The Killer in Me

by Winter Austin

  Dayne dipped her chin and nodded, her gaze focused on the cup of coffee.

  Sighing, Neva met Elizabeth’s gaze once more. “Manners, Sheriff, manners.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we’ll get right to it.” Enjoying a sip of her coffee, Elizabeth waited.

  “This is the twenty-third call I’ve put into the sheriff’s office about those odd, disruptive noises. That Slick Willy excuse of a sheriff from before didn’t bother to give me the time of day. Now you, Elizabeth, you have answered every single call.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “And you still can’t figure out who is causing all that racket.”

  “Unfortunately, I have not. I have, however, seen where there have been intruders. I just can’t make out if they are of the two-legged or four-legged kind. Maybe Deputy Dayne can help me with that today.”

  “Let’s hope your intuition proves right, Sheriff.” Neva picked up their dirty dishes and took them to the sink. “My son believes I’m going senile in my old age. He says that if there is any truth to my claims, it is high time that place be demolished and the ground put to better use.” She turned back to the table. “He managed to sway the town and county councils to get the building condemned, which I have no objection to. However, that doesn’t stop anyone from running amok through there. The sole living Barrett is livid that he moved on the place without her consent.”

  Elizabeth cringed. “Who told her?”

  “Jason did.” Neva resumed her seat with a shake of her head. “That boy of mine has a thick skull when it comes to certain individuals in this county.”

  Dayne cast Elizabeth an inquiring look, but Elizabeth waved off the inevitable question. “Mrs. McKinnley, I believe my deputy and I will go over to check out the Barrett place. If I find there is something to be alarmed about, I will notify you and your son. In the meantime, keep an ear out for me.”

  The grand dame gave a courtly nod.

  Elizabeth rose, Dayne quickly joining her. “Thank you for the respite. We’ll show ourselves out.”

  “Be sure you take another treat out to Bentley,” Neva said.

  “I wouldn’t dare leave here without one. Bentley would never forgive me.”

  Elizabeth gave her new deputy a heaping ton of credit as she kept her own council while the two of them strode out of the house, two more doggie treats in hand, snatched from the container left by the door. Releasing a piercing three-tone whistle the minute her boots hit the sidewalk, Elizabeth headed for her SUV. She was at the driver’s side the second Bentley raced across the wide yard. The border collie glided to a halt right at her feet and looked up with a smile.

  “That’s a girl.” Elizabeth rewarded her dog and opened the door. Bentley bounded inside and was in her spot before Elizabeth could take her seat. Last treat given, she checked to ensure Dayne was secure and then turned over the engine.

  “How many calls have you actually responded to that she’s called in?” she asked as Elizabeth backed out of the drive.

  “Five since I started. And it’s only been a month.”

  “Eighteen of those went to the previous sheriff. Over the course of how many years?”

  “That I couldn’t tell you. He didn’t track them. Georgia, who has a long-standing memory, recalls at least three years.”

  The drive was short and sweet, and Elizabeth parked in front of the rotting building. All three spilled out, Bentley staying close to the two women as she sniffed the ground around the gnarled shrubbery.

  “Who is the sole living Barrett?”

  “Martha Kauffmann. Everyone around here calls her Ma.” Elizabeth picked a path through the tall, brittle grass. “Don’t ask me why everyone calls her that, it’s just been that way. She was an only child to the last and only Barrett son.”

  With Dayne following a few steps back, the two circled the house. At one time the residence had been painted a brilliant yellow with blue and green trim, the wraparound porch an inviting place to sit a spell and chat with the family while the kids played on the rope swings hanging from massive oaks now long dead and gone. Elizabeth recalled her parents saying they had met here at an ice cream social when they were a respective eleven and ten years of age.

  Now the once grand Queen Anne stood on a sinking, crumbling rock foundation, her three stained glass windows removed, and the remaining windows shattered or missing. The two turret roofs were sinking, while the main roof was tattered and hole-ridden. The still-standing oak trees had been battered and broken by wild midwestern storms, and the prized rosebushes were overgrown and dying.

  “Such a sad state for a piece of the town’s history,” Dayne stated.

  Elizabeth stopped next to what had been the carriage house converted into a garage, and looked up at the faded and peeled siding. “Yes. The Barretts’ son didn’t carry the same pride and joy his parents did over his inheritance. When he died, the place came into Martha’s possession. But she’d been estranged from her father for decades, and she never saw fit to redeem her family legacy. By then it was too late to save the house.”

  “Then why was she so mad that the mayor had it condemned?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because it wasn’t her idea to do it. Or she’s just a cantankerous woman looking for a reason to be mad at anyone and everyone.” Sighing, she dragged her gaze from the dilapidated building. “At least there are photos in city hall to remind everyone of what this place once stood for.”

  She moved toward the back of the collapsed carriage house.

  “And what did it stand for?” Dayne asked, following.

  “Perseverance and stubborn midwestern pride.” Elizabeth halted, staring at a pair of tracks leading away from the site and plunging into the thick woods at the edge of the property. “Someone was here on an ATV.”

  Dayne crouched next to the closest set, the grass bent and broken by the weight of the machines and rider. “Is there a path through there?”

  “There’s only one I know of, but it’s been decades since I was back there. My ex-husband and his buddies were known to have parties out there. He and his brother know that place like the back of their hand. Though I’m fairly certain things have changed over the years. If memory serves me correct, it’s terrain better suited for ATVs or horses.”

  Coming to her full height, Dayne circumvented the tracks and examined the area around the carriage house. “I see a path through the grass here.” She rotated to face the house. “Looks like it leads to the back door.”

  Elizabeth joined her. Staring at the jagged path, she couldn’t tell how many people had trespassed through here. “What are your thoughts, Deputy Dayne?”

  “How safe is it to go inside?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Chapter Five

  Lila was not prepared for the onslaught of smells when she stepped through the broken screen door. Wincing at the pungent odor of urine and scat mingled with mold and decay, she pressed the sleeve of her coat to her nose. The room she and the sheriff entered looked like the kitchen. All the appliances and hardware were long gone, and the cabinets and counters had been damaged by rain rot or left in splinters.

  Before she disturbed any more of the scene, she halted the sheriff and examined the floor. Nature’s debris littered the place, piles of dirt and leaves packed into every nook and cranny comingled with crushed beer cans, broken bottles, and other litter. There was too much garbage to tell if anyone had been in here recently.

  “As we go through, be careful. The flooring has rotted in some areas to the point you’d fall through into the cellar,” the sheriff said as she jabbed a thumb at a darkened closet. “The pantry. Stay out, it’s nothing but a hole.”

  Giving her boss a nod, Lila proceeded forward, her gaze sweeping the room, and finding nothing of significance, she moved onto the next, which proved to have been the dining room. Butted up to the large, open area was another room that had been divided by pocket doors now lying broken on the floor. Lila spotted the weakened places by the dips
in the flooring. Carpet had been pulled from the edges and left about in piles. It was more than a shame that this place had gone to rot; it was a crime.

  Sheriff Benoit pointed to another room directly in front of them. “The living room or parlor, I guess. Beyond that is the vestibule and a second set of stairs leading to the upper level.”

  “Would you hazard a guess that it’s safe to go up them?”

  “It’s possible. When they built these houses, they made sure everything was solid and sturdy. We could check it out.”

  “Got a flashlight?”

  “Hang tight.” The sheriff left the way they came in.

  Lila navigated the debris, trekking to the living area. She noted the lack of dust under the edges of the broken furniture, as if the pieces had been shifted recently. A former table looked freshly splinted—that could possibly explain the sound of breaking wood Mrs. McKinnley heard.

  The sheriff calling to her dog and closing the SUV door drifted through the open windows. Lila took stock of the gaping holes where windows should be, every single pane fractured and missing. Without that barrier, as the retired teacher had stated, on a still night any sounds coming from this place would have carried.

  Lila gazed up at the grille work that divided the rooms, the broken teeth gaping jack-o’-lantern style, then passed under it. Dust covered railing, but there were disturbed spots. Someone had touched the banister.

  The sheriff returned, flashlight in hand.

  “There.” Lila pointed.

  Turning on the light, Sheriff Benoit directed the beam at the banister. “Well, that answers the question of whether it’s safe to go up or not.”

  Together they moved to the staircase. The carpet on the stairs remained, and even with the flashlight’s beam, it was hard to distinguish footprints in the mess that covered the steps.

  “What do you think, Deputy?”

  “Nothing much. Someone was here, but I can’t tell you if it was male or female, nor how many.” Lila stared up the darkened maw. “We need to go up. Whatever took place here last night had to have happened up there.”

  “You didn’t see anything down here other than the marks here on the banister?”

  “It looks like some of the old furniture in the dining area might have been broken. But what’s to say a coon didn’t sit on it and it broke?”

  Sheriff Benoit made a satisfied hmm, and then took the lead up the stairs. Partway up, she halted. “Broken step.”

  They bypassed the dangerous spot and continued up to a small landing bearing a squat window that miraculously still contained all of its glass panes, then up five more steps to the second floor. Benoit swept the beam along the floor and up the walls, then down the hall.

  Lila recoiled at the stench of decay. “Dead animal?”

  “Probably. Let’s hope so.”

  The first open door revealed a large bedroom with a rusted iron bedframe centered in the room. Dust, an inch thick, remained undisturbed. Sheriff Benoit shook her head. The two of them edged down the hall to the next doorway.

  When the light passed over the wall to their left, Lila grasped the sheriff’s shoulder. “Wait.” She held out her hand for the flashlight and angled the beam on the marks. “It looks like blood.” She straightened. “I just don’t know how old it is. This whole place can distort evidence.”

  “Which makes it a good place to do a dirty deed.” Benoit stepped aside and gestured for Lila to take point.

  The second room revealed shredded curtains dangling from broken windows. Nothing else. A room devoid of dust. Now that was peculiar. Why this room and not the one with a bed? The sickly sweet odor of decomp emitted from the room directly across from it. A dead possum. Flies buzzed the body.

  “Gross,” the sheriff muttered and turned away.

  Blinking against the moisture building in her eyes, Lila mentally cataloged the otherwise empty room.

  “Deputy.”

  Gladly putting her back to the stench, she followed the sheriff into a small bathroom. What remained in the room was a pedestal sink and a cast-iron, claw-foot bathtub. It was the flecks of brown-red staining the side of the sink that made Lila’s pulse race.

  She crouched down to get a better look. “I’m convinced this is blood. And that smear in the hallway is too.”

  “Could be animal blood.”

  “We can test it.” Lila straightened, her gaze landing on the tub. “What are the odds?”

  The floorboards creaked under her weight but held. She examined the basin. Between the chipped porcelain, and the exposed and rusting metal, she couldn’t make out if there was blood. The whole thing would have to be luminol sprayed and swab tested.

  An ominous creak broke through her thoughts.

  “Deputy Dayne.”

  Swallowing against the sudden clench in her throat, Lila peered down at her boots. Another crack followed by a screech made her muscles seize.

  “Lila, get back,” Benoit warned.

  Shaking free of the momentary fear, Lila inched her left foot back. The tub tilted as the floorboards groaned. Panic overriding her senses, she planted her foot down and pushed off. Her vault was hindered by the wood giving way and the tub sinking. She twisted in time to turn the good side of her body and see the sheriff coming at her.

  Lila slammed into the splintering floorboards. Pain pierced her momentarily, forgotten the second her body started to slip backward. She glanced over her shoulder to see the tub disappear through the hole she was now falling into. A strong grip on her arms brought her descent to a halt, her legs swung precariously over the edge of the hole. Below the tub smashed into the first floor, and continued its destruction.

  “Hold on,” Benoit ground out, and hauled back.

  Lila scrambled for purchase, feeling her body begin to slide forward. When her hips hit the edge of the hole, she was able to use her elbows to hoist herself out. Flopping onto the floor beside the sheriff, Lila grabbed a quick breath.

  “We need to get out of here.” Benoit got to her feet and helped Lila up.

  Both women backpedaled out of the room as more of the floor gave way, taking the pedestal sink with it.

  “Thanks for the save,” Lila gasped out. A stitch in her right side took her breath. At least it was her right and not the left, something she could be grateful for. Had she landed on her left, there would be hell to pay.

  “This is not what I planned for your first day on the job, Deputy.”

  Lila cupped the back of her neck, staring at the shattered remains of the upstairs bathroom. Whatever evidence left in this room was now gone or tainted. She turned to the hallway wall. The mysterious smear was all that was left.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure.” She met the sheriff’s gaze. “Mrs. McKinnley wasn’t wrong about hearing something coming from this place.”

  “She never is.” Benoit gripped Lila’s shoulder. “We should get out of here before more of this place comes down on us.”

  “Got a pocketknife?”

  Frowning, the sheriff reached into her pants pocket and withdrew a knife. Lila took it and patted her coat; her cell phone had remained on her during the fall. Hopefully it had not be crushed. She marched back down the shadowed hall, pulling her phone out, and then stopped. The flashlight had gone down with the tub when she’d tried to save herself.

  Benoit seemed to pick up on her thoughts and waved her down. “Don’t worry about the light. I’ve got more in the SUV.”

  Finding her phone was in good condition, Lila activated the flashlight app and shone it on the smear. She took multiple pictures of it before pulling out a leftover evidence baggie from her pants pocket. With the blade of the knife, she scraped off a good-sized part of the smear into the bag and sealed it. She handed the knife back to the sheriff and pocketed the evidence.

  “Now we can get out of here.”

  Chapter Six

  Covered in dust and grime, Elizabeth and Dayne entered the department behind Bentley. Elizabeth noticed spots
of blood on her new deputy’s shirt around her midriff, but the woman waved it off. Dayne, however, couldn’t hide her grimaces and winces as she moved or walked. But Elizabeth wouldn’t push the matter. Yet.

  They were greeted in the main office with wide-eyed stares.

  “Sheriff?” Deputy Meyer jumped up from his seat and hustled over. “What happened?”

  Giving the kid a smile she sure didn’t feel, Elizabeth tsked. “We’re fine. Just a little incident in an old house.” She peeked at Dayne, who was holding her midsection and refusing to meet her gaze. “Deputy Lundquist, would you and Deputy Dayne take these samples she gathered to your lab and test them?”

  Lundquist strolled out from behind his desk, hooking his thumbs in his duty belt. “What kind of samples?”

  “I think it’s blood,” Dayne answered. “But I’m not sure what kind.”

  Behind the deputies, Elizabeth caught Georgia tilting her head and jerking it toward Elizabeth’s office. The dispatcher’s features were tight. A good sign someone was in her office she shouldn’t let overhear their discussions.

  “You two can discuss that on your way.” Elizabeth sidestepped around Dayne. “And while you’re at it, have the doc check her over.”

  “I told you I was fine,” Dayne bit out.

  “I’m the sheriff, and what I say goes. Hear me, Lundquist?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His normally gravelly voice deepened.

  Elizabeth hesitated at the change and eyed the veteran deputy. Something was on his mind. When Kyle Lundquist’s voice dipped, he was stewing. Right now, she didn’t have time to analyze that. When he was ready to offload, she’d hear about it.

  “Good. Now if ya’ll will excuse me.” Elizabeth rounded the corner of Georgia’s desk. “She’s here already?” she asked under her breath.

  “And she isn’t the only one,” Georgia answered and rolled her eyes heavenward.

  Not sure who she referred to by that big gesture, Elizabeth opened the door, allowing Bentley to push inside first. Her expected visitor turned her head as Elizabeth entered, but it was the man sitting beside her that made Elizabeth want to chew nails.