by Jeramy Gates
“I know.”
“But I’ll still fire your ass. Do you understand?”
Her eyes brightened. Her shoulders shook with nervous laughter. “Does that mean you’re not firing me?”
“No, I’m not firing you right now. So let’s get to work. We’ve got an exclusive story that’ll blow the doors off the Democrat, and I want to see it in print by the end of the day. They won’t know what hit them.”
“But Riley, what about that other thing? What about what you just said?”
“We’ll talk about it over dinner tonight. Sound good?”
“Okay. Where are we going?”
Riley smiled. He turned and walked back to his desk, wondering how he’d not only managed to keep Jackie working with him, but also to agree to a date. He felt nervous, tipsy, like a surfer riding a wave for the first time, hoping it would never end.
Chapter 34
Valkyrie spent the early morning hours packing her things. The projector was tucked back in its case, ready to go. The laptop and other electronics were already stowed in the rumble seat compartment that Tom had converted into a trunk. All she had left was to gather up her clothes and separate out the laundry for the next hotel.
Val was tired and her back ached fiercely, but she couldn’t help smiling as she reflected on everything that had happened. Diekmann had called to tell her that both Maddie and the man at the campsite had come out of surgery. Both would survive. After that, Nate had called to ask her out for drinks before she left town. Valkyrie politely declined.
Then there was Riley. When she’d met him, Riley had been a timid, unassertive virgin so uptight that he was headed for an early stroke. Valkyrie had taken his virginity, but in a way, she almost felt like he’d taken hers, too. Something had changed about her that night. It felt like she’d been able to let a part of her past go. She would never stop loving Tom. She would never forget their little farm, or the beautiful life they’d had together. But all that was gone now, and though the ache in her heart might never leave, she now realized that it didn’t have to cripple her. It was okay to move on…
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Val’s hand instinctively flashed to the dresser, retrieving her 1911 from the holster. She pulled back the slide, released the safety, and stole a glance through the peephole. She frowned. It was the night clerk from the front desk, a ginger-haired kid fresh out of high school. He was carrying something. Val opened the door, concealing her pistol behind her back.
“Yes?” she said.
“Someone left this for you at the front desk,” he said, handing her a box. “You weren’t here last night, and I didn’t want to leave it outside.”
“Thank you.”
Valkyrie accepted the package and then closed the door. Even before she opened it, she could guess the contents by the size, shape, and weight of the box. That, and the delicate aroma that came drifting out of it. Valkyrie smiled as she laid it across the arms of a chair and pulled off the lid, revealing a dozen long-stemmed roses.
Riley is so sweet, she thought… She found a small white envelope tucked in the bundle. She removed it and pulled out the card:
“Sorry I missed you, Valkyrie. You’ll have to forgive the minor deception on my part. I should have known you would eventually realize the truth. An ill-conceived scheme, I suppose. Perhaps next time, my dear.
With Eternal Love,
-The Collector.”
Val replaced the card and slid the envelope into her pocket. She stood there, detached, staring down at the flowers with a creepy fascination, studying the roses as if they might hold some clue, though she already knew they did not.
He touched them, she thought. The killer’s hands touched these flowers. He wrote the card with his own hands.
There was nothing puzzling about the card. The Collector wrote in code when he wanted to be clever. This was not that. This was a taunt, a joke at her expense. Val absently slid her fingers along the stems as she thought this, until her middle finger struck a thorn and it punctured her skin. She held it up, staring at the crimson drop forming on the tip of her finger. She stuck it in her mouth.
“He sends me flowers, and we dance the slow dance of two predators circling in the wild,” she whispered into the dead silence of the room. “So we’re lovers now. Is that the idea?”
These were not her thoughts, Valkyrie realized. These were not the thoughts of the old Val, the Val of five years ago. She had been innocent then. Naive. Trusting. That woman was dead, right along with Tom and Kyle.
Valkyrie left the flowers as they were, tucked in the box, ready to discard or perhaps fall into the hands of some cleaning maid who would find and love them without having to know where they originated. But she would keep the card. Perhaps the handwriting would help her at some point. Or perhaps there was a clue there that she had missed. Then again, maybe she just wanted to make sure she would remember the way he had taunted her.
Val placed the rest of her belongings in the Packard. On her way out of town, she called Matt to tell him about all that had happened. He sounded ecstatic.
“It’s done then!” he said. “Odin is dead. You can come home.”
“No,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“It’s not him, Matt. This was a different killer. From the moment I saw Odin at the campground, I knew he wasn’t the Collector. Tom and Kyle’s killer is still out there, somewhere.”
Matt was dumbfounded. “But… how can that be?”
“This was all staged. I’ve should have known it when Loki first confessed. He said that someone had told him to contact Odin; that someone had put the two of them in touch.”
“I don’t understand. Why would the Collector do this? What’s his motive?”
“He’s a serial killer. Does he need a motive?”
“There must be some reason, something that drives him. There has to be.”
“It’s a game to him, Matt. This is all a game. He’s toying with me. Maybe Odin was a sacrificial lamb.”
“You mean the Collector thought that by giving up Odin, he’d pacify you?”
“Something like that. Maybe it was to throw me off his trail, maybe just to slow me down.”
“What will you do now?”
“I’ll keep moving, keep watching and waiting. Sooner or later, he’ll stick his head back up. When he does, I want to be ready.”
“All right. Check in with me later.”
“Will do. In the meanwhile, keep your eyes open for me. Watch the scanners, read the papers. You know the drill.”
Val realized as she hung up that she hadn’t told Matt about the flowers. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t do any good to tell Matt how close the killer had been. It would just worry him. She took a deep breath and settled stiffly back in the seat, trying to maintain a relaxed posture, hoping to avoid a backache later. She pulled onto the highway and gazed down the road, wondering where it would take her next.
Epilogue
Maddie was out of surgery by ten a.m., and she lapsed in and out of consciousness for the entire day. The kids came by, and the grandkids, but she only had vague recollections of their visits. If not for the flowers and cards filling the room, she might not even remember that much. It was eight p.m. when she heard a knock at the door and Sheriff Diekmann stuck his head in.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said. “I know it’s late, and visiting hours are over, but I wanted to check on you.”
“Come in,” she said, waving her hand. Maddie’s voice was raspy with dehydration, and she looked around for the glass of water by her bed. It was empty. Diekmann saw what she was doing, and he refilled the glass from the pitcher on the tray. He handed it to her, and Maddie accepted the water gratefully.
“The nurses tell me you’re going to be just fine,” the sheriff said. “The antibiotics should kick that infection in no time. I guess you had some internal bleeding, but they took care of that. Everything else is… well, I’m sure it will take time
, but you’re going to be okay.”
“Thanks to you,” Maddie said. “How can I ever repay you for saving me?”
“I wish I could take all the credit, but the truth is there was a woman who helped… An F.B.I. agent,” he added with a distant look. “She did most of the leg work. It’s her you should be thanking. Unfortunately, she already left town.”
“That’s too bad,” Maddie said. She thought of Frank, and for a second she was right back there, tied to that chair with cold sweat streaming down her naked body, cords biting into her wrists… Maddie leaned back against the pillow, feeling the cool fabric against her skin. She was still on painkillers, and it was a distant, comforting feeling. She focused on that, pushing the thoughts out of her head.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Maddie said, releasing Diekmann from any obligation to stay longer than he might want. “It was kind of you.”
Diekmann took off his baseball cap, and stared at the bright yellow CAT emblem on the front. “There is one thing,” he said. “I know it’s soon, after everything that happened. I wanted to ask… would you be willing to testify against Michael Barnes?”
“Barnes?”
“The man who called himself Loki. The tall one. I hate to ask. The truth is, we have enough DNA evidence to put him away for a good long time, plus an assault charge, but if you would be willing to testify against him in court, I promise you, if you would do that, he would never leave prison alive.”
Maddie closed her eyes, trying to force out the visions that came unbidden to her mind. Loki… the things he had done, said to her. Twenty-four hours of brutal, mindless suffering. At the time it had seemed like years… Maddie took a deep breath and bit her lower lip. She summoned her courage:
“I’ll do it,” she said. “For Frank. I want that man killed for what he did to Frank. Can you make sure that happens?”
“There’s a cell on Death Row with his name on it.” The sheriff’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his shirt pocket. He glanced at the screen. “I have to go,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Thanks, sheriff.”
Diekmann stepped outside. He pulled the door quietly closed, and put the phone to his ear. “Nate, what’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you sheriff. I know it’s late, but this is important.”
“What’s the problem?”
“The thing is… we have another murder.”
“It happens, Nate. You’ll get used to it.”
“I know, sheriff. It’s not a gang fight or anything like that. It’s another weird one.”
Diekmann frowned. “Define weird.”
“The victim was… his eyes were cut out, and his throat was cut. It seems a lot like, you know…”
“Like the Brooks family.”
“Exactly. But there’s another weird thing.”
“What’s that?”
“This guy wasn’t from around here. We found the body in a hotel room in Petaluma. His name is Ben Forrester. And get this: according to his identification, he works for the CIA.”
“CIA? Have you called them?”
“Not yet, I thought you’d want to talk to them.”
Diekmann considered that. “You said the body is inside the hotel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the other stuff? Blood smears on the wall? Weird writing?”
“There’s none of that this time, sheriff. Just the victim. Except his eyeballs.”
“They’re missing?”
“I think so. Can’t seem to find them anywhere.”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
Diekmann hung up. He stared grimly at his phone as the screen faded to black. He had half a mind to call Valkyrie. This murder was eerily similar to the others, and Diekmann had a suspicion that Val still knew more than she had told him. Then again, Val had left town just as this new victim appeared. That was an undeniably suspicious coincidence. Was it possible that Valkyrie Smith was a murderer? Was she in on the killings?
He didn’t think so -didn’t want to think so- but maybe it would be better to wait and see what kind of evidence emerged. That was, assuming he ever even saw the evidence. Depending on who the victim was, the CIA might try to push him out of the investigation entirely.
Diekmann shoved his phone back into his pocket. All he really wanted was a cold beer and a good night’s sleep, but there was little chance of that happening anytime soon. He headed for the parking lot, his head spinning with questions that didn’t make any sense, and that he might never know the answers to.
Who are you, Valkyrie Smith? he thought in the back of his mind.
The End
A note from the author:
Thanks for reading “Should be Dead.” I’m grateful for the opportunity to share my work with you, and for your support. If you wouldn’t mind taking a few extra minutes to post a review at Goodreads, Amazon, or your favorite e-book website, it would be extremely helpful and very much appreciated. Thanks again, and remember to look for the next book in this series -coming soon!- as well as my other titles listed below.
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Look for these other exciting titles:
He Said/She Said “Murder”
Mystery series
The Valkyrie Smith mystery series
Erased, a thriller
The Vigilante Killer
(short story)
Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre
(fantasy/detective series written as Jamie Sedgwick)
Text and Art Copyright 2015 by Jeramy Gates
Published by Timber Hill Press
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 13: 978-0692566503
Any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental