by Greg Enslen
“No. But her murder was ritualistic in nature and involved the removal of body parts. In the FBI, we call that a pattern,” Julie said, saying the last word very slowly as if she was talking to a child. Blake could see that her temper was getting the best of her, the sure sign of a rookie cop.
Brown was flabbergasted, his face working in a grimace that would have been funny except that his face was getting redder and, to Blake, it looked like he might just burst. “What? You don’t think we know how to conduct an investigation out here in ‘the sticks’? Just how did we get along without you?” He stood suddenly and looked down at her. “How long have you been an agent, girl?”
Julie stood too, staring right back at the man. “I graduated from the FBI Academy in Quantico with top scores, and I was good enough to be assigned to Headquarters. How long I’ve been an agent is none of your business,” she said, her voice rising.
Brown nodded. “Just what I thought - probably a couple of months.” He waved one beefy hand at the colorful reports spread out on the table. “Tell you what - why don’t you come back after you’ve got something serious to talk about, okay? I have work to do and murders to investigate. I don’t have time to listen to rookie agents or their crazy fantasies about some ghost, come back to haunt my town.” He stormed out, slamming the door.
Julie was speechless, unsure of what to say.
Blake got up and walked around the table, picking up some of the color maps and looking at them thoughtfully. “You have a wild theory there, agent, but you do make some interesting points. And if there is one thing I’ve learned in law enforcement, it’s that nothing is too wild to be true.” He smiled and tried to reassure her. “And between you and me, this case is not going to be under local jurisdiction case for much longer, not after tomorrow. I have the authority to take it when I want it, and the way that guy is, I’ll have it Monday. Stick around town until then, and you and I and some of the State boys will sit down and discuss this again.”
He turned and left to catch up with Brown before he could do anything stupid without Blake seeing it happen. Lieutenant Blake had turned into a glorified baby-sitter, but hopefully it wouldn’t be for too much longer.
Julie and Norma took their papers and left, and all the way out to the car, Norma reminded Julie that she had thought it was a bad idea from the start.
“Yeah, well, I had to try. That guy isn’t that smart, I take it?” Julie asked, shaking her head. “He let a lot of things slip, like he thinks Foreman and Thatcher were murdered. He said ‘I have murders to investigate’.”
Norma nodded as Julie started the car. “Yeah. Something that never made it into the files was how that man got Beaumont killed.”
Julie looked at her. “Are you serious? You mean that gunfight, where Jasper Fines shot Beaumont?”
Norma nodded again, glancing at the Sheriff’s door as they passed out of the station and headed towards Julie’s car, running to avoid getting too wet. “Yeah, and I’ll tell you the story, but first we have to go somewhere.”
Julie was curious, getting her keys out as they ran for her car. “Where?”
“Just get in and drive. I’ll tell you on the way.”
David and Bethany shared a peaceful, quiet night together. There had been no physical connection - it seemed that it was unnecessary for them to do anything except talk and grieve and cry together. They talked long into the early morning hours, he sharing stories about his Aunt and his years growing up in her house, and Bethany talked about Lisa and the times they had shared together. David learned many things about Lisa that he hadn’t known. And he learned just how close the two of them had been.
They talked and cried and even laughed a little, and when Bethany finally dozed off in her chair in the living room at around 3:30 in the morning, David moved her to the couch, lay down next to her, and covered them both with a blanket.
They woke together in the morning, their arms wrapped around each other, and those few minutes that they lay next to each other, quietly talking, were some of the most precious and happy moments that either of them had had in several weeks.
Finally, they got up. David took a much-needed shower while Bethany whipped up some breakfast, and over pancakes they discussed what else had happened in the small town since David had left - and David decided that he had better contact the police and let them know of his return.
The phone call was made, and a half-hour later, two policemen came to collect David. Making their way through the streets of Liberty, passing through high water in some places, they escorted him to the police station where he was interviewed by Sheriff Brown, a Lieutenant Blake from the State Police, and several of Brown’s deputies. They asked him many questions but answered none of his, and their inquiries proved only one thing to David - the police had no answers for why his Aunt and Abe Foreman were dead. They asked stupid questions, like did Abe have any shady dealings, or was there anyone who had it out for his Aunt, or were Abe and his Aunt romantically involved.
Stupid questions that he had no answers for.
The State Police Lieutenant was the only official to ask David about his connection to Lisa Stevens, and David quickly got the impression that he was far-and-away the most intelligent and intuitive investigator in the room. And his questions seemed to lead off in a different direction, as if he and the others were investigating the cases in completely dissimilar ways. All of Blake’s questions seemed to revolve around David and his connection to the three victims, as if Blake thought that David could be next - and it scared David a little, how serious he sounded. There was also a smart lady deputy with a cold or something that asked good, insightful questions between sneezes, but the fat Sheriff always cut her off whenever she asked more than a couple of questions in a row. Brown and most of his deputies seemed to shun the Lieutenant, but that only served to confirm David’s suspicions - the Lieutenant seemed to know what he was doing, and the locals were very worried that he would show them up.
After the questioning session was completed, David asked to see the crime scene. He remembered that there had been many boxes of items in his Aunt’s house that needed to be stored, and there was also a natural, morbid curiosity in him - he had spent so many years in that house, he needed to see it.
It took a while to make it across town - evidently there had been some type of car accident or something - but when David and the cops arrived at his old home, there was still yellow DO NOT CROSS tape strung up across the doors and windows, intended to keep away the curious but only serving to make the home stand out like a sore thumb, its yellow streamers that drew attention instead of belying it.
David used his key to let them in, and the carnage in the living room took him by surprise almost right away. There was a huge round circle of blackish-red staining the carpet of the living room, and the shattered fragments of his Aunt’s glass coffee table lay covering the carpet, glittering in the hazy light from in the living room’s bay window. Crazily, the first thing he thought of was how his Aunt would never allow him to put his feet up on that particular piece of furniture, worried that his dirty shoes might mess it up. Now there it lay in a thousand pieces, its four metal legs lying at crazy angles in the blackish-red circle.
The couch and chairs were spattered with drops of blood, and stacks of boxes stood around the dark stain like silent witnesses, their tops sealed with glossy brown tape. Sealed by his Aunt, no less, and now she was...
No, he wasn’t going to think about that.
“Do you...need a few minutes?” one of the cops asked, standing in the foyer.
David turned away from the living room. “Uh, yeah. My Aunt...they found her where?”
The other cop pointed towards the kitchen. “She was out in the garage. They aired it out, so it should be okay now. We’ll wait in the car. Take as long as you want.” They left, closing the front door behind them.
David slowly walked into the kitchen and out through the door into the garage. His Aunt’s car was still par
ked in there, taking up most of the space, and he walked slowly around it but found no clues to where his Aunt had been found. The State Lieutenant had said that she had died of carbon monoxide poisoning, confirming what Bethany had told him, but now he saw no evidence. There was a lingering stink of exhaust fumes in the garage, but other than that, David saw and found nothing out of the ordinary. The car was unlocked and he climbed in, but the car’s interior seemed normal. The keys were probably somewhere in the house.
He left, heading outside but stopping for one more glance into the living room. The stain was huge and black and it drew the eyes to it, taking up absolutely all of one’s attention. He looked at it, and then turned and climbed the stairs up to the second floor landing that looked out over the living room. The stain looked even bigger from up here, if that was possible, and David saw that there were scratches and scrapes on the wooden railing where Abe must’ve fallen - but why scratches? Had he caught himself and tried to pull himself up before falling? He had fallen against this balcony railing a dozen times but he had never fallen over, or even come close to it - what had Abe been doing?
There were stacks of boxes around the living room, and behind a couple of tall stacks he saw one box sitting on the carpet by itself, back in a corner and hidden from view from the rest of the living room. And the box lids stood open.
He climbed down quickly and moved around to the box, pulling it over to look at it. The flaps stood open, and David saw that it was the box of his father’s personal files, the box he’d longed to read through on the day he’d told his Aunt he was leaving. The last day he had seen her alive. There were little drops of blood staining the open flaps of the box, and David touched them gingerly with his fingers.
So, what was it doing back behind the others, and why was it open? Had it been open before? There wasn’t any tape on it, so maybe it hadn’t been sealed yet, even when he’d seen it that last day. And there were little drops of blood on the flaps, so the box must’ve been open when Abe fell...
On a sudden impulse, he decided to take the box with him, carrying it outside with him when he left. He ran to the police car, holding his jacket over the box to keep it dry, and climbed in the back seat. “Any problem with me taking this box of my stuff with me? It’s a bunch of my papers from school,” he said, covering up the wording on the side with one arm.
One of the deputies looked at the other and shrugged his shoulders. “Naw, the investigation is pretty much over in there, and I guess technically all of that stuff is yours now, anyway. Where are we dropping you?”
They were different deputies than the ones who had picked him up, so David gave them Bethany’s address and climbed in the back, managing to contain his curiosity until they dropped him off.
When they pulled up in front of her house, there was a strange car in the driveway. He got out and thanked the deputies - it wasn’t their fault their boss was such an idiot - and headed up to the door, dreading finding out who was there. Probably some friend of his or Bethany’s, come over to console her or tell him how ‘sorry’ they were to hear about his Lisa’s death. He didn’t need that right now - he just wanted to spend a few hours looking through this box, looking for answers. His father’s legacy was in this box, and once and for all, he wanted to find out what kind of a man his father really was.
Bethany opened the door and smiled when she saw it was him, tears in her eyes. He stepped to her, concerned, and dropped the box to put his arms around her, and when he looked up from the hug, he saw two complete strangers looking at him carefully. He looked back at Bethany. “You okay?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Come in and see our guests - they got here right after you left.” He grabbed his box and closed the door and set it down next to the coffee table, which was covered with stacks of papers and maps and reports, stuff he hadn’t seen before. What was this all about?
“David,” Bethany began, “this is Norma Jenkins. You know her - she was a deputy for your father and drives one of the school buses.”
David stepped over and shook her hand. “You worked with my father.” he asked, suddenly very eager to get a better understanding of his father’s work.
The woman nodded, and he noticed that her nose was slightly bent, looking like it had been broken some time ago. “Yes. He was a good man, and after he…died, I didn’t want to be a cop anymore.” she said, her arms curled around her stomach in a strange way that almost made her look pregnant. “Funny, I’d always heard that you didn’t like talking about him.”
David nodded. “Yeah. But things change, huh?”
Bethany pointed out the other woman, but there was no need - David would’ve had to have been blind to miss her. She was beautiful and tall and her eyes seemed to exude an air of confidence. “This is Julie Noble. She’s with the FBI.”
Whoa.
“FBI?” David asked, confused. “Why would you be here?” he asked without thinking, and then a moment later it came to him - obviously she was here looking into Lisa’s murder. So why was she with Norma - was Norma helping the cops in investigating the case?
Julie smiled and shook his hand. “Well, David, I’m here to investigate some things. I came to town to talk to Norma here about Lisa Stevens, and after our conversation, we went and talked to your local law enforcement authorities. Did they interview you?” Bethany had told them where David was when they’d shown up, looking for him. They’d tried his apartment first, then called Bethany, trying to track him down.
He nodded. “But I got the feeling they weren’t really sure where they were going. Except for this one guy, from out of town. He seemed pretty much on the ball. Blake, I think his name was.”
Norma looked at Julie. “He was probably asking the same questions that we want answers to.”
Julie nodded, agreeing, and then turned back to David. “David, some very strange things have been going on lately, and Norma and I have developed a theory that might explain it all. And if our theory is true, you could be in a lot of danger.”
Suddenly, David grew worried, like something kicked on inside on him, some element of self-preservation - this pretty lady sounded so serious. “What do you mean? What kind of danger?”
Norma leaned forward. “Well, these murders - you knew all of the victims. They are all related to you in some important way. And Julie here has been using some powerful equipment up in D.C. to research the case, and it may be that we are dealing with something horrible here. And that something horrible could be coming for you.”
David laughed.
“What…you mean you think Aunt Gloria and Abe were murdered? And what do you mean, ‘something horrible’? Sounds like you’re talking aliens or something.” He glanced at Julie, a smirk on his face. “You’re not from the X-Files, are you?”
Bethany jumped in. “Cram it, David. They’re here to help.” She looked at the women. “Okay, now explain it all, but back up. Start again from the beginning.”
Norma looked at Julie. “Well, I don’t think we have the time, but I guess we have to, or else he won’t believe. Let’s all sit down, okay? I’ll start. Now, you remember hearing about the last case of your father’s career?”
David nodded, leaning forward. “Of course I’ve heard the Story. Too many times. And I doubt there is anything new you could tell me, as often as I’ve heard the mythical Story about my father the hero and that nasty guy that killed him,” David said sarcastically. “I know that Story backwards and forwards, Norma, and frankly, I don’t want to hear it again. It’s like a bad movie I’ve seen too many times. You going to tell me what a ‘great’ man my father was? What a hero he was?”
They were quiet for a moment, and Bethany kept her opinions to herself. She hadn’t seen David like this before, but she knew what was happening - these two women had brought up the sorest subject that they could. David resented his father with almost venomous hatred, referring to the “Story” of what had happened and mocking the almost mythical status of his f
ather. And just because David had decided to stop running from the things that haunted him in Liberty, it didn’t lessen his anger at his father - he still hated the man for abandoning him. Once, Bethany had made the mistake and brought David’s father up, and it was the only time she and he had ever fought about anything verbally. On any other topic, like their breakup, he would just walk away or ignore the problem. But when it came to his father and the Story, David’s anger ran so deep that even he could not contain it, once the subject was broached.
Norma was silent. She could almost see the waves of anger coming off this boy, and she thought she might understand where it was coming from. The boy knew nothing about his father - knew nothing except what others had told him. And now, here was a chance to set the boy straight.
“Yes, your father was a hero. Now, shut up and listen, and try to put your anger aside for a minute. He didn’t leave you to grow up alone, David. He was killed. He didn’t have any choice about that. A bad man came into our town, and your father stood up to him, and your father died because of it. If that doesn’t make your father a hero, I don’t know what would. And your mother didn’t abandon you, either - she died bringing you into the world. She died giving you life. Now you think that they abandoned you, but I knew them both, and they both wanted to see you into the world, to see you grow up big and strong. Being pissed at them doesn’t help anybody, David. All you are doing is trying to protect yourself from the pain and the anger, and it doesn’t help. Now are you going to be quiet and let me tell you what really happened?”
David wasn’t used to being talked to like that. His aunt had yelled at him and spanked him for doing stupid things when he’d been younger, but no one had ever argued with him about his father or his parents. Whenever he’d brought the subject up with his aunt, she’d left or ignored him and pored herself a drink.