The Murderer

by Paul Smith

  “Then why did you bring us back?” I asked him.

  “Mary Lee always invites strangers to our house. Which is odd, because she didn’t use to like visitors staying overnight until she moved here. Anyways, I’m still not sure what those things are out there, and that security guard shot and killed someone a few months ago. They were going to leave at night, like you kids.” He made a gun with his finger, pointed it at an imaginary person, and pulled the trigger. Mary Lee walked in just as he pulled the trigger.

  She looked very embarrassed. “Oh, I am so sorry. Is he talking about the security guard shooting someone again?” She looked at him accusingly. He shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the kitchen table. She turned to me. “Just ignore him, honey. He doesn’t remember things right. There was no one shot by the security guard.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “I think he just got something he was watching on television confused with reality.”

  “Could you point me in the direction of my husband?” I asked her. She smiled at motioned for me to follow her.

  “What about the faceless men in black running around at night?” I asked.

  “Listen, he used to be a very intelligent, gifted businessman. He has vascular dementia, and just isn’t the same anymore. Take anything he tells you with a grain of salt.”

  We were almost to the top of the stairs when I asked my next question. “What about the gate? I really don’t understand why we can’t leave.”

  She looked at me puzzled. “I don’t know what there is to understand, hon. You can’t leave until morning.” I was beginning to get a bit creeped out. There was something a bit Stepford-esque going on here. She showed me to a bedroom door, and told me she would fix some sandwiches for me and my husband. I thanked her, and waited until she was gone before I went in.

  “Hey, didn’t you mother teach you to knock?” said Brent teasingly, draped over an armchair in the corner of the small spare bedroom. It was decorated nicely, if a bit bare.

  “I’ve been talking to Jim,” I started, only to be interrupted rather quickly by Brent.

  “He’s not quite right in the head anymore, kitten. I wouldn’t worry about anything he said.” He stretched, and then went over and laid down on the bed. “It won’t hurt to spend the night here. Mary Lee said I could call our friends using their phone. It’s no big deal, Missy.”

  “What about the whole gate thing?” I asked him. “The act like it’s an act of congress or something.”

  Brent sighed. “What do you want me to do about it? Ram the gate down with my car? We’ll stay the night and then head out first thing in the morning. She even had clean toothbrushes for us!” He stood up and stretched again.

  “Don’t you care what I think?” I asked.

  “At the moment, no. I want to eat something and get some sleep. I’m tired of you nagging me all the time, Missy. Lay off.” He headed out the door and slammed. Well, at least he wasn’t acting strange.

  I washed my hands and headed downstairs, too.

  We just chatted about things in general. Jim was quiet, and I gathered that Mary Lee had told him to be quiet. I knew he was confused, but I was convinced there were some things he saw more clearly than anyone else in this community.

  Brent asked to use the phone. Mary led him to a phone hanging on the wall. He picked it up, but there was no ring tone. Mary Lee took it in her hand, heard no ringtone, and said, “Oh my! The phones must be out again. That happens fairly often, you know.”

  “Do you have another phone I can try?” asked Brent.

  “No, that’s our only phone.”

  “Can I check with neighbors?” he asked.

  “Oh, but it’s after curfew. We don’t even answer the doors after curfew. You can call them when the phone gets fixed,” she answered. Brent sighed a sigh of resignation. I think he was too tired to even care, and I didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was.

  Chapter 3

  It was getting late when Brent and I decided to go to bed. Our trip today was supposed to just be a short day trip, so we didn’t have anything at all with us for spending the night. Jim and his wife kindly provided us with what we needed. I was a bit puzzled at how they seemed to have everything on hand someone might need. Mary Lee fixed us both of a cup of tea before we went to bed, and they said their goodnights.

  After they left our room and the door was closed, Brent decided to take a sip. “Brent, I don’t think that’s a good idea!”

  He paused a moment, grinned at me, and said, “Do you think the old lady is gonna slip me a roofie or something?”

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” I went over to the bathroom and poured mine down the sink. “Hand it over.” I reached my hand out toward him. Brent laughed, acted as if he were going to hand it to me, and then started to sip it.

  “You are acting really weird, Missy.” I was glad he was smiling. His grouchy mood seemed to have dissipated after he ate something. “Talk to me.”

  “We need to figure out how to get out of here, Brent! This place is weird, and I’m not comfortable spending the night here. Let’s go get in the car and figure out how to get out of here.”

  Brent laid down on the bed and yawned. “I’m exhausted, honey. Just quit fretting and let’s get some sleep. We’ll get out of here first thing in the morning.”

  “I’m going to take a look around,” I replied. He reminded me that they had an alarm system, but I had noticed the code Mary Lee entered to turn it off: 1-2-3-4-*. She probably kept it fairly simple so Jim could use it. “How are you going to get back in?” I knew where Jim kept his keys.

  I slipped down the stairs and headed for the front door. I keyed in the code, disarmed it so I could get out, grabbed Jim’s keys, and silently slipped out.

  As I stepped out into the moonlit night, I noticed how normal the place looked at night. However, it didn’t feel normal. It was like a heavy presence hang over the area, and it seemed almost evil or malevolent. There was a kind of psychic ability that ran in my family. My grandma called it a feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it seemed to help us pick up on the evil intentions of others. I felt that same feeling right now. All was not right in this gated community.

  I heard a vehicle coming down the street. I ducked out of side behind some shrubbery and watched. It was an unmarked, black tow truck. It pulled up in the front of the house. Two men got out, one holding a clipboard. The tow truck driver and his assistant were dressed in black coveralls and wore black ball caps. There were no identifying patches on their clothes.

  Our car was parked in the driveway. I had an awful feeling that I knew what was about to happen.

  It would take them a few minutes to get it ready to tow, so I stepped back toward the doorway and using Jim’s key I was able to slip back into the house. I ran upstairs to Brent as fast as my legs could carry me. I flew into the bedroom and started to shake him. He was extremely drowsy – almost like he was drugged. I pulled open the bedroom blinds and got him to look.

  There is one thing in Brent’s life that I have to compete with for his affection: his car. He inherited it from his late grandfather, and he loves that car like it is a living thing. No matter how drugged – or drunk, for that matter – Brent may be, you do not mess with his previous car. He flew out of the bedroom, barefooted and wearing nothing but a pair of Jim’s pajamas.

  I raced after him, down the stairs and around the corner. I had the alarm system disarmed and the door unlocked, so he raced right out the front door with me behind him.

  I will not repeat what Brent said to the guys prepping his car to be towed. I had never heard him use language like that before. Suffice it to say that Brent informed them they should get their hands off his car immediately or they would suffer the consequences.

  They two men looked genuinely startled, and backed up toward their truck. Brent kept raving like a crazy man, which seemed to scare the men as they opened the doors on their tow truck. It seemed like they melted into the
darkness as they got in. They did not leave, though.

  Here’s what puzzled me: Brent is out here in a pair of pajamas that a bit too big for him, barefooted, and yelling at the top of his lungs and it I didn’t see anyone look out. I would have thought the noise he was making would surely have awakened Mary Lee and Jim, but apparently it did not. The neighborhood was silent except for Brent.

  I walked up and laid my hand on Brent’s back. He calmed down a bit. I gather the two guys had called for backup, because a black unmarked car pulled up in front of the house. One man stepped out of the passenger side.

  He, too, was dressed in all black. He walked up to the driver’s side of the tow truck. The driver rolled down the window, they spoke for a second, and then the tow truck started to back out of the driveway. As it left, the man walked toward us.

  He smiled and reached his hand out to Brent. “I apologize for this. There was a mix up in addresses,” he said. Everything in me felt he was lying. Brent shook his hand. “My name is Rod, and I work security here.” He turned to shake my hand. I didn’t shake his hand. “You two are aware that it’s after curfew, even for guests, correct?”

  Brent responded with a touch of sarcasm to his voice, “I don’t follow curfew when my car is about to be stolen.”

  Rod laughed. “Of course not, sir. I understand completely. But now that we have that resolved, you can go back to bed and you’ll be free to leave in the morning.”

  “Why can’t we leave right now?” I asked.

  In a very condescending voice, Rod said, “Because the gates are locked until morning. Let me help you both to the door. I do hope we haven’t awakened Mary Lee and Jim.” He pretty much herded us to the front door. We went inside and closed the door.

  Chapter 4

  I turned to Brent, “Do you see what I mean, Brent? This place is psycho.”

  “Yeah. But how can we get out? I’m not leaving my car. Maybe its best if we just play along until morning.” We heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Jim.

  He whispered to us, “What’s going on?”

  I answered him. “They tried to tow Brent’s car, pretending it was just a mix up when we caught them.”

  Jim motioned for us to follow him into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, so we joined him. “I’ve seen that happen before. If you go out and check right now, I’m betting one of your tires will be slashed.”

  Poor Brent looked positively pale. “Why?” I asked.

  “Those weirdos out there – whatever they are – they have a thing about being in control. They probably figure you are gonna run out there, jump in that car, and try to crash the gates. No one leaves until they say. Sorry, son.” Jim’s answer was beyond disturbing.

  Brent and I looked at each other. Brent turned to Jim. “Is there anything you can tell us to help us find a way out of here?”

  Jim nodded his head. “I walk in this neighborhood a lot to get my exercise. Go north from my house, then keep taking a left … that will take you west. Look for the house that doesn’t have a fence. You’ve noticed these walls are tall … but this wall has an exposed drainage pipe that a small person like your wife could fit through and get out. There are other drainage pipes, but you can’t access them without crawling over a fence and into the backyard.” He then walked in the kitchen and pulled out some flashlights for us.

  “Good luck, kids.” He saw us to the door. As we headed out, we decided our best bet would be to stay in the shadows, and try to keep through the shrubbery. First, however, Brent had wanted to check his car. We didn’t even need to walk over to it to see that two of the tires had been slashed.

  As we headed out, we didn’t see anyone out there. However, I wasn’t too hopeful that we would be able to make it safety. If they were as technically savvy as they seemed to be, our changes weren’t encouraging.

  Finally we had reached the house without a fence. Brent and I ran as fast as we could to the wall, and saw the drainage pipe that Jim had told us about. I shined the flashlight inside, and to our relief we could see the other side. Brent looked at me. “I think I can fit through there. I know it’s usually ladies first, but I want to make sure there isn’t anything dangerous waiting for us on the other side.”

  “You can’t fit in there, Brent! Your shoulders are too wide.”

  Brent smiled at me. “Remember that trick I showed you when we first went out?” Oh yes, I remembered. He could pop his arm out of the sockets part way. It hurt pretty badly, but he had done it enough through the years that it didn’t bother him much. “Follow me as soon as I get in,” he said as he started twisting his arms and shoulders. I heard a wince.

  “What if something happens and I can’t follow you?” I said, as he knelt down and put his head in the pipe.

  “I’ll be back for my car, and I’ll pick you up, too. I’ll bring my own army if I have to.” He was now in the pipe, and in the dark you couldn’t even see his feet in there.

  That’s when I heard a car engine pull up. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw that same unmarked black car with the same man exiting the driver’s side. I quickly turned to Brent, who was already in the pipe. “Hurry!” I whispered. I kept my eyes on the security guard. This was a dark area, and I hoped he hadn’t seen Brent.

  “I’m caught!” he said. I didn’t think he would have enough time to get uncaught and for me to get far enough in the pipe that the security guy couldn’t pull me back out. I decided to walk over to meet the security guard and turn myself in. It might buy Brent enough time to get out of the pipe.

  “Where is your husband?” the guard demanded, shining the light into my eyes and almost blinding me.

  I put one hand over my eyes to protect them from the light and turned my head slightly away. “In bed, asleep.” He walked toward the pipe. “I was just going for a walk,” I told him.

  “Have you been messing with this drainage pipe?” he asked, standing over it and shining the flashlight at its base. You could see muddy footprints on the ground. He then turned with the flashlight and shined it on my muddy jeans.

  “I tripped and fell on my knees.” That response seemed reasonable enough to me.

  He squatted down and shined the flashlight through the drainage pipe. I held my breath. I saw him panning it back and forth. The he stood up. “Get in the car.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I lied. “I was more tired than I realized when I came out to walk. I might not have made it back to Jim and Mary Lee’s house.”

  “I need to see your ID,” he demanded.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. My purse was back in the room, but I grabbed some money, credit cards, and my driver’s license and shoved them in my pocket before we tried to make our escape.

  He shined the flashlight on it. “Melissa Ann Sothern,” he read, then put it in his pocket.

  “Can I have that back?” I asked. He simply shook his head and opened the car door.

  I thought about making a run for it. Everything in me said that getting into that dark car with this strange man was not a good idea. I quickly weighed the pros and cons in my mind. If they were going to kill me, they would have to do it here in the street and not in some dark room.

  I made a run for it. I ran track in high school, so I’m pretty fast for a woman my age. I ran down the sidewalk and street. If they shot me, I wanted them to have a mess to clean up before morning. I ran and made the first left turn. I kept running, making the second left turn.

  Someone tackled me from behind. My arms made contact with the concrete beneath me, and I could feel the skin tearing off the exposed skin. I tried to flip over to face my attacker, and to my horror I saw what Jim had described: a faceless man. He had me pinned down, but I was fighting for all I was worth. Another faceless man walked over, knelt down by us, and gave me an injection in my arm.

  It was like a ripple was moving across what I was seeing and a strange taste flooded my mouth. I was still trying to fight, but my limbs weren’t working right. I kept
trying to fight, and kept trying to keep my eyes open. Finally I succumbed.

  Chapter 5

  I woke up in on a clean cot in a bare room. It had a solid looking door, and no windows. There were a pair of blindingly bright overhead lights shining down from the ceiling. The floor was sealed concrete, and the walls were some kind of white tile.

  There was a toilet and sink, and a mirror across the wall. The room was spotless and sanitary. I figured the mirror was a two-way mirror, and that someone was watching me from the other side. I also noticed a plain wooden chair next to the door.

  It seemed that I was a prisoner.

  I sat up and noticed that my arms had been bandaged, but I still had on the same muddy jeans. My shoes were tucked under the edge of the cot. At least all they took off me was my shoes, I thought ruefully. My thinking began to clear up.

  My thoughts went back to the faceless men. I realized that it wasn’t so much that they were faceless, but they had some kind of plastic mask on over their faces that reflected their surroundings and hid their faces. Jim was quite right about everything, it seemed.

  I knew that Brent had made it through that pipe. The guard didn’t let on that he had seen anything when he shined the flashlight through the pipe. If I knew Brent, he was on his way to civilization and would come back for me. The remark about the car was just a pun. I wished I had remembered to tell him I loved him before he headed through the pipe. I’m sure he knew, though.

  That’s when I remembered my id. I reached in my pocket, and realized that now they not only had my id but my credit cards and what little cash I had. Here I was in the middle of nowhere, all by myself, held prisoner in some kind of cell, recovering from having been drugged, and without my id.

  There was a knock at the door and the guard that took my id was standing there. “May I come in?” he asked, but walked right in without bothering to wait for a response. He pulled the wooden chair over in front of me and sat down.