Salem laughed. “You’re one of them, Dodd, but I’m ex-Army. They’d throw rotten tomatoes at me. You said you’re staying here at the lake. How long will you be in the area?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go inside and talk. I need to speak with everyone.”
Anderson handed over the driver’s license belonging to Arthur Stack, along with the typed note. “This is the only evidence we found with the body. It looks like Stack was killed somewhere else and dumped in the woods.”
They crossed the porch and opened the door. Krista and the others were still seated at the table.
“I held supper,” she said. “I’ve got plenty, Agent Dodd, so grab a plate and get in line.”
Everyone headed for the buffet table where the food was laid out. When everyone was seated, Salem made the introductions. Olivia Ward, Callie’s friend, was the only one who didn’t already know the FBI agent from his help on previous cases.
Dodd waited until everyone had filled their plates and started eating before explaining the purpose of his visit.
“I don’t need to tell any of you about the crime problems Shenandoah County has been having since they shut down the sheriff’s department. You’ve experienced it firsthand. There are a couple of reasons why the Bureau has established a presence in Shenandoah County. We know this Committee for Morality and Decency is responsible for at least two other murders in addition to the one tonight. A homeless man was killed in Greensboro, North Carolina, just before Christmas, and a fourteen-year-old girl was found dead three days ago just outside Rocky Mount, North Carolina. A note was found at each scene.”
“What does that have to do with Shenandoah County?” Bo asked.
The FBI agent hesitated.
“Arthur Stack wasn’t the first victim here, was he?” Anderson asked. “You’ve found another body. That’s why you’re here.”
Dodd held up his hands. “No, we haven’t found another body, but we have found other evidence of the Committee’s activity in Shenandoah County.” The agent looked at Salem. “Do you know John Howard?”
“No, I don’t, not personally. Of course, I know who he is.”
Dodd cleared his throat and looked around the table. “John Howard and his family are in the process of moving up here to the lake because there have been attempts made on his and his daughter’s life. He’s building a house on this side of the water and expects to move from his ranch in the next month or so. His daughter and her husband are already living here. They’re all hoping to make a fresh start in this part of the county.”
“Okay, but what makes you think this Committee is behind the threat to the Howards?” Salem asked.
“Mr. Howard and his daughter both received notes similar to the one you and Anderson found tonight.”
“That’s not good,” Salem said.
Dodd nodded. “It gets even worse. There was another note taped to the front door frame of Howard’s new house. I found it this morning. The Committee already knows the location of his new home.”
Anderson glanced at Salem. “You’d better tell him about the trespasser.”
Salem described the footprints in the snow outside his house the previous night and the car he had heard drive away.
“You’re a target,” Dodd said. “I’m surprised you haven’t already received a note from the Committee.”
“What the hell did I do? I’m a decent and moral person, just like everybody else here at this table. Do you have any idea who is on this Committee or how big it is?”
Dodd took a deep breath. “We don’t know. We do know the person writing these notes has a warped definition of morality and decency. The notes that have been left with the bodies and at Mr. Howard’s house are detailed and specific. The Committee’s message to Arthur Stack was that he deserved to die because he was gay. The homeless man in Greensboro was killed for being an unemployed alcoholic. The girl in Rocky Mount was a runaway and underage prostitute.”
“Salem and I aren’t any of those things,” Krista said. “And neither is John Howard.”
“John Howard’s daughter, Emma, is married to a black man named Chase Reynolds,” Dodd said. “They have one son, John Howard Reynolds. The child has been pulled out of school as a safety precaution. It appears the Committee objects to John Howard’s wealth and his inability to prevent his daughter from marrying someone of another race.”
Krista frowned. “What’s wrong with being wealthy? Everything I’ve heard about John Howard is that he’s a hard-working and generous man. He’s probably the largest employer in Shenandoah County. Anyway, what does that have to do with me and Salem? We don’t have that kind of money.”
Dodd shrugged. “The people on this Committee see things in black and white. They deal in moral absolutes. You and Salem aren’t as rich as John Howard. Mr. Howard’s not as rich as the billionaires on the Forbes Five Hundred list. It doesn’t matter. You’re both still wealthy, probably the two wealthiest families in a county with sky-high unemployment and widespread poverty.”
The agent got up from the table.
“Thank you for supper, Krista. I’ve taken up enough of your time. Anderson has my number if you need to get in touch. Stay safe. I wish I could tell you the FBI is close to making some arrests, but we’re not. There’s no law enforcement to help us out with local knowledge and manpower. That’s a problem. Autopsies will be performed on each victim, but so far, we’ve found no DNA or other forensic evidence to point us in the right direction.”
Anderson offered to drive Dodd to the site of Arthur Stack’s body.
Bo waited for them to leave before clearing his throat and looking around the table.
“I guess this means we’re all screwed. Salem and Krista are rich. I’m dating a drug-addicted prostitute. Randi’s dating a black man, and Callie and Olivia are gay.”
Nobody responded to Bo’s observation. There was nothing to say. Krista stood and began clearing the table. Bo said goodnight and went downstairs. Callie and Olivia left a few minutes later.
“I’ll get Monday and Anderson ready for bed,” Randi said.
Salem carried some plates into the kitchen. “I’m going to take a quick look around outside before we lock up for the night.”
Krista nodded and began rinsing a plate as she stared out the kitchen window. She turned away from the window when he returned a few minutes later.
“You’re still cleaning the same plate, Krista.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No, but I found this in the mailbox.”
She stared at the words on the plain white sheet of paper in Salem’s hand. They both jumped when the plate slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
* * * *
Melissa turned out the light and sank into her clean, soft bed. It had been a horrible day. The only bright spot had been an unexpected visit from Bruce Patterson. The motel manager had caught her in-between an orientation meeting with the center’s director and a group session with one of the psychiatrists on staff. He had whisked her away to his father’s apartment in the assisted living facility next door, where she had spent an hour in bed, earning a hundred dollars.
The sex had taken the edge off her anxiety, but Melissa still felt irritable, shaky, and a little queasy. The psychiatrist in the afternoon group session had assured her that the symptoms would pass in a day or two.
“You’re here so that your mind and body can heal,” the woman had said. “Give it some time.”
Melissa had rolled her eyes and remained silent for the remainder of the session. There were five other patients in the group, three men and two women. She endured the stories from two alcoholics, a heroin addict, and a woman who spent her days huffing paint. The psychiatrist droned on and on about self-esteem and self-discovery, the importance of re-connecting with your inner self. It was the kind of ridiculous New Age crap that belonged on a television infomercial. Melissa wanted to throttle the woman.
Hal Morris had been the only interesting
patient in the group. Morris was a sex addict who had trouble controlling his urges. He was young, in his early thirties, but already divorced. His wife had been unable to satisfy his needs and had finally left him.
“I lost my job a month ago,” Morris had said. “I would usually spend my lunch hour in the bathroom, relieving myself. It was the only way I could get through the work day. My boss came in and opened the stall I was using by mistake.”
The psychiatrist had nodded encouragingly. “It’s all right, Hal. We’re not here to judge you.”
Morris took a shaky breath. “I was naked and fully aroused. I had a picture of a female co-worker I had stolen from her desk. He fired me on the spot—said he had no room in his accounting firm for a thief and a pervert.”
Melissa thought it was a great story. She had been tempted to reward Hal with a blowjob right there on the spot. The idea nearly caused her to burst out laughing.
At least Morris had added some entertainment to one of the dullest hours of her life. The same couldn’t be said of her orientation session with the director of the center. That had just been creepy.
Jack Fowler was the director of both the Passages Assisted Living and Wellness Community and the Passages Addiction Center. He was a board-certified psychiatrist and a graduate of Duke Medical School. He had also picked up an MBA from the University of North Carolina somewhere along the way.
There was something wrong with Fowler. Melissa didn’t have a fancy education, but she knew people, especially men. Jack Fowler struck her as a person who had been born with something missing.
He was a strange-looking man, gaunt almost to the point of emaciation, and pale as a late-stage leukemia patient. His perfectly coiffed dark hair had streaks of gray running through it. Melissa couldn’t decide if the director was some kind of exercise fanatic, a man with a serious illness, or a vampire in need of a transfusion. Fowler appeared to be in his mid-forties, relatively young for a man with his responsibilities. Melissa noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
The orientation was more like a monologue. The only thing that prevented Melissa from falling asleep in her chair was the director’s odd manner. Fowler spoke in the rich, dulcet tones of an educated man who enjoyed few things more than the sound of his own voice. He refused to make eye contact. His gaze moved restlessly between Melissa’s breasts and thighs, while his fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the desk. This didn’t bother her—she was used to being viewed as a sex object. It was Fowler’s complete lack of warmth, empathy, or interaction that Melissa found disquieting. The man was a psychiatrist, for God’s sake. What kind of place was this?
Melissa rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Maybe things would be better tomorrow. If not, she would call Bo to come get her so she could get back to living her life. If he gave her a hard time about it, she could always walk back to the motel. It wasn’t that far.
A sound in the outside hall caused Melissa’s stomach muscles to clinch as a cold, sweaty wave of anxiety roared through her body. The door opened, and a shadowy figure stepped into the room. How could she have forgotten to lock the door? Melissa closed her eyes and disappeared beneath the bed covers.
Chapter 8
“Hey Melissa, it’s just me, Hal, from the group session this afternoon. Listen, I know it’s late, but I had to see you.”
Melissa opened an eye. “Okay, you’ve seen me. Now get the hell out of my room.” She watched as he moved closer to the bed. There was something in his hand.
“I’m hurting bad. I thought maybe we could help each other out.”
Melissa sat up in bed and studied the man. “Listen, Hal, you seem like a fun guy. I mean, that story you told in group was outstanding, but I have to ask what the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you have Internet access?”
“I’ve tried that, but it’s not enough. I need to be with a real woman.” Hal edged closer to the bed.
She stared at the bag of white powder in his outstretched hand. “Where did you get that?”
He sat down on the end of the bed. “I can’t tell you.”
Melissa clasped her hands together. Her entire body quivered at the sight of the dope. “In case you haven’t already figured it out, I’m a working girl. My boyfriend is the only guy I do for free. The coke is a good start, but you’re going to have to open your wallet.”
Morris reached in his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “What can I get for this?”
Melissa licked her lips. “Baby, that will get you whatever you need as many times as you need it.”
The pain, the shakes, the nausea, all of it dissolved as she fed the powder into her nose. She felt reborn and ready to take on Hal Morris and the rest of the world.
Hal was already naked and going at her like a teenager in the back seat of his daddy’s car. He was finished in less than a minute.
“Sorry—that’s a problem I have when I go more than a day without sex. Give me a few minutes to recover, and I’ll do better.”
Melissa laughed. “You belong in the adult entertainment business, Hal. I guarantee you it’s more fun than accounting. I’m serious—you’re a young, reasonably handsome guy with a strong sex drive. A lot of women are looking for a package like that.”
Morris shrugged. “You’re right about accounting. It’s duller than watching paint dry, but it pays the bills. I guess I should say it did pay the bills. I haven’t figured out where to go from here.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Melissa asked. “You’ve already lost your job, and you don’t sound too worried about your obsession with sex.”
“Trying to salvage my professional career,” Morris said. “Shenandoah County is a small place. You know how word gets around. If I want to get another job here, I need to convince prospective employers that the days of spending my lunch hour naked in a bathroom stall are in the past. Completing this treatment program will show them I’m serious about my future.”
Melissa nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’m just here to make my boyfriend happy. He wants me to take a break from the sex and drugs. Pretty weird, huh?”
She helped herself to some more powder and felt Hal grab her from behind and squeeze her small breasts. Melissa moaned and spun around into his arms. Morris kissed her hard on the mouth and pushed her down on the bed. She grasped his arms and closed her eyes as he attacked her body.
Melissa’s eyes flew open as Morris yanked her up and sank his teeth into her shoulder. Sweat dripped from his face and trickled down her back. Hal’s hot fingers tousled her hair as he whispered a string of obscenities in her ear. A wave of euphoria washed over Melissa just as Morris plunged his tongue down her throat and exploded.
They collapsed together on the bed.
“My God, I’ve never felt anything like that before,” Melissa gasped. “Not even with my boyfriend. I’m not sure I can walk. My legs feel like overcooked spaghetti.”
Hal smiled. “I’d love to do this every night, but I’m not made of hundred-dollar bills, especially now that I’m unemployed.”
“We’ll work something out,” Melissa said. “Can you keep the cocaine train rolling?”
Morris nodded.
“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow night after supper.” She watched as Hal dressed and left without another word.
I could get used to this. Free room and board, hot sex, and high-grade coke…can’t beat that.
Melissa reached for the bag of coke and took another hit before hiding it in a laundry bag of dirty clothes. She didn’t feel guilty about her behavior. This little experiment was Bo’s idea, not hers. She was the one making the sacrifices. In her business, being out of circulation was risky. Girls came and went all the time. Even in a small, rural county, hookers and escorts were a dime a dozen. There was no guarantee her clients would be waiting for her when she got out of this place. Maybe it was time to take Bo up on his offer of a condo. She could develop a more upscale clientele and supplement her income with webcam shows and p
hone sex. God knows it had to be better than living in that nasty motel room.
The bed was a mess. Melissa thought about Hal Morris as she straightened the sheet and blankets. Maybe they could continue their arrangement when this was over. He wasn’t boyfriend material (too young and too unemployed for that), but if tonight was any indication, Hal Morris was a better sex partner than any man or adult toy Melissa had ever met. She would gladly let him use her whenever he wanted in exchange for a steady supply of cocaine.
The clock read three forty-eight when she woke with a start. Her pulse was pounding, and her mouth tasted like wet cotton. She couldn’t see anything, but something felt wrong.
Melissa caught sudden movement from the corner of her eye just as she reached for the light switch. Two strong hands grabbed her by the throat and started to squeeze. She bucked and flailed the air with her fists. The person was wearing gloves and a face mask. Melissa could feel the world growing dim.
Praying she was being attacked by a man, Melissa rammed her fist into the assailant’s crotch. The person squealed like a set of worn-out brakes and dropped to the floor. Melissa leaped out of bed, tripped over her attacker’s feet, and crawled through the darkness to the door. She glanced over her shoulder. The intruder was already up and staggering toward her. With a terrified sob, Melissa threw open the door and ran for her life.
Chapter 9
Salem looked up from the shelf he was stocking as the bell over the entrance announced a visitor to Carson’s General Store. January was always a slow month, and Salem sometimes covered the sales floor and the checkout register by himself. Jay Whisnant, his assistant manager, and Erin Wilson, Callie’s younger sister, were in the back, unloading a delivery truck.
“Morning, Davis,” Salem said.
Davis Lord was a short man with a ruddy complexion and a disagreeable manner. He had served as pastor for God the Redeemer Pentecostal Church for as long as Salem could remember. Lord was an infrequent visitor to Carson’s. He preferred to do his shopping at the big chain stores over in Lynchburg. That was his choice, but Salem didn’t think much of a local resident who passed the collection plate every Sunday while refusing to support the businesses in the community where he lived and worked.
Pieces of January Page 5