by catt dahman
Keri’s eyes flickered slightly. She looked terrified. She hurt everywhere, and if asked which place hurt most, she would have just laughed. Every inch of her burned, ached, hurt, and throbbed with pain. Her skull felt like a big, mass of heat that might explode. Between her legs, she ached. Deep down, she knew her friends were dead or were dying. Charlie was in a bad way. She figured she was dying, except her sister was there, staring at her with fear and worry.
She saw the person’s eyes boring into hers as he…as he did what he did. He liked it. Keri didn’t want to talk about anything or think about it. She preferred to die now, but there were more people, talking, reassuring her, making promises, and sliding something into her arm that stung. She was still so afraid.
A hand pressed into her bruises and cuts, and tears popped from her eyes, but she didn’t stop looking back to the place she was before when everything was good and she was happy. She ignored everyone. If she stayed in her happier place, she would be okay.
She let the voices lull her, and she allowed darkness to take her away.
Chapter Twelve: Details
As the sun rose, it lit the campsite and pond and began the trip back the other way; Sheriff Kirby stood at the edge of the tamped fire and kicked a rock with his boot. There were people everywhere now as a dozen crime scenes were being processed, including the raft that floated on the water and was stained with blood.
Kirby didn’t know where to begin or what to do with a scene like this.
Virgil watched everything, as well. Looking for victims through brush, he had almost looked over to see Vivian, remembering how he first met her, looking for bodies. The way the tent was cut to remove someone was clandestinely familiar to him and almost a taunt as Virgil recalled being horrified that a person could cut a hole in the tent and that Gaither and his friends had sexually molested the girls they attacked.
“I’m reliving the Gaiter case.”
“You think it’s that? Does it feel the same?”
“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Gaither is dead. I mean, he is seriously dead, and so are his pals. Tina knows that, and I know that. We did it and saw it. It isn’t him, but it feels evil, like him. But it’s not the same,” Virgil said as he struggled to find the right words.
“Son, you’re one of the best detectives I know. You’re tough and smart, but the day you turn off all emotions and stop caring is the day you quit. Right now, we have a lot of messes and few suspects, and it feels personal.”
“It does.”
“It probably is. Hollingsworth was sentenced to death for a reason. He’s as bad as they come. I know you feel blindsided to know he was visiting with the perp in your first case. Men like him…sick bastards…they get fan mail. Makes no sense to me.”
“How are the kids?”
Sheriff Kirby frowned, “Dion is out of it. He’s in critical condition; Ted, too. They don’t think Charlie made it. Kimmy went with Keri, but that little girl is in serious shock. I remember Keri when she was little and Kimmy dragged her around all over like a little mama. Keri was always a good kid and never caused a lick of trouble.”
“This was her one act of defiance?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Her mama is hysterical, and Kimiko is acting blank and lost. Seeing Keri that way…I never felt so helpless and stupid before, but what would make someone beat her and cut her up that way? I feel sick, Virgil. Poor little ole girl.”
“I understand. He started one way and then…he likes it now. He got a thrill from what he was doing and took it up with Keri. He’s crossed a serious line now. He isn’t just copying; he’s trying his wings.”
“It wasn’t Sam, was it?”
That was what was bothering Kirby. And he pretended his allergies were acting up, but he steadily wiped his eyes. He was worried it was a boy he had known a long time who was killing.
Virgil said, “The kids got paranoid because they couldn’t find him and thought maybe he was doing all this, but he doesn’t fit, Sheriff. He’s young and not organized enough to do all this. Not that kids can’t kill, but not this way. The one doing this has fun playing with them, like a cat plays with his prey. He makes it last a long time…hours, and that means he’s relaxed. White. No older than thirty. He’s smart but not overly brilliant. He enjoys control and power. He feels someone is denying him power….”
What if it were some one in town? Could be he’s eating there and she’s noticed and…what? You have a funny look.”
Virgil blinked. “Dr. Hollingsworth brought it up. He did this thing, trying to get to me, when he rated my performances on cases. It wasn’t pleasant, and he made sure I took notice of each of my mistakes. One thing he pointed out was that when I was investigating, I focused only on who it could be from the outside. I looked for strangers, and it was a local that I didn’t consider.”
“And this time?”
“I think we have to consider this could be anyone, but not Sam,” Virgil added. It was likely that every single word Hollingsworth uttered was a clue. Did he and Tina need to go back while their minds were fresh and record everything he had said. Somewhere there was a clue to the identity of the killer.
“He tortured the kids. It looks like he began sometime after dark and after they ate dinner. Hot dogs. S’mores. Soda pop. There was rum, but the bottle is empty, and there’s signs of blood, so maybe our killer drank some of it, or the kids left the blood after being injured,” Tina reported all she had learned. The area was huge, and there was a lot to take as evidence.
“Anything from the hospital, Deputy Rant?”
“Sheriff Kirby, the boy, Charlie, he didn’t survive. There was massive blood loss and shock. They tried, but he was too far gone, sir. The other kid, Ted, he’s very critical, and they’ve asked the family to say their goodbyes to him. He’s in and out, and Tackett can’t get a statement; Ted is just too out of it for that. I’m really sorry.”
Reb Kirby swallowed hard. “Me, too. Good kids. They made one small mistake. How is Dion and Keri.”
“Dion is out of surgery but still unconscious. They are watching him closely and keeping him knocked out for now. He has lost a lot of blood, but the doctors are hopeful. Keri is bruised and cut, but she’s been stitched, and physically she should be okay. Mentally, the report is that she isn’t speaking. She is still catatonic.” Tina hated saying it because it was like Tobias shutting down a few years back and never recovering. She missed her fellow deputy.
Kirby took some notes from Deputy Gunn and read over them. “I’m headed for the station to figure out what we have going on. Gunn, take the lead.”
Virgil followed with Tina.
“I called Special Agent Lord. I am having him double check the agents who are guarding the doctor.”
“That makes sense,” Tina told Virgil, “is he running some others besides just them?”
“Yep, even Reb,” he whispered.
“That’s best.”
Virgil sat and reviewed his notes. He read the Medical Examiner’s reports and the Coroner’s reports and looked at all evidence gathered. The Copycat knew the Hollingsworth’s cases better than law officers and used it but added his own touches. He was evolving rapidly. “Tina, remind me that we need to get everything written that Hollingsworth has ever said to us. Also, when Keri and Kimiko’s mother can leave Keri, we need a statement. I want to know more about how she found out where the kids were. I want to push for statements from Dion and Keri as soon as we can get them. Dion may be the best bet.”
“On it.” Tina sat and wrote down all she could remember; luckily she had a memory like a steel trap.
Reb Kirby came in and brought a tray of iced, sweet coffee with him for everyone. He wasn’t able to add anything but an update on Keri, who was still quiet. “Her mother says that she stares into nothing and cries a lot,” he said.
“Give her time. Does she know about Charlie?”
“No. I mean no one said anything, and she hasn’t asked. I think she knows. She looks like a scared
rabbit. She screams if her mama leaves her for even one second.”
He told them Stacey had sent food from the diner: fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, broccoli and rice casserole, creamed corn, sweet potatoes, beets, cabbage and carrots, meatloaf, and several pies. Law officers came and went from the station, eating and drinking jugs of tea and coffee, and going back to work. They ate hearty for the hard work they were doing, and the city was paying for Stacey to keep their officers and their helpers full and hydrated.
Stacey didn’t like the reason they needed the food, and she was working herself to the bone making coleslaw, biscuits and cornbread, frying fish and potatoes, and then sending all the food over every few hours. The money the city was paying was one of the good parts, in addition to knowing the people working out there were being fed good comforting food.
Kirby read every report again, willing his mind to figure all of it out.
Virgil paced. He replayed every word from every conversation with Doctor Hollingsworth. “Why here?”
“Hmm?”
“Tina, why is this the place that Hollingsworth is seeing his crimes repeated?”
“Why not here? It could have been anywhere, I suppose.”
“But it’s here for a reason. Call Mason Lord, and get Hollingsworth’s cell at the prison tossed. Books, papers, and everything. I want to know who writes to him and from where.” Virgil felt he had an itch along a shoulder blade that he couldn’t reach. Determined to get his answers, he walked back to see Starla Stoker.
“Sheriff.”
“Starla, look, I have badgered you and walked the scene, and you’ve told me a dozen or more times that you don’t remember many things.”
“Yes.”
“Many times a person does that so he or she can think about the answer, and then he gives the one answer that might help him the most or what he thinks the officers want to hear. See? You never came back with answers. You, unlike most suspects, didn’t give me a lot of details. Look right at me. Did you kill your children?”
She cried, “You said I did.”
“I’m asking this time.”
“I…I don’t know anymore, Sheriff. I loved them and would never have hurt them, but I can’t recall things you want me to tell you about, so maybe I was crazy or am crazy, and did it. I don’t know anymore. Right now, I want to know.”
“This is a very strange thing, but can you tell me about your visitors that evening? For some reason, we never asked you about that.”
“How did you know I had company earlier?” Starla tilted her head.
Virgil sighed and said, “Because it makes sense. Because of something strange I noticed in a patch of mud.”
She told him and shrugged, “Does that help?”
“Very much. Do you remember looking into your mirror when you were stabbed? What did you see?”
Starla frowned as she tried to remember. She touched her long hair, “I saw my hair: long, dark hair, and a smile…not a happy smile, but blood. I don’t know, Sheriff. I’m trying, but I can’t remember.” She looked sincere.
“That’s okay.” He was ready to ask more, but Tina called to him.
“Virg, we have to roll. Right now.”
He jogged out to join her. The room was a flurry of activity.
“I have deputies all over the place on that damned pond, we have a call, and I got a hinky feeling.”
Reb Kirby ran out to his car with Tina and Virgil following. “I appreciate the help. I’m like a shit-brained dog chasing its own tail. I don’t know where anyone is, and I don’t have anyone available. I’d go alone, but….”
“What’s the call?”
“Ida Ferguson called. She’s a bit of a busy-body and the neighborhood gossip, but she was worried when she heard screams from over to the Bennet’s house. Jane Bennet works down to the bar some nights, and she has a babysitter. And three kids.”
Virgil rubbed his head, “Not good. That’s Hollingsworth. Babysitter.”
“It may be kids acting up, but it may be something. I don’t know anymore.”
Virgil tried to drag his brain away from Starla Stoker and the pieces he had put together. He had a few random pieces, but they were lining up. Now this.
Virgil and Tina stood to the side, trying to listen and relax as Sheriff Kirby handled the call. From across the street, a neighbor, presumably Ida Ferguson, watched from her living room, the curtains pulled to the side so she could peek out.
Kirby rang the bell at the Bennet’s house and then knocked, calling out, “It’s just Sheriff Kirby, coming by to make sure you and the kids are fine and locked up safely. Tracie Anne? Honey?”
The house seemed quiet, and then from inside, a girl screamed.
“Tracie Anne?” Kirby tried the door and found it unlocked, sighing that, even in a small town with the rash of trouble lately, anyone would keep a door unlocked. He clicked back the strap on his gun.
Virgil ran and headed for the backdoor. Tina took her pistol out and kept it tight by her side, ears and eyes alert for anything. She followed Kirby into the small living area that held a few worn chairs and a sofa with a small television on a cabinet. Where once someone had been folding clothes, the laundry basket now sat, upended with towels and shirts strewn all over the sofa. A few soda cans sat on the end table. Popcorn was left in a bowl, pieces littering the floor.
Kirby looked all around and kept walking into the kitchen and eating area. Left in the kitchen were a pot left on the stove, a glass of melting ice and dark cola, and a notepad with a list of chores that Jane Bennet needed to do.
“Nothing,” Tina said. She opened the back door for Virgil and shrugged.
A slight noise came from a closed door. Tina nodded to the men and jerked the door open, but it was an empty laundry room, the scents of washing powder and fabric softener strong. She cocked her head. “Hey, there,” she just whispered.
A small boy looked back at her from the tiny space between the dryer and wall. He was no more than three or four with big, scared eyes and had his thumb in his mouth.
“Joey Bennet, hi there. Remember me? Sheriff Kirby?”
There was no reaction, and Tina holstered her gun to gather up the child into her arms. He was unharmed but very frightened.
“Get him in the car. Virgil and I can take it from here.”
“I think Ida Ferguson might be handy, and I can take him over and come back,” Tina said. She left the room and then the house while the men watched her back. The neighbor opened her door at once to take the child and check him over. The older woman had a big Colt pistol on the table.
“Tracie Anne?” Sheriff Kirby called out as he entered the first room, a bedroom, that was slightly cluttered with books and discarded clothing. It was mostly filled with a big dresser, queen-sized bed, a comfortable chair and lamp, and a book shelf that was sagging in the middle.
A noise came from under the bed, but since the bed was so close to the ground, the noise had to have come from a child.
“Hi, can you be real quiet and crawl out? I’m too big to fit under there. You know Sheriff Kirby, don’t you?” Virgil asked a child who was whimpering from under the bed. The child crawled out slowly.
“Hello, Ned. Why are you hiding?” Kirby asked while watching the door. “Ned, you’ve grown a lot. Your mama’s been feeding you well.”
“Tracie Anne said we ha’ to hide and it wa’ serious. She told us t’ run after….” Ned looked suddenly more afraid and backed away as if he would crawl back under the bed.
“Did someone come in?”
“Uh-huh.” Ned’s eyes stayed locked on Kirby’s boots. Then he looked at Virgil’s feet and took another step back. He was ready to hide again.
“Joey is over to Mrs. Ferguson’s house now. You want to go join him?”
Ned kept looking at the men’s feet. He was almost seven and a sharp kid. He knew Tracie Anne didn’t tease about serious things, and he had hidden as she told him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t c
urious and hadn’t peeked from under the bed.
Kirby looked down and turned his boot, “What? Do I have some dog poopie on my boot?”
Virgil noticed that his own department wore boots just like those of Sheriff Kirby’s. He knelt for a second, “Ned, can you tell me this? Was the person who came inside and scared you…did that person have boots like mine and Sheriff Kirby’s?”
Ned nodded.
Kirby looked as if he had been slapped. “What?”
“Hollingsworth berated me for looking for outsiders in my own case. I don’t have time right now, but Starla Stoker isn’t guilty. Hollingsworth has been pulling strings. It may be one of your own, Sheriff.”
Virgil expected Kirby to dismiss the idea, but the big man gritted his teeth and asked Tina to relay Ned over to Mrs. Ferguson. They checked the bathroom. It was empty.
Tina was halfway out the door when she called back, “I’ll be out here; looks like Mrs. Ferguson called Mama Bear.” She led Ned to a frantic Jane Bennet and ushered them back across the street, despite Jane’s hysterical questions. It took Tina a lot of talking to get Jane Bennet calm.
“Tracie Anne?”
Kirby looked in the boys’ room and found nothing. Stuffed animals and toy soldiers covered the floor, and the beds were unmade, but it was a large, but cozy, safe-feeling room.
The next room was a bedroom: a nursery for the baby and full of baby-type things and more stuffed animals. The crib was empty. No one was in the closet, and there was nowhere else to hide. The final room was part of split level and went down into a play area for the children but was big enough to be several rooms. A bloodied door frame and partially opened door explained how the killer got away.
Climbing back up, Virgil opened the final door that was a roomy bathroom. It smelled of soap, linen, and death. He felt for a pulse anyway and found that Tracie Anne hadn’t been dead long, but she was very much gone with her throat slashed and blood covering the clean while tiles.
“That’s Tracie Anne. She’s fifteen or sixteen. Sweet little old girl,” said Kirby as he shook his head, sick at heart. “Hey?”