Sleepwalker

by Michael Laimo

  He peeked through the open window. The keys dangled from the ignition. Good. That would be his ticket out. Now, to get Pam.

  He paced to the trough and peered over the edge. Here the angle and depth of the slope was much steeper compared to that of a half mile away. What made him think at the time that he could escape by driving his car down here? Looking at it resting on the bottom, he could see the water flowing midway across the driver’s side door. He positioned himself at a multitude of angles, bobbing and weaving, looking inside the car and seeing nothing. He couldn’t make out any details, even in the darkness at the floor of the car. Pam was gone.

  He called her name. Nothing. He called louder, his voice echoing a bit in the cool night air. No answer. He decided it wasn’t worth drawing attention to himself. Someone might be nearby, investigating the source of gunfire.

  He retreated from the trough and went to Pam’s car. Getting behind the wheel, he started the car up and ran the heat, sitting motionless for endless minutes as the blowing warmth simmered his aching bones. He closed his eyes, wanted to curl up and sleep, his body nearly shutting down as waves of exhaustion beset him. Finally, after catching his breath and his wits and convincing himself yet again that he needed to move on, he shook himself awake and reversed out from the area, the wheels skidding more than he wanted them to, tossing mud up everywhere. God forbid if he got stuck! He exited the car before digging himself in too deep, looked around, located some dry sticks from beneath the trees and wedged them under the rear tires. He got back into the car, reversed. Finally he was able to back up, all the way into a dry patch of ground beneath a tree, giving him enough traction to turn the car around. He went left then moved forward, back down the thin path that carried him way up into the mountains of Bledson State Park.

  The soft ground and downward slope made the ride a bit smoother. The car still rocked and jostled some, sending darts of pain into his leg and arm, but he was able to endure the bumpy ride all the way to the bottom, to the gate, where the dirt path let out back onto the road.

  Quickly he got out of the car, walked to the gate and opened it just enough so the car would fit through.

  A blinding beam of light struck Richard in the face. It was like the shock of an awakening scream in the middle of deep sleep, or an unexpected bullet suddenly entering your body with no just cause.

  He turned, an animal frozen in its glare. He felt his eyes bulging from their sockets in an unsuccessful struggle to spot the light’s source.

  An intimidating voice rose up from beyond the encompassing glare.

  “Put your hands in the air!”

  Breakthrough

  The small town of Fairview had become a circus now that there was a deranged serial killer on the loose. It didn’t take long for the rumors to fly, and by ten in the evening, the local residents and even those in surrounding counties had all tuned in to the local newscast to find out which murmurs had been true, and which were gross exaggerations. Although the root of the story was now public knowledge, not much by the way of specifics had so far leaked out. Tomorrow would be a different saga altogether.

  The whirlwind of activity at Samantha Sparke’s house made the very organized to-do at Delaney’s office seem like a classroom exam. Where a half dozen detectives and the very dependable George Washburn quietly dominated the earlier scene, here cops from other counties, news vans, scores of neighbors, and even a firetruck charged the night with a frenzy of commotion. There were more than a hundred people standing around, with more inside the house waiting for Leonard and Kevin to arrive.

  After a cop from the Culver police force questioned their approach, Desk Sergeant Harry Dunsworth, one of Leonard’s fellow old-timers from the Fairview station, emerged from the house to give him a green light and let the two officers beyond the yellow tape.

  Dunsworth offered Leonard a bitter smile. “Reese is beside himself.”

  “Give me some good news, will you...”

  “Nothing good to tell. Killer made mincemeat of the victim. Reese keeps going on about her ex-husband who you apparently questioned earlier today--”

  “Yeah, we did--”

  “--but never filed a report on, or called in the visit.”

  “All right--is it your turn to get on my case?”

  “Take it easy, Len. Just ribbing you.”

  They climbed the steps leading to the front door. Another cop Leonard didn’t know was watching the entrance. He smiled weakly as they entered the house.

  “You damn well know that everything doesn’t get called in right away. We got caught up. We didn’t think it’d end up like this.”

  “Even though he had blood on his kitchen floor?” The accusatory voice of Captain Edward Reese hit Leonard like a bullet, as did the dense odor of death in the air. He closed his eyes and nodded slightly, Kevin simply shrugging his shoulders as if waiting for Leonard to come up with a suitable reply for both of them.

  “Captain...I can explain everything. Then you’ll understand.”

  “Come here, Leonard.” Reese was stoic in poise, hands on hips, face ruddy and rigid as if he’d had quite enough of this trying experience. “It’s been a hell of a day. I, and you for that matter, have no energy to pore over any mistakes right now. There’s a killer on the loose. Based on your past and recent experiences with the man, you’re our best chance on bringing him in. You have the evidence from the doctor’s office. I’m sure you’ve looked everything over. You must’ve been able to dig up something on this guy, on his behavior, where we might start looking for him.”

  Leonard wanted to tell him everything, starting with further details about the ever-increasing possibility of a third person being involved, but decided against it for the moment. That would take time, something neither of them had much of. As well, Leonard felt it was too remarkable a story, one that would seem totally unrealistic to the first-time listener, especially Reese, who appeared to be tossing the case his way as punishment and not as a commendation for a job well done. Instead, he simply said, “We have our theories, all of which we’re exploring right now.”

  George Washburn stuck his head out from a doorway down the hall. He looked frazzled, eyes swollen, face smeared with blood. Without acknowledging Leonard and Kevin, he said, “Captain, can I see you?”

  “George found small traces of blood at Sparke’s place,” Reese offered as they stepped down the hall. “He’s working in the bathroom right now. I suggest you hold your breath. It’s real nasty in there.”

  Reese’s choice of words was an understatement. Dunsworth had it more right with mincemeat, but still could have added more flavor to it. Samantha Sparke lay on the bathroom tiles, fully unrecognizable from this afternoon when Leonard passed her coming out of the hospital. She was doused in her own blood, blotches of pale blue skin peeking out from beneath the blanket of glistening red like circles of mold on an over-ripened tomato. Her hands and feet had been severed, all four extremities tossed in the sink like bath toys in need of a cleaning. Her bald head hung to the side, her eyes stabbed out, her mouth bound and gagged. A small hunk of ulcerated flesh was placed upon her bald head. Leonard didn’t need George Washburn to tell him that it was her tongue.

  “What’d you find so far, George?” Leonard asked through a knotted tongue, realizing that Kevin had stayed in the hall, unwanting or perhaps unable to gaze upon the grisly sight.

  “Our friend wasn’t so careful this time. There are prints everywhere. Hair samples. Fibers galore.”

  “She must’ve put up quite a battle.” He eyed the blond wig on the floor beside her, its glow tainted with horrible stains. It had looked much better on her head, he thought.

  “On the contrary,” George said. “Whoever did this had no trouble subduing her. It was only after someone else arrived that things got messy.”

  Leonard felt his heart skip a beat. He heard Kevin leaning into the room behind him. “George...did you say someone else?”

  “Yeah, I did. Look behind you, o
n the floor.”

  Kevin stepped back as Leonard stuck his head out and looked down the hall. Bloody footprints littered the carpet, all the way into the living room and beyond. Two distinct sets of footprints. One appeared to match those leading away from Delaney’s office. The other set were decidedly different. How he didn’t see this when he walked in was beyond explanation. Fatigue, Len. Fatigue.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “I’ve got tons of photos being developed right now. You can compare them to the ones taken at the doctor’s office, but I’ll go on record right now and say they’re the same prints, made by the same man. The unsteady gait is the same, the toes pointed outward. I’ve also got blood samples taken from all over the house, and I’ll venture a guess and say that some of the doctor’s blood will be here. That’ll connect the killer to both places.”

  “So you think there’s someone else involved here?” Kevin asked.

  “All I’m saying is that there was someone else here. They could have been an active participant, they could also be an unwitting witness, or perhaps a knowing interloper.”

  “What about the doctor’s office? Was there anything there that exhibited the possibility of a third person?”

  George hesitated, then shook his head. “Like I said this afternoon, he did a real efficient job in keeping that scene clean. I won’t go on the record and say no, but I only found one set of footprints there. The bloodwork could tell a different story, but I doubt it.”

  The awful smell was getting to Leonard, nausea rising in his stomach. He stepped out of the room, then asked, “What about a murder weapon?”

  “He took it with him. There’s some utensils spilled on the floor in the kitchen. The messy cutting at the wrists and ankles could only have been done by a strong man with a dull blade. Nothing we’ve found so far has any blood on it.”

  Leonard thanked George and returned to the living room where Reese was giving orders to a young fireman. The fireman nodded an affirmative and went outside through the rear sliding doors where a couple of his counterparts awaited, presumably to search the woods.

  “Well, what’d you come up with?”

  “We’ve got a lot to go on. This is clearly the same murderer that got Delaney.”

  “Right. His name is Sparke. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions, Captain. All evidence points in that direction, but there’re some interesting particulars that suggest otherwise.”

  Reese grinned. “Go on...”

  “To make a long story short, and George will back Kevin and me up, but there’s a strong possibility of another person besides Sparke being involved. And I say ‘besides’ instead of ‘in addition to’ because we’ve not been able to conclude exactly who it is that’s committing these crimes, or whether they’re acting together.”

  “Are you kidding me, Len? It’s Sparke, without a doubt. A child could figure that one out. You’d need a real convincing testimony to make me think otherwise. And you said earlier that you thought his girlfriend might be involved. Frankly, I thought we came to that conclusion.”

  “I’m not saying that Sparke isn’t involved, because he is. That much is certain. What I am saying is...is that he may be a pawn in someone else’s game. And yes, we’ve got our eyes on his girlfriend, Pamela Bergin. But there’s a strong possibility of another third party...someone who might be running the whole show.”

  “You’ve really been doing your homework on this, huh?”

  “More than you know, Captain. And it goes much further beyond the evidence gathered at Delaney’s.”

  Reese walked over the couch in the living room, sat down then patted the seat next to him. “There’s room for two more. Leonard, Kevin, have a seat.”

  The time had come to reveal all.

  For the next half hour Reese sat in silence as Leonard and Kevin confessed the entire story, from their being called to Sparke’s place and finding him cleaning the blood on his floor, to them trailing him as he rode downtown for his appointment with Dr Delaney. Then, when they went to the hospital to see if Pamela Bergin had checked herself in, spotting Samantha Sparke there. Their talk with Pam, Kevin’s odd allergic reaction while in her apartment, and then finally receiving the dreadful call as they waited outside Delaney’s office. In addition to discussing their all-day whereabouts, they also went into great detail about their discoveries, the inconsistencies in Richard’s and Pam’s stories including the damage to Pam’s car, the tape of Sparke’s session with Delaney, the doctor’s notes, the fingerprints, and ultimately their theories of a third person and the possible connection to the incident concerning his wife two years ago.

  After a moment of silence, Reese finally said, “That’s quite a tale.”

  “It’s the truth,” Kevin said. “All of it.”

  Leonard added, “Captain, there’s something big going down here, more than just meets the eye. I’m certain of it. I’m trying real hard to read between the lines. But right now the spaces are too thin.”

  Reese pursed his lips, did his best to suppress a look of satisfaction. “You did a good job fellas, even if you did break the rules. That’s not a ticket to slide, though. I still want a report written on my desk, A-S-A-P. In the meantime, keep working on the evidence, see if there’s anything else you can find here that’ll help your cause. There’s a dispatch outside fielding calls from any Sparke sightings that come in. I’ve got a half dozen empty leads so far. Also, try to find out exactly why Samantha Sparke was at the hospital today. That could tell us a great deal.”

  “Captain?”

  Reese, Leonard, and Kevin all turned around to face a cherub-faced cop who didn’t look old enough to grow whiskers. He entered the house, breathing heavily, seemingly anxious to reveal whatever bit of information he’d unearthed. Perhaps Sparke had been spotted?

  “Yes?”

  “Remember you asked me to look into the phone off the hook in the bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well...a call was placed to 911 at 3:34 this afternoon...a distressed female caller said that someone was in her house, and was trying to ‘get her’. Then, after a few seconds, she said that it was all right, and cancelled the call. Strange thing is, before she hung up, the operator thought she heard a man’s voice, then a bit of a struggle...and then the line disconnected.”

  Leonard said, “Tell them to send a copy of the tape to the Fairview Precinct.” He leaned toward Kevin, whispered, “We’ll have a listen to see if we can make out Sparke’s voice.”

  Reese smiled. “Thanks, Gregory. Good job.”

  “Wait...there’s more.”

  Reese leaned over to Leonard. “Culver’s got some young guns, eh?” He redirected himself to Gregory. “Go ahead.”

  “On a whim, I had the city emergency operator check to see if any calls had come in from Mr Sparke’s residence today. I’d heard about the incident there this morning...”

  “Good news travels fast,” Kevin said. Leonard grinned, embarrassed. It appeared there had been some talk going around about his visit with Sparke this morning. God only knows what kind of rumors were blossoming.

  “A call was placed from Mr Sparke’s residence to 911 at 10:30 AM, but was immediately disconnected. There was no conversation recorded.”

  Leonard had to stop and think about what time he’d been there this morning. Reese and Kevin both stared at him, each clearly wondering the same thing, waiting for an answer. He looked at Kevin. “We got there when, about 10:45?”

  Kevin nodded an uncertain agreement.

  Reese grinned. “If you’d called in a report, we’d have it on record.”

  “All right, cut me a break, will ya? Fact is Sparke probably made the call himself, then had reservations about reporting the incident because he feared revealing too much of whatever it was he needed to keep a secret. Regardless, it still doesn’t explain any more of the mystery.”

  “Other than the injury was probably bad enough to need me
dical attention,” Kevin added.

  “Thank you, Gregory,” Reese said, dismissing the young cop. He redirected himself toward Leonard. “Let me get this straight for a second. Sparke makes a 911 call, then hangs up. Then, this afternoon Samantha Sparke does nearly the same thing. Perhaps they were both surprised by the same person? She’s killed, but Sparke somehow gets away with just a bit of blood on his floor. He must’ve done his attacker some damage.”

  “Getting confusing again,” Kevin said.

  “Damn,” Reese said. “We’ve got nothing but blind leads. No definite answers on anything going on. The only thing we can almost be certain about is that Delaney’s killer and Samantha Sparke’s killer are the same person, and that person is most likely Richard Sparke. The only way we’re gonna find out why is after we discover where he is.

  The front door of the house bounded open and in came Harry Dunsworth. His face was drenched in sweat, hair mussed, eyes wet with excitement. He held a radio receiver in his left hand and held it out towards Captain Reese before nearly stumbling over his own feet.

  “What is it?”

  “Got a lead. Comes from the Bledson Hills Sheriff’s department. They received a call from a local cabin-renter in the park area who’d heard gunshots being fired. He went up into the hills and found a body by the river, male, mid-thirties...wearing all black clothing.”

  Leonard peered at Reese. “Care to re-evaluate your theory?”

  Reese stood quiet for a moment, then said, “Leonard, get your car.”

  Leonard nodded to Kevin and the young cop raced outside with the keys. He said to Harry Dunsworth, “Tell them we’ll be there in less than ninety minutes.”

  Cletus

  He’d spent the last few hours relying on natural moonlight for vision, making it nearly impossible to shut out the harsh light now targeting his eyes. It abruptly invaded his pupils, burned them. Sharp tears sprouted forth as he shuttered his lids, too late to combat the orange blotches now dancing in his sights like specters, impeding any chance he had to see the cop, or cops, standing before him. He raised his hands as he’d been commanded to do, feeling Pam’s gun bulging at his waist. It would be fully visible to those before him.