Twisted Retribution

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Twisted Retribution Page 12

by Donna Arp Weitzman


  In her prayers every night, Sarah asked for God’s forgiveness and begged for his help in righting the wrongs that mortal men executed against others. Sins like spousal and child abuse, sexual predation, theft, and murder—Sarah felt God needed her as his instrument for justice in all these cases.

  Over time, she and Pete had become even more estranged. Pete rarely left his office upstairs and no longer approached Sarah sexually. She wondered if the magazine she’d caught him looking at had anything to do with the change in their relationship. This distance was appealing to Sarah, allowing her free rein to concentrate on her investigative duties for the county.

  The two, it seemed to Sarah, remained married only for financial and convenient reasons. He had little interest in spending the Sears family money on clothing or home furnishings but instead had deepened his fascination with weapons and other hunting gear. When he wasn’t working, Pete’s days were consumed by magazines and books devoted to firearms.

  Olivia was virtually a stranger to both her parents, as she spent most of her free time with friends or volunteering for Reverend Thomas at the church. Remembering her young friend’s fate, Sarah highly suspected Olivia was on drugs, but she chose not to fight that battle.

  Pete was Sarah’s earthly judge, however flawed he was. She yearned for freedom but would not consider leaving the man she promised God she would obey. Pete’s wrath, although it had waned in recent months, still intimidated Sarah. At the end of each workday, Sarah habitually entered the Sears house with dread. What was the current state of her husband’s mind, and how would it affect her evening?

  This Monday night was no exception to the routine. When she arrived home, it was quiet. Tense and anxious, Sarah climbed the staircase, entering the spare bedroom Pete claimed as his office. Pete was gone, and one of his hunting magazines was laying open on the desk. Sarah came closer and, gasping with surprise and dismay, saw the magazine was pornographic. The page was turned to an image of two pubescent girls naked and touching each other in a sexual pose. Sarah could hear steps on the stairs. There was no time to escape—Pete Sears was entering his lair.

  “What the hell are you doing up here?” he hissed at Sarah. “No one but me is allowed in my office, bitch!”

  Pete instantly realized Sarah had seen the porn. He reached for Sarah across the wooden desk, trying to grab her. Sarah was still in slight shock and total disgust at seeing two girls younger than Olivia arousing men like Pete Sears.

  She instantly decided that she would not take a beating tonight from her husband. Sarah would stand up to his abuse this time.

  “Stop!” she yelled back at Pete. “Not tonight!”

  His wife’s yelling was not something Pete was accustomed to. His anger boiled, but his better judgment prevailed. He stopped and stared at Sarah, his mouth gaped.

  “Get the hell out of here,” he demanded. Sarah walked around the desk and past Pete with a little air of superiority.

  As she walked down the stairs, she admitted to herself and God, “I hate my husband, and for that I’m sorry. But Pete Sears will die if he continues to hit me. God, I hope you understand.” Sarah was changing, and tonight was the beginning.

  ***

  The next day Zach welcomed Sarah to the office by brandishing the latest crime sheet from the state that had come over the fax machine. They’d given up on the bank robbers from Cooke County. But several other heinous crimes had been committed the last few days, mostly in South Texas. One stood out. A farmer in Alabama had been shot, and the killer was on the loose. There were no witnesses, but Highway 82 was a possible escape path since the main highway went through town east to west. In the past, an occasional escaped convict or suspect had traveled through Nocona, but one had never been apprehended in the community. According to the crime brief, all the counties along Red River were to keep a lookout for strangers.

  Zach smiled and said, “Any killer in Montague County better watch for Detective Sears.”

  Sarah returned the grin. “See you in a little bit,” she told Zach and went into her office, a Diet Coke in her hand.

  Looking out the window, Sarah immediately spied the same blue Chevy from the cemetery parked about 200 feet away. Her curiosity growing, she went outside and started walking toward the car when the driver started the engine and slowly pulled away. She suspected it was Mooney’s nephew who might be a drug dealer, possibly the same one who sold Cynthia her dose of death. Sarah was reminded just then of the bible’s promise that God blesses those who are kind to little children. This drug devil would pay.

  6

  Pulling in the parking lot the next day, Sarah noticed Ruby’s car was gone, while Zach’s motorcycle was in place. Sarah liked it best when Ruby was away so she and Zach could devise plans to rid more criminals in their little county. They were a formidable team, but that was a secret no one else would be able to guess.

  By now, Sarah had grown familiar with her new position at work, and most of the tiny town’s residents had learned to accept a woman as a lawman. She often smiled and waved to both women and men strolling on broken concrete sidewalks lining the few downtown city blocks.

  She decided one day to go downtown and see if she could get some information from the townspeople about any suspicious activity. A tin overhang at the old feed store’s front entrance provided shade for a few elderly men sharing decades-old stories about farming and the war. They tipped their ball caps and dirty western Stetsons as she entered the building.

  Big Sam, the convivial store clerk, had spent decades throwing feed sacks into pick-up beds. He was born in Nocona, and he would die there by all accounts.

  “Hi, Sam,” Sarah said and smiled. “Anything going on today?”

  Sam paused before answering, “Nope, ‘cept Mr. Adams bought 30 bags of cow feed. His tank is ‘bout dry.”

  “Well, you know my phone number at the station if you see or hear anything,” she replied. Sam had a good view of downtown and would spot a strange vehicle that did not belong there. Sarah knew almost every car in the county and who it belonged to. Any unidentified vehicle would arouse suspicion.

  “Don’t forget, I did give you a badge a few weeks ago,” she reminded him. Sarah had determined early on in her new role to recruit vigilant citizens to help rid her county of any crime. Sam was one of the people she chose to give a badge to, with the instructions to keep an eye out. A badge meant a lot to most people, even if it was not official. It certainly empowered Big Sam.

  “Okay, Miss Sarah,” Sam said. He liked the policewoman. She bid him goodbye, and he went back to sweeping grain on the concrete floor. She talked with a few more townspeople and spent the afternoon catching up on paperwork.

  Sarah once again dreaded closing up the office and driving the short distance to her house at the end of the day. She often asked God why her marriage to Pete was so traumatic, but most often ended her prayers thanking God for her life and that of her daughter. She desperately wanted Olivia to get a college degree, but that appeared unlikely. Only church work seemed to satisfy Olivia. Sarah vowed to ask her more questions about the extended time she was spending at the church, even if angering her daughter was the outcome.

  Pete was downstairs listening to the nightly news when she walked in her front door.

  “Well,” he said, “looks like North Texas may have a killer loose. Whaddya you know about it, Ms. Lawman?” He looked at Sarah incredulously.

  “Not too much, just to be on the lookout for strangers or anything suspicious,” she answered flatly.

  “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get to use that gun you like so much,” he sneered.

  For an instant, Sarah imagined his forehead with a bullet hole, blood oozing through his eyebrows. She immediately asked God for forgiveness. Pete was her husband, now and forever. She had promised God.

  “The killer could be anywhere by now, but I guess we’d better lock the doors,” Sarah said as she took a seat beside him on the couch.

  “Yeah, but I’m
so hungry, I might invite a killer to eat supper if that got you off your ass and made us something to eat.” Pete’s meanness never left him.

  Sarah got up and went into the kitchen. She pulled some items out of the fridge and dropped two pork chops into a pan of grease, stuck a potato in the microwave, and opened a can of green beans. Add a loaf of bread and a piece of lemon icebox pie, and it would have to do for tonight. Then she planned to retreat to the bedroom.

  Sex was seldom between the Sears, and Sarah liked it that way, although she sometimes had dreams that a man was rubbing her breasts and kissing her neck. She couldn’t control her hormones from working, but she suppressed all sexual thoughts, as her husband repulsed her.

  ***

  “Hey, Sarah,” Zach greeted his boss as Sarah opened the office door the next day.

  No Ruby yet, but sure as the morning sun, she would come in and ring up anyone she could gossip with.

  “Old Seth Adams called a few minutes ago and said he saw an unusual car in town yesterday,” Zach explained. “He thought you might want to follow up, as he’d heard on the news last night a killer was likely somewhere in North Texas.”

  Sarah smiled at Zach, appreciating his loyalty and confidence in her. She felt like a mother and a big sister to the young man who had been abused most of his life. Zach was a loyal comrade.

  “Want me to go with you through town to see what we can see?” Zach offered, hopeful.

  “Nope,” Sarah said.

  “You stay here, and if I need you, I’ll holler. Old Seth usually sends us on a wild goose chase, but I guess you never know. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Zach went back to reading through the faxes that had come in overnight. Ruby arrived as Sarah was leaving, coughing into her hand as she nodded and smiling at her co-workers. Ruby was a chain smoker along with her husband before he died. Sarah was sure Ruby also had emphysema.

  Sarah drove around a bit, but the usual suspects were the only ones on the Nocona streets. The First National Bank tellers had parked and reported for duty. School buses were headed to the north side to deliver kids. The local grocery store parking lot was virtually empty. There was nothing unusual in Nocona today.

  Sarah found Seth Adams and a few old farmers inside the grocery store, sitting at a small table at the front of the store near an old coffee pot. Coffee was free until 10:00 each morning, and the locals took full advantage of anything free. The men turned when Sarah walked toward them. Some hesitantly smiled, and others frowned. A woman of the law in Nocona, Texas? Hard to believe and even more so to accept.

  “Hi, fellows,” Sarah said. She tried to sound friendly yet firm. “Have you seen anyone new in town?”

  They glanced at each other and shook their heads, “no.”

  What was this woman up to now? They were all curious.

  Just as Sarah had wanted him to do, Old Seth piped up. “I saw an older blue car parked in front of the hardware store yesterday, or maybe the day before. Never seen that car before in town.”

  “What did it look like?” Sarah questioned the old man, taking notes in her notebook.

  The other men snickered when Seth answered curtly, “I told you. An old blue car.”

  Sarah nodded, thanked Seth, and walked away quickly. She hated hearing snide remarks about her being a female. “Sons of bitches,” she thought. “Always the same. They think just because they have a dick, they’re better than women.”

  Sarah was now on high alert. She was sure that if she saw the old blue car anywhere in Montage County again, she’d get a chance to question the occupant.

  ***

  Old Lady Mooney was up early frying bacon. Henry shaved and put on a pair of too short khaki pants that had belonged to Mr. Mooney. He laughed to himself at his reflection in the full-length mirror. Henry Lee Lucas in a dead man’s clothes. He’d liked to have met Mr. Mooney. No reason why; he just would have liked to.

  “Mrs. Mooney, what can I do to help you today?” Henry was already hard at work charming her.

  “Well, let’s eat first, and then you can start by picking up the trash that has blown all over this yard. I’m too old and fat to bend over much.”

  Henry glanced at the old Westinghouse television on a stand in the small parlor. The clean-cut reporter was talking about a killer who might be traveling through North Texas, likely alone. Anxiety crept into Henry’s mind. What if the old lady became wary of him?

  Henry began a conversation with Mrs. Mooney, drowning out the newscaster. He also planned to gather up any newspapers in the yard, just in case they contained a story or notice. Henry was skilled at covering his tracks.

  Becky was up too by now and threw her arms around the old woman, startling her.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mooney, for breakfast. I am starved,” Becky said and sat down at the table. Mrs. Mooney was surprised and pleased the girl was so friendly and that she appreciated her. She had received so little gratitude in her lifetime.

  Henry was proud of Becky. She could play up her acting when she wanted to. “Hi, Daddy,” Becky said sweetly as Mrs. Mooney returned her attention to fixing breakfast.

  “That’s enough,” Henry whispered. He didn’t want Becky to trip up by blabbing too much.

  He looked at his accomplice and said, “I need you to help me in the yard this morning.”

  “I’d like to help Mrs. Mooney inside,” Becky said and smiled at him.

  “No!” Henry snapped. Mrs. Mooney looked up from the pan of fried eggs. “Sorry,” he offered. “I just need the girl to help me right now.”

  They sat down to breakfast and ate quietly. The old lady was well aware of the knot of worry in her stomach, taking in a strange man and a girl. But she liked having someone else in the house, so she disregarded her instincts. Henry went outside to work after he ate.

  He didn’t like to be sweaty and tired, so he took a break from repairing the front porch and opened the shabby front door of the home to grab a cool drink. He needed to head to town for some supplies.

  Mrs. Mooney was slumped on the ragged couch napping.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked him, suddenly awake. “If you’re already pooped out, you must be a city boy. In the country, we work sun up to sun down.”

  Henry wanted to stab the old bitch.

  “I got to go to town,” he answered softly. No reason to agitate or argue with the old broad. Henry knew to keep a low profile.

  “Whatever,” she said. “At least you got some of the trash. Oh, hell, tomorrow is another day. Is the girl going with you?”

  “I’ll go check on her,” he said.

  Henry eyed the teenager asleep in the small bedroom.

  Closing the door behind him, Henry put his hands around the girl’s neck, her eyes popping open.

  “Look, you little cunt,” he told her. “I’m going to town, and if you say anything to the old lady, I’ll kill you. You got it?” Henry was whispering but scary.

  Becky nodded and then pulled Henry on top of her. He knew the girl liked fucking, so he’d comply. A couple of minutes later, he’d cum, not worried about what the girl wanted. She tried flirting with him, wanting more. He pulled her tiny tit toward his mouth and bit the nipple. She shrieked, and he covered her mouth.

  “Shut up!” he seethed. “The old bitch will hear you. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Henry put on another dead man Mooney shirt and left for town. He was thinking about the receptionist back at the hotel and decided he would stop there before going to the hardware store. If a male clerk had taken her place for the day, Henry was also open to fucking a man. He liked both.

  The café door was propped open, and sure enough, the busty young blonde named Lee was on duty that day. Henry was already standing in the doorway when he saw Lee was already talking with another woman at the counter. It was a lady cop, the one whose picture he’d seen in the Nocona News. This could be real trouble.

  Henry needed all the manly charm he could muster, as it was too
late to turn around and leave. The two women had seen him. His slim body looked smart in clothes, and his hair was full.

  “Hi,” he addressed Lee. “It’s great to see you again.”

  The blonde smiled at Henry. Sarah was instantly curious. “Who is this stranger?” she wanted to know.

  Henry looked at Sarah and nodded.

  “Ma’am,” he offered, tipping his head toward Sarah. “My name’s Hank.”

  “Hello,” Sarah said, choosing to acknowledge him with slight apprehension. Ever-conscientious, Sarah would find out more about this newcomer.

  “I’ve never seen you before,” she said, searching his face.

  “Oh, well, I’m here for a day or two while I decide where I’m settling,” Henry explained. “This town seems friendly,” he said and glanced at the receptionist. “We met a while back.”

  Henry imagined the blonde was anxious to get him back in bed.

  “That’s good. Where are you coming from?” Sarah asked, determined to sound friendly and non-threatening to keep the man talking.

  “From Arkansas. Hot Springs,” Henry lied.

  “That’s a nice place. Why are you moving to?” Sarah kept up the friendly interrogation.

  “Well, if you really want to know,” Henry explained, “I gotta mean ex-wife back there. I decided to take my girl and settle in Texas.”

  “You have legal custody of your daughter?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

  Henry did not hesitate. “Yeah, she’s sixteen. She wanted to come with me. My ex is a drunk and beat my girl a lot. She was ready to move.” Growing uncomfortable with the law lady, he changed the subject. “I’m real hungry and thought I’d get a meal. You wanna join me?”

 

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