The Devil's Grip: The Curse of Stone Falls

by Steven Swaks

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because there would be deep tire tracks in the dirt if he drove here, and there’s no way he would have had time to brush that off. Trust me, the last thing a suspect wants to do is hang around any longer than he has to. It’s one thing to erase footprints; it’s another to remove tire tracks. When Officer Thomson comes back with the tarp, I want him to take pictures of the whole scene, especially the trail, the girl, and her surroundings, but nobody touches her. We need to do this as soon as possible. I’m afraid the rain is going to tamper with the evidence.” Delano took a second to think. “Did you guys call forensics already?”

  “Sergeant Berkley did.”

  “Good, what about coroner?”

  “He did.”

  “Good.”

  “Is the family coming here?” The officer asked.

  “Not for now, they’re at the victim’s car with Berkley. Those two scenes are sucking at lot of man power. We can’t deal with them down here. I managed to stall them over there to give us time to secure this scene here before they show up. The three of us can’t work on the victim and contain them. Berkley is going to send us some more people. In the meantime, the family’s going to stay with him.”

  Delano looked at Jessica Miller. He didn’t know her, but he could tell that she had been a clean-cut girl. Her long dress was disheveled, and her light blond hair was matted with mud and blood. Who could have done this? He felt his pulse racing. He took a deep breath to relax. People were going mad in his town, a daughter had killed her mother, a successful businessman hung himself for no apparent reason, and even some of his own cops were losing their minds seeing things that didn’t make any sense. Detective Delano knew one thing for certain, he needed to have a chat with Jeffrey Simons.

  Jeffrey Simons

  Detective Jack Delano walked back to the road, thankful he was wearing his boots on the spongy moss. He jumped over a shallow ditch and landed on the edge of the highway. Another four patrol cars had arrived. That was good. He needed the man power. Soon, other cars and vans would come, the ones he wasn’t thrilled to see at a crime scene: the family and reporters.

  Damn journalists, he thought, they had been going on a rampage. More and more of them were coming from further and further. By now, many people were noticing the activity in town. He had even seen a FOX News van, FOX in Stone Falls, why not CNN or BBC since they were at it?

  Now, there was a dead church girl in the woods. That would make national news. That’s all he needed.

  “Where’s my baby?!” A tearing voice screamed in the night.

  “Great…” Delano muttered.

  The mother walked straight toward him. “Where’s my baby?!!” She repeated, tears pouring down her cheeks.

  Tracy was behind her, quiet. Her boyfriend was overwhelmed. The events rolling on him like continuous tidal waves.

  Jessica’s mother, Jane, stopped in front of Delano, fists clenched at the end of straight arms pointed at the ground as if they were restrained to invisible shackles. “Where’s my baby?!” she asked again.

  Delano couldn’t utter a word.

  She hit him on the chest without strength. “Where’s my baby?!”

  “She’s further down the path… in the woods…”

  “I want to see her!” She cried out.

  “You can’t.” he paused an instant. “Look at me,” he said in a gentle and almost paternal voice, “please, look at me.”

  She quieted down and raised her gaze to meet his.

  “I promise you that we will catch whoever did this. We will.”

  “I hold you responsible, Detective. Find him, find whoever killed my baby!” she busted again in an uncontrollable sob.

  “I will.”

  The family stood back for a while. The command-post trailer was there, and coroner had shown up. Delano knew they would be there until the early morning hours, but he couldn’t wait to have a talk with that Jeff Simons.

  Sleep? Sleeping could wait, after they wrapped up the scene and confronted his prime suspect. He hoped the interview would go somewhere, because for now they had nothing else. They had no foot prints, no tire tracks, no witnesses–that would be too good to be true–they had nothing, zilch, zip, nothing. Hopefully the lab would come up with something. Maybe some of the aggressor’s skin was under her nails, but they wouldn’t find out for a few days.

  The light drizzle stopped around 3:00 AM. The fog rolled in an hour later like a ghost slithering in the woods.

  6:47 AM. Coroner wrapped Jessica Miller in a dark gray body bag. They closed the long zipper and loaded her into the back of a van.

  Delano was done with his scene. A visit to Simons was high on his to-do list, even higher than sleep or a hot shower.

  48 minutes and a quick breakfast later, Delano knocked on Simons’ medieval looking front door. The sprawling two-story house was lavish and matched the upper-class neighborhood around him.

  “Can I help you?” Simons asked after opening the door.

  “Detective Delano, Stone Falls PD,” he flashed his badge, “may I come in?”

  “Uh, I will be leaving soon to drop off my son to school, and I have some meetings at the office after that.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  Simons hesitated for an instant, “Please come in.”

  Detective Delano knew he should work with a partner. He knew the chances he was taking entering by himself at a suspect’s home, but he liked working alone. There was no one to bother him, nobody to step over his boundaries, and no bad habits to deal with. It had taken him some time to coax his chief to let him work solo, but the results were there, and the big boss was happy. Besides, it was one less salary to finance, two for the price of one.

  Delano followed Simons down a large hallway with red Italian-style tile. They passed through a large living room onto a glass patio. A small child was eating breakfast by himself in the kitchen.

  “Nice house,” Delano commented.

  “Thank you. Coffee?” Simons asked.

  “No, thank you, I just had breakfast.”

  The tall man sat across the detective at a round table with a direct view onto a kidney-shaped pool with a short waterfall.

  “I don’t know what you do, but it pays better than police work.”

  “It does.”

  Delano lifted inquisitive eyebrows.

  “I am a consultant for an engineering company. They specialize in advanced miniaturized airborne remote control vehicles… high end small drones.”

  Delano smiled, noting the condescending translation.

  “But you’re not here to talk about different career paths and incomes, are you?”

  Delano ignored the question. “Are you familiar with the name Jessica Miller?”

  “Miss Miller? Of course, she volunteers at the church where my son goes on Friday evenings, sweet girl.”

  “Your name came back a few times about her. Nothing official, but some people seemed concerned about your questionable behavior in her regards.”

  “Questionable? May I ask who has complained?”

  “I’d rather keep this confidential.”

  “I certainly haven’t heard anything from the authorities. Nothing formal was filed against me.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Good. Why are you asking me about Miss Miller?”

  “Because she was found dead in the woods last night.”

  “Jessica’s dead?” His eyes flew wide open.

  “She isn’t Miss Miller anymore?”

  Shaken up, Simons didn’t comment. “God…” he brought his hand to his mouth. “What happened?”

  Simons looked sincere, but Delano had seen so many professional liars during his career, from the small crook to the serial killer going to church after butchering a hiker. Violence was a release. It appeased them. Lying was nothing after that.

  Delano looked at him in the eyes to catch a glimpse of truth.

  “This is terrible,”
he said, continuously shaking his head.

  Either the guy was good, or he was innocent. Delano couldn’t tell.

  “What happened?”

  “She was murdered. I’d rather avoid the details, as it is an ongoing investigation.”

  “Of course.”

  “Mr. Simons, where were you last night?”

  His brown eyes locked on Delano’s. “Are you thinking that I did it?”

  “No, we are just gathering information about her acquaintances.”

  “Especially if there were complaints,” Simons commented.

  “Where were you?” Delano tensed up, anything could happen.

  “I went to watch a movie at the Aragon Theater right after work. Ten different witnesses can confirm that I was at my office until 6:15.”

  “Did you go to the theater alone?”

  “Yes, alone.”

  “Do you have any proof of that?”

  “I do. I have my credit card stub and the theater ticket.”

  “May I see them?”

  Simons pulled a thin leather wallet out of his suit jacket and produced the two documents.

  Delano checked the time on the credit card receipt. It read 6:42 PM. An educated guess put the attack on Jessica Miller after 7:00 PM. It didn’t match Simons’ schedule. Besides, there was no way he would have had the time to leave his office, drive up the highway, aggress the young girl, and drive to the theater. That was if he even knew she was there in the first place.

  “May I take these?” Delano asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Did you talk to anybody at the theater?”

  “I…” a faint and sleazy smile appeared for an instant, “I conversed with a girl at the concession stand.”

  The detective’s stomach churned in anger, but he didn’t let it show. “Do you recall her name?”

  “Betty.”

  “How old is Betty?”

  “I didn’t ask her.”

  “Would you take a guess?”

  “I’m not good at these games.”

  “Say, twenty, thirty?”

  “Girls these days look older than they truly are.”

  Delano sighed. “Where was your son?”

  “A babysitter stayed with him until I came back.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Around ten o’clock.”

  “How old is your baby-sitter?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “There’re a lot of young girls around you, Mr. Simons,” the detective said with a calm demeanor.

  Simons leaned forward, “It is hard to find an older male sitter, Detective Delano.” His cold eyes pierced the policeman’s soul like medieval wooden stakes.

  “Needless to say that I will double check your accounts.”

  “You may, my dear police friend. You will find no surprises.”

  Delano didn’t comment, but his arrogance was aggravating him. If there was a crack in his story, he would find it.

  Aragon Movie Theater

  12:30 PM. Detective Delano entered the Aragon Movie Theater 45 minutes before the first showing. He felt refreshed after a quick shower and a catnap. He hadn’t stepped in a theater since the ticket prices had skyrocketed to absurd values, and because he was guaranteed to sit next to an idiot chatting on a cell phone.

  The lobby with crimson red carpet was nice, a little tacky with blistering neon signs, but the large portrait of Hollywood icons made up for it. A few movie posters were placarded on darker walls. A scent of roasting popcorn reminiscent from his childhood floated in the air.

  Delano had called in advance, and the Betty-concessions-girl was right in front of him. Blondish, cute–in a country girl way–, 5’6”, not overweight but she would have to watch her waistline in the next few years. She was young, too young for a grown man to stare at the way Simons had mentioned her. It wasn’t truly in the words he had voiced, but the look in a man’s eyes can easily betray his thoughts. Simons was a pig. Delano had no other way to put it.

  “What can I get for ya?” The young girl asked the detective.

  “I’ll be fine, I’m working on a diet,” Delano patted his stomach with a faint smile. “I’m Detective Jack Delano, Stone Falls PD. I have a few questions for you.”

  “I didn’t do it! I swear!” The girl immediately giggled.

  Delano hardly smiled. Teenage humor was harder to take with lack of sleep.

  She straightened up. “Sorry, I was thinking that was funny.”

  “That’s all right. Are you Betty Maxwell?”

  “I’m the one!” Her joyful mood was almost annoying.

  Delano produced a picture of Jeffrey Simons. “Have you ever seen this man?”

  “Yeah! I saw him last night! Talk about a major flirt! Kinda cute, even with his chicken pox things on his face.”

  “They are varicella scars.”

  “Yeah, whatever, it’s the same. But it was kinda gross. The dude could be my dad.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He told me that I was cute, and he asked me if I had a boyfriend. He was lookin’ at me like I was an ice-cream cone! Gross!”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Well, yeah, I told him I have a boyfriend! And if I tell him what happened, he’s going to kick his ass!”

  Delano’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Did you tell him that?”

  “Not about the boyfriend kicking his ass. But he backed off after I talked about him.”

  “How old are you, Miss Maxwell?”

  “Miss. Maxwell? That’s cool!”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m a senior.”

  “That’s… what? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

  “I’ll be eighteen in April!”

  “Good for you.” Delano attempted a smile. “Did you see Jeffrey Simons enter the corridor?” The detective glanced at the single corridor with theaters on either side.

  “Noooo, I was too busy last night. There was a line behind him.”

  “So, is it possible that he simply walked out and never watched the movie?” He was more thinking out loud rather than seeking an answer.

  “I guess.”

  “One last question, please. Are there any other customer exits other than the main entrance?”

  “Noooo,” she shook her head.

  “What about fire exits?”

  “They’re all with a loud alarm. They changed that after the shooting in Colorado. I wasn’t working back then. One of the senior guys told me.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you, Miss Maxwell. Here’s my card, please call me if you remember anything else I should know of.”

  She beamed with a large smile. “This is cool! Like a real cop thing!” Her smile faded. “That’s a big deal, huh? I can tell. My boyfriend says that I am very inquisitive, or intuitive, whatever, it’s the same. It’s got something to do with that girl in the woods? Everybody talks about it.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Never met her. My folks sent me to a private school. They say I need more attention. I don’t know why they say that. Anyway, that’s why I work here. I need to help out to pay for the thing.”

  “Thank you again for your time, Miss Maxwell.”

  She giggled again. “Bye, Detective!”

  Delano walked out of the theater with one conviction. Simons had visited the theater the previous night, but nothing guaranteed that he’d stayed there. The surveillance camera would tell. Somebody was about to spend a few hours watching the footage to answer a simple question: Had Jeffrey Simons stayed in the theater or not?

  If he did, he would have a very strong alibi in the murder of Jessica Miller. If he didn’t, he would have some serious explaining to do.

  Wall of Fame

  “You’re awfully quiet, buddy,” Ben told Alex steering the ambulance down Main Street.

  “I have nothing much to talk about.”

  “I would believe you if I didn’t know you that well, but I’ve been working with
you for three years, remember?”

  “Don’t remind me,” Alex said with a quick rise in the corner of his mouth.

  “Spit it out.”

  “It’s the whole situation… all the traumas we’ve had recently, all the deaths…” Alex pivoted toward his partner, “We’ve never had so many before.”

  “And Gina…”

  “And Gina,” Alex nodded. “Everything started at the same time, the accidents, the suicides–”

  “The murders…”

  “I can’t even go to the store without finding some poor old guy smashed in the parking lot.”

  “And that’s the tip of the iceberg,” Ben said slowing down for a red light.

  “Then, there’s the headquarters…”

  “And everywhere else. People are talking. The cops are seeing things, even the fire guys in their stations….” Ben added.

  “It’s all related.” Alex looked at the sun setting over the city. The glowing ball of fire was ominous. Soon, the night would take over with its grim activities. “I’m starting to dread every night at the station.”

  “I know what you’re feeling, brother.”

  “You know, we can do something about it.”

  “What are you thinking about?” Ben asked.

  “I’ve looked online… we could exorcise the station.”

  “Exorcise the station? Don’t you think you’re taking it a little too far?”

  “Do you have a better option?”

  “No, but I don’t see myself walking around the station with a pastor.”

  “A priest.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Ben, you saw what happened. You saw Gina in our room, dead Gina.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if we are blowing things out of proportion. She even said so, we never saw the body.”

  “Are you going to believe a spirit now?”

  “Hear yourself, Alex. I don’t know what’s going on, but we should slow down and think about it.”

  “Think about what? There are dozens of witnesses. Even Jennifer saw her.”