by Jon Mills
Then a part of the puzzle came back to him.
Stupid. Stupid! Why did you go with him to the bar? You should have stayed back.
This was it. He knew how this worked. They were going to put him through the court system, drag up his history of violence, theft and drug use and make a case against him, just so they could get him out of their hair.
But it was just a bar fight. This wasn’t drug dealing.
It didn’t matter, his parole officer had been real clear. They had him under a microscope. Any violation could lead to re-incarceration. He could plead for mercy as much as he wanted but without something to use as leverage he didn’t stand a chance in hell. They would toss him back in prison, and he’d have to wait it out. This wasn’t going to be good for him. No, that couldn’t happen.
He ran a hand around the back of his sweaty neck and paced up and down thinking of what he could do to turn this around. It needed to be significant. There was no way in hell he was going to give up his drug source or give out the names of those in the biker gang. They would have him killed immediately even if he got out. Those were dangerous individuals not to be screwed with. His mind clicked over, running through every scenario and illegal activity he’d been involved with. It had to be worth their while. They wouldn’t be interested in a few low-end dope dealers. But murder. That was another thing entirely. The Green Bank Five was what was getting all the attention nowadays. They had nothing on the killer. Nothing.
Desperation set in, he rushed to the door and began trying to shake the bars. “Let me out! Hey!”
Nothing. No answer. He was going to burn.
His only hope was to come clean on a series of murders.
Larson had been off shift for close to four hours when his phone rang. He was already out of uniform, showered and in a pair of shorts and T-shirt. He had plans for the day. The garage was a mess, there was all manner of crap inside that needed to be taken to the dump and Kerry had been on at him to repaint the porch. It was weathered, and the paint was starting to peel. He pawed at his eyes. Really, he just needed to get some more rest. After the morning he’d had, all he wanted to do was forget that he was a cop for a few hours.
But that phone call would put an end to that.
He took one last sip of his ice-cold tea before picking it up. It was Sergeant Berringer. After some small talk he got down to the reason for his call.
“I need you to come in.”
“Sarge, are you serious?”
“Look, Larson, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Merle wants to speak to you. Only you. About the Green Bank Five.”
He shook his head in disbelief. His interest might have been piqued had it been anyone else but Merle. But he knew he was just toying with them. He had a reputation for doing anything to upset the grand scheme of things down at the station.
“Can’t someone else do it, Sarge? I’ve only been off a few hours and I have a lot to get done around the house. Besides, he’s probably just blowing off steam. Now that he’s sober, he’s just pissed off at finding himself behind bars and looking for any reason to get out. Give him a few more hours, he’ll calm down.”
“Sorry, Larson. We have strict orders to follow up on any lead in the case and considering his reputation; we have to take this seriously. When can you get in?”
There was a pause as he stared into the garage. Kerry wasn’t going to be pleased, not at all.
“Um. Give me ten minutes.”
This was the last thing he wanted to be doing with his time. He figured he’d walk in and give him some half-baked story that would send him down a road that led to nowhere. It would be a waste of police resources, and most of all, a waste of his time. When he arrived at the department, Berringer pulled him into the office for what he thought was going to be a quick briefing.
“So what’s the deal with you pulling your firearm?”
“What?”
“This morning when you brought in Merle.”
“I thought I was coming down here to speak with Merle?”
“You are but Ethan said you got a little hot-headed this morning.”
Damn you, Rigby! The guy was determined to throw him under the bus. He was about to give him an excuse but he knew it wouldn’t hold up. Berringer was a stickler for shutting down deputies. The only voice he liked hearing was his own. So he just told him the truth.
“Since putting Aaron away, there have been a number of attacks on my property, and an attempt on my wife’s life. I know Merle or Aaron is behind it.”
“You got evidence?”
“Nope.”
Berringer exhaled and ran a hand over his chin.
“Look, you already have one mark against you, Larson, don’t make the mistake of thinking we let this kind of behavior slide. Small town or not, that shit don’t fly here. You’re a good cop, don’t screw up by letting your emotions get the better of you.” He gave a nod with his head towards the door. “Go on, and update me on what he had to say.”
Larson was even more pissed off than when he walked through the doors. Ever since he’d started in the department, he didn’t feel he had the support of those around him. As for Ethan, he couldn’t see what he had to gain by opening his big trap, other than to make himself look good.
“You wanted to speak to me?”
He stared at him through the bars. Merle was in a state. As he got closer, the aroma of stale vomit wafted in his direction. His T-shirt was stained, eyes sunken in, and his skin looked pasty and thin as though it was stretched tight over his bones. Alcoholics were all the same. They couldn’t wait to get that next drink in them. He was pacing back and forth, agitated. It was to be expected. Merle turned and his face brightened. He crossed over to the bars and grasped them.
“Sam Larson, you and I need to talk.”
“So talk.”
Larson kept his distance. In the past, people they’d brought in would come up with some story that they were going to come clean only to spit in their face when they got close.
“What if I could give you the one responsible for the Green Bank Five? What would that be worth to you?”
Larson scoffed. “Please stop wasting our time,” he said as he turned to walk away.
“I can lead you to some bodies.”
As much as he wasn’t buying it, he couldn’t resist biting. Larson turned and walked back to him. “So tell me. What do you know?”
“No, I want it in writing that when I give you this, you are going to make sure that I’m released and all charges are dropped against me.”
“You’re full of it.”
“Really? You want to take that chance, be my guest, but I figure someone like you. Someone who is new to the department and already has one harassment complaint against him isn’t going to last around here with another one.”
“If you think you are going to get me on pulling my firearm, you are sorely mistaken. They already know about it. You really think they are going to take your word over mine?”
“I don’t need the cops to take my side. The media always wants a story. And there is nothing they like better than a public citizen who gets a beat-down by an angry cop.”
“A beat-down?”
Merle’s eyes bore into him as he gripped the bars and jerked his head back and drove it into the metal. Once. Twice. Three times until there was a trickle of blood pouring from his forehead.
In a slimy voice and with a grin on his face he said, “Oh, this cut? He lashed out at me. I tried to get him to stop but he wouldn’t listen. Deputy Larson has always had it in for me and my brother.” He started laughing. “You see. I just need to give them enough reason to doubt you.”
Larson chewed over what he said before shaking his finger at him. “You are one screwed-up individual.”
His eyes became wild and crazy. “So is that a yes? C’mon, deputy, you know this is a win-win situation for you. I lead you to a few bodies, you get me out of your hair and you get to act like the big hero. Who knows
, maybe you’ll close the Green Bank case and they’ll wipe that complaint from your record.”
“Or I can just walk away.” Larson pointed to the camera. “You must be a real kind of stupid to think that we haven’t dealt with lunatics like yourself before. That’s why we installed them. That ensures there is a record of what happened in here. I never entered. Idiot!”
A look of panic spread across Merle’s face.
“You’re on your own.”
Larson was about to walk away when he yelled, “Deputy. These are dead women that were escorts. Look, I admit. We don’t like each other, there’s no denying that. But I have done my time for my crimes. Whether you believe me or not, my past is that… the past. The other night things got out of hand. But you know as well as I do that no judge is going to take a bar fight seriously. What I’m offering you here is gold.”
“And let me guess, you have nothing to do with these dead women?”
“I don’t.”
“Who does?”
He rolled his bottom lip in. “I can’t tell you.”
“Then I guess we are done.”
“They will kill me if I do.”
“And those inside will kill you if you don’t. So how about you stop playing games and tell me? Because think about it, Merle. You lead me to some dead bodies but don’t give up how they ended up there, what do you think the court is going to say? Who do you think they are going to pin it on?”
He took a few steps back and tossed his hands up. “I didn’t do it. I swear on my mother’s life.”
“Then give me a name.”
Merle was squirming, rubbing his hands and clenching his jaw.
Larson shrugged. “Fair enough. You don’t want to talk.”
“Will you do up the paperwork? I want it in writing, all official and shit. I get out of here today and all charges are dropped.”
“If you give me a name.”
“No, I’ll take you to the bodies but that’s it.”
“No can do.”
“Don’t do this, man. I have valuable information. This could be what breaks this case wide open. All I’m asking for is a little give and take.”
“And all I’m asking for is a name.”
He was visibly shaking; sweat was trickling down the side of his temple. He began scratching his arms. They were covered in red track marks.
He’s wasting your time, Larson thought as he turned away. He’d made it a few steps when the sound of his voice stopped him in his tracks. “Aaron. My brother.”
Chapter 22
The search of the silver trailer along with the rest of New Hope property yielded nothing. Before leaving, Jack made it clear that if Tim went to the police, the photos of him would find their way into the hands of his wife and the World Wide Web. By the way he was shaking when they pulled away, he was certain that wouldn’t be necessary. Was he capable of killing five women? It wasn’t entirely out of the question. Killers were masters at leading double lives.
Outside the heavens had opened up. It was steady but not hard, a warm summer rain that made it feel even more humid.
“You hungry?” Jack asked.
She nodded without even looking at him. Jack took the Shelby down the twisted drive onto the highway again. Even though they could have returned to Marlinton, they drove instead to Henry’s Quick Stop on Green Hill Road. Though it was used more as a convenience store, they still had a small diner-style restaurant inside where they sold hamburgers, salads, hot dogs and pizza, along with coffee. When they arrived it was nearly empty, just one middle-aged lady manning the register, and a young girl going from table to table.
Meghan ordered a burger and fries, Jack went for pizza and they both had coffee.
When the waitress returned, Jack asked if Green Bank only had the one pay phone. She nodded and her eyebrow rose. Admittedly it was a strange question to ask but if the area drew in tourists, it must have been common. Outside there was a short break in the rain, and they could see others who’d been waiting at the door of the diner to get back to their vehicles, make a dash for it.
As Meghan ate, she stared at him.
“What?” he asked. “Do I have ketchup on my face?”
She smiled. “No.” She swallowed and took a sip of her drink. “So what’s the deal with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve told you about myself. How do you know Jenna?”
“She hired me to assist her.”
“Before she went missing?”
He nodded.
“Are you an investigator?”
“Not exactly.”
She nodded slowly, gazing out the window at a couple who were arguing over something.
“What about friends and family?”
“They’re out there but I haven’t really spent a great deal of time with them. My work keeps me on the road.”
She sniffed hard and wiped her lips with a napkin. “You really think he’s behind it?”
“What do you think?”
“If anyone is capable, it’s Karl Fraser. The guy gives me the creeps.”
“What do you know about Peter Dixon?” he asked.
“Not much. I knew his wife, Rachel. She worked for a while at Ali’s Bar. We used to go out for drinks together. This was before she got involved in being an escort. The few times I met Peter, he seemed like a nice enough guy. She met him through being an escort.”
“He was a john?”
She nodded, taking another bite of her burger. “Yeah, it’s rare that it happens as most of the women don’t mix their personal lives with business but they hit it off.”
“So it was no surprise to you when you heard his name mentioned as one of the men frequenting the Lodge at the Edge of Green Bank?”
She shook her head. “That place was used for years as a central spot for women to conduct business. Before it got a reputation and the new owner tried to get the women kicked out.”
Jack stirred his coffee. “What about the other four? You knew them?”
“No, just Rachel and Paula. The thing is, Jack, in this business there is a high turnover of women. Some get into it just to earn enough to get by, others are doing it to pay their way through college and some are talked into it by a friend or a pimp. Rachel had tried to walk away from it a few times but it just kept pulling her back. It’s tough when you have an addiction. A bar job just doesn’t pay the bills.”
He nodded and then cast a gaze around the diner.
“So you know where Rachel and Peter lived?”
She gulped and reached across for a napkin then pulled out a pen and scribbled the address and slid it across to him. It was a location in Marlinton.
“You might not have much luck with him. After her death, the local media were hounding him. He struck one of the photographers and ended up in court over it. Charges were dropped, and he was released but he hasn’t been the same since. He used to frequent Ali’s Bar most nights but not anymore. Some say he’s become a bit of a recluse, others say he knows more than he’s telling. You got to remember, Rachel was the first one. I mean, the first one that was discovered. There’s no telling how many others were killed. It’s not like anyone is keeping tabs on us.”
Jack downed the remainder of his coffee. It felt good to get a kick from the caffeine. He leaned back and got comfy in his seat.
“You mentioned Jenna went with you to a client on the night she went missing, and that she was acting a little odd.”
She picked up a fry and bit the end off in a seductive way. “That’s right.”
“You mind showing me where the house is.”
“Sure. I need to make a quick phone call. I’m meant to be doing the afternoon shift at the bar today.” She rolled her eyes. “The boss has been on our case about the fight the other night. Which reminds me, did the cops show up?”
“That they did,” Jack replied.
“And?”
“I didn’t stick around to find out.”
> She laughed and tossed her napkin down. “I’ll be right back.”
She wandered off down a corridor and disappeared out of sight. Jack sat there thinking about how they were being selected. Was it just random? Had he met with them before? From the photos he saw of the Green Bank Five, they each looked different, so it wasn’t like he was focusing on a specific type of woman like some serial killers did. The fact that there was no mention of them having been raped indicated that the murders were not sexually motivated. That was the part that struck him as strange. These were women in the sex industry. Did he have a bad taste in his mouth towards women in general or only those considered women of the night?
Jack glanced off to his right and noticed that Meghan hadn’t returned. The waitress came over with the bill and he paid, tossing down a few extra bucks as a tip. He waited another five minutes before getting up to see where she had gone. He followed the short corridor around a corner and noticed that the back exit door was propped open.
“Meghan?” He called out to her but there was no response. A guy brushed past him and apologized. Jack eyed him as he headed out the back. Jack followed the corridor around until he saw the cook through an open section of the wall.
“You wouldn’t have a seen a small, dark-haired woman, blue eyes, would you?”
“Yeah, she asked to use our landline, around the corner.” He motioned further down.
“Thanks.”
He followed it around. As the phone came into view, he noticed the receiver was hanging by the wall. His eyes swept back and forth. Panic started to climb in his chest.
“Meghan. Meghan!” he shouted louder and rushed towards the exit, bursting out the back. Bright rays of light momentarily blinded him. He raised a forearm. The noise of trucks assaulted his ears. His eyes darted from one vehicle to the next. “Meghan!”
“Jack.”
Jack turned at the sound of her voice. She was still inside the diner. Thank God. She immediately recognized his expression of concern.