Rainy Fall

by Claudio Hernández

  “I can’t go on!” Peter yelled, and his eyes were bulging with horror.

  “Calm down, Peter, you have done enough already” Burt touched his wet shoulder.

  “I want to follow that son of a bitch” He said gasping. “I want to see his face. I want to see him die. This one is worse than Reverend Larry...”

  “Jack Feather Feet” Burt murmured. Ethan’s recorder did not capture this, but he wrote it down in his notebook.

  “This time he is wearing a white mask, and I could see his eyes. It was dark, although it hasn’t stopped me from seeing hatred in his eyes, or his insanity.” Peter explained, still sitting on the ground with his hands on the mud.

  “Did you see the color of his eyes?” Ethan asked, pushing through to come closer. “Could you make a composite sketch of the killer?”

  “I am the one who asks questions here” Burt squawked looking at him askance. “And now, if I may say so, step away, keep space for air to run.”

  “Mr. Sheriff, I want you to know that we can operate everywhere...”

  “Ethan!” Charlotte interrupted him.

  “See? Even your partner agrees with me” Burt said turning to Peter with a smile on his lips.

  “I don’t. It is just that I am less impulsive than him” Charlotte explained, withdrawing her hand from Ethan’s chest.

  “Well, well, well” Burt said jokingly.

  “The killer smokes. It is the second time I smell his breathing” Peter said suddenly, still analyzing what had happened. “You probably think I am crazy, but it is true, I can smell what the victim smelled before dying. It sounds ridiculous, but it is true.”

  “We believe you, Peter, go on.” Burt took his arm. He had bent forward in front of Peter.

  “He is obsessed with carnal pleasure. He calls it worldly pleasure.”

  Ethan came closer to record properly Peter’s trembling voice.

  “Have you seen something else this time?” Burt wanted to know, staring at him. The rain had taken away his hangover.

  “There are two details that make me think that I have seen things through the killer’s eyes; the umbrella blown away by the wind and the blood flowing through the water.

  “Owen, did you find any umbrella?” the sheriff asked, looking now towards the old man.

  “No, sir, I haven’t seen anything.” He had one hand on his chest and he shook his head.

  “Maybe she didn’t die here” Peter said, adding sadly “I have not been able to see anything related to the place where it happened. I only know that it was dark and it was raining.”

  Burt nodded.

  “First the cold winter and now this fucking rainy fall” Burt complained, getting off the ground.

  “I have seen the cross. It is like a weapon with sharpened ends. And I can feel the intense pain they suffer before dying.”

  28

  The ambulance arrived later. The two men rolled out a stretcher from the vehicle and left Hanna’s naked body there. His father threw himself on top of her, and the doctor had to inject him a powerful sedative, a knockout shot.

  Burt had closed the unfortunate girl’s eyes, and when the ambulance left and it vanished out of their sight, he took out his phone and called William Forest.

  His raspy voice answered on the first ring.

  “William?”

  “Yes, is that Burt?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, I am. I never call you to drink a couple of beers. Besides, you are not my type.” He said, although it was quite creepy to make jokes right then.

  He could hear a burst of laughter on the other end of the line.

  “Ok, Burt, just tell me. What has happened this time?”

  “I’m sending you a new victim. This time I want you to examine her from head to toe. I need to know why the hell she had her nipples cut off, just in case there is any new element...”

  “What?” William barked.

  “I mean to check the scissors’ edges used to cut them. There might be some biological traces or whatever.”

  “Burt, a murderer doesn’t usually go around licking his weapons.”

  He did not receive any answer.

  Ethan was trying to hear the conversation, but Burt had stepped away several feet.

  Finally Burt answered:

  “Well, one never knows. There are all kinds of sadist out there. I need you to do a double autopsy this time. Unfortunately, they are not wearing anything at all. She is stark naked and we could not even find her panties.”

  “Oh, my God, is he a fetishist?”

  “I don’t know. I just know he repeats the same actions again and again and Reverend Larry must be getting eaten by worms now...”

  “He has been already eaten, Burt. Worms are fast. He will probably be like a dry and rigid cardboard by now.” William interrupted him.

  “Call me after midnight, for a change.” Burt said, and then he hung up.

  When he went back to the main group, Peter was standing before his men and Ethan was asking him plenty of questions.

  “Where are the girl’s clothes?”

  Peter did not answer. The rain had started to let up a little.

  “According to Owen, there is nothing around the body” Richard explained again. He was known as the rookie, although he had been with them for nine months already.

  “He takes the fucking clothes with him” Lloyd said.

  “Where does he take them?” Ethan asked, as inopportune as always.

  Burt folded his arms.

  “To your house” Burt answered. “Aren’t you here to investigate it? Or you just learn how to wear brand new suits so you can leave them soaking under the rain?”

  “We are just doing our jobs” Charlotte said. She was pretty and she had wonderful lips, but she was not very smart.

  “Well, let’s comb the area!” Burt yelled, his felt hat soaking.

  But they did not find anything.

  29

  “I don’t know if I should believe all that stuff about that man with dirty hair.” Ethan said derogatorily. “But it is a morbid situation.”

  Burt had put his feet on the desk and was caressing his moustache.

  Go on speaking, whatever you feel like saying, I’m not listening, Burt thought looking at him with a sour face.

  Charlotte was sitting next to Ethan on an uncomfortable chair. Her hair was dry and she had combed it. She was beautiful. It was worth to look at her. As for Ethan, he liked him as much as getting kicked in the balls.

  “I have been trying to make some questions to the parents of the girls murdered last winter, but nobody seems to remember anything.” Ethan explained, sitting restlessly on his chair.

  “Don’t probe on their wound” Burt answered, well seated in his chair. His butt was so used to the oval form of the chair that he felt really comfortable sitting there.

  “You are not making any progress. Do you know what being a FBI agent mean?”

  “It means nothing to me, and probably it doesn’t mean anything to my men, too.”

  A lot of laughs could be heard from the other side of his office’s door.

  Charlotte turned to look towards the window, which was next to the door, but she could only see Jack, who was on his back. The sudden fit of laughter smothered inside the sheriff’s office.

  “You all have agreed to ruin my life” Ethan said, smiling cynically. His eyes sparkled like a naughty boy’s eyes who was about to play a prank.

  “We all know each other at Boad Hill and the locals think that dirty laundry should be washed at home. They are scared to death now and they will not collaborate at all because they have nothing to say. You just probe in their wounds with that brand new suit of yours. I have not been able to get a clear word out of you that can lead us to the murderer. I bet you haven’t got a fucking clue.” Burt took a break and then, pointing to Charlotte, added: “I am also talking about you.”

  Ethan got angry and his eyes turned blood shot. His right foot started moving like a
piston inserting in a connecting rod over his left knee.

  “I am going to make a file on you and this precinct.”

  "Come on, why don’t you do it?”

  Ethan knew for sure he wouldn’t do it. After all nobody knew anything, not even him. None of them had discovered anything.

  “And what about that guy with huge glasses, I mean, the guy that enters a trance every time he holds one of those girls’ hands? Do you really believe him? Don’t you think all of it is just nonsense?”

  “Peter found out who Jack Feather Feet was.”

  “Yes, he did, but I’m not buying any of that. I think I have told you before.”

  “I just don’t remember” Burt said with a serious face.

  To be honest, Ethan did not remember if he had done it either.

  Charlotte was listening without saying a word. She barely spoke.

  Ethan was getting nervous.

  “What about the details surrounding the murders? Don’t they tell you anything?”

  “The coroner never found any print; he can only determine the cause of death.” Burt said drily, “Besides, we have been through all this before, it is the same story again, and we know the killer is imitating Reverend Larry. The question is: who will be the next one? I really doubt the killer lives here.”

  “How do you know it?”

  “I have already told you that we all know each other here; only once there was an isolated incident here, with a loon called Tom. But it happened many years ago.

  “Who is Tom?”

  “Go and find out.” Burt’s voice sounded grave and it echoed around his office. It was weird echo.

  Charlotte remained impassive, as always.

  30

  Peter had come back home with Jack, and when he opened the door, bringing some water and wind inside with him, there they were, Denny and his father. Denny had a sad look in his eyes that betrayed him. Then Peter approached them, walking along the short corridor like a ghost, and he sat down on the couch next to Denny, who felt his butt cold and wet immediately, because the raincoat had soaked the couch seats. He looked at Peter with a funny gaze.

  “How was the experience?” John thought his son needed to be questioned about it as soon as he saw his face.

  Peter remained silent for a long period, and then he said:

  “Weird.”

  “You already said that the other day too.” His father answered.

  “What’s wrong, Peter?” Denny asked him touching his arm.

  “The most ridiculous thing in the world” Peter answered, resting his head against the couch. His hair was still greasy and flat. His glasses wouldn’t stop sliding down his nose. “It turns out that now I can feel, smell and see through the eyes of the killer.” Peter had raised his hands upwards, and his face spoke a thousand words.

  Denny felt a little scared.

  His father arched his eyebrows.

  31

  The phone rang at twelve forty-five am, in the middle of a storm with no thunders or lightning but a lot of rain. William Forrest was late, and Burt thought he might have done it just to kick his balls. As soon as he picked his phone up and touched the green button, he heard the corpse ripper’s voice, as he called him.

  “Burt, I think this is not making any progress.”

  Burt fists pressed the can of beer so hard that it spilled its content into the ground, forming a puddle quite similar to a pee.

  32

  The coffin was open just for a while, as the church service did not last long. Samuel was not the kind of reverend who kept smiting his chest and giving long speeches about the goodness of the Lord. Samuel was a strict man. He always conducted the services with a short requiem and then he sent the deceased to the graveyard, where he usually had to be taken by car because he suffered from a painful arthritis in his knees.

  Hanna’s parents broke down crying, their tears streaming down their eyes. They were clenching their fists so hard that their palms were bleeding. They knew there was nothing else they could do. Mathew, Hanna’s father, was especially devastated as he had seen with his own eyes that the killer had left no tracks and it would be very difficult to find him. If only he had ejaculated inside the girls, there would be a chance to catch him. But he penetrated them with a huge cross and he never kissed them or licked their nipples. There was nothing at all; there wasn’t a way forward; apparently, their only hope was Peter.

  Peter approached the coffin without any doubt and he touched her hands. Then he pushed his mind inside and he connected with her. After the sudden darkness, he saw a barn. There was a tractor at the bottom end of that barn. There was something written on one side of the tractor. Bob the fool. Peter discovered the place where Hanna had been murdered, and he could see how he put the girl on his back, and then he took her to the water tank. He could see everything through the eyes of ... who? Now he knew the killer was a strong guy, with an athletic constitution. After that he saw nothing, everything went black again. It had never happened to him before. Peter turned around when the two men in black approached the coffin looking for Burt.

  But he was gone.

  33

  “You have to tell him, Peter” Said Denny, almost whispering. He was sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed, while he was in his chair in front of the computer on the other side of the room, but he was looking towards Denny. The sky was clouded and it was getting dark.

  “I tried to tell him when I was in the church, but he was already gone.”

  “What have you got his telephone number for?”

  Peter hung his head.

  “I know. I call him sometimes. But, what if I am wrong?”

  “Nothing is lost by trying.” Denny answered, lying down on the bed. The mattress springs creaked down there.

  “I have some doubts. It is very difficult to see through the killer’s eyes if I don’t push myself inside him, and I don’t know who he is.”

  “Maybe they weren’t the killer’s eyes but the girl’s” He said, leaning on his elbows on the soft mattress, which creaked again. “It is possible that it was one of her memories, one of her last moments.”

  “When the killer was taking her to the water tank?” Peter’s face showed a mixture of uncertainty and bewilderment. His eyes grew bigger behind his magnifying glasses.

  “She could have seen it too.” Now Denny dropped on the mattress again. “If I were you, I would call him right now and I would tell him.”

  “You would tell him what?”

  “That my sister is in love with you” Denny made a joke, showing a broad smile.

  “What do you know about it, anyway?” Peter exclaimed, blushing. “Who tells you I like her?”

  “Everything tells me, Peter, everything.”

  And that was it concerning Ann.

  Concerning Burt, Peter had already decided he would go and see him at the police station.

  34

  The door slammed open, as if two bandits had kicked it to bend it. Cold air and water came in with them. If this was the Wild West, it wouldn’t be water what was coming in but desert dust. The sun was hiding behind the rocky mountain, although they had not been able to feel it for the whole week, and the clouds were dark and broken like glowing embers.

  Officer Lloyd was leaning on the counter, reading the local newspaper. He felt pleased because there were no leaks from the investigation. The only thing that had been published was the poor girl’s obituary and a succinct article that affirmed that Reverend Larry was not dead, that he had just left Boad Hill, but now was back with greater fury.

  “Where is Sheriff Burt?” Peter asked with his hair splashed and his glasses dripping, while he was striding towards the counter.

  Lloyd raised his head slowly, as if he didn’t give a damn about the world. He put his hands on the counter and shook his head towards the next door. There he was, Sheriff Burt, with his feet on his desk and his ever-present hat on his head.

  Denny was walking behind Peter, dragging his
feet and feeling the soft floor. He was gliding as if he was riding a skateboard. They looked funny, Peter with his raincoat soaking and Denny with his blue puffed up anorak.

  “Come in, lad. There he is, as always.” Lloyd said with his grave voice, while his Adam’s apple went up and down through his neck.

  Jack came closer to the counter walking comically. His big butt was hauling his truncheon, his police firearm and his handcuffs.

  “Peter, did you find something new?”

  “Maybe” Peter agreed and Denny smiled at him instinctively.

  The dim light of the police station illuminated their necks like the sun after an eclipse.

  Peter bent his right fingers slightly to knock at the glass door.

  Burt moved on the other side of the door.

  “Feel at home here” Jack said. “Come in, don’t call in.”

  Peter smiled faintly.

  “Come in!” Burt exclaimed, lowering his feet from the desk.

  The door opened squeaking.

  "Hi, Burt, I have something to tell you." Peter explained as he reached across and pulled out a chair. It squeaked when he rubbed it against the floor. Denny stood by his side.

  "I'm all ears, Peter" Burt opened his hands as someone who opens a book, showing his pink palms. The air was dense and sticky because of the heater.

  The raindrops from Peter's raincoat were now dropping on the floor, making a little puddle under the chair.

  "I got close to Hannah and I touched her cold hands." Peter felt his heart racing. "And then I felt something new. I think I saw the crime scene, where the killer took her. Then I saw through the killer's eyes, I could see how he took her to the water tank.

  "You spoke about that possibility yesterday. You thought you might be watching everything from the killer's eyes." Burt said moving his arm behind his chair, like hiding something.