by Dan Padavona
Hands poised over her breast. A trickle of spittle crawling from the corner of his mouth.
A scream comes out of the forest. He backs away. Eyes move between Kacy and the sleeping girl. If they hear, neither reacts. They continue to sleep side-by-side. Sisters. No, more than sisters. They share a bond linked inextricably to him.
Still no reaction from the girls.
Careful not to wake them, he shuffles to the entryway. Cracks the door open and squints. Though the day grows long, the outside world is brighter than the shed. He can see the van beyond a stand of trees. The small clearing in which the shed resides is vacant. Overgrown grass ripples in the wind.
Hodge begins to shut the door when the shrill voice rings out again. Shouting his name.
Eyes lock on the van. Silently, he pleads for her to be quiet before she draws attention. But she won’t stop. Keeps yelling his name, voice warbling on the edge of hoarseness.
He closes the door and stands with his back pressed against the frame. Breaths heave in-and-out as he watches them sleep. Mother’s yells are frenzied and grow in volume until he is sure his ears will bleed. Cannot understand why the girls haven’t awakened.
Finally it is too much for him to handle, and he throws open the door. The shed rattles with his fury. Heedless of the girls, he slams the door shut and stalks toward the van. Hands clutch ears and try to smother the infernal screams.
He comes upon the van and yanks on the sliding door. Meets resistance as Mother’s yells echo inside. Locked. He’d forgotten it was locked.
Head darting around the forest, he fishes the keys from his pocket. Inserts the key into the locking mechanism and twists. An empty popping sound.
Hodge wrenches the door open and climbs inside. He is enraged by her, yet confused. He gave her the gift of perpetual, immutable sleep, and she will not sleep, will not be quiet or allow him to live in peace.
From his back pocket, he removes the knife. Touches the edge to his thumb and draws blood.
He will teach Mother to be silent again. To obey.
The trunk rattles and bucks, shaking the van. She knows what he intends.
She screams his name, tries to intimidate and recapture dominance over him. He is evolved and beyond her.
He fumbles with the locks and throws the trunk open.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Something shook the cot. A loud thump.
Angela’s eyes opened to the dingy shed. Her vision was blurry, eyelids crusted shut by sleep and tears. She didn’t know where she was and became confused by the cramped confines. Around her rose the thick, hot scent of baked wood.
Then she recalled the nighttime walk through the parking lot. The shadowed man blocking her escape route.
Remembering him striking her with the wrench brought pain. Angela's head throbbed and turned her thoughts cloudy.
She’d recognized the man. What was his name? Hodge. Her parents hired him to install insulation in the basement. She didn’t know much about home repair, but she found it curious that the job dragged out for multiple days, Hodge always finding some new problem which required him to return. She didn’t like being alone in the house with him. The way he leered at her from the corner of his eye. He didn’t think she noticed, but a girl senses eyes on her.
The memory of the abduction pulled her up from sleep’s depths into a new nightmare. She twisted on the filthy mattress. Rope cut into her wrists.
Someone shouted. She couldn’t tell where it came from. The way it echoed told her she was somewhere outside, perhaps in the wilderness.
Angela struggled to turn herself over and heard yelling again. She was about to scream for help when the truth came to her. The voice belonged to Hodge. Who was he yelling at?
She wiggled her wrists and fought to pull her hands through the bindings. Sweat poured down her arms and made the rope slick. This was good, she thought. It might be enough to free her hands.
Yet he’d bound her good. The fight hurt Angela and made it feel as though she might dislocate her wrists.
When she turned over, the mannequin face stared back at her with dead eyes. She cried out. Swallowing the next scream and praying Hodge hadn’t heard, she wiggled backward to the edge of the cot, away from the glaring monstrosity. To Angela’s horror, the mannequin wore a teen girl’s clothing—a halter top and cut-off jean shorts with manufactured rips down the thighs. Affixed to its head was a pelt of dark hair. A wig, she thought, until she noticed the smear of dried blood along the doll’s scalp. She almost screamed again as her tears flowed.
Angela swung her legs into the air and used momentum to sit up. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from the mannequin-thing. It seemed to watch her, inviting her to stay here forever, wherever here was. It struck her the clothes and hair must be Kacy Deering’s, and then there was nothing she could do to prevent herself from crying out, delirious. She dropped forward and buried her mouth against the dirty bed. Let it suffocate her screams until she couldn’t cry anymore.
Her shoulders shook as she pulled herself into a sitting position. She struggled to compose her thoughts and buried the roiling panic trying to confuse her. Angela twisted her head so she couldn’t see the mannequin-thing anymore, but she felt its eyes on her back as she stood up. Her legs buckled.
The wall saved her. She slumped against the side of the shed until feeling returned to her legs. Looking down, she saw scraped flesh across her thighs and purplish bruising on her kneecaps.
It was quiet outside the shed. She couldn’t hear Hodge anymore.
Which meant whoever he was yelling at might have disabled him.
Or he’d heard Angela and was coming back to the shed.
The door latch was low to the ground. Angela needed to bend at the knees and squat, facing away from the door. She groped behind her for the latch and cursed the ropes, then found the mechanism with her fingers. Pulled up and found it locked. This couldn’t be. It had to be unlocked. She wasn’t meant to die here. She pushed down until the latch screeched and popped. Quietly, she wedged her fingers between the door and frame and inched it open. Nobody was coming.
The sun was almost down when she shuffled through the entryway. She heard birds and tasted the sweet freshness of natural air.
Her legs almost failed her as she stepped outside. Then she found her footing and moved faster with no idea where she was or where she was going. Everything looked the same around the clearing. Trees and overgrowth. Taloned shadows reaching toward her, growing as the light faded.
She walked faster, cutting between trees until she found the van. She froze in place. The side door was thrown open, but she didn’t see Hodge. Careful of where she stepped, she slipped through the forest, cutting away from the van. Even if he’d left the keys in the ignition, she couldn’t drive with her hands tied behind her back. She still didn’t know where she was when it occurred to her the van must be on some sort of driveway or path. And that meant a road must be near.
Crouching down, she peered toward the van until she noticed the worn track leading down an incline. She climbed over a stump and spotted the road at the bottom of the hill. Below the road, amid the relics of daylight, Coral Lake shimmered in the valley bowl. She knew where she was now. Civilization was close.
Angela was past the van and struggling through the forest when she heard him coming. He screamed with insanity, berating Angela for leaving him, yelling something about betrayal. She didn’t dare look behind. He was close. She heard him stomp through the overgrowth.
She broke out of the forest and cried for help as the earth swallowed the sun, and darkness dripped from the sky.
Hodge smashed through the trees. Right behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Bell brought her fist down on the hood of Sheriff Lerner’s truck. Lerner jumped and stammered.
“Please try to understand. Nathan and Lyra Walsh just want to put their lives back together.”
“They
’re staying at a boutique resort through the weekend. They could have waited another day. What was the rush?”
Gardy stepped between them and placed his hands on Bell’s shoulders. Their eyes locked, Bell’s bloodshot and burning with fury.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” said Gardy. “No reason we can’t do another walk-through, make sure we covered all the bases.”
She bulled past Gardy. The sheriff took a step backward and bumped into the Ram’s door.
“Please,” Lerner said, hands raised, trying to mollify the special agent before she bit his head off. “Try to see things from their perspective. It’s just a piece of glass.”
He gestured at the new pane in the door. Bell slapped her palm against her forehead.
“It’s a crucial piece of evidence.”
She took another step forward, and Lerner slid along the side of the truck until he leaned back over the cab.
“Now, calm down. There’s a perfectly good reason for fixing the door. The weatherman is calling for storms overnight, and the Walshes can’t exactly have rain pouring through a missing pane.”
Again Gardy moved to intervene, this time clutching Bell’s arms and walking her away from the sheriff.
“Get off me, Gardy!”
“Then get yourself under control.”
“I’m perfectly under control.”
She looked over her shoulder at the entryway, saw a fireball of setting sun reflecting in the glass. That’s when it clicked.
Bell tugged free of her partner’s grip and stomped up the steps. The new glass, shimmering and perfect, not a hint of dust or a child’s fingerprints, stood out from the others. Even so, she swung around and pointed at the repaired pane.
“Is this the piece?”
“Yes,” Lerner said, cautiously shuffling into the yard. “As I said, it’s no big deal—”
Pulling the sleeve of her jacket over her hand, Bell whacked the pane with the outside of her fist. The new pane shattered and tinkled down in the foyer.
“What…I can’t believe…Agent Gardy, do something before she wrecks the house.”
Gardy scowled as he crossed the yard, his shoes making swishing noises through the grass.
“She’s not gonna wreck the house.” When he clonked up the stairs to Bell’s side, he raised his eyebrows. “You aren’t gonna wreck the house, right?”
It was clear to Bell Gardy was trying to diffuse the situation with humor. The glint in her partner’s eyes told her he was on the same page. Behind them, Lerner paced back-and-forth. His hands clawed at his face while he muttered about lunatic agents and how he would explain this to the Walshes.
Using her sleeve, Bell knocked away the remaining jagged pieces and reached her arm through the opening. She groped for the door handle and came up several inches short.
“Hold on. My arms are longer than yours.”
She stood aside for Gardy, who pushed his arm through the missing pane. He grunted, straining to reach the handle. With his arm at full extension, his fingers fell short of the mark by a few inches.
Now Lerner climbed the steps and stared incredulously at the agents.
“Are the two of you satisfied?”
“Smile, Sheriff. Thanks to Agent Bell and her somewhat unconventional techniques, we’re several steps closer to catching the killer.”
“How is that?”
“Unless our murderer’s arms stretch to his ankles, there’s no way he could have put his hand through and unlocked the door.”
“Meaning?”
Bell folded her arms and leaned against the rail.
“The killer was inside the house the whole time. How in the hell did I miss it?”
Lerner’s eyes traveled between the opening and the handle.
“Wait just a second. Let me try.”
The agents moved aside as the sheriff waddled forward. He had a confident look in his eyes, a certainty he’d prove the woman wrong. The agents shared a grin as he struggled to reach the lock. He was red-faced and out of breath when he finally pulled his arm back.
“I guess I owe the two of you an apology. Let me get this straight. The killer was already inside the house while the Goodrich boy visited Kacy Deering.”
Gardy nodded.
“No doubt he figured Braden Goodrich would give him a fight, so he waited for the boy to leave before he made his move.”
“And smashed the pane after the fact to make it look like a break-in. Jesus. I can’t believe we didn’t see it.”
“Which also explains why Kacy didn’t hear the killer break into the house,” said Bell, pumping with adrenaline now that the puzzle pieces fit together. “He was already upstairs.”
A sudden gust nearly stole Lerner’s hat. The leaves rattled like dead things.
Gardy descended the stairs and gave the front of the house one last look.
“No other signs of forced entry. I can examine the sides and back, but I won’t find anything different from yesterday.”
Bell followed Gardy to the sidewalk, the sheriff trailing behind.
“Gardy, who did the Walshes say had keys to the house?”
“Two people. The neighbor, Clyde Sullivan.”
“He ain’t our guy,” said Lerner.
“And the brother who lives in Kalamazoo.”
Bell shook her head and paced a trench into the lawn.
“That can’t be right, Gardy. They forgot someone.”
“I’ll give Nathan Walsh a call.”
Gardy walked a few paces away. She couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation with Lerner rambling continuous apologies, but Gardy wore a grin when he returned.
“About two years ago Walsh hired a local contractor to redo the basement. A guy named Alan Hodge.”
“I know Hodge,” Lerner said. “He corners the market on contracting work in Coral Lake.”
“They gave him a house key, which he returned, but he could have copied it in the meantime.”
The wheels spun faster in Bell’s head.
She brought the phone to her ear and listened as it rang and rang.
“Bell?”
She held Gardy’s eyes and placed her finger over her lips. Just before she gave up, a voice answered on the other end. Tired, haggard.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Deering?”
“Hold on…yes…who is this?”
Something toppled over. Deering cursed under her breath. It was clear the woman was three sheets to the wind or hungover.
“Mrs. Deering, this is Agent Bell.”
“Agent…Agent Bell. What time is it?”
“Please, Mrs. Deering. I have one quick question to ask. It won’t take a moment.”
An exasperated groan.
“Fine. Ask away.”
“Have you had any repairs done to your house over the last two years?”
“Repairs? What’s this about?”
“Think hard.”
It was quiet on the other end. Bell wondered if Deering had fallen asleep.
“No, not that I can recall.”
Bell’s stomach sank. It had to be the handyman. She was sure.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
More silence. Deering coughed, a thick, mucus-filled hack that made Bell cringe.
“I’m sure. No, the only thing we did was remodel the basement, but it wasn’t a repair. I wanted someplace for Kacy and her friends to—”
“Who did the remodel?”
Gardy and Lerner watched Bell, who held up a finger.
When Deering said it was Alan Hodge, Bell snapped her finger and mouthed the handyman’s name at Gardy. Already Gardy had his own phone to his ear. She could overhear him trying to find someone at Quantico to run a background check on Hodge.
Bell thanked Deering and ended the call, cutting her off as the woman’s questions became frantic. Even in her state of confusion, Deering had seemed to figure out Hodge was a suspect.
“Gee, I don’t know about this.”
Lerner rubbed behind his neck. “Alan Hodge works for half the families in Coral Lake.”
“Tell me more about Hodge. Is he a large man?”
“I suppose so. I mean he’s maybe an inch or two taller than me.”
“But strong.”
“Thick, I guess you would say. The guy spends his days carrying washers and dryers down basement stairs.”
“And he lives alone. No wife or kids.”
“Are you asking me or telling me? Seems like you already have all the answers.”
“Sorry, Sheriff. Truthfully, profiles are just theories. They aren’t foolproof, and there isn’t any guarantee Hodge is our man.”
Yet her gut told her otherwise. She hadn’t seen a photograph of Hodge, but the picture she’d worked up in her head sent goosebumps down her arms.
Remodels took weeks to complete, sometimes months. A lot of time to observe a teenage girl. That’s how the obsession began.
“Understood. To answer your question, yes, Hodge is unmarried. No girlfriend as far as I know, but I can ask around.”
“Probably unnecessary. Listen, we think the reason he scalped Kacy and took her clothes is so he can keep her alive, be able to play with her as long as he wants.”
Lerner’s mouth twisted as if he’d bitten down on something sour.
“But she’s dead.”
“Yes, but a part of his mind believes otherwise, even though he consciously recognizes it’s all fantasy.”
“You told us this during the first briefing. I don’t see how this helps. The evidence is purely circumstantial, nothing a judge would issue a warrant over without some way to tie him to the scene.”
Over Lerner’s shoulder, Bell could see Gardy talking into his phone, hand over his other ear to block out the wind.
“It’s important because the person who murdered Kacy, be it Hodge or someone else, needs privacy.”
“As I confirmed, Hodge lives alone.”
“What’s his address?”
“Canal Street, right in the center of the village where they’re setting up for the strawberry festival. Christ, his house was a stone’s throw from us yesterday.”
Part of the profile fractured in Bell’s head. No, it wasn’t likely Hodge kept Kacy’s remains in his house. Though he could easily conceal the clothes and hair in a bag, Hodge would want more seclusion. Too many people strolling Canal Street, shopping and glancing through his windows as they passed. It sounded like everyone in town knew him. Plus, and this thought made Bell cringe, the remains would begin to stink and attract attention.