Darker Still

by T. S. Worthington

  She heard something behind her.

  It sounded like a branch cracking beneath a footstep. She spun around and peered into the darkness. There was not much to see. She turned on the flash light on her phone which offered just a minor glimpse into the darkness that surrounded her, but still did not provide her nearly enough light to see if someone was really there or not.

  She held her breath to quiet the sound of her breathing so that the silence was now deafening in her ears. She heard nothing. There was no one there.

  She turned around and started walking again, this time faster trying to check her signal furiously. Oh, why wouldn’t she get a signal? Was it too much to ask for to just have a small little break once in a while?

  The sound again.

  She spun around so fast that she almost lost her balance. Every sound around her was being amplified right now and she didn’t know what sound was what. It all sounded normal and it all sounded suspicious, but her breathing was drowning it all out. She tried to stop her breathing, but her gasps came in quick succession roaring in her head.

  She knew that someone had to be there. She was going to be murdered right then and there. She was sure of it. It was just a gut instinct that she had. There had never come a time when she was as frightened as she was right at that moment. Every bead of sweat rolling off her body felt like a dagger digging into her flesh and every thump of her heart beat sounded like the nails of her coffin being pounded into the pine box she was lying in. The imagery would not stop.

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out her small can of pepper spray. Her stepfather had given it to her in case she ever needed protection, like she did now. It was probably because he felt guilty about buying her a car that was going to break down on her every other day and put her life in danger.

  She pumped her legs as hard as she could hoping that she would come to a house or a business where she could go inside, and at least some sort of land line phone service that she could use to call for help. There was nothing out here. She hated this drive during the day and she despised it at night.

  Suddenly she heard a loud grunt and she spun around with her pepper spray raised up high. She fired hard into the darkness, but heard nothing but the sound of the spray rolling through the air.

  There was no one there.

  A hand grabbed her mouth and as she tried to spin around the figure held her still as she moved the pepper spray up to spray back at them. They quickly grabbed her hand and jerked it from her puny grasp. She could see who was attacking her now. It was a tall, powerfully built man, dressed in black from head to toe. He wore a black mask over his face and head. Only his eyes were uncovered and it was too dark to see them clearly.

  The man jerked her off the road into the woods several feet where he instantly twisted her head and neck hard to the right and suddenly she was being sprayed non-stop with the pepper spray in her face and eyes. The pain was unimaginable. She tried to choke but she was unable to cough and her eyes felt like they were going to explode.

  Her whole body tried to heave as the vomit began pouring out of her mouth adding to the choking issue she was having. The air was not getting to her and she felt her body begin to shut down. She flailed her body hard enough that he let go and she fell crashing to the ground. She tried to crawl and move away, but her body was done.

  The last thing she remembered was the sound of the man whistling a happy tune.

  *

  “We got it!”

  Michaels burst into the room and began to rally the troops.

  John was awoken instantly from his pending nap. He jerked himself awake over the paperwork he had been pretending to work and wiped the drool off the top page. The Chief was in one hell of a good mood.

  “What’s going on?” John asked.

  “We got him! The DNA came back with a match—Steven Rich!”

  The entire stations collective jaw dropped on the floor. He couldn’t believe it. That was the first person he talked to after Theresa’s murder. He was much too young to be the Valley Ripper.

  “Chief? How can that be? The Ripper has to be at least fifty years old.”

  “The DNA does not lie. We matched that DNA to the crime scene of the last victim, Natalie Walker.”

  “Maybe the murders are not related?”

  “The style matches too closely. Especially that close to the other murder. It was just days after and it’s happening in this community. Do you really think that is a possibility?”

  “Well, if he is the Valley Ripper then that means the real ripper is still out there somewhere.”

  “Or he is most likely dead or imprisoned for some other crime. We may never know.”

  “How the hell would Rich know about what happened to me when I was a kid?”

  “You have no clue about how much old information there is on the internet do you. Almost every newspaper article or clipping ever is on that thing in some form or another. Sometimes you have to do some digging, but you can always find it.”

  “This whole thing sounds like a set up to me. Call it cops intuition, but I have to trust my gut on this. I think it sounds freaking fishy.”

  “Just let it go. Let’s get this pervert in custody first and then we can see what we have.”

  *

  When they arrived at Rich’s house it was just barely after eight in the morning. They pounded on the door as official police business which John thought was going to scare him away right now, instead Rich came to the door appearing to have been sleeping still. He was even dopier looking in the morning, John thought.

  “Steven Rich, you are under arrest for the murder of Natalie Walker,” The chief said beginning his spiel. He didn’t even wait for Steven to comprehend what he was saying before he went right into the Miranda Rights. It was funny watching the cocky prick squirm like that John had to admit.

  “What the hell is going on? What are you talking about?” Steven screamed as he was slammed against the wall and placed in handcuffs.

  He was wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas. He looked pathetic being dragged away in handcuffs and being placed in a police car so early in the morning with his bare chest exposed to the world. That would teach the moron to answer the door half dressed.

  “I want my lawyer now! I want my lawyer! You hear me? I have rights you stupid pigs!”

  Steven Rich’s tirade lasted pretty much the entire trip back to the station. He sat in the back of the car behind John and Michaels. Michaels was laughing almost the entire way showing how much respect he didn’t have for this moron. John knew that he had not liked the man an ounce when he met him and he was a selfish, entitled little piece of trash, but that did not make him the Ripper. John didn’t believe that for a second and it was only a matter of time before the real Ripper made them all look stupid by looking the other way while he committed who knew how many more murders.

  It was going to be a bit of a travesty.

  That was fine. He would go along and let them think they were right while he got closer to solving the case.

  When they got to the station Stephen Rich clammed up and refused to answer any of their questions. He had lawyered up on the ride over, but the chief continue to ask him questions. He was hoping that he could bank on the guy’s arrogance and get him to lose his cool so that he would give something up out of frustration and anger.

  “So, was Theresa Daniels the first girl you killed? Or was she just the first one you wanted people to know about?” Michaels asked.

  No response from Rich. He just stared straight ahead.

  “Ok, well how did it feel when you killed her? Did the actual death blow feel the best or did you get off more on the decapitation? What did you do with the eyes during that time that you had them?”

  Again no response.

  “Chief, this is really not doing anything,” John said.

  Michaels ignored him and continued to mess with Steven Rich. But he had a heck of a p
oker face and he was giving up nothing if he did not have to.

  “You are going to talk to me you little son of a bitch!” Michaels yelled right in Rich’s face. He barely even blinked. The bastard was getting off on all of the attention. He may not have been the killer but he was a first grade asshole all the way. John wanted to punch him in the face just for his sheer arrogance. It would have felt really good right then.

  “Stop it right now!”

  A voice came from the door just then. John and Michaels both turned to see Raymond Briggs walk through the door. Raymond was the best criminal defense lawyer in the area. His office was actually based in nearby Athens Ohio, but he also had offices in Marietta and Belpre. He was running a huge firm, most of which specialized in divorce law and real estate law, but they did criminal defense too. And that was Raymond’s specialty. He was by far the best litigator in the area. His face was plastered all over billboards and television commercials. In fact, most people could not afford Raymond’s two hundred and fifty dollar an hour fee, but apparently Steven Rich did not teach for the money.

  After delving more in to his background after the first murder John had found that Steven’s family was rather wealthy. He could have sat around twiddling his thumbs all day if he wanted to, but he wanted to teach for some reason. After careful thought and deliberation John figured out that Steven loved teaching because he loved the power, the celebrity, and the opportunity to meet lots of young, sexy co-eds. The guy’s whole job was about being popular. That was so vain and sad, John thought.

  “Why don’t you tell your client to answer some simple basic questions and this will all go a lot more smoothly?” Michaels said.

  “My client is innocent of all the charges you have brought against him. You have nothing to stand on here,” Raymond said.

  “Oh, we beg to differ. We have this man dead to right. His DNA was found on a dead body. How do you propose to even begin to explain that?”

  Raymond smiled at the chief. His face was gleeful and without a care in the world. He had something up his sleeve and he was not going to divulge the secret to anyone just yet. John knew that Steven was not guilty of these murders and that the evidence had been planted to bring them to this juncture. It was all too cut and dry and easy. Chief Michaels may have been fooled by it all, but John sure as hell was not.

  “My client knew the girl. He had recently been intimate with her. That is how his DNA ended up on the body.”

  “Well, yea we figured he was intimate with her, if you want to call it that. Or you could call it what it is and say that he tortured and raped her before ripping out her entrails and hanging her from the monkey bars on a damn playground.”

  “Have you confirmed the exact time of death on this case? Because I guarantee you the girl’s murder happened a few hours after my client saw her, when she was alive and well.”

  “We haven’t had time to get an exact confirmation, but when we do it won’t make a difference. The body was left out in the open to become prey to the elements. We are lucky we got anything at all off of it after the critters got to it.”

  “And you are basing a solid case on that? Are you mad Ben?” Raymond asked.

  He was just as cocky and annoying as his commercials.

  “We have enough to hold this man for forty-eight hours. That will give us more than enough time to build this case and gather enough evidence to go to court. Even if the time line doesn’t add up. Does your boy have an alibi?”

  “He does indeed. He was leading a study group with some of his students who are wanting to improve their grades. That’s right; he cares enough to reach out to his students by using his own time outside of work to help them any way he can.”

  “Gee, I wonder how many of those students are sexy co-eds?” Michaels said.

  Raymond just smiled that rehearsed smile at him. The man was bulletproof it seemed and he knew it. John had rarely seen the kind of animalistic charisma and confidence bounce off of anybody before. It was a little unsettling.

  “I can’t keep you from holding him for forty-eight hours, but I can tell you that you are wasting your time,” Raymond Briggs said.

  He packed up his stuff, advised his client to not answer any questions in his absence, and walked out the door.

  John was glad to see the pompous prick leave. It was obvious that Briggs and Steven were cut from the same cloth and they enjoyed rubbing people’s faces in anything that they could. John had always hated people who exhibited grandiose, self-titled behavior.

  “You just wait you little bastard. We got you left to right, so get used to jail,” Michaels said.

  He and john left the room and walked back into the station’s main corridor. They didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but finally Michaels spoke first.

  “You tell me that mean prick didn’t murder those girls?”

  “We don’t have the proof that he did. Being a jerk is not against the law no matter how much we want it to be.”

  “The DNA matches and the time frame will too; I’m sure of it.”

  “I wish I could share your optimism on this chief, but I just don’t. “

  “I know, but we will just have to wait and see what happens.”

  “I’m tired of waiting to see what happens. We keep waiting then we won’t have a town to protect anymore. The people are going to get fed up. You can keep doing things by the book and being afraid to get your hands dirty if you want to, but I am going to always be searching for hidden proof. I’m always going to doubt myself and I’m always going to try to prove myself wrong.”

  Michaels shook his head. “I didn’t realize you were such an idealist.” With that he walked away.

  Chapter 6: “Cracks in the Surface”

  Trevor Wayne moved through the woods with the carefree speed and quickness of a seasoned pro nature hiker. He had been coming to the woods since he was five years old. He loved to convene with nature and just allow himself to become one with everything. It always helped him to concentrate and just let the stress of the world roll off his back.

  It had been pretty hectic at home lately with his mom and dad fighting constantly. They were ready to kill each other and he just wanted to get away from it. It was just so hard to deal with after you had to stand there and listen to it incessantly. He was so ready for it all to be over. He just wanted to pack up and leave it all behind.

  Trevor had thought about this multiple times. He had even started to actually do it once when he chickened out. His dad had come into his room and told him they were going out to eat. Trevor hated that because his parents usually did that way later than they needed to and the disease of being a teenager and dealing with the school scene and God forbid if anyone saw him hanging with them in public was too much to bear at times.

  Being fourteen he had nowhere to go and anywhere he did go they would probably just alert the cops and have him sent back to his folks and they would probably beat him senseless for trying to break up the family. That’s what had happened to his brother Johnny. Eventually his folks had enough of his “rebelliousness” and they sent him to juvenile hall. While there he had to get into three fights and got tore up enough to go to the hospital twice. When people in jail fought it was always a pack on one person. It was never a fair fight. You had to fight every day. That was just the way it was.

  When his brother finally turned eighteen he was off and free. He skipped town and never looked back. Trevor had always thought his brother would contact child services and have them take him away so that he could live with Johnny, but he never did. He had not seen his brother in two years. The home environment had become much worse during that time period.

  Trevor could look forward to being woke up at the butt crack of dawn and often before because of his father’s drunken sleep schedule. And when he woke up he was often looking for a fight, at least until he had several more drinks of whiskey. He always came into his room and woke him up with a hard slap to the fac
e unless he was in a silly mood. Then it was boots being thrown at him or just some ice cold water.

  He had dreamt so many times of killing them both and just letting the place burn down around him. He really wasn’t sure what it was that kept him from doing it most of the time. Trevor hated both of them with a passion and he hated having to survive on food stamps and minimum wage. It was horrible.

  He guessed that somewhere deep inside of his mind there was a little nugget of connection with other people and he was often able to feel just a little bit sorry for other people so it kept him hopeful that he would break free from everything. He just had to hold on a bit longer.

  On this warm summer day he was trying to decide if he wanted to sneak into the movie theatre or trick someone into giving him money for the arcade so he could hide there all day. It was a typical day for him really. That was what he had grown accustomed to; finding ways to stay away from home as often as he could. His folks didn’t really care as long as he came home eventually and then they might just ask him angrily where he’d been but they would be too blitzed to know that he was blitzed too and that he was getting really high really fast.

  At first the drugs were just a way to numb the pain and then he started to enjoy them more and more that now he didn’t really like being sober. It was a real pain in the ass to be sober when all he wanted was to get drunk and high. A friend of his who lived about a mile down the street had turned him on to speed and meth. As soon as he began to dabble and he noticed his overall mood increasing all the time he knew that he was going to need these services every day of his life, or at least as long as he had to deal with the gruesome twosome of his parents.

  It was funny because he had always looked down on people who did drugs or drank heavily as losers who were going nowhere in life. But then as he got older he realized he was going nowhere in life any way and he might as well have something to show for it. All of those excuses about why it was bad to get involved with drugs went out the window. He just did not care anymore.