I'm Still Here: A Novel

by Jon Mills

  She recognized that voice. It was no longer masked by a voice scrambler or gritted teeth. It was familiar. She squinted into the dark and watched as he removed the magazine from the gun and tossed it near the staircase, then tossed the gun on the ground.

  “I never liked guns. Too noisy. Too easy. Too quick.” He paused. “Now a knife.” He withdrew a large blade from a sheaf on the side of his belt, the moon’s light filtering through the small window glinted off it. “That’s just full of potential.”

  Chapter 42

  “Benson?” The figure stepped into the band of silvery light and pulled back the hood on his jacket. There before her was Lloyd Benson. “I gave you plenty of opportunity but you wouldn’t listen. Like mother like daughter.” He walked forward stopping a short distance away. “You probably have a lot of questions and I would love to answer them. Damn, I would give anything for one more session with you but if you found me, I’m guessing Goodman isn’t that far behind. Of course when they find this place, the kid and me will be long gone. And the cabin? Up in flames. But if they dig through the ash, they’ll eventually find the owner, and you of course.”

  Kara groaned as she crawled up onto her elbows. “Why? That’s all I want to know.”

  He offered back a thin smile. “You don’t want to know why. You just want freedom from the guilt and grief.” He stared back at her then glanced at his wristwatch. “They all did. It was fascinating to hear in their own words, to meet with them as the years rolled by and to watch their sons.”

  She stared back, her brow furrowed.

  “You gave counseling to all the parents, didn’t you?”

  He scoffed. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.” He jabbed the knife in the air. “All these years, all the investigations, all those parents and yet only one of them got close. You know, when your mother started to piece together that I might be behind it, I actually developed an admiration for her. Here was a parent stricken by the same five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, and yet she never moved into acceptance. Interesting, really.”

  He walked over and crouched down beside her holding the blade close to her face. Kara could see her reflection in it. The look of misery on her face. He had to be getting off on this. “Now Charlie. I had no idea how long I would keep him alive. He was my first, you know. Three wonderful years. That’s how long I kept him alive.” He scoffed and fixed his gaze on her. “I want you to know I never touched him. None of them. Sexually I mean. That didn’t interest me. No, you see, Kara, there is only so much they can teach you about therapy. It’s interesting to hear, but fascinating to see up close. The best teacher is experience. But to heal deep wounds, one must know intimately both sides of the coin. The cause, and symptoms, they’re all the same. But no two people are alike, you see.” He tapped the blade against the side of her cheek, and she felt the cool metal graze her as he pulled it away. “And of course there is no set time on how long grief can last. Four weeks, six months, five years. And even then some will still have unresolved grief. We usually only see one side. But to see both, is marvelous.”

  “You’re sick,” she said.

  “Am I?” He laughed. “As it seems you are the one still attached to the past, a slave to meds and unable to let go.” He glanced at the elastic band around her wrist then back at her. “But I’m going to help you.” He tapped his teeth together. “But first, tell me how you knew it was me?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Don’t lie,” he bellowed, his tone full of venom. “Do you honestly think you’re smarter?” He pressed the blade hard against her throat. “Just one small cut to the artery and it’s over.”

  “Ray Owen. He drew sketches of this place.”

  His brow pinched, a look of disbelief. “Come on. You expect me to believe in that psychic mumbo jumbo?”

  Above them a floorboard creaked.

  Lloyd’s eye flicked up. A momentary distraction was all Kara needed. In one fast, smooth movement, she latched on to his wrist with both hands, twisted and wheeled her leg around over his head, and brought him crashing down. Years of self-defense experience through the academy played out with little thinking involved. Benson collapsed, letting out a lungful of air. She reacted so quickly he didn’t know what had hit him until he was lying on his back with her legs wrapped over his throat like an anaconda. She yanked on the knife hand causing him to scream in agony. The elbow popped up, and she continued holding him in an armbar. She had only one intention, and that was to break it. He struggled like a gazelle within her grip, cursing, screaming, and refusing to release his grip on the knife.

  But like attempting to fight gravity, it was pointless, within seconds it snapped, and she twisted his arm around into an unnatural position. She shook the hand until the knife flew out, sliding across the ground beneath furniture. Kara rolled off him and stumbled to her feet, tired from attacking him. She glanced over to see him reeling around on the ground like a pitiful fish out of water. She hurried over and tried to reach for the knife but it was too far back. Kara scrambled to her feet and scanned the ground looking for the gun but in the darkness it was hard to see. She looked back at him crying out in agony on his knees, gripping his arm which was flopping around. Was this really the man that had once struck fear into her heart? Screw you, asshole! Kara hurried over to Ashton and started to untie the binds around his ankles. They were bound tight. The binding wrapped around his legs multiple times, and the knots were small. She cast a glance at Lloyd still reeling in pain before focusing on getting the knots loose. The last thing to pull away was his mouth gag. Just as she pried it away he yelled.

  “Watch out!”

  Kara jerked her head in time to see a plank of wood collide with her face sending her sideways. The sting of pain, and the clatter of wood were the last things she remembered. When she came to, she could smell gasoline, and hear it being splashed over the ground. Her eyelids fluttered, the world was sideways then it corrected itself. Lloyd was struggling to empty a large gasoline can under one arm. He dropped it and kicked it letting the rest flood out across the ground. She kept going in and out of consciousness. Each time, Lloyd got further away, and the liquid got closer. He forced the boy up the stairs, his wrists rebound. With another metal canister full of gasoline under one arm he emptied it down the stairs as he backed up. Kara groaned. Her head was throbbing. Painful flashes of light blurred her vision. Before her was her brother, his face, his words. “Get up. Get up!”

  “Charlie? Charlie,” she muttered.

  Her eyes kept closing. It felt like she was caught between the here and after.

  Using every ounce of strength she had left she clawed up onto her knees and rose to her feet, staggering like a drunk. She leaned against the pillar trying to see clearly. Blood trickled down from her forehead into her eyes. From where she stood she could just make out the lower half of Lloyd’s legs as he backed out while flooding the basement with gasoline. Her eyes scanned the ground watching the gasoline fill every inch of the basement; the fumes stung her nostrils.

  Kara stumbled forward and spotted the gun. She scooped it up but it was missing the magazine. He’d tossed it over by the staircase. As she made her way over, Lloyd looked down, a glint of amusement in his face as he saw her searching for the magazine.

  “It’s too late, Kara. Time to join your mother and brother. Send them my regards.”

  Lloyd had just reached the top when he turned to head out.

  A loud whack, like the sound of something hard hitting something solid, and Lloyd stumbled back, lost his footing and careened down the steps, toppling over until he landed at the bottom, groaning in agony, blood seeping from his head.

  Kara looked up to see Ray, holding a solid-looking light stand.

  She gave a strained smile.

  Unable to find the magazine, Kara stepped over Lloyd and made her way up the steps. When she reached the top, she looked back down to see him crawling up two of the steps. Blood was streamin
g from the side of his face, covering it in scarlet red.

  “I made you who you are!” he said.

  Kara glanced down at the gun in her hand without the magazine before dropping it. She fished into her pocket and pulled the Zippo lighter she’d carried with her since that night, she snapped it open, a flame breathed to life. She stared down at him, rage consuming her. Lloyd’s eyes widened as she flung his own words back at him. “I never liked guns. Too noisy. Too easy. Too quick.”

  Before stepping out of the basement she tossed the lighter.

  As she closed the door behind her, she heard the whoosh of fire as the gasoline ignited setting fire to everything including Lloyd Benson.

  His screams were the last thing she heard.

  All three of them hurried out the front of the house and made their way over to the SUV. Within seconds flames crept up turning the once beautiful cabin by the lake into an inferno. Kara had just opened the passenger side door on the truck when Lloyd burst out of the main entrance, his entire body on fire, screaming. Kara’s heart leapt into her throat as he rushed forward then collapsed, and fire consumed what remained of his charred flesh.

  They stood there for several minutes transfixed as if expecting him to move again. He didn’t. The flames from the house licked up into the night, filling the air with smoke and debris. In the distance the sound of a chopper could be heard, and police sirens wailing.

  Chapter 43

  Seventy-two hours later

  After being cleared to leave Blackmore General Hospital, Kara unfolded a copy of the Peninsula Daily News left on the chair inside the treatment room. The front page featured a long article by Bobby on the end to a twenty-five year mystery. There was so much to cover it would be the first of many he and many other journalists would write. Social media was buzzing with gossip, rumors, and speculation as television crews from all over the country descended upon Washington State. Lloyd Benson would hog the news for weeks after they sifted through his life. In the short time she’d been in the hospital the media had already begun to unravel Benson’s history, starting with his arrival in Clallam County back in the late seventies.

  Unlike other mass murderers, his life wasn’t filled in with clichéd stories of an abusive upbringing, lonely teenage years or heavy alcoholism. By all accounts he was a stand-out pupil who had come from a well-to-do Midwestern family. He’d excelled and earned a scholarship to Harvard, graduated with honors and had gone on to establish a successful therapy business with a proven track record. He’d written many papers that had earned him the admiration of his peers and even caused him for a short time to give talks around the country. On the surface he led a charmed life, and yet it wasn’t enough; deep below he harbored a dark secret.

  That’s why so many found it hard to believe he was responsible.

  Slowly but surely, as news spread, people came out of the woodwork to give statements. Family, friends and neighbors were unable to grasp that he was behind the abductions. Like anyone blindsided by the actions of those close to them, shock and disbelief dominated their response. He was such a kind gentleman, always helpful. That wasn’t the man I knew. He assisted me through troubling times, they’d said. The community was baffled, outraged and horrified that a monster could live among them — but that was the thing about the depraved and insane. Bundy, Gacy, Dahmer, the worst didn’t appear as monsters but just ordinary people, those who could blend in with society, walk the streets without turning heads. They had a natural ability to put a person at ease.

  Playing quietly behind Kara on the TV, a national news show tore apart the case, debated and sought the advice of psychologists as they tried to understand how a man could be driven to kill out of a twisted desire to understand the human psyche. With Benson dead, so many questions remained unanswered; as did the belief that the motive wasn’t sexual. It was too hard for some to wrap their heads around so tabloids twisted the truth to create their own narrative.

  She switched the channel and landed on local news. In the past twenty-four hours the crime team had uncovered the bones of Charlie and the other four boys. They were found at the bottom of a dry well on the property, mixed together with soil, tossed away like they were nothing but trash.

  “How you feeling?”

  Kara jumped at the sound of a voice behind her.

  It was Noah. She smiled and rubbed her forehead. “I’ve felt better. The doctor said I suffered a mild concussion.”

  He glanced at the paper in her hand as he handed her a coffee from the vending machine. She took a sip and winced before placing it on the side table.

  “Hard to believe it’s over, isn’t it?” he said.

  She jerked her head towards the TV. “I’m not sure it will ever be.”

  “Ah, give it some time. He’ll soon become back-page fodder. They always do.”

  Noah looked at her with a warm smile and looked as if he was about to say something. Kara quickly said, “I see the Claytons have flown under the radar.” She turned the page and tapped a small article. The crime of sexual assaults on young boys dating back to the mid ’80s was overshadowed by the recent event.

  “It’s all about timing, I guess. But don’t worry; they’ll be doing some serious time for sure. Darryl Clayton didn’t admit to it but the evidence found on his property, witness testimonials and DNA will give his lawyers one hell of a tough job in court.” He paused. “Speaking of DNA. It seems your brother’s jeans and shoe were still in the evidence archives. It took a while to find them but it looks like Harris might finally see his day in court.”

  She turned back to the TV and flipped through the channels.

  “I would have thought you had enough of hearing about Benson.”

  “It’s not him I’m interested in, it’s Kyle Harris.”

  Noah nodded. “Well even though it’s still early days and they have some red tape to cut through, I can tell you through the grapevine that the wheels are in motion to have him exonerated.”

  “You made the call to his lawyer?”

  “The same day you asked.”

  She smiled and breathed in deeply.

  Silence stretched between them as she continued channel surfing.

  “Talking about being exonerated, I dropped the appeal.”

  “Against Sarah Carter?”

  He bounced his head from side to side, then shrugged. “I could say she’s served her time. But the truth is, I’ve served mine.” He took a deep breath. “You were right, I can’t change the past but I can prevent it from holding on to me. Besides, Amanda wouldn’t have wanted it.”

  Kara tapped him lightly on the chest and offered a thin smile.

  “So I guess you’re heading back to New York?” he asked.

  “Yes, this evening. I have a conversation with my kid that is long overdue, and there is a little matter of doing an exit interview.”

  “Exit interview?”

  She nodded. “I decided to leave my position in New York.”

  His brow pinched. “Really?”

  She waited a second before dropping it on him.

  “They’ve accepted me in Washington State.”

  A smile formed on his face.

  “Geez Louise. Does that mean I have to put up with you in my neck of the woods?”

  She grinned. “I’m afraid so. But look at it like this, the only time I’ll be in your hair is when County calls for assistance from the agency.”

  “That’s the only time?” he asked.

  She scratched the side of her face. “Well that and the nights I stay over,” she said without looking at him.

  She heard him scoff. Right then her father ambled into the room.

  He gave a nod to Noah. “So hon, you ready to leave? We need to be on the road if we’re going to make it to the airport in time.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute,” she said turning and scooping up her bag. Her father gave a nod then left, leaving Noah and her alone. Kara switched off the TV and placed t
he remote on the side table and looked at him. “While I’m gone, would you check in on him from time to time?”

  “Sure, I’ll do that.”

  She headed for the door, stopped and tapped her fingers against the frame. “Oh, and Noah,” she smiled as she pointed. “You know, you’ve got mustard on your tie.”

  He glanced down but there was nothing there. When he looked up she winked.

  Epilogue

  A year later

  Sitting around the breakfast table that morning, Noah poured coffee into a silver flask as her teenage son came trudging into the kitchen with a dilemma. Ethan held up two Halloween costumes. “Mom, what do you think? Should I go as the skeleton or Deadpool?”

  So much had changed in a year. After she moved back to Clallam County, Noah had moved in with her and the horrors of Lloyd Benson and that night were slowly becoming a distant memory.

  “Deadpool, all the way,” Noah said.

  His brow pinched. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s way cooler!” Noah said running a hand over his head before leaning down and giving Kara a peck on the cheek. “Catch you guys this evening, okay?”

  She twisted in her seat. “Noah, you know where to go?”

  “The community center.”

  “And the time.”

  “Seven.”

  “And you’ll remember to wear a costume, right?”

  “Of course.” He crouched and scratched under their dog Riley’s chin before heading off to work. She’d taken the day off from her position as an investigative agent with the Criminal Investigations Division of Washington State Patrol. That year the parents in the community had decided to put on a joint event as a way to keep the spirit of Halloween alive in light of all that happened over the years. Kara had been asked to say a few words. Even though her workload had increased since moving, she’d promised Ethan they’d spend the day together and she was determined to not let anything stand in the way.