausted.
“He’s not here,” she began.
Joanna raised an eyebrow and said, “I know.”
Angie’s scowl deepened as she said, “What does that mean?”
“He’s been arrested,” the other woman told her. “He told me to find you and tell you.”
“Arrested?” Angie asked, her heart plummeting in her chest. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was driving by the Sheriff’s Department and saw a whole lot of police cars and onlookers. I stopped and saw them hauling him out. Followed by three body bags.”
“Three?” Angie asked. There should have only been two. “Three? Are you sure there were three?”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding slightly annoyed. “I can count.”
“Okay. Where’d they take him? Haven?” Joanna nodded. Angie got to her feet, looking for her keys.
“Looking for you keys? Your rental was parked out in front of the Sheriff’s Department.” Angie cursed underneath her breath. “Need a ride?”
Angie grudgingly nodded and followed Joanna outside. She climbed into the passenger side of the old pickup and felt it rumble to life – wondering why a woman like Joanna Rivers drove something like this.
That’s not important, now. I need to figure out what happened to Marcus. What could have went wrong? There were two bodies when we left the Sheriff’s Department – who was the third?
Did someone catch him in the act? Did Marcus try to cover something up? He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t kill someone that didn’t deserve it.
Will this come back on me? I killed one of those men. I could wind up in jail, too, sitting in the cell next to Marcus’s.
But she knew Marcus would never throw her under the bus. He would take the full blame of whatever happened.
Her thoughts stormy, Angie sat in silence as Joanna Rivers took them towards the Haven police department. Thankfully, the other woman made no attempts at conversation, so Angie was content to sit there and stew in her thoughts – even if they weren’t good thoughts.
It was completely dark by the time that the truck pulled up in front of the police department.
“Should I –”
“No, go on home. I’ll figure something out. Who knows how long this will take,” Angie said. She added a, “Thanks, Joanna. Honestly.”
“It’s the least I could do. After what you and Marcus did for Cory, and then what you did for me – neither one of us would be alive if it wasn’t for you two.”
Angie nodded, slammed the door, and made her way into the police station. She noticed there were a lot more officers on duty than she would have expected. At this time at night, there was no one at the front desk. She slammed her fist down on the little bell, impatient and wanting to find out what was going on.
An officer came around the counter and looked at her. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m here to see Marcus Stone,” Angie said. At the mention of his name, the officer went pale.
He muttered, “I’ll have to talk to my supervisor. See if he can have visitors.”
“What’s he being charged with?” Angie demanded.
“I – I can’t –”
With that, he was gone, leaving Angie to pace around the reception area for ten minutes all by herself. Finally, she heard the door to the back of the police station unlock and another officer, this time a middle aged man, came out to greet her.
“What’s he being charged with, Officer?” she asked again.
“Murder,” he said, nearly spitting the word. “And who are you?”
“Angie Campbell,” she answered. “I’m Marcus’s girlfriend.”
“Well, Miss Campbell, your boyfriend is in a lot of trouble. And I think you’d do well for yourself if you avoided him in the near future. He’s not safe. He’s killed a lot of people over the years – and you’re lucky that we’ve finally brought him to justice.”
Angie didn’t even bother to ask what the man meant. Instead, she said, “I want to see him.
”
He hesitated, saying, “I don’t know if that’s a wise idea.”
“Do you want me to get a lawyer down here?” she threatened. “Because I promise you that I can afford the very best. It’ll only take a few hours to get one flown in from Las Vegas. Do you want me to have to do that, Officer?”
If anything, he went paler than the first man she’d had to talk to. He nodded his head and ushered her through the door. After it closed behind them, she stood off to the side and let the Officer pass, then she followed him down a narrow and badly lit hallway.
They reached the room with the cells and the Officer waved her inside, then stood on the inside of the door. “I’d like to speak to Marcus in private,” she said, putting as much venom in her voice. The man looked like he wanted to challenge her but thought better of it, then he shut the door and Angie walked completely inside.
Marcus was sitting on a cot in a tiny cell in the back of the room. He had one leg up to his chest, the other on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knee and his head down. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or just in deep thought.
“Marcus?” she whispered. “Marcus?”
He looked up suddenly, his bright golden eyes looking around the room for a split second before focusing on her.
“Angie!” he exclaimed, jumping out of bed and running to the bars. He stuck his arms through, grabbing her, pulling her as close as he could manage – but the cold metal was in the way, keeping them so far apart. “I thought I was imagining your voice. You’re all I’ve been thinking of.”
“Marcus, what happened?” she asked, trying to kiss him through the bars. She realized she had tears in her eyes. Everything seemed to be crumbling down around her. “Joanna Rivers came out to the house. She didn’t say what had happened except that she saw you hauled out of the Sheriff’s Department followed by three bodies. Who were they Marcus? What happened?”
“The wolves,” Marcus growled.
“Who was the third?”
Marcus pulled slightly away. “We don’t have to worry about West coming at us again.”
Fate’s Reaping Page 15