“I see,” Sheriff Thompson said. “And you’re suggesting the assailant hid the bones in the lake.”
She nodded. “Then, they washed up here where I accidentally uncovered them. I think that whoever killed Daniella killed Bill. It only makes sense.”
Sheriff Thompson rocked back and looked up at the night sky.
“Well, all the more reason to keep you under surveillance. I don’t want you out and wandering around town until we know who the murderer is and have them in custody.”
“I think I know who that is as well. I’m positive he must have overheard me talking about Daniella tonight.”
He sat up straight and looked Sonja directly in the eye. “Who?”
“Howard Baskins.”
CHAPTER 14
Sonja explained to Sheriff Thompson how she had argued with Howard Baskins and he had driven away from the restaurant in a black truck. After she finished recounting the evening’s events, the two deputies arrived on the scene, looking frustrated.
“What happened?” Sheriff Thompson demanded, noting their expressions.
“We lost him, Sheriff. He drove off into the woods and we lost him.”
The sheriff gritted his teeth.
“I want you to set up a sweep of at least a fifteen-mile radius, around this point. I want that vehicle found.”
“You got it,” the deputy nodded, getting back in the cruiser.
“Sheriff,” Sonja chimed in.
He turned to her, “What is it? We’ve got to get out and make this sweep.”
“I think I can help, I have the license plate number.”
Thompson immediately called the plate number into the station, then called a cab to take Sonja home, instructing her to stay with the coroner om the beach until the cab arrived. Backup was requested from another town to secure the scene and help with the search for the driver of the truck. Thompson headed out to Howard Baskins place to see if maybe he hid out there and to bring him in for questioning.
When Sonja finally made it home, it was almost two in the morning, and her mother had fallen asleep in the comfy armchair in front of the television, where she’d been waiting up to hear all about the date. Sonja gently shook her awake to let her know she was back.
* * *
In the morning, Sonja awoke to a homemade breakfast. There were blueberry waffles drizzled in a creamy blueberry cream sauce that her mom had created, accompanied by crispy golden hash browns and thick-sliced maple-cured bacon on the side.
“If I’m not careful I might get used to never cooking for myself again,” Sonja remarked, breathing in the delicious homey scents of her mother’s kitchen.
“Well, dear, you cook all day every day for your customers. You deserve to have someone else cook for you every now and again.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Her mom placed a plate of hot, crispy waffles in front of her, then sat down across the table, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. “Now tell me about last night.”
“I don’t know if I have enough time,” Sonja admitted, shoveling a bite of blueberry waffle into her mouth. “I really should get going.”
“Isn’t the diner still closed down today?” her mother frowned.
“I’m hoping to reopen tomorrow,” she nodded, talking with her mouth half full.
“Then where do you have to go? Didn’t Sheriff Thompson tell you to stay home?”
“I need to apologize,” she confessed. “I left Macklin sort of high and dry at the Firehouse last night.”
“You did?” Her mother patted her hair, shocked.
“Well, there was a scene with one of Macklin’s customers. After that, I just felt like I needed to leave.”
“I see,” her mother blinked. “What about before that? Did you enjoy the date at all?”
In all honesty, she hadn’t. In the brief time she spent at the table with Macklin she just felt like everything was wrong. Taking one last bite of the waffle, and grabbing a strip of bacon to go, Sonja pushed her chair back and stood up.
“I’ve gotta go, Mom. I want to catch him while he’s still in the office and before he heads out to any projects.”
“Oh, dear,” she bit her lip, watching her daughter head for the door.
“I promise to tell you what happened, later,” and with that, Sonja turned to run out to the guesthouse for some clean clothes.
“Honey?” her mother’s voice called.
“Yes?”
“Can you just tell me . . . are you interested in him at all?”
Sonja sighed, but responded kindly.
“No, Mom. I’m not.”
As she turned to leave she expected her mom to fall into one of her fits of depression. Instead, she thought she caught her mother smiling.
* * *
When Sonja left through the front door she didn’t see any police cruisers nearby. She tried to remember if the Sheriff had said he was going to post someone outside, but ultimately assumed they must have brought Howard Baskins into custody and called the all clear.
Giving it no further thought, she made a mental note to either visit or call Sheriff Thompson later that day. Not only did she want to know if they’d been able to get any hard evidence on Baskins, but she also wondered what Baskins’ motive was for killing Daniella in the first place.
Driving up to the double-wide trailer of Macklin’s office, Sonja noticed there weren’t any vehicles out front and she wondered if perhaps she’d just missed him. She walked up the ramp and knocked on the door. Someone moved around inside, eventually opening it.
“Sonja?” Macklin raised his eyebrows, obviously astonished to see her.
“Hi, Macklin.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning.
“Do you mind if I come in?”
“Of course not,” he stepped out of the way and let her inside. “Have a seat.”
“That’s okay. I’m not planning on staying long.”
“Alright, then,” he agreed and took a seat behind his desk. “What’s up? Did you decide you wanted to alter the contract after all?”
“No, no. I wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to run off on you.”
He shook his head, looking down for a moment.
“Don’t worry about it. Having a big, angry tyrant barrel over you isn’t an ideal date scenario. It can really be a mood killer.”
Sonja didn’t bother mentioning how she had never been in the mood at all for the date.
“Anyway…I just wanted to say sorry,” she said quietly, turning to go.
“Hold on,” he stopped her. “While you’re here…”
He opened the filing cabinet and pulled out a paper.
“Even though you said not to, I wrote up an addendum to your contract. It basically states I’ll extend my work hours a few extra days to make sure the work is done since we’ve been delayed two days.” He held out the paper to her.
She sighed, thinking that he certainly was tenacious. “All right. Let me see it.”
Taking the paper from him, she began reading the print, and noticed something that made her blood run cold. Her stomach did a little flip flop and her palms instantly grew clammy, as she fought to keep her breathing steady. The printed text on the paper had lines through it, similar to the threatening note she had received at the diner. Discreetly, she ran her fingers along the edges of the paper, and, sure enough, it was perforated. She glanced around the room, and saw that, in the corner behind Macklin’s desk was an old ink ribbon printer.
“Looks to be in order,” she commented without even really reading it.
“Alright then,” he replied. “Do you need a pen?”
“A pen?” Her mind wandered trying to determine if this was coincidence or if she’d been wrong about Baskins all along.
“To sign it with? Do you need a pen to sign it?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
He pulled a ballpoint pen out of the cup on his desk and handed it to her.
/> “Thanks.”
She intentionally walked over and placed the paper down on Bill’s desk, further away from Macklin, to sign it. Gazing up at the photos on the wall, she wanted to get one more look at the picture of the beauty pageant, and of the pageant queen, Daniella Fitzgerald. This time, standing so close to the wall, she noticed a small inscription that she had missed before, signed in the bottom corner of the image: “Macklin, Thanks for all your help and hard work on the pageant. And thank you for all the evenings we spent together talking. I hope to see more of you in the future. Warmly, Daniella.”
Now that couldn’t be a coincidence. Sonja’s phone rang, causing her squeak in fright. Macklin raised an eyebrow at her, twiddling his thumbs as he sat in the chair. She checked her phone. It was Sheriff Thompson.
“Just a moment,” she muttered nervously to Macklin, and eagerly answered it.
“H-hello?” she stepped close to the back wall, closer to the image.
“Sonja? There’s something important that you need to know.”
“What…what’s that Sheriff?” Out the back window of the office, something caught her eye.
“The license plate number you got off the truck? We had a little trouble locating it, but it isn’t registered to Howard Baskins.”
“Oh?” Sonja’s voice cracked.
Just outside the back window, parked between stacks of sod and barrels of chemicals, was a black truck, with black windows, and deep scrapes all along one side. She subtly tried to move toward the door.
“No. The truck you described is registered to Macklin Sprouts.”
She watched in horror as Macklin stood up from his chair. His cold expression was chilling, completely different than anything Sonja had ever seen.
“We’re on our way to pick him up now, but whatever you do, don’t go and see him. Don’t call him. Don’t go near him.”
Like a snake striking at his prey, Macklin lunged at her.
“Sheriff,” Sonja screamed into the phone as she hurled herself toward the door.
She didn’t make it in time and dropped the phone. Macklin slammed her against the wall.
“You made a serious mistake, Sonja,” he wrapped his fingers around her throat. “A very serious mistake.”
“No,” Sonja screamed as she raised one knee, slamming Macklin in the groin. Instantly, her would-be killer buckled over in pain.
Pushing him aside she threw open the door and ran toward the street, wishing that she hadn’t walked to the office alone. Within seconds Macklin was on his feet and hot on her trail. The closest public building was three blocks away. Between here and there, her only choices were warehouses and the forest. Running as fast as she could for the forest, she hoped to lose him among the trees.
Despite his pain, Macklin was faster, coming up behind just as she entered the forest and grabbing her around the neck. Attempting to scream for help, clawing at Macklin’s whip-cord arm, Sonja barely made a squeak, her throat blazing with pain. Her head swam, and in a matter of seconds, her vision became spotty before her world went completely black.
CHAPTER 15
When Sonja opened her eyes, she was laying on her back on something soft, looking up at trees and a leaden gray sky.
“What happened?” she muttered, to no one in particular.
“You were out for a few minutes,” a voice sounded faintly from somewhere nearby.
Sonja tried to move and realized she couldn’t. She looked down and realized there were multiple layers of duct tape wrapped around her arms and legs.
“After last night, I wasn’t sure if I had finished you off or not,” Macklin’s voice was coming from above her. “I didn’t know how much you knew, but it was a stroke of luck that you walked into my office this morning.”
Looking around, trying to see where Macklin was, Sonja realized she was lying in a shallow hole in the ground, about two or three feet deep, in the middle of the woods.
Suddenly, he appeared, stepping close to the edge of the hole and peering in at her. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
“The police will know it’s you,” she protested, her voice hoarse, attempting to buy herself some time. “Killing me won’t accomplish anything.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed, “but I’m pretty sure the only reason the police know that I killed Bill is because you decided to butt in where you don’t belong. I knew you were going to be trouble when you told me you were researching the pageant.”
Macklin walked out of sight again. The noise of something being dragged echoes through the trees. The murderer reappeared, dragging along an industrial sized barrel of Bronoum’s Industrial Weed Killer and placing it at the foot of the hole
“Merrill was right. This stuff is way too caustic. It killed all of Baskin’s trees.”
He turned the barrel on its side, so the top was situated just barely over the hole near Sonja’s feet.
“So, it makes me think it will be very effective at killing you as well.
Leaning over, he used a flathead screwdriver to pry off both plastic caps. The green poisonous liquid began to flow into the hole with her, puddling over her feet. The smell of the chemical was overwhelming and left a burning sensation in Sonja’s nose and chest.
“Why?” she tried desperately to think of a way out of this mess. “Why did you kill Daniella?”
Macklin slipped his hands into his pockets.
“I loved her. I did every single thing she asked me to. Worked overtime most nights just so I could spend more time with her and talk to her.”
“Was the feeling mutual?” Sonja didn’t look at him, already assuming the answer.
Macklin gave her an icy glare. “She would have come around eventually,” he growled.
The weed killer had already reached her upper legs, filling the bottom of the hole.
“I’m not so sure. If you were as clumsy and awkward with her as you were with me last night…”
“Shut up,” he threatened. “I never had any interest in you. I just wanted to make sure you never found out about Daniella. I tried over and over to get you to cancel your contract. I wanted to make sure you kept out of my business, but you didn’t listen.”
“Daniella refused to date you, so you killed her?”
Sonja glanced down, alarmed. The toxic liquid was now puddling around her thighs and moving quickly up, soaking through her clothes.
Macklin breathed heavily, his blonde hair matted with sweat.
“She was planning on leaving town, running off with some other man.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea. She wouldn’t tell me.”
“So you killed her. Simply because someone else had her and you didn’t.”
“Shut up,” he shouted, his face twisting with hatred and madness.
“And you would have killed him too if you’d known who it was?”
“Shut up,” he hissed through his teeth.
“Of course you would have,” she taunted.
The weed killer had soaked through the back of her shirt and was quickly moving up toward her hair. Her skin burned and itched, and it was getting difficult to breathe. The chemical stench was becoming almost unbearable, and a severe headache gripped the front of her skull. She squinted, trying to will the needling pain away.
“It won’t matter soon,” Macklin muttered. “Soon you’ll be dead. Just like Merrill and just like Daniella.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” a voice called from behind Macklin.
Macklin spun around. “Put your hands in the air,” Sheriff Thompson ordered, weapon raised.
“Sheriff,” Sonja called, relieved, but still extremely uncomfortable and scared.
“Quick, get her out of there,” he directed, without taking his eyes from Macklin.
Two deputies rushed over and used pocket knives to cut her free of her bonds, lifting Sonja out of the hole and out of danger.
“Place your hands behind your head and get down on your knees,�
� the Sheriff ordered, stepping closer to the killer.
Whimpering like a wounded dog, Macklin went down, tears of rage streaming. Wiping off with towels pulled from the trunk of a police car, Sonja stood by and watched as the sheriff handcuffed him and read him his rights.
CHAPTER 16
“How did you know where I was?” Sonja asked as she sat in a booth at The Waffle with Sheriff Thompson.
A few days had passed since the incident in the woods, yet another encounter she hoped to wipe from her memory. Sonja had spent a day in the hospital with doctors monitoring her for any signs of shock, poison, or brain damage, and then spent the next two days resting at home. Her mother brought her meals in bed and continued to swear up and down that she ‘knew there was something wrong with that boy’.
“We followed Macklin’s GPS signal,” Thompson explained between sips of coffee. “Turns out he always had it on in the truck for when he would go to locations for work.”
“That’s lucky,” she let out a breath, shaking her head.
“I suppose the fates are looking out for you after all,” he gazed at her for a long moment.
Sonja rolled her eyes. “I suppose so.”
“It seems his family has a history of serious mental illness.”
“I’m not surprised,” she admitted. “When I was out with him the other evening he just seemed a little too eager or something. Just a little off, I guess. Then out in the woods . . . it was like he had transformed from Jekyll into Hyde.”
The sheriff speared his last bite of waffle with his fork and ate it, washing it down with another swig of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you say yes when he asked you to dinner?”
She shrugged. “He’s the first guy to ask me out in probably two years or more. I guess I admired his gumption a little.”
“That admiration almost got you killed,” he raised an eyebrow.
“I suppose. I guess I should just never accept another date again,” she rolled her eyes and chuckled.
“Not necessarily,” he remarked, wiping his mouth with a napkin and hiding a little smile. “Not if it’s the right guy.” He took a final swig of his coffee and stood up. “Well, I’d better get back to the station. I don’t want to miss any calls.”
Sinister Strawberry Waffle: Book 3 in The Diner of the Dead Series Page 9