“No!” Darby yelled. “You need to let me finish!”
As Paxton secured the suspect, Ruth moved toward the object on the floor. As the fog thinned, Ruth slowed. This was no mannequin.
It was a man, eviscerated.
Bowel was strewn across the tile floor. The pooled blood was bubbling in a sickening rhythm. Ruth suppressed a gag as she knelt down to check a pulse. It seemed extremely redundant, but she had to be sure.
Of course, she found no heartbeat under her fingers. She looked up at Paxton, who gulped and looked away.
“He’s dead.” She scanned the room. For all the blood and the ragged wound, there was no knife. Rising, she turned to Darby. “Where’s the weapon?”
The man seemed in a sick trance as he rocked back and forth. “It is in God’s hands.”
Paxton swung Darby around to face him. Anger radiated from her partner. “We need something a little more specific, asshole!”
Darby made a futile attempt to rush toward the body. “You must let me finish!”
“Um, that is so never going to happen, perv,” Paxton said as he slammed Darby against the wall. As some of the braver men gathered at the doorway, Ruth put a hand on Paxton’s arm.
“Just read him his rights, Pax. We don’t want any wiggle room in his confession.”
Her partner’s nostrils flared as he looked down at the defiled body. She squeezed his arm. Ruth understood exactly how he felt, but she did not want a major conviction, another major conviction, overruled because of allegations of police brutality.
Finally, Paxton loosened his grip on Darby, nodding. “Yes,” he said slowly, and then with more passion, “we want the death penalty to apply.”
Ruth did not feel in the mood to disagree.
* * *
Cecilia looked up from checking her emails on her phone to find that Michael cruised right past her block.
“Um, my house is in that direction.”
Next to her, Michael just shrugged. “I figured I would drop you off on the way back, if that’s okay?”
It wasn’t okay, but Cecilia did not want to make a fuss and draw even more attention to the awkward silence. Ever since they had dropped off Francesca, Helen had been unable to engage either one of them in conversation. She sat pouting, even worse than Cecilia, in the backseat.
As they pulled up to Helen’s driveway, her friend could not help but give it one more try. “Are you sure that I shouldn’t come over and help you with your trig homework? I know how much trouble you have with proofing.”
Cecilia cocked her head. “I think you’ve helped enough, Helen. I will call you tomorrow.”
With a sigh loud enough to be heard across the block, Helen got out of the car and stood at the curb as Michael pulled the car away.
“Tonight!” Helen yelled as they made their way down the block. “No. Call me as soon as you get home!”
Cecilia tried to pretend she didn’t know exactly why Helen wanted her to call. This was the first time she had been alone with a boy since her dad died. She knew her friends meant well, but she really did not see how a hookup, or even a full-fledged boyfriend, would make her life any better. As a matter of fact, she dreaded having to explain half the crap that happened at her house to an outsider.
Michael went to speak, then coughed, then had to clear his throat before he finally was able to get his words out. “So, I take it you’re not a huge Diana Dahmer fan?”
Trying to be polite, Cecilia answered, “You could say that.”
“Is it the beat, or—”
“Look,” she said, stopping him. She squirmed a bit in her seat, regretting accepting the ride. If she had any notion that Michael was going to change the route and drop her off last, she never would have gotten into the car, let alone the front seat.
“I appreciate you driving us all home and everything, but we have absolutely nothing in common to talk about.”
“Okay …” Michael said, as he focused back on the road in front of them.
Relaxing back into the seat, Cecilia counted the blocks until she was home.
“Um,” Michael continued, thoroughly dashing her hopes of a silent ride home. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”
“Well, to my knowledge, I don’t think we have really exchanged more than a ‘Yo’ in the hallway, so how do you know that we have absolutely nothing in common?”
His eyes slid over playfully to her. “I mean, what’s your position on alpaca farming?”
“I guess, well, I didn’t even know they farmed them,” Cecilia answered.
“See? I didn’t, either.”
In spite of herself, Cecilia felt a grin spread across her lips. She was even a touch sad that he pulled up to her driveway. Michael smiled back as he put the car in park. He turned to her, his blue eyes flashing with humor.
“So, now that we’ve established such a broad base of similarity, how about you come along to the concert tonight?”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she answered, but not quite as forcefully as she might have a few minutes ago. Still, the smile fell a bit on Michael’s face, so she rushed on. “But thanks. Really.”
She opened the door and got out before her resistance was worn down any more. Michael leaned over the seat. “If you change your mind …”
“I won’t,” Cecilia said.
But Michael only smiled. “Stranger things have happened.”
Perhaps they had. However, she had three loads of laundry, a sink full of dirty dishes, and one scary-messy garage to clean up. But she did wave as he left. Michael deserved that much. It wasn’t his fault that her life sucked big time.
* * *
Panting, the killer scaled the last of the roof and squeezed his frame through the open window. The thrill of nearly being discovered coursed through his body.
Talk about a thrill rush!
He tossed the bloody knife onto the plastic sheet he had just for this purpose before he stripped off his red-smeared clothes and mask. The gilded hawk nose of the Inquisition mask stared back up at him. Daring him to complete his plan.
Oh, he was going to complete his plan, all right. This near miss only galvanized him to action. Lastly, he tossed two spanking new tickets to the All Hallow’s Eve bash down onto his bed.
Tonight was going to be the night of his life. Tonight, they would all see what he was capable of.
If they were freaked out by the previous murders, well…
The killer smiled as he wiped the blood from his hands.
* * *
Paxton tried to keep his attention on the report he was typing, but Darby just wouldn’t shut up. He rattled the bars of the holding cell.
“You can’t keep me here!”
“Watch me,” Paxton answered flatly.
“I’m claustrophobic!”
Paxton rolled his eyes, making sure that Ruth was catching all this great wacko action. “Yeah, right.”
Darby’s tone lowered, almost pleading. “I only gave that poor man his last rites. I did nothing to harm his corporeal shell.”
“Sure, you’re just the picture of civic pride.”
Ruth frowned, “Paxton…”
He gave an exaggerated shrug. “What?”
“You know what the DA instructed.”
Paxton did. However, he was finding it harder and harder to comply. But having a suspect with known mental illness, even though he had waived his right to counsel, presented a sticky situation. If Darby were not completely mentally capable at the time he signed such a waiver, it would be null and void. Which meant anything obtained during questioning could be thrown out at trial.
It hurt Paxton’s brain to think crap like that through. Thankfully, the guy had basically confessed as soon as they walked into the sauna. A classic spontaneous utterance. Sane or crazy, those usually held up in court pretty darn well.
But until a shrink showed up to assess Darby’s mental status, they were not allowe
d to question him, or even talk to him really, but Paxton was pretty sure making fun of the guy was okay.
He went to tell Ruth that much, but her frown deepened, and she said his name more like a growl than a word. “Paxton.”
Behind him, Darby pleaded, “Please, there was a devil in a cape. It was he who sundered that poor soul.”
Paxton snorted. He didn’t think that was off-limits by the DA, but Ruth’s frown only worsened. She tapped her pen on the desk across from him. “You know, two other witnesses did mention a costumed—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He knew this side of Ruth. The self-doubting side. She questioned every piece of evidence. Every word of a confession. She weighed it all, trying to find a flaw. Paxton knew her history, and especially after the bookstore incident earlier, he knew that she did not want to get “caught with her pants down” again, but damn, it wore on his nerves. For once, they had an open-and-shut case.
“It’s Halloween week, and in that part of town, I think we can assume that a few dozen people were running around in costume.”
Ruth got up from her side of the desk and sat next to him. Was that a universal chick thing? That having her body so close would distract a guy and convince him to do what she wanted? As the smell of fresh strawberries drifted over from her form, Paxton was pretty sure that it was universal—and that it worked.
“I totally get the whole Halloween thing,” Ruth said, “but we really didn’t investigate the crime scene very thoroughly.”
“Um, because we caught the killer red-handed. Like literally, blood-smeared red.”
Ruth seemed undeterred, though. “But what if he had an accomplice?”
Paxton looked over at the crazed man. “First off, who’s going to team up with that? And second, we may not have gone over the crime scene, but forensics went over that sauna and locker room with the proverbial fine-tooth comb.”
She nodded. However, Paxton didn’t feel like she agreed with him at all.
“But aren’t you just the least bit interested in who was in full costume in the Y’s steam room?”
“Nope. Not at all. But hey, if you want to head out, go for it.”
Unfortunately, Darby decided that this was the perfect moment to begin howling. Not just uttering loudly—actually howling like a wolf.
Ruth indicated the holding cell. “So, you could go back to the YMCA with me and poke around, or listen to that all night, alone.”
“Damn you, woman,” Paxton grumbled as he unlocked his drawer and got his gun. “And your lesser-of-two-evils logic.”
Ruth grinned as she headed toward the door. Watching how her pants hugged the curve of her rear, Paxton was suddenly glad he decided to go along.
CHAPTER 4
Cecilia folded yet another school shirt. She really should do laundry more often, but then that would involve going into Jeremy’s room and—ugh—her mom’s room. Which would be fine if their dirty clothes were actually in their clothes hampers. Of course, that would be just too easy. Instead, Cecilia always ended up crawling under beds and chairs.
How hard was it to throw the dirty clothes in the direction of the hampers?
She stopped her internal haranguing as she found one of her old sundresses. Did she really once wear pink and yellow? The dress was only from last year, yet it seemed to belong to a different person. That person smiled easily and went to pool parties and picnics.
Cecilia put it up against her body. It would probably still fit. In a rare moment of whimsy, Cecilia slipped the dress on and turned to the mirror. She could remember wearing it, but now it didn’t feel the same. Those dark circles under her eyes haunted her. Even wearing the dress, she could never capture the happiness from before.
Still, a part of her yearned for escape. Even just a night out, dancing and laughing. Cecilia looked around her room. It still held happy memories. The pictures decorating the edges of her heart-shaped mirror. The poster of a fuzzy kitten sleeping. Her cheerleading trophies.
She imagined going to a school function and having Michael ask her to dance. She, of course, would demur. Because Cory, the hunky wide receiver, had already asked for her hand. Or would it be Tyler, the math geek with the quirky sense of humor?
Could she really go out and—
The smoke alarm burst through her musings. Cecilia bolted out of her room and down the stairs. Smoke wafted up from the kitchen. Her mother was fanning something flaming on the stove.
“No, Mom! That will only make it worse!” Cecilia yelled, but her mother kept at it. “Get out of the way!” she yelled again, as she grabbed the pot lid and slammed it over the burning chicken.
As the smoke cleared, her mother stammered, “I was just trying to make dinner and I don’t…I don’t know what happened.”
Of course, an empty bottle of red wine on the counter explained it to Cecilia. Her mother had the best of intentions, but she just couldn’t seem to execute them.
Jeremy burst into the room, winded. Seeing that Cecilia had the fire under control, he pulled a chair over, climbed up, and turned off the smoke alarm. Unfortunately for both of them, this was not their first brush with this situation. Sometimes it was in her mom’s bedroom after a dangling cigarette smoldered on a pillow. Heck, it even happened in the bathroom with candles once.
“You talk about me!” Jeremy yelled. “Crap! At least I don’t try and set the house on fire!”
“And exactly where have you been all day?” Cecilia countered. While he wasn’t wrong, his delinquency still grated on her nerves.
“That’s none of your business!” her brother shouted.
“Fine! Then get back to your room.”
Her brother turned on his heel. “Gladly!”
The sound of angry footsteps racing up the stairs filled the room. As his door slammed shut, her mother sat down hard at the kitchen table.
“I’m so sorry.” Was her mom slurring her words? At four o’clock in the afternoon? “I was just trying to do something good.” Then the waterworks started. “I was hoping we could all just be a family.”
Cecilia couldn’t take much more of her mom’s self-pity. She knew her mom’s heart was in the right place. It was just hard to care, given how much of a cleanup of the kitchen Cecilia would have to do. From previous experience, she knew exactly how hard it would be to remove the smoke and soot from everything.
“I know, Mom. But how about you just go back to your room? I’ll finish up and let you know when dinner is ready.”
“Oh, Cecilia, honey.” Unfortunately, as her mother rose to give her a hug, she knocked over a glass of wine. The red liquid splashed all over Cecilia, staining her sundress.
“Mom!” she yelled, unable to control herself. “Just go back to bed!”
Head bowed, her mom shuffled out of the kitchen. Once certain that her mom was out of earshot, Cecilia finally let the tears, which threatened to come out all day, stream down her cheeks. Sobbing, she clutched the edge of the sink. This was so unfair! She looked down at her delicate yellow dress, ruined by the deep burgundy merlot.
Cecilia used a wet dishrag to wipe it off, but it only smeared the stain more. She threw the towel down. Cecilia didn’t know why she even bothered. Even if somehow she magically got the dress cleaned, where would she ever wear it?
* * *
Jeremy paced his room. The smoke alarm hadn’t gone off again, so he supposed his sister had thrown their mom out of the kitchen. But after Cecilia was done with that crisis, Jeremy knew his big sister would be after him next. And he was not waiting around for that.
He had way bigger plans.
Finally, a knock came at his window. He opened it, and Evan climbed though.
“Jeez, you took long enough!” Jeremy chastised.
Evan dusted himself off. “What’s so important that it was a 9-1-1 text?”
Jeremy fanned out two Diana Dahmer Halloween concert tickets. “Oh, just these?”
“What?” His best friend stepped back, pushing his glasses up on
his nose. “How… how did you get those?”
Jeremy relished the shocked look on his friend’s face. “Remember that last pool game you ditched to turn in your history paper?”
Evan snorted. “Yeah, then Father Haskell extended the deadline until Monday because no one else had theirs ready.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jeremy hurried on. “But the point is that I won the game and the guy didn’t have the cash up front so, voilà!”
His friend reached a hand out, and Jeremy turned the tickets over to him. “Wow, the artwork on here is just amazing! They’ve even embossed them. They are going to make great souvenirs.”
“Souvenirs?” Jeremy recoiled from the notion. “Screw my Diana Dahmer collection. We are going to the concert!”
“No way!” Evan exclaimed, looking flushed at the idea. “Our parents will kill us!”
Jeremy shook his head. “Our parents won’t even know.” Heck, his mom probably wouldn’t notice if he disappeared for a week. Cecilia, though… But he had a plan for even her. “We’ll just leave messages on our moms’ voice mails saying that we’re staying at each other’s houses tonight.”
Evan still looked skeptical.
But Jeremy was not giving up. “Your mom is probably going to be relieved. I mean, when was the last time she was home for dinner?” His friend’s face clouded over. “That’s what I thought. Plus, from Uncle Pax’s phone call earlier, they are working on a big case, and Cec has her hands full with Mom. Nobody is going to care that we are out for the night.”
All Hallow's Eve: The One Day It's BAD to Be Good Page 6