“Let’s just go back to the campsite,” Hiram says.
“Hell no,” Tyrone says, “Are you crazy? This night is just getting started. We got booze, we got smokes and I can think of a few more things that will make tonight worth our while.”
“Alright man,” Hiram says, “as long as we don’t ditch Drake and Kris then I am down for whatever in the next few hours.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’” Tyrone says as he turns up the stereo and blasts down the road.
Chapter 8
Deputy Hugh walks into his new office, one which he shares with Sheriff Flanigan. Typing and the occasional ringing of a phone or two can be heard from outside their office door. He takes a seat in his chair and swivels around in it, much like a child would. Flanigan comes into the room and catches him in mid-swivel.
“I can’t believe that you still have this much energy,” Flanigan says with a smile.
“I guess I’m catching a second wind,” Hugh says, “I believe that was best damn hamburger I have ever had.”
“Good, now that your stomach is full and you are recharged,” Flanigan says as he walks over to two sets of file cabinets, “maybe you can get started on these.” Flanigan pulls out several binders and places them on Hugh’s desk. Hugh opens the first one and thumbs through it. It is the first case file on the infamous Baptist Butcher. It is like the Holy Grail to a novice deputy, something so few people actually have access to. It is the reason that he came to this county.
“Wow,” Hugh says as he looks at the four binders, “these things must be about seven hundred pages a piece.”
“And there are twenty-six more of them,” Flanigan adds, “and the case files get much thicker the further you get along. We have a storage closet full of them.”
“Whew,” Hugh says, “I guess that means I’d better get started.” Hugh begins to go through the Butcher’s first case file, which seems daunting. He curiously looks over to see what Flanigan is doing. Flanigan is staring at a map behind his desk, which is filled with ball-pointed needles.
I’ve never heard of a sheriff sharing an office before,” Hugh says.
“Well, I never did like having an office to myself and I always like having someone to bounce my thoughts off of,” he says as he continues to look at the map.
“What’s that you’re looking at Jim?” Hugh asks.
“That reading not keeping you busy enough?” Flanigan asks.
“No, believe me… it is plenty, I was just wondering what the map was all about,” Hugh responds.
“These are all of the Butcher’s crime scenes,” Flanigan says, “I’ve been trying to find a connection between them for years.” Deputy Hugh is troubled by the amount of pins on the map; he has never been around a case anything like this before. For the first time in his life, Ryan Hugh is overwhelmed.
“Jim,” Ryan says as he leans back in his chair. Flanigan gives him a stern look, “do you mind if I call you Jim?”
“I suppose not, given the time and place” Flanigan responds.
“Do you ever think we’ll catch this guy?” Hugh asks. Flanigan smiles, as it is a question he has heard several times before.
“We’re not going to catch him tonight, if that’s what you’re asking,” Flanigan says.
“Seriously Jim,” Hugh says, “do you think we’ll ever get him? Or even come close to catching him?”
Sheriff Flanigan puts his hands in his pocket and leans against the wall. “I don’t know,” Flanigan says, “I used to think so, but now I just don’t know. The only thing that I am sure of is the fact that I’ll never give up trying.”
“I can’t believe he hasn’t slipped up yet,” Hugh says, “There were some things about the case that I was told about before I was brought on. Ten of his victims were laid out in the daytime. How could someone carry a dead body around in the daytime and meticulously arrange a crimes scene like that without someone seeing him?”
“Who knows?” Flanigan responds, “Maybe someone walked up on a couple of scenes and maybe he killed them as well. You don’t get anywhere with maybes kid, I stopped thinking in those terms years ago.” Flanigan sits down in his chair. He occasionally looks up at Hugh and watches him go over the case file, hoping that maybe Hugh could see something that he never did. Hopefully he will find some connection, maybe something that didn’t fit. The phone rings and Flanigan picks up.
“Flanigan,” he answers. Hugh looks at Flanigan as a sickened look comes over the hardened Sheriff. “Thank you, we will take care of it immediately,” he says before he hangs up the phone. Flanigan looks up at Hugh, who is trying to act as if he hadn’t deviated from his reading.
“Come on son,” Flanigan says as he gets up, “the second worst part of the job is awaiting you.”
“What’s that?” Hugh asks.
“That was the medical examiner’s office,” Flanigan says, “The younger victim has just been identified by her family; her name is Erin Steele.” Hugh gets out of his chair and follows Flanigan to his vehicle. They get in and Flanigan begins driving.
“Hugh,” Flanigan says, “would you reach into the backseat for me and get me a Coke from the cooler?” Hugh obliges. “Grab one for yourself as well,” Flanigan says. Hugh takes a Coke and plays with the tab before opening it. He takes a drink. Flanigan rolls down the window and lights a cigarette.
“When we get in there you need to follow my lead and sit back a little bit,” Flanigan says before he takes another draw off of his cigarette. “I shit you not, if you haven’t done this before you will end up bumbling and saying things you shouldn’t say and losing yourself in their grief… we need to be the rocks here okay? We need to give them some kind of confidence that things are going to be taken care of. We are lucky that the medical examiner is a friend of mine or we would have been waiting until the morning.”
“How much longer is it going to be before we get an I.D. on the second victim?” Hugh asks.
“Could be as short as a week,” Flanigan says, “or as long as a couple of months. We have been getting I.D.’s from the older victims through cross-referencing missing persons and dental records since the first one hit my bosses’ desk around thirty years ago.”
“Have you ever had an unidentified victim?” Hugh asks.
“Not one,” Flanigan says, “every elderly victim has been reported as a missing person. The older victims are usually heavily involved in social and community activities, most of the time through the church. All have been locals spread out through a five county radius. Hence the name The Baptist Butcher.”
“Hmm…” Hugh says, “So is he stalking at the churches? Have you ever looked in that direction?”
“When we had a task force, we interviewed everybody in the religious community and never got anything,” Flanigan says, “do you have any idea how many churches are in this area?” Flanigan asks.
“How many churches are there?” Hugh asks.
“Too many,” Flanigan says, “This is the Bible belt, most of the older people in the area are religious and it seems a new church pops up every couple of months, even in basements. Most of these women were last seen at home in the daytime. Nobody ever came up with any leads that panned out and we ended up coming away with nothing.”
They arrive at the medical examiner’s office, Flanigan parks the cruiser. He looks over to Hugh.
“Remember,” Flanigan says, “follow my lead here; this is unlike anything you’ve probably ever encountered as an M.P. overseas or in the burglary unit. This isn’t a family notification, nor is it a witness statement. Keep it in the back of your mind that the family is going through a traumatic experience and grief takes many forms. We are probably going to be answering questions, rather than asking them. We are just here to let them know that we are in charge of the investigation, establish a rapport and get whatever information we can get in the early stages.” Hugh nods and they both exit the vehicles, briefcases in hand. They make their way through the entrance and down a long hallway. Medical Exami
ner Ron Williams greets them at the end of the hallway.
“Well, good evening Jimmy boy,” Ron says.
“Hey Ron,” Flanigan says shaking his hand, “just ran into your brother this afternoon.”
“He called, we’re thinking about heading down south for that Big Blue Bahamas Tour in August. Y’all going down,” Jimmy says.
“Naw, but I can’t wait to catch it on TV,” Flanigan says, “By the way; this is my newest deputy Ryan Hugh.” Hugh and Williams shake hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Hugh says.
“Pleasure is mine,” Lon says, “I have the victim’s father, Larry Steele in the room here. He stayed here to talk to you after identifying the body.” He points to a door adjacent to the examiner’s room entrance.
“Thank you,” Flanigan says as he opens the door.
Flanigan and Hugh enter the room. They see a bald, husky man in his early forties sitting in a chair with his head buried face-down on the table. Flanigan and Hugh take their seats and begin the interview. Flanigan gently places his hand on Larry’s shoulder.
“Larry,” he says, “my name is Jim Flanigan and I am investigating the death of your daughter, Erin.” Larry raises his head and looks vacantly at Flanigan and Hugh.
“I know you,” Larry says without a hint of emotion, “I’ve seen you before on the news several times.” Flanigan takes his hand off Larry’s shoulder and leans back in his chair.
“Yes sir,” Flanigan says, “I have been in the news on occasion.”
“You’re the cop that has been chasing that serial killer around forever; the Baptist Butcher… is that right?” Larry says.
“Yes sir,” Flanigan responds.
“Did he do this?” Larry asks, lip quivering.
“I’m going to be honest with you sir, all signs are pointing in that direction,” Flanigan says. Larry sulkingly nods and begins sniffling.
“She was just sixteen,” Larry says, “She was my little angel. I just bought her a car for her sweet sixteenth, a little Toyota Prius. She wanted to take it out into Lexington last weekend and I wouldn’t let her. She just got her license and I was afraid that she was going to…” Larry begins breaking down in a mixture of sobbing and hyperventilation. Flanigan puts down his pen and notebook paper and places his hand back on Larry’s shoulder, trying to comfort him.
“Mr. Steele,” Flanigan says, “when was the last time you saw your daughter?” Larry tries to wipe away his tears, but they continue to fall anyway.
“It was about two weeks ago,” Larry says.
“Do you remember the exact date?” Flanigan says as he looks at Hugh and motions for him to begin note taking.
“June 20th” Larry says.
“And where did you last see her?” Flanigan asks.
“At the house,” Larry says, “she said that she was going to meet some friends.”
“Do you know who she was going to meet?” Flanigan asks.
“No,” Larry says, “things have been rough around the house after her mother passed away. She had a rough bout with breast cancer and Erin and she were close. Seems anytime I would ask her a question like that she would tell me that I was prying into her life too much. If I did ask, or didn’t let her go, maybe she would still be alive.”
“You can’t do that to yourself,” Flanigan says, “no one is responsible for this except for the man that killed her. And you can look back on everything you said or did over and over again and nothing will ever change that fact.”
“I don’t know,” Larry says, “I just wished I could have been there, I just want my baby girl back.”
“Me too,” Flanigan says. Larry looks at Flanigan and begins fidgeting. He is about to ask him a very awkward and difficult question, one of those questions that you ask, but don’t really want to know the answer to.
“Jim,” Larry says, “do you know if she suffered?” Flanigan bites his lower lip and pauses. Hugh looks at Jim, wondering what he is going to say.
“I’m going to be honest with you Larry,” Flanigan says, “the man that did this to your daughter raped her several times. The last couple of weeks of her life were spent in unimaginable conditions. When the medical examiner is done, I can guarantee you that her cause of death will be poisoning. This monster has been doing this for years, and he hasn’t stopped, and he won’t stop until we stop him.” Larry slowly begins rocking back and forth in a mixture of sorrow and rage. An awkward and painful silence commences.
“How could anybody do something like this to a sweet girl like Erin…? I just don’t understand it,” Larry says.
“No one will ever be able to explain evil to a man who doesn’t have it in his own heart,” Flanigan says, “I’ve been doing this for over thirty years. I’ve seen hundreds of evil acts, sat across the table from men you’d think the devil sent you himself. But in all of those years, I have never fully understood what is in their heart… and don’t want to for that matter. I’ve heard people say that some of them have had a rough childhood, that some of them were raised in circumstances that shaped them into who they were. I’ve seen doctors testify that some of them are mentally ill. Pardon my French Larry, but it’s all a bunch of horseshit. Millions of people have those backgrounds and don’t commit violent acts. People do things because they want to do them. It’s that simple. The man that did this to your daughter is evil and one day he is going to have to answer to a jury for what he did.”
“Do you think you are going to find him?” Larry asks.
“I know I am going to find him,” Flanigan says, “and the both of us are going to be there to speak for Erin when the jury goes to sentencing.”
“Is there anything that I can do to help?” Larry asks. Flanigan puts down his pen and paper and takes a document out of his briefcase. He hands the document to Larry.
“Did Erin have a cell phone?” Flanigan asks.
“Yes, she did,” Larry responds.
“Was it in your name?” Flanigan asks.
“Yes it was,” Larry says.
“Good, if you would, sign these papers for me,” Flanigan says, “that will give me access to both your cell phone and land line records.” Larry signs the papers with his trembling hand.
“Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” Larry says.
“We’ll try and see who Erin was talking to before she was abducted and maybe we can find out where she was headed that night,” Flanigan says, “It’s not much to go on yet, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. Here is my card, it has my office number and my cell number so you can reach me at any time,” Flanigan says as he hands him the card. “If you can think of anything that may help us, no matter how insignificant you feel it might be, give me a call.” They shake hands.
“I will,” Larry says.
“And I promise that I will call you if anything breaks,” Flanigan says. Flanigan and Hugh leave the room and start walking back to the car.
“Jesus,” Hugh says with sigh, “that was certainly painful to watch.”
“Like I said, get used to it,” Flanigan says, “it doesn’t get any easier. He was actually really calm, sometimes they will blame you, sometimes they completely fall apart, sometimes they lock up and other times they can become violent towards you. A mother started hitting me in the face once when I told her.”
“What did you do?” Hugh asks?
“I took it and then I subdued her best I could,” Flanigan responds, “what in the hell else was I gonna do, compound the shittiest day of her life?”
“I see what you were talking about now,” Hugh says, arriving at the vehicle and leaning against the door.
“Wait until we get in front of the press tomorrow,” Flanigan says with a dreadful tone. “Sometimes I can’t think of a damned word to say to them. When you talk to a man who just lost his daughter and all you can think about is getting him justice, you can be you. It’s raw and it’s real. But when you get in front of those fucking vipers it gets kind of hard to think on the fly.”
<
br /> “I thought he was going to be angry,” Hugh says, “I guess it kind of surprised me how docile he was.”
“Like I said, it’s different every time,” Flanigan says, “you never know until you get in that room.” They get in the cruiser, Flanigan leans back in his seat and lights a cigarette. He takes a hard draw off of it and exhales a thick plume of smoke. He starts the car and they begin to make their way back to the station.
“I feel horrible for that guy,” Hugh says. Flanigan glances at Hugh and then focuses back on the road. Hugh continues, “I mean one day you have a great life, a happy family and then…” he snaps his fingers, “BOOM…” it’s all gone.”
“It’s crazy,” Flanigan says, “when you’re in this job long enough and you see what people can do to one another, it gets hard to enjoy life. You start wondering just how bad this world can get, only to see it get worse the next day.”
“How do you deal with that?” Hugh asks.
“You realize that there are many more good people in the world than there are bad,” Flanigan says, “you just have to stay plugged in to the rest of the world. My sanctuary is God, I just pray and keep plugging along, knowing that one day everything will work itself out.”
“I haven’t been to church in a while, since I got out of the Marines if you want to know the truth,” Hugh confesses.
“I quit going years ago,” Flanigan says with an odd chuckle. “Some judgmental little folks filling those seats at times. Nope, not me. God and I do well talking while I’m sitting on my boat fishing. That is my church.” Hugh looks at the cigarette hanging out of Flanigan’s mouth.
“I heard you drink a little bit, and I know you smoke like a freight train. I’m actually a little surprised that you are religious at all if you want to know the truth,” Hugh jokes.
“I also curse on occasion,” Flanigan says, “but nobody’s fucking perfect and nobody likes a judgmental little smartass.”
“I didn’t mean it like it sounded,” Hugh says, “I’m sorry.”
They pull into the department and make their way back to their office. Hugh yawns.
The Light In the Dark Page 8