Darker Still

by T. S. Worthington

  “What is the worst thing you have ever seen?” Cheryl asked.

  John raised his eyebrow. Was she serious? Why was she asking those questions? It made him uneasy and he tried to change the subject quickly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What is the most messed up thing you’ve seen?”

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable talking about that. I actually have done my best to repress all of that stuff.”

  She shot him a look of “gimme a break”.

  “Come on. I know you remember something. I’m curious.”

  “That’s an odd thing for a young lady to be curious about,” John said. He felt weird calling her young lady when he was probably only about twelve years older than her. And he was having very impure thoughts about her and had been since he’d laid eyes on her.

  It had been a while since he had been with a woman. He had not really wanted to pursue anyone since Cathy left him. It had happened about two years ago. The two of them had been scheduled to get married and then she just up and left him one day. He came home from work to find her stuff gone and a note on the fridge. She couldn’t handle the job. That was what she had said. He understood that and that was one of the reasons he had moved from Columbus. In Belpre he thought the job would not consume his entire being and he wouldn’t end up running around morning and night chasing murderers. He figured he would find the occasional convenience store robbery, or maybe even a bank robbery here and there landing on his desk. He did not think two months into the job he would be face to face with one of the sickest murder scenes he had ever witnessed.

  “I’ve always been kind of fascinated about the dark side of human nature,” Cheryl said.

  “I guess most people are to a certain extent,” John replied. “I would say the weirdest thing was this teenage boy who had cut his eyelids off because he said that a voice told him to. Most of the worst things I’ve seen have been people doing awful things to themselves or to people they love.”

  “Why is that do you suppose?”

  “I’m not sure, but for some reason love and hate are intertwined in such a way that people become enraged so that they end up hurting someone they love far worse than they ever would a stranger.”

  Cheryl leaned back in her chair. She seemed to be thinking about something but John did not push her. He decided to let her come forth with information on her own if she wanted to share it.

  “I guess the world is sicker than I thought.”

  “It can be. It can be,” John said.

  He finished his cup of coffee and told Cheryl that he would contact her with any new information and he gave her his card as well in case anything came to her mind that might be relevant.

  He headed down to the station and when he reached his desk he began to peruse through the evidence list that they had discovered so far. It was too early for there to be much to go on. So far there were no prints found, no outside blood that did not belong to the victim, any hair fibers or clothing fibers. Whoever this person was they were good. They understood police procedure and they knew how to avoid detection.

  So far John only had the ex-boyfriend to go on as far as any possible suspects or even people to interview, but he figured that was going to be a dead end. The person they were looking for did this crime in an impersonal way. John had seen the signs before and he hated to even think it but it was a big possibility.

  There might be a serial killer loose in this small town.

  He almost laughed at the idea, but he knew that whoever did this crime had done it before. The entire thing was too ritualized and too controlled to be done in any sort of anger or frenzy. The person was not emotionally driven to commit this crime; he did not know the victim. He may have chosen the victim out of someone that he had seen fairly casually somewhere in public, or he may have been stalking in some other fashion. Either way this did not seem like a random killing.

  John did not dare bring this information to the chief or to anyone else at the station. It was far too early into the investigation to really tell that sort of thing and he was not going to be laughed at. He had the experience and the chops to know that he knew what he was talking about, but the other officers and detectives around him (all five of them) would have laughed him out of the office.

  He decided to keep his basic lid on it. There would be time to spring forth the multiple murderer scenario when they had multiple murders. John realized how cold and sick that sounded, but he knew that there was nothing else to go on with this murder and they would never solve this crime until they had another murder where the killer made a mistake. They always did eventually, but sometimes you had to wait them out until they did. You worked the case and you went over everything time and time again so that you could pretend that you thought you had a shot, but the truth was that you were fooling yourself. Deep down you knew that most murders that are not solved in forty-eight hours are never solved and if they are it is because the killer got sloppy with another murder or they committed some other crime and got caught for that.

  He sat there thinking for a minute and wondering if he could sneak to the bathroom to down a few shots of scotch without anyone noticing. He decided against it. With something like this being thrown on his back he realized that he had to remain as sharp and as alert as he possibly could. There was no room for error now that his wits were being called into play.

  John wanted to call the ME and see if they had found anything yet, but it was far too early. He was hoping he would not be meeting the resident medical examiner for quite some time, if at all since he had moved back here. But it seemed that he was destined to become friends with them.

  John decided that he would do some research on the infamous boyfriend, Mr. Rich. He did a quick google search which did not pull up much and then he checked the background data base, which basically pulled up the guy’s entire life story.

  He had been a good student, born and raised in Portsmouth Ohio. He had attended college at Ohio University and then went to grad school there as well. He began teaching at the college level after obtaining his master’s degree while he was continuing to pursue his PhD. That was rather admirable. John had thought about getting a higher degree so he could teach at the college level, especially when he got closer to the retirement age.

  So far Steven Rich looked fine on paper. There were no convictions or even misdemeanors on his records. The guy didn’t have so much as a stinking parking ticket or a speeding ticket. He was squeaky clean, but that didn’t reflect on any of his juvenile convictions. Of course the juvenile records were sealed and as a cop John was not allowed to gain access to them.

  He decided that he would just pay a visit to the wise professor.

  Chapter 2: “Grasping at Straws”

  “So, the psychopath really has no real identifiable emotions. He reacts to everything on a purely cold and calculated basis. He does not feel closeness or empathy to anyone or any living thing. Therefore they are always bored and see life as one big game to be played by using other people to get what they want. They are not restrained by any sense of morality or any sort of right or wrong.”

  Steven Rich was just wrapping up his lecture when John arrived and snuck into the back of the class room. The college was a small liberal arts school in nearby Marietta, about a twenty minute drive from Belpre.

  John was enjoying hear Steven remark all about the psychopathic makeup. He had dealt with several psychopaths in his line of work and that was the kind of psychopath that most people thought of when they heard the word. They figured they were all serial killers and violent criminals, but that only represented less than one percent of psychopaths. Most people knew at least one person who was a psychopath. That was the scariest thing.

  “That’s all for today everybody,” Steven said wrapping things up. “Don’t forget that your reports are due by tomorrow. I will accept nothing turned in late. That is a rule,” Steven said.

  John waited until th
e last student left before standing up and walking to the front of the class. Steven didn’t even notice him at first; he was too busy packing up his things. Probably to head to another class somewhere way across campus.

  “Professor Rich?” John said.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m detective John Anderson with Belpre PD. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  Steven looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment. It was a look that John was very used to seeing. It did not automatically imply guilt though as most people might assume. A lot of people got nervous while talking to police officers and they just froze up and instantly thought that they had done something wrong or that he thought they did something wrong. Really it was kind of amusing.

  “Sure. Do you mind if we talk in my office? There is another class coming in to use this room in a few minutes.”

  “Sure. You lead the way,” John said.

  Rich’s office was a small space barely bigger than a cubicle and John found himself wondering why the college professors were treated so poorly. They were the cornerstone of the institution and without them the school couldn’t do anything. It seemed wrong that they were put into offices that were barely bigger than a walk in closet.

  Rich sat his stuff down on the floor and took his seat behind his desk. He grabbed himself a bottle of water, but did not offer one to John as he motioned for John to take a seat.

  “I think I know why you are here,” Steven said.

  John wasn’t sure he liked Steven. He seemed kind of arrogant and smug. Those were two traits that John loathed with a passion. He had seen too many convicted criminals acting the same way and basically telling everyone that they couldn’t be reasoned with and that the system was a joke to them.

  Of course the joke was on them since most of them ended up in the slammer anyway. But just knowing that it really did not bother them and they were still laughing at him and at society over the things they had done always got him really hot and mad.

  “Yes. I wanted to talk to you about Theresa’s murder,” John said. He was carefully gauging Steven’s response the whole time.

  “Yea, I was so shocked when I heard about it. I would have cancelled my classes today, but finals are around the corner and it just can’t be done.”

  “I understand that,” John said. It seemed somewhat plausible. He guessed that college professors didn’t really do substitutes. Especially for summer classes.

  “When I found out I was just numb. How could anyone do that to someone who was so sweet and caring and loving as her? It just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “It is a tragedy. I’m going around and trying to speak to anyone who knew her.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll be glad to answer any of your questions,” Steven said.

  “Great. Now you and Theresa dated for a while?”

  “Yea, we dated for almost a year. We just broke up a few weeks ago actually,” Steven said.

  “Ok. What was the nature of the breakup?”

  “Well, we both realized that we just wanted different things.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “Well, she wanted a more committed relationship than I did.”

  “So, she wanted to take things to the next level, but you were not ready for that.”

  “Precisely,” Steven said.

  “Why were you so reluctant to take that next step?”

  “I just wasn’t ready. It isn’t the right time in my life for me to settle down and start a family.”

  John made some mental notes. He saw a riff coming and he knew that he was going to start pulling on some threads in a minute.

  “How old are you Mr. Rich?” John asked.

  “You can call me Steven,” he replied with that cocky smile that John hated.

  “Ok, Steven. How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “So, you are a young handsome college professor who has no intentions of settling down any time soon. I can understand that and your reluctance to get more deeply involved with Theresa.”

  “Good,” Steven replied.

  “Do you ever fuck your students?” John asked. He loved the way he had blurted it out. It pulled just the reaction that he was looking for.

  “What?”

  “Do you ever nail your students?”

  “Fraternizing with my students would be rather reckless. I would be fired instantly.”

  “Well, if they talked about it that is,” John said.

  “I don’t engage in secret relationships with my students, detective.”

  John almost believed his lie. He was a good liar.

  “What about Theresa?”

  “She was not my student.”

  “She was when you first started dating her,” John said.

  “The semester was almost over and I decided to throw caution to the wind and it was stupid. I could have gotten fired over it.”

  “Well, was Theresa happy to not be yours exclusively?”

  “She was disappointed as you can imagine, but she was ok. She understood.”

  “Did she really? Did she understand or did she try to blackmail you by exposing your relationship and the fact that she was your student when you first started dating her?”

  Steven’s eyes flashed anger, if only for a second. He quickly regained his composure though.

  “No, of course not. She wasn’t angry. We were friends even after we decided to not see each other romantically anymore.”

  “Ok, that is good to know. Now tell me, with these other girls you are sleeping with, do any of them ever get jealous? Any of them think that maybe they don’t like sharing you and they want commitment?”

  “No. It’s only a few anyways. It’s not like I have an entire harem or something.”

  “Well, that is great to hear.”

  “Look, detective. I’ve got some work to do, so if there are no further questions I need to get to it,” Steven said. He was obviously flustered and John felt good about a job well done.

  “Just a few,” John said handing him a small piece of paper. “I’m going to need the names of the young ladies that you are currently involved with who are your students.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Steven asked.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is. You see I’m working on a theory that one of those girls either did it or they know who did.”

  “Ok, just do what you can to keep this quiet. Again if word got out that I was having relationships with my students then I would be kicked out of here on my ass before I could even blink. The college tends to frown unfavorably on that sort of thing. In fact they have a zero tolerance for it.”

  “As well they should, “John said just to be a smart ass. He had no intention of squealing to the college about Steven’s affairs and trying to get him fired. He did however want to find out if any of these girls might have known something or seen something that could have led to the murderer targeting his sights on Theresa.

  Steven scribbled down on a piece of paper and handed it to John. John looked at the list of three names. He saw that Steven had included the addresses for the girls as well.

  “Ok, I appreciate your cooperation,” John said.

  He walked out of the office feeling the glaring daggers coming from Steven Rich’s eyes. The guy was a piece of work. John doubted that Rich was a killer, but it was always a possibility.

  *

  John was getting ready to visit the apartment of Heather Mowry, the first name on Rich’s list. He wished he’d had time to run to the station to run these names through the computer first, but he was already on campus so he thought he would just swing by and talk to these ladies.

  Heather answered the door and John’s bottom lip almost fell to the ground. Standing there was one of the hottest girls he had ever seen. She was a typical pin up hot. Tall, blonde hair, large breasts, curvy body and the attitude that said “I’m just d
itzy enough to be totally irresistible”. John almost lost his train of thought when she answered the door wearing a pair of very short gym shorts and a tight, white tank top. Her cleavage was on full display.

  “Hello,” Heather said. Her voice was sultry and sweet. It was like she had just stepped out of the pages of Hustler magazine and into his own little fantasy world. John tried to get a grip on himself. He was usually pretty suave around attractive women. He had not dated for a while because having your heart ripped out and stepped on will do that to you, but he used to be pretty good with women and never had trouble getting dates. Now he put up an invisible wall that was felt by all who came near him and that repelled women fairly well. He had toyed with the idea of taking that down from time to time to have some fun at least, but somewhere deep down he felt so guilty about driving the love of his life away from him that he just wanted to punish himself.

  John’s secret with women had always been simple—they eat, sleep, stink, and shit the same as him. Why would he kiss their asses?

  “Yes, Heather?”

  “Yes, I’m Heather.”

  “I’m detective John Anderson. I was hoping to have a few words with you.”

  “What about?” Heather asked blocking the doorway. She seemed like she did not want to invite him in, or she was hiding something that she damned sure didn’t want him to see.

  “Well, I understand that you have a relationship with Professor Steven Rich.”

  Heather’s eyes widened. She didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s ok; I’m not here to get either of you in trouble.”

  “Ok, then what do you want?”

  “Did you ever have a class with a girl named Theresa Daniels?”

  “No, but the name sounds familiar,” Heather said. Then her face lit up. “Wait! She’s that girl who got killed right? I saw that on the news.”