Panic in Paxton Park

by J A Whiting

  “I brought it up, yes.”

  “Is there anyone you can think of who would do such a thing?” Shelly asked.

  “I have no idea … and honestly, I hope I don’t know the person responsible. How could a person hide what a monster they really are?” The man shook his head. “I hope I haven’t been tricked for years by the killer … all the while him pretending to be a normal person and me never picking up that a monster lurked within.”

  The man’s words caused a prickly sensation to scratch at Shelly’s skin.

  The man moved a little on the rock so he could face Shelly. “Are you surprised I’m telling you all of this?”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  Shifting his gaze out over the lake, he said, “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger about such things. I don’t like to keep repeating things about the incident over and over to my wife or to my friends. I know they’re upset enough, and me jabbering on about it all would only make them feel worse.” The man shrugged one of his shoulders. “Thanks for listening to me.”

  Shelly understood his sentiments. She felt the same way about the car accident and about how much she missed Lauren. Sometimes it was easier to talk to someone who wasn’t so closely involved with your pain … sometimes it was easier to jabber at someone who would lend a sympathetic ear and then walk away, unburdened by your blubbering.

  Shelly gave the man’s arm a pat and then, with a heavy sigh, she joined him in staring out over the still, peaceful blue lake.

  15

  Shelly, Juliet, and Jay, still wearing her police uniform, sat around the small table in the screened room at the back of Juliet’s cottage sipping glasses of sparkling fruit juice. The ceiling fan circled lazily overhead cooling the space.

  Jay suggested they meet at Juliet’s place instead of at a café or restaurant because everywhere she went, people would come up to her either to offer advice for the investigation or to demand the police find the killer.

  Justice had come along to the gathering, too, and was resting on the back of an easy chair looking out into the yard watching the birds fly in and out of the trees and the squirrels and chipmunks scurry over the grass. When a bird flew close by the screen, Justice would crouch in a hunting position and make little clicking sounds until the bird disappeared.

  “I had another dream,” Shelly announced trying not to let the alarm she felt show in her voice.

  Juliet’s hand froze in the air holding the carafe of juice and she shifted her eyes to her friend.

  Jay swallowed the bite of cookie, placed the rest of it on her dessert plate, and cleared her throat. Keeping her tone even, she asked, “When?”

  “Two nights ago.”

  “You didn’t tell me,” Juliet said with a frown.

  “It upset me. I had to think about it for a while before telling anyone.”

  “Was Lauren in it?” Juliet asked.

  As Shelly gave the tiniest of nods, Justice let out a low growl.

  “Can you tell us about it?” Jay asked.

  Shelly swallowed hard and then reported the details of the dream, trying carefully to remember everything she saw and heard, and everything she felt. “And then the car fell into the earth and was gone.”

  “Well,” Jay said.

  “I can see why it was upsetting.” Juliet shifted around on her seat and nervously pushed a lock of her hair from her face. “Why didn’t Lauren wait for you? You were trying to help her.” Juliet moaned. “That was a stupid question. I know it was just a dream.”

  “I couldn’t get to her.” With her elbow on the table, Shelly rested her chin in her hand. “I tried and tried.”

  Jay said, “Can you describe the landscape again?”

  Shelly looked across the table at the police officer. “It seemed like a storm had gone through the area. Some trees were down, a building had collapsed, the ground was muddy.”

  “Were there any sounds?” Jay asked.

  Shelly though about that. “No, only the wind.”

  “What did it sound like?” Jay asked. “A storm kind of wind? A breezy day? A hurricane?”

  “A breezy day.”

  “Were any other people around?”

  “No one. Just me. And Lauren.” Emotion hit Shelly unexpectedly and she had to blink back some tears.

  “The car appeared out of nowhere?” Jay asked.

  “That’s right. All of a sudden, I was in the air watching the car rotating slightly below me.”

  “Was anyone in the car as it twirled?” Juliet asked.

  “I’m not sure. I couldn’t see through the windows.”

  Jay nodded. “Could you hear any voices?”

  “No voices. Just the breeze.”

  “Did you recognize where you were?” Jay questioned.

  “No. Really, it could have been any place.”

  “Were there other buildings around? Any houses?”

  “Nothing else. Just the knocked down building.” Shelly groaned. “This isn’t any help at all.”

  “It is helpful,” Jay said kindly. “We need to think about the clues your brain is trying to send you. We need to analyze the information. It takes time.”

  “Lauren was in the dream,” Juliet said. “So it means something. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Can you describe the car?” Jay asked.

  “It was a dark-colored car. I couldn’t see through the windows. It was twirling in the air, and then it started to spin faster.”

  “Can you remember anything else about it? Could you see it clearly?” Jay asked.

  Shelly put her hands over her eyes trying to block out the things in the room so she could focus on recalling the details of the dream. After a half-minute, she dropped her hands. “I think it was black. It looked like a small SUV, maybe a Honda.” Shelly nodded. “I think I saw the “H” near the front grill and on the back under the window. I think it was a Honda-CRV.”

  One of Jay’s eyebrows went up. “A Honda-CRV? Black?”

  “Yeah,” Shelly said. “You know the kind of car? It’s a small SUV.”

  “I know it,” Jay said softly.

  Juliet sat up to attention. “What kind of a car did Abby drive?”

  Jay took a sip from her glass. “A Honda-CRV.”

  Juliet’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Was her car black?”

  “It was.”

  Shelly’s face seemed to pale, but she tried to dismiss the fact in her dream. “I must have heard that on the news reports when Abby disappeared. I must have heard the make and model and color of her car. That must be why I dreamt that particular vehicle. Yes, that explains it.” A light sheen of sweat showed on Shelly’s forehead.

  Jay wasn’t so sure that was the explanation. “What happened to the car again?”

  “It was suspended in the air,” Shelly said. “It was spinning, rotating. Then it fell like someone snipped the string that was holding it in the air. The car fell, it hit the earth, and then it was gone.”

  “Did you hear anything as it fell?” Jay asked.

  “No. I didn’t hear it crash when it hit the ground, there wasn’t any sound at all. Maybe only a thud.”

  “Did it fall into a hole?” Jay asked.

  “It was like a dark pit,” Shelly told Jay.

  “And what did you feel from Lauren?”

  “Hopelessness, loneliness, she had given up.” Sadness crept over Shelly’s face as she gripped her hands together. She didn’t want to talk about the dream anymore. “I went for a walk in the woods today after work.”

  “Alone?” Juliet almost shouted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Shelly explained the well-traveled route she took and that she carried pepper spray with her.

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to walk alone.” Juliet looked at her sister to back her up.

  “You might not want to walk alone in the woods,” Jay said. “Maybe walk around town instead. You know, until the killer is caught.”


  Shelly didn’t respond to the suggestions. “I met a man in the woods, by the lake. I was sitting on a rock watching the people swimming and kayaking.”

  “What happened?” Juliet sounded alarmed.

  “Nothing. We talked.” Shelly let out a long sigh. “It turns out that the man was the one who found the hand, the first hand, when he was walking in the woods with his dog.”

  “What did he say?” Jay asked.

  “Probably what he told you. He said he told the police what he had been thinking.”

  “What had he been thinking?” Juliet asked.

  “He thinks the killer lives in town or at least, nearby,” Shelly said. “He doesn’t think it was random because of the locations where the hands were placed.”

  “What does that mean?” Juliet asked, her face clouded by confusion.

  “He means,” Jay said. “That the hands were found in places that were important to Abby.”

  “Why would the killer do that?” Juliet asked.

  “Good question,” Shelly said.

  Jay said, “Sometimes, a criminal will do things like that as a display of power. At times, it is done to taunt the police. Other times, it is meant to humble the victim, to put them in their place. The killer puts an item in places that meant something to the victim as a final insult to the person … the message being, I know you liked this place, but you’ll never enjoy it again. It’s a power trip.”

  “Monster,” Juliet whispered.

  Shelly said, “I think the man is right. The killer must live in town. How else would he know enough about Abby to mark two places that were important to her?”

  “It’s possible,” Jay said.

  Shelly and Juliet both knew Jay’s comment was deliberately vague as she was unable to divulge much of anything about the on-going investigation.

  “Do you have any suspects?” Shelly asked.

  “We have people we’re taking closer looks at.” Jay nodded.

  Juliet said, “That is double-speak meaning you don’t have a suspect.”

  “We’re tracking down every clue.”

  Juliet dropped her chin, but lifted her eyes to stare at her sister. “I know the drill, Jay. You can’t tell us anything. You don’t need to give us those canned lines you use with the press.”

  “Sorry. It’s habit. I can’t tell you anything … except that I’d sure like to find something, anything that could point us in the right direction.”

  “Abby’s family must be sick, and bewildered, and angry,” Shelly noted.

  “First of all, they want their daughter back.” Jay had to pause before going on. “They know she’s dead. They just want to give her a proper burial. And then, they want us to find her killer.” Jay looked Shelly in the eye. “I’m interviewing the parents again tomorrow afternoon. Would you sit in again like you did when I talked to Abby’s boyfriend?”

  A wave of nervousness caused Shelly’s heart to skip a beat and for a few seconds, she tried to think of an excuse to get out of sitting in the police station’s tiny conference room with the parents of a murdered girl. “I guess I could. I won’t be any help.”

  “We don’t know that,” Jay said kindly. “We won’t know if it’s helpful until you do it.”

  For a quick moment, Shelly wished she had stayed in Boston and had never moved to Paxton Park.

  But then, for only a fraction of a second, the image of a field flashed in her mind and was gone.

  What was that? What was that?

  16

  Sitting once again in the cramped, stuffy conference room at the back of the police station, Shelly wished she was any place else. Abby Jackson’s mother was slim, well-dressed, had high cheekbones, symmetrical features, and dark brown eyes. Under other circumstances, she would be considered a striking woman, but signs of stress showed in her bloodshot eyes, in the dark, sunken circles under her eyes, and a nervous clasping and unclasping of her hands. It was hard for Shelly to look at the woman … her misery and distress was so pronounced it was almost tangible.

  Mr. Jackson, who wore a white shirt, dark blue jeans, and a navy blazer, sat ram-rod straight in his seat, his face stony and emotionless trying to keep the nightmare of his life in check.

  A detective from Springfield had joined the group at Jay’s request and he sat at one end of the table. An older man with gray hair and watery blue eyes, he had a calm demeanor and nodded when he was introduced to the parents.

  Jay introduced Shelly as an assistant to the department and the Jacksons didn’t question her presence in the meeting. Giving a brief summary of where things stood, Jay explained that she wanted to ask some questions and then they could have an open discussion about the state of the investigation.

  “Some things I’ve asked previously, so please bear with me. For the benefit of the others in the room, would you repeat what happened on the morning you realized Abby was not at home?”

  Mr. Jackson spoke. “We were up early. We had plans to clean out the shed in the backyard. Abby was due at work and when she didn’t get up, Sandra went up to wake her.” The man paused and exhaled. “Abby wasn’t in her room. The bed hadn’t been slept in. We looked in the driveway and her car was missing. We called the police. Sandra called the Walls, the parents of Abby’s boyfriend. They told Sandra that Abby wasn’t there. They said Abby had dropped Adam off at home around 11pm and he’d been home all night long.”

  “Had Abby complained about anyone?” Jay asked. “Did she have a fight or a disagreement with anyone? Was there a falling out with a friend?”

  “Nothing that we knew of,” Mr. Jackson said. “Things seemed normal.”

  “Did she ever mention anyone flirting with her? Someone being too forward with her?” Jay questioned.

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “Had she recently said no to someone who wanted to date her?”

  “She hadn’t brought anything like that up with us.”

  “What about her relationship with Adam?” Jay asked. “Were there any bumps in their relationship lately?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Mr. Jackson said.

  Mrs. Jackson lifted her eyes and nearly whispered. “Abby wasn’t sure about continuing her relationship with Adam when they went off to college. She thought they should take a break and see how things went.”

  “Did she mention if she’d talked to Adam about doing that?”

  “She did talk to him. She told me he didn’t want to break up or take a break from each other.”

  Mr. Jackson looked over at his wife. “I didn’t know that. You didn’t mention that.”

  “Abby told me about it the day before she disappeared. I just remembered it.” The woman used both hands to push her hair back from her face. “I don’t know why it slipped my mind. Maybe from the shock of all of this?”

  Jay told Mrs. Jackson that things get buried by the mental trauma that accompanies a difficult experience. “It’s not unusual at all. That’s why we talk multiple times and ask some of the same questions again, in case something, a bit of information or a memory, floats back to the surface. Can you recall if Abby said anything about how Adam took her suggestion to take a break?”

  “She told me he got angry.”

  “What is Adam like? Can you describe him for us?” Jay asked.

  Mr. Jackson said, “Adam is a smart young man, athletic. He played on the school football team and did spring track. He’s an only child.” Jackson winced when he said the words. Abby had been his only daughter. “Adam plans to study pre-med with the intention of going on to medical school.”

  “Did Adam spend any time at your house?”

  “He did,” Mr. Jackson said. “He came over for dinner on occasion or to hang out with Abby. They’d do homework or watch a movie in the family room. He was always pleasant.”

  “What did you think of Adam, Mrs. Jackson?” Jay asked.

  “He was pleasant with us, not overly talkative, but I think that’s normal when interacting with your girlfriend’s par
ents.”

  “He treated Abby well?”

  “He did. She always seemed to enjoy his company,” Mr. Jackson said and then his brow furrowed. “We heard them arguing one evening. Not a big fight, but they had words. We asked Abby about it, but she brushed it off.”

  Mrs. Jackson’s face seemed to lose some color. “That night. You had gone upstairs to bed after we heard them arguing,” she said to her husband and then turned to Jay. “I put some things away in the kitchen and then started up the stairs. I heard Adam say something to Abby. He told her she was his girlfriend and no one else’s. I didn’t like the tone he used, he sounded mean, almost … menacing.” The woman’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh. Did Adam…?”

  Mr. Jackson reached for her hand. “No … Adam wouldn’t hurt Abby. We’ve known him for years.”

  Tears welled in Mrs. Jackson’s eyes and she looked from her husband to Jay.

  “Were there any other times when you might have heard Adam speak that way to your daughter?” Jay asked.

  Mrs. Jackson shook her head. “But he could have talked that way when they were alone.”

  Shelly’s heart thudded hard and the palms of her hands felt clammy. She took a quick glance at the older detective to see him sitting in the same position, his face unreadable.

  Jay said, “Abby hurt her back while out running. How did she explain her fall?”

  Mr. Jackson said, “Abby said she slipped on some gravel. She was moving fast along the trail, hit the gravel, lost her balance, and fell over the edge of the hill.”

  “She ran there fairly frequently?” Jay asked.

  “She did. It was her regular training run when the team wasn’t practicing,” Jackson reported.

  “She was very familiar with that trail,” Jay noted.

  “She was.” Mr. Jackson nodded.

  “Did Adam run on that trail circuit?” Jay asked.

  “I suppose he did.”

  Did Abby and Adam ever run together?”

  “Once in a while,” Jackson said. “Abby preferred running with her teammates or on her own.”