“Get him back to the others,” Sam ordered.
The sheriff raised his gun and began to make his way deeper into the woods.
“But sheriff,” Bo protested.
“You heard me. That’s an order,” Sam called back as disappeared into the dark.
Sam moved cautiously through the trees, his gun held at arm’s length, ready to fire in an instant. What kind of man could take down three trained officers like they were nothing? What was he up against in this wooded labyrinth? Sam felt at a disadvantage despite being armed with his forty-caliber.
The sheriff wandered through the tenebrous darkness for several minutes, one snow covered tree looking the same as the last. He kept his eyes trained on the tracks as he navigated his way through the tangle of limbs, bushes and briars.
After five minutes the sheriff caught sight of Lowery Lane. It was the road which ran behind the woods in back of the mayor’s estate. The tracks led onto the road and seemed to disappear suddenly. Perhaps the fugitive had a car parked there or maybe he had an accomplice.
Sam stepped onto the road and looked for any additional tracks. There were none. Instead, headlights approached, blue lights activating on top of the car telling the sheriff it was an officer.
“Sheriff, is that you?” came the voice of Deputy Faulkner.
“Did you see anyone?” the sheriff responded. “Did anyone come through here?”
“No, sir,” the young deputy replied. “I came this way when you put out the call a minute ago.”
Not wanting to let his close encounter go so easily, Sam resolved to go back into the woods on the off-chance the suspect doubled back. The sheriff ordered the officer to patrol the back edge of the woods in case the masked man was still waiting to escape the forest.
“If you see someone, don’t you try doing anything alone,” Sam cautioned worried for the welfare of the rookie officer. “You get on the radio and you call for back up. Don’t even get out of your car. Do you understand?”
Sam disappeared back into the woods after giving his order. He re-traced the tracks through the snow. His mission, however, was for naught as found no further signs of the dark man.
Sam soon came upon the pool of blood where Kendal had been ambushed, telling him he had again covered the trail left by the suspect. The flow was solid enough to where Sam used it like bread crumbs leading him to where the lawmen were gathered. They stood bleeding and injured like they were in a MASH unit.
“Nothing,” Sam said with disgust as he holstered his gun.
“At least we have his weapon,” Bo said, holding the long scythe like a trophy.
“I’m not so sure he even needs a weapon,” Sam said.
The sound of a horn interrupted the sheriff. The sound was coming from the mayor’s house.
“What is that?” Sam asked as the horn continued sounding.
“Maybe it’s a signal,” Bo suggested. “Maybe there’s trouble back at the mayor’s place.”
“Let’s go,” Sam said as he bolted toward the sound of the car horn.
Sam dashed through the snow, staying mindful the masked suspect could still be lurking somewhere in the trees. He kept his head on a swivel as he hurried through the remaining woods. He and Bo emerged from the forest together, the sound of the horn getting louder as they neared its source.
“There,” Sam pointed.
The sound was coming from the mayor’s car which was parked in front of his house. Its headlights were on but its hood and windshield were still covered with snow.
The officers cautiously approached the car not wanting to fall into an ambush like their fellow lawmen. Sam pulled his weapon as the men neared the car, the horn still blaring. Looking at his investigator, Sam nodded his head, silently telling him to open the door. It was the worst case scenario.
Inside, Mayor Glenn Satterfield sat in the driver’s seat. His face was pressed against the steering wheel, a zip-tie wrapped around his neck. Bo instinctively reached inside and pushed the mayor back against the seat. His eyes were wide open, fixed in terror.
“He’s dead,” Bo pronounced as he found no pulse.
“No!” Sam yelled, slamming his hand in frustration against the snow-covered hood.
CHALLENGE ISSUED
In three … two … one
“This is Hal Greene - Channel Five News - live from Easton where this city’s mayor was assassinated last night, the latest victim in the gruesome killing spree believed to be the work of the man dubbed the Red Dog Killer.”
The whole scene was surreal as Sam watched the newsman, who appeared to be wearing a half-inch of makeup, begin his live report from the front steps of Easton City Hall. The smooth-talking reporter was just the first of which Sam expected would be a constant parade of news media. The town would soon be full of satellite trucks beaming the developments of the formerly peaceful county around the globe. It certainly wouldn’t be a good day for the Castle County Chamber of Commerce or one for the county’s sheriff who would soon be on the hot seat.
After all, there were now five unsolved murders on his watch, the last being the slaying of the town mayor. It was funny, Sam noticed, how the other members of the Red Dog gang were considered murder victims while Glenn Satterfield’s killing was being called an assassination. All were targeted for the same reason, that being the atrocity they committed together more than twenty years ago, yet somehow the mayor’s passing held more importance than the other four combined.
Sam got little sleep after the discovery of the mayor’s body. The entire manpower of his department was called in to help sweep the snow-covered landscape for any sign of the killer. Their efforts were in vain. The sun rose on an investigation that was no closer to catching the killer than it was the day Andy Crouch’s body was found. It seemed the killer had a knack for eliminating every lead, leaving Sam butting his head against a brick wall, always one step behind. Now, as he stood in the chill of the morning air on the steps of city hall watching the talking head give his report, the trail of the killer was, pardon the pun, cold.
“This horrific chain of events began Tuesday with the discovery of local factory worker Andy Crouch. He was victim of a gruesome ax attack, his body found lying just inside his front door,” the dapperly-dressed reporter said, recapping the killings in an overly dramatic voice as if he were narrating a horror film or doing a commercial for a monster truck show at the civic auditorium. “Next we had the slaying of his co-worker and friend, Eddie Young, the following evening, his headless remains found Wednesday inside his home. Then came a pair of grisly discoveries, the bodies of investment broker Stevie Grissom and career criminal Rhody Turner, both found inside the trunk of a stolen car after it plunged into the murky depths of Castle Lake the evening before last. Then our most recent victim, the mayor of the city of Easton, Glenn Satterfield, killed as he sat inside his car in his own driveway.”
Listening to it, things sounded bad, really bad. How had Castle County gone from one of the safest places in the country to murder capital?
“The question is, if the mayor himself can be killed in his own driveway is anyone really safe in this formerly peaceful little hamlet?” the reporter posed.
The newsman shoved the microphone into the sheriff's face.
“I have with me the sheriff of Castle County, Samuel Delaney,” the reporter continued. “Sheriff, how can the citizens of your county feel safe so long as the Red Dog Killer is on the loose?”
Sam was caught off guard by the reporter’s absence of segue. His lack of sleep left him slow at a time of the morning that he normally wouldn’t be awake. How he missed the good old days when he would occasionally get a full night’s sleep.
“We're doing everything in our power to ensure the safety of all the people of Castle County,” Sam replied nervously as he wasn't used to being on camera. “The people can rest assured that we are following up all leads and leaving no stone unturned in our investigation.”
Sam couldn’t believe he just
said that on live television. The entire thing sounded like some kind of pre-written press release aimed at dodging the question.
“Leads? So does this mean you have a person of interest in this grisly string of unsolved murders?” Hal asked.
“Well, we haven’t eliminated anyone at this time,” Sam stammered. “We are taking all information we obtain and examining it closely.”
“So that means there are no suspects in the case?” Hal surmised from the sheriff’s double-talk. “Tell me sheriff; are you any closer to solving these heinous crimes than you were after the first body was found?”
“Well, we …” the sheriff began, only to be cut off by the cocky newsman.
“And what about the case of Rhody Turner?” Hal posed. “Our news team has learned he was actually a prisoner in your jail before he was able to break out only to fall into the hands of the killer.”
“Well yes, he was an inmate in our facility but …” Sam said, again cut off by the aggressive interviewer.
“Had the security in your jail been better, do you think Mr. Turner would still be alive today?” Hal asked.
“Do I what?” Sam replied, incredulous the reporter would be making such allegations on live television.
“I mean it would appear the Red Dog Killer used a break down in security at your jail to gain access to one of his victims,” Hal clarified. “Does that not make the Castle County Jail guilty in some way in the death of Rhody Turner, perhaps even liable?”
“No, these cases are all … ” Sam began, cut off again by the reporter.
“And what about the assassination of Mayor Satterfield?” Hal asked. “We have information that your department was conducting surveillance in the area at the time and he was killed under your very noses. Would you consider this a cause for concern if you were a citizen of Castle County?”
Sam stood silently, his mouth closed as the reporter again pushed the microphone under his nose. The sheriff looked calmly at the reporter as if he didn’t hear the question.
“So you have no answer?” Hal asked.
“Oh, you want me to answer that one?” Sam answered mockingly. “I was waiting for you to answer the question like you did the others. You seem to have all the answers.”
“I wasn’t ... " Hal began only to have the sheriff jerk the microphone away from him in midsentence.
“I mean I was rather enjoying hearing you interview yourself,” Sam declared on live television. “I was hoping if you kept talking you’d solve the case yourself. You seem to be doing pretty good there, Hank.”
“It’s Hal - Hal Greene,” the reporter countered as he snatched back his microphone. “I’m just trying to get answers as to how five people can be killed in five days and yet there’s not a single suspect.”
“That’s simple, Hank,” Sam responded. “Our killer keeps killing the people who could identify him. By the way, I didn’t say we have no leads. We do, in fact, have several leads which I’m optimistic will lead us to our killer.”
“And if they don’t?” Hal asked. "And, it’s Hal not Hank."
“If they don’t, Harold, then I guess you’ll be interviewing me a lot more,” Sam responded. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s time to go follow up on one of those leads I was talking about.”
“Sheriff, one last thing,” Hal called after the sheriff as the lawman started to walk down the steps of city hall. “What would you like to say to the people of Castle County who are living in fear that a serial killer is in their midst?”
Pausing for a second in reflection, Sam walked back up the steps and looked straight in the camera.
“Two things. First, to the killer. Whoever you are, and I’m sure you’re watching, I will find you. Rest assured of that,” Sam pledged. “And second, to the people of Castle County, don’t believe everything you hear on television. Most of it is a bunch of [bleep].”
News Channel Five was fortunate to have a seven-second delay in its live telecast. The delay gave them just enough time to bleep Sam’s last word to the camera. However, those who could read lips had no doubt of the four-letter word Sheriff Delaney uttered.
While Sam was admittedly dancing around the questions during his interview, he told the truth when he said there were leads. His reference was to the still-sealed medical records of Gina Porter, records Sam believed could hold the key to finding the killer. Shelby Mental Health Institute would be his destination. His Saturday was going to be spent going over the records with a fine-tooth comb, looking for anything that might solve the puzzle.
First, Sam would have to drop in on his injured investigator, Kendal Parks. The lawman took one for the team Saturday by coming into the office despite the events of the night before.
“How are we feeling this morning?” Sam asked as he entered his investigator’s office on a two-fold mission.
He was there because he legitimately cared for his employees and wanted to check on his officer’s well-being. He also wanted to see if the always reliable detective had been able to subpoena the late mayor’s cellphone records. Sam had found phone records were good for connecting the dots when it came to linking the Red Dog conspirators together.
“How does it look like I’m doing?” Kendal replied in a nasally tone.
The detective looked back at the sheriff through two black eyes, his Roman nose even more Roman after his encounter with the masked suspect last evening.
“The doctor says it’s broke,” Kendal revealed.
“It just makes you look even more dignified,” Sam quipped as he eyed the bandage draped across the bridge of the detective’s nose. “I’m sure it had to hurt his foot too if that’s any consolation.”
“I’m sure you didn’t come here just to discuss the condition of my nose,” Kendal noted.
“Well, now that you mention it ...” the sheriff began.
Kendal reached across his desk and held up a paper. He already knew what his boss was looking for.
“It wasn’t easy, since it is Saturday and all, but I got it,” Kendal revealed, handing Sam a copy of the mayor’s phone records. “I haven’t even checked it yet. My eyes want to cross when I’m reading.”
Sam immediately pored over the records. A familiar number at the bottom of the page drew the sheriff's eyes. It was the last call made before the mayor’s death. It was Bart Foster’s number, the call lasting around five minutes.
“He called Bart Foster right after I left,” Sam declared. "I bet I'd just walked out the door when he called him."
“Is that really a big surprise since we know they were in this together?” Kendal asked. “I’m sure there are a lot of calls on the list between them.”
Kendal was right as a closer examination of the records netted numerous communications between the mayor and Bart Foster. However, it was the final call that intrigued the sheriff.
“Did you ever wonder how our suspect was able to double back so quickly and just happen to catch the mayor in his car with his bags all packed?” Sam asked his detective. “I mean, the timing would have to be perfect to pull that off. That's not to mention that the guy would have to have superhuman speed.”
“Well I can vouch for that superhuman speed,” Kendal countered, rubbing his nose. “It was like he appeared out of thin air.”
“What if there are two?” Sam asked. “What if our killer has a partner?”
Kendal nodded his head, realizing the sheriff’s suggestion wasn’t that far-fetched. Perhaps the man they chased in the woods that evening was simply a decoy meant to lead the officers on a wild goose chase while his partner was murdering the mayor.
“That could be, but then we’re still at square-one since we don’t have even a single suspect,” Kendal noted. “But logic would tell us if we catch one then we can catch the other. Care to venture a guess as to the identity of our second person?”
“What if it was Bart Foster?” Sam asked. “Hear me out for a second. All this time we’ve been assuming our beloved car dealer is a victim wait
ing to happen but what if he’s not. What if he and the killer have mutual interests? What if this isn’t about payback after all? What if this is about eliminating anyone who was there that night?”
“Go on,” Kendal urged the sheriff.
“Maybe we’ve been wrong about the motive all this time,” Sam continued. “Maybe instead of looking at Bart as a victim, we should be treating him as a suspect.”
“But everyone knows Glenn and him were tight,” Kendal countered. “I mean Bart was always one of Glenn’s main contributors at election time.”
“True, but that might be part of it,” Sam replied. “It was common knowledge Glenn intended to run for governor next election and something so perverse from his past would have derailed his candidacy. Now, this next part may sound a bit far-fetched, but what if Glenn and Bart combined to get rid of the rest of the witnesses?”
“But that wouldn’t explain why Glenn was killed,” Kendal pointed out.
“Unless Bart thought he was also expendable being the only remaining witness,” Sam said with a serious look. “Maybe Bart realized Glenn would throw him under the bus at the drop of a hat if he knew it would protect his political career. Or, maybe it came down to something as simple as Bart suspecting his old buddy was going to kill him too so he just acted first. One thing we know for sure, Bart was the last one to talk to the mayor.”
“Great idea, sheriff, but highly unlikely if you ask me, which you did,” Kendal said. “But, if history is any indicator, we may find out tonight. If Bart ends up dead I think we can scratch him off our suspect list.”
“If Bart ends up dead then our cases may never be solved,” Sam declared as he glanced at his watch. “But that’s for later. Right now I need to get on the road for Shelby. You got the warrant?”
“Let me know what you find,” Kendal said as he handed the sheriff the search warrant for SMHI.
Bart woke refreshed after enjoying one of the most restful nights of sleep in a long time. The prospect that a killer was out there stalking him did nothing to disturb his rest. His ace in the hole gave him the confidence to sleep like a baby. His mind, for the first time in many years, was totally unencumbered. The ghosts of his past were buried once and for all.
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