by Mark Tufo
“Umm, maybe we shouldn’t, Rog. That place gave me the creeps. Like…maybe we shouldn’t have dug up them graves.”
Roger backhanded him and laid him on his ass. “Don’t backtalk me, Cas. You know what it gets ya.”
Casper rubbed the side of his head and nodded, “I know, Rog, but can’t we please just blow up something else? Anything else? I’m serious when I say that place gives me the creeps.”
Roger watched him a moment before shaking his head. “You’re such a pussy, Cas, ya know that?”
“I know.”
“Fine. If it keeps you from whining so damned much. Maybe we can blow up the old train trestle out at Carver’s shed.”
Casper smiled again. “Yeah, Rog. I’d like to see that sucker go down. We could pretend we was train robbers or something.”
“Nah, I just want to see all that old lumber come down,” Roger smiled an evil smile. “Too bad there ain’t no trains still use that rail. I’d like to see what it looked like coming down with a train on it.”
*****
“Oh, HELL no!” Scott Evans yelled from his office. “Who the hell leaked this?”
Amber jumped from behind her console and ran to his office door, forgetting to unplug her headset beforehand and practically jerking a knot in her neck when the cord pulled her head to the side. She heard crashing inside his office as he threw something heavy against his door and a stream of epithets flew from his mouth that would make a sailor blush. She was suddenly glad that she hadn’t made it to his door, lest she be hit by whatever had smashed into it.
Just as she unplugged her headset, he threw open the door and shook the newspaper at her. “Have you seen this?” he asked as he continued to shake it at her. Her head shook as her eyes tried to focus on the words moving back and forth in her field of vision.
“No, I haven’t. But if you’ll hold it still, maybe I can—”
“Some son of a bitch leaked the story!”
“What story, boss?”
“The damned killer story! We haven’t had a chance to do a proper investigation, and now DPS will know, the Rangers…the freaking public.” He sighed and tossed the paper on her desk. “Get Knapp in here.”
“Right away, boss.”
She keyed her mic and called for 503 to report. She cocked her head to the side in puzzlement when he didn’t respond. She couldn’t understand why Jason wouldn’t respond to her call. She looked back at the radio and noticed her headset wasn’t plugged in. She slumped her shoulders and stomped back to her station. It’s going to be one of those days.
After calling for Knapp and requesting that he 10-19 the sheriff’s office, she picked up the paper and began skimming the article that was now the front page of the Wood County Democrat. She skimmed the article the first time, then went back and reread it in earnest, her throat tightening as she realized that only someone with inside information could have fed the details to the reporter. A cold chill ran up her spine as she leaned back in her chair and she closed her eyes. She knew who it was without even thinking. And she feared that Scott knew who it was as well.
A short time later, Jason Knapp came be-bopping into the office without a care in the world. “What’s up, Amber?” He had a stupid grin on his face. “What did you need?”
“Boss wants to see you.” She slapped the paper down in front of him. She saw him read the headlines and the color drained from his face. “Probably has something to do with this.”
He picked the paper up and his eyes darted back and forth across the article, his lips moving rapidly. He suddenly looked up at her and his guilt was written plainly across his face. “Why do you think I did this? I’m not the only one that knows the details of the cases, you know. It was probably Justin. He’s a little kiss-ass anyway and thinks that it’s a freaking ghost and look, it says right here that ‘the sheriff’s office is looking into supernatural causes.’ HA! That proves it isn’t me!”
Amber gave him a solemn look and shook her head. “I never said I thought it was you,” she said flatly. “Only you did.”
He stepped back and stammered at her.
“The boss still wants to see you.” She pointed to Scott’s office.
*****
There was a slight knock at the door and Buffy jumped instinctively. She inhaled sharply and spun toward the noise, her hands moving toward her chest in a defensive gesture before she could stop herself. She suddenly felt very tired and very afraid, her voice trembled and her hands shook despite herself as she called out that she was decent and almost ready to go.
She was packing her meager belongings at the hospital and preparing to go home, having been discharged only a few moments before. The door opened slightly and Bennie stuck his head in.
“Ma’am?” he asked. “Excuse me, ma’am? I’m so sorry to intrude on you at a time like this, but if you would be so kind, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
She shot him a frightened glance, then relaxed when she saw his uniform. “I’m sorry, I’ve already given a statement to the police.” Then with her voice dripping with more malice then she intended, she added, “They treated me as though I were lying.”
Bennie nodded as he slowly entered the room. “I’m sure they did. They treated my cousin the same way. And another really nice lady that went through pretty much the same thing that you did as well.” He gave her an expectant look. “Look, ma’am, I’m not going to promise you much else, but if you’ll take the time to tell me your story, I’ll promise to listen and to not treat you as though you did something wrong.”
She studied him with a wary eye. “What makes you different from them?”
He smiled. “Maybe the fact that it happened to my cousin, and while I’ll admit she’s no saint, the one thing she ain’t is a liar. If she says that something strange happened to her and a fella she was with, then by golly, something strange happened.”
“By golly?” Buffy asked suspiciously.
Bennie smiled at her sheepishly. “I’m working on not speaking so much French in front of the ladies.”
Buffy brightened considerably. “Oh…mon, vous parlez français! Fascinant. Sa fait si longtemps depuis que j’ai rencontré quelqu’un qui parle français et c’est tellement excitant pour moi. Avez-vous étudié à l’étranger ?”
Bennie gave her a dull stare for a moment then smiled stupidly. “Bonjour!”
Buffy’s face fell as she realized that he was only joking about speaking French and she sat heavily on the hospital bed. “What would you like to know, Constable?” she asked with a sigh.
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his notepad. “I know this won’t be easy for you, but can you recount the events of that night with as much detail as you possibly can please?” His eyes searched her as he clicked his pen. “And any little detail, no matter how trivial, may end up being important.”
Buffy shuddered at the thought of reliving her nightmare once more, but nodded her head. She closed her eyes and began with arriving home and taking her files and grocery bag out of the car. As she continued her story, Bennie wrote furiously, flipping through the pages of his notepad, having her pause only long enough for him to write or to reiterate what she said.
He asked her a few questions, mostly if she was sure that she didn’t recognize her attacker. He asked if the name David Tolliver meant anything to her, but she shook her head. She thought long and hard about the name, trying to recall all of those associated with the cases at hand, but the name Tolliver simply didn’t come to mind. When she asked him why, he flipped his notepad closed and glanced to ensure nobody was listening or close to the door. “That’s the name of the man who attacked you.”
She simply nodded slowly, her face grim.
“Are you okay, Ms. Hardin?”
“At the time…when he was attacking me…” she paused, trying to word what she was thinking; trying to find the words to put her emotions into existence and falling short. “I kept thinking that this simply couldn’
t be happening. That he couldn’t be that evil.”
Her eyes met his and he saw her pain. He saw that her innocence had been stripped from her and it tore at him. She knew that bad people were out there, she had dealt with them, but only on paper. This time she had come face to face with one and it touched her soul, breathed on her skin, licked her face and touched her body…no amount of soap or hot water could wash that away.
“Even though he didn’t get a chance to do what he wanted to, he still took something from me,” she said softly.
“I know, ma’am.” Bennie wanted to reach out to her and comfort her, but was afraid that his gesture would be ill-timed. “And whatever it was that attacked him in turn—”
“Did the world a favor,” she said quickly. He was almost shocked by how quickly she responded. “It saved the world of one more sick and twisted predator.” Her features turned hard and her voice dripped with a venom that made him wonder.
“I just have one more question for you, ma’am, if you don’t mind.” He flipped his notebook open again. “Did you get a good look at what attacked Mr. Tolliver?”
She turned her eyes to meet his and they narrowed. “Yes I did, Constable,” she said firmly. “It was the devil himself.”
12
Justin rolled over in his bed and flipped the goose down comforter off of him so that he could see his clock. Through bleary eyes the fuzzy numbers glowed and he scowled in the artificial darkness. He reached for the source of the noise and picked up his cell phone.
“This had better be fucking important.”
“It is,” Scott barked.
Justin’s brow rose, but his eyes refused to open again. “Oh, sorry, Scott. I couldn’t see the number on the phone. What’s up?” he asked, his mind still foggy.
“Jason leaked the murders to the press.”
Justin’s eyes shot open. “He what?” He wasn’t sure he heard correctly.
“The fucker denied it, but I could see right through him. He’s on three weeks paid suspension while we do an internal investigation.”
“Son of a bitch,” Justin moaned. “You know DPS will have a Ranger in our back pocket before we can do much else.”
“That was inevitable. Doc had to fax his reports anyway. I was more concerned about the public.”
“Have you told Eckerson yet?”
“I thought I’d let you fill in the night crew. I’m sure they’ll read all about it before they come on tonight. You can fill them in on Knapp though.”
“This is a swift kick in the teeth, boss,” Zimmer said.
“You think I don’t know it?” Scott said bitterly. “I was the one who trusted the little prick enough to make him my day shift lead detective.”
“Okay.” Justin yawned. “We’ll make the switch to damage control tonight. I dunno though, boss. This might be a good thing.”
“How the hell do you figure that one?” Evans asked.
“Look at it this way. The word’s out. The bad guys will now know that there’s a killer out there targeting them. Maybe they’ll decide to hang up their collective hats until we can catch the bastard?”
Scott scoffed. “Yeah, right, like that’s going to happen. What’s the first rule of bad guys, Justin?”
“Bad guys are stupid, boss.”
“That’s right, bad guys are stupid. Tell them, ‘don’t stick your dick in the electrical outlet’ and what do they do?”
“They stick their dick in the electrical outlet, yeah, I know. I was just trying to find the silver lining, ya know.” Justin stifled another yawn.
“I know you were, son, I know,” Scott said. “Go back to sleep. You have a lot of work to do tonight.”
“Good night, boss.”
“Good morning, Zimmer.” Scott hung up the phone.
Justin rolled over and stared at his ceiling. He thought about Knapp’s betrayal and he wanted nothing more than to drive out to the bastard’s house and beat the dogshit out of him in front of his wife and kid. He shook his head and rolled over. He knew it would do no good. People like Knapp knew nothing of loyalty and less about proper procedure.
He lay there a moment longer and thought about the people of Wood County and how they would react to a specter murdering people in the dark of night. He imagined old people locking their doors at night, something that had never occurred in the little Texas county before. He imagined people afraid to let their kids go to the public parks to play. Afraid to walk their pets. Afraid to go out and do the things that needed to be done. He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Fucking, Knapp, you self-righteous asshole.”
*****
Constable Anthony let himself in to Miller’s house and walked back to Jerrod’s private study. He knocked once and walked in. Jerrod Miller was studying some rare gold coins at his desk and simply looked up as the muscular man walked in. He couldn’t help but notice that for such a big man, he moved with the grace of a large cat.
Chris stepped in and opened his folder, spreading out his work in front of Miller. “I’ve finished my survey.”
“That was fast.” Miller placed his coins aside.
“It’s a simple place.”
Miller took no offense at the statement and simply studied the offerings. “So what did you come up with?”
“You are sorely lacking in all avenues. You’ll need cameras that can see in both true color and infra-red here, here, here.” He pointed out all of the blind spots both at the home itself and the surrounding areas. “You’ll also want motion sensors in these locations.” He pointed out the numerous places that they should be located.
He next pointed out that none of the windows or doors had sensors, that the house itself was a veritable invitation to be broken into. He stressed upgrading the glass to bullet proof glass and recommended installing new steel security doors that opened outward rather than in so that they couldn’t be kicked in. They also helped immensely in tornado season, but that was just an added benefit. It took him nearly an hour of going through his list and Miller never once asked him ‘why’ or ‘how much’, he simply listened and nodded.
Afterward, he looked the man in the eye and said, “When can you make this happen?”
Constable Anthony collected his papers and put them back into the file. “You do understand that there is a certain protocol to be followed.”
“Yes, I understand. You were never contacted, you were not contracted to do this, the men that you bring in for private security are in no way associated with you…yes. I understand. That was all explained to me.”
Chris studied the man intently. “One of these days, I’m going to ask you who referred my name to you.”
Miller stared back at him stonily. “And I’ll never tell.”
Anthony smiled. “While that may be the correct answer…rather, that may be the answer I want to hear, if I truly wanted the answer, I could get it,” he said, his voice dripping with malice.
Miller felt the chill of death creep up his spine and bile rose in his throat. He forced himself to swallow it down. “Mr. Anthony, let us keep our arrangement strictly business, shall we?”
Chris studied him a moment then nodded. “Yes, I think it’s in both our best interest if we do.”
Miller sighed with relief when he heard those words. Anthony picked up his remaining papers. “My crews will get started first thing in the morning.” He turned to leave.
“Mr. Anthony, if I may be so bold, one thing does puzzle me. With the kind of money you make doing…this kind of enterprise, why do you even bother as a constable? I know their pay is…pitiful, to say the least.”
Chris studied him for a moment before giving him a lopsided grin. “It gives me the opportunity to meet such strange and wonderful new people.”
*****
George Hollis finished the last of the bottle of Mad Dog and tossed it against the brick wall. He smiled as he heard the satisfying shatter of glass on brick and in the back of his mind he hoped that one of the little kids that pla
yed around the opening of that alleyway cut their foot on the glass.
He fought to not stagger as he walked home. He sucked the cool night air deep into his lungs and ached for a cigarette. He knew he had some somewhere, but damned if he could remember exactly where he had put them. He dug through the pockets of his ancient Army jacket and kept finding his lighter, but couldn’t find his cigarettes and it was really starting to piss him off.
He walked by the bus stop and saw a couple of guys standing by the corner of the liquor store. “Hey!” he called out. “Either of you got a smoke? I think I lost mine.”
“Sorry, man, don’t smoke,” one called out. The other simply shook his head.
“Well shit,” he mumbled.
He kept walking, flipping his lighter opened and closed. Surely someone had a smoke he could bum. He needed to calm his nerves before he went home and listened to the old lady chew his ass about drinking the grocery money again.
He kept working his way toward the drabby one bedroom apartment that he shared with Shelly, the skinny redhead who took him in like a stray cat two years prior. She wasn’t much to look at, but then, neither was he, and he knew it. Problem was, Shelly thought that she was still the prom queen and this was still high school and that he should be kissing her ass every time she turned around. George didn’t think so, and that caused more than a little bit of friction from time to time.
As he approached the block that the apartment was on, he saw a girl from the building. She always dressed like a whore and George had wondered what she would be like between the sheets. He just never had enough money to find out. Nor did he ever have the guts to ask her how much she thought her rent money maker as worth.
As he got closer, he noticed the red glow rising and falling from her mouth and the blue grey wisps escaping her mouth. His salivary glands watered with the desire to share in her sinful delights and he decided, even if he didn’t have the nerve to ask how much she charged for fifteen minutes of heaven, maybe he could mooch a smoke from her.