It wasn’t that Bart had a death wish. Actually it was quite the opposite. The wealthy entrepreneur had a lot to live for. It was for that reason Bart had his ace in the hole. Well, actually he had a pair of aces, both with fifty-thousand reasons to make sure his rest was uninterrupted.
As many people suspected, Bart was not exactly a wholesome All-American boy. On his way to amassing his small fortune, Bart had fractured a few laws and made a few friends in the criminal underworld. Therefore, when he had “dirty work” to be done, he knew who to call. In this case, he called a pair of particularly dangerous individuals, their former deeds proving their worthiness to be chosen to watch his back. And, given there was someone out there apparently intent on cutting Bart down in his prime, the businessman made his cohorts a business proposition, offering a bounty of fifty thousand dollars cash to the person who kills the killer. Bart knew his two hand-picked body guards would kill their own mothers for that kind of money. Therefore, watched over by his pair of cut-throats as he slept in his man cave in the back of his dealership, Bart’s slumber was one of peace.
Bart glanced at his clock, the red digits telling him it was ten in the morning. He couldn’t recall how long it had been since he’d slept that late. It had truly been a restful evening. He paused for a long stretch as he rose from beneath the covers. Rubbing his eyes and giving one last yawn, Bart threw his feet over the edge of the bed. The shock of the cold floor on his bare feet snapped him wide awake. He quickly found his house shoes, insulating his feet inside them as he stood up and made his morning walk to the bathroom.
However, something caught his eye as he was about to enter the bathroom for his morning constitutional. On his bureau in front of the mirror sat something covered by a large black cloth. What could it be? Bart hadn’t been drinking last night, other than his normal gin and tonic before bed, so it wasn’t anything he had put there. And, it certainly wasn’t there last night when he had taken his Rolex off, laying in front of the mirror where it was still laying by the covered package. Maybe one of his body guards put it there since there was no way anyone else could have gotten into his locked room, let alone got past his guards.
Walking over to the package, Bart wasted no time snatching the cover off its contents, revealing what was beneath. He was not prepared for what he was about to see. It was the perfectly preserved head of Eddie Young! An expression of terror was still on his face. His eyes were fixed almost as if he was still looking at his killer.
Bart fell backwards, the horrific scene robbing him of breath as he stumbled onto his bed. He couldn't tear his eyes from the disembodied head which sat like an ornamental bust on his vanity.
“Robert! Holden! Get in here!” Bart yelled as he kept his distance from the head almost as if it would rise up and come after him. “Do you hear me? Get in here now!”
There was no answer to his frantic cries despite his posting of both guards outside his door the night before. There was only one way in and one way out of his bedroom at the dealership. Where were they? He was certain they wouldn’t desert him. There were fifty thousand reasons they should be running through the door to answer his shouts.
“What’s that?” Bart said to himself as he noticed something protruding from Eddie’s mouth.
Bart pushed himself off the bed. A cautious look revealed it was a piece of paper. There was just enough of the paper hanging out of the mouth to catch his attention. Was the paper meant for him? Bart stood looking at the head for a full minute, trying to decide whether or not to pluck the parchment from the severed head. In the end, his curiosity overcame his fear as he forced his body forward, his trembling hand extending toward Eddie’s skull. Then, holding his breath, he grabbed at the paper, careful not to touch the blue lips that held it.
Much to his surprise the exposed piece was only the tip of the iceberg as an entire piece of note paper was dispensed out of the mouth of the severed head. A green liquid clung to the parchment. Its mere appearance made Bart gag as he could only imagine what kind of bodily fluid it was.
However, his momentary nausea was trumped by what he saw on the paper. On the top of the note, written in neat handwriting, was his name. The note was for him. And, above his name was the logo of his dealership. The note stuffed in the mouth of Eddie Young had been written on company stationery perhaps taken from a pad which was lying on the same bureau where the head sat still staring at him. Had the killer written the note while inside the same room where he was sleeping? If so, why was he alive to read the note? There was only one way to find out.
Bart sat back on the bed and smoothed the paper out on his bed, using a pair of dirty socks to wipe away the green fluid. It was then Bart realized what he was reading was not merely a note but a letter written to him.
Bart,
If you are reading this then I obviously resisted the urge to slice your throat while you slept, an urge made doubly tempting by your incessant snoring. In case you are wondering, I had no option but to snap the necks of your “bodyguards.” You will find them neatly tucked away in one of the trunks of your pre-owned vehicles outside on your sales lot. As a means of morning calisthenics, I’ll leave it to you to figure out which one, something you’ll hopefully do before someone takes it on a test drive this morning. You have such a knack for getting rid of bodies I figured you wouldn’t mind disposing of two more although I hear Castle Lake is getting kind of full.
Before I move on to the main thrust of my correspondence, I would first like to thank you for your assistance in the elimination of Rhody Turner. Scheme as I might I couldn’t for the life of me figure out a way to get our criminal friend out of the lock up so I could kill him personally. Meanwhile you were able to do it with relative ease, your abilities in the area of homicide impressive to say the least. If it weren’t for the unavoidable fact that I must kill you I think we would have quite a bit of fun swapping notes when it comes to the art of killing. Yes Bart, we are both killers, cut from the same cloth. The only difference between you and me is I feel a shred of remorse when I kill while you feel nothing. It would appear despite my heritage that I somehow found a bit of conscience.
Now to the rub, since I guess you’re in a hurry to find those bodies on your lot. I spared you for a reason this morning. I need you to do me a favor before I kill you, something that I suspect you will do without thinking twice. I also want to meet you face to face, perhaps have a short conversation before I complete my task.
Tonight, nine o’clock at the old Red Dog. I think you know where it is. I’d warn you to come alone but seeing all your friends are dead already I suppose that would just be overkill. Don’t be late!
Yours truly, Ben
P.S. BRING THE HEAD!
Bart stared blankly at the parchment for a minute, considering his own mortality given the foreboding prediction of his death by the man calling himself - Ben.
“I’m not going out like that,” Bart sneered as he wadded the paper in his hand.
Bart angrily threw the wadded note at Eddie's head. He yelled defiantly at the skull as if it was listening to his ranting.
“I don't know who you are, Ben, but you've messed with the wrong man. You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” Bart screamed.
Bart would make the meeting with the mysterious Ben but it would be on his terms.
DARK REVELATION
It was refreshing just to get away for a while. The constant questions from the press and the public at-large were starting to get under the sheriff’s skin. His two hours alone in his SUV as he motored toward Shelby were about the only quiet time he had enjoyed since the world seemed to unravel less than a week ago. The snow-covered landscape served as a catharsis for the lawman. The several inches of powder that fell the night before had transformed the countryside to pure white. The roads, thankfully, were clear for the most part, cut like black trails through the otherwise pristine winter covering.
While it was out of his hands, at least for the time being, Sam felt parti
ally responsible for what was happening. After all, the people of Castle County had placed their trust in him when they sent him back for a fourth term of office. The fact he was unable to stem the tide of homicide in his hometown was weighing heavily on him. It had become his toughest test - a test he intended to pass even if it meant working night and day.
However, in the back of his mind, he realized there was an expiration date with the case. If he was right, and he was certain he was, the murders were revenge for the incident at the Red Dog more than twenty years ago. What would happen once the last of the victims were gone? Would the killer disappear leaving the cases unsolved forever? Or, in a worse-case scenario, had the killer acquired a taste for murder? Were the recent homicides only the beginning of a reign of terror by the mysterious killer? Would the killer keep on taking victims until he was caught? The sheriff’s last question was given legitimacy with the call received just as he hit the Shelby city limits.
“Tell me nothing else has happened,” Sam declared as he answered his phone.
“I wish I could, sheriff,” Bo responded. “Some hunters found Tia Wray this morning.”
Sam slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He could barely contain his frustration. People were dying everywhere in his county.
“She was at the bottom of a bluff near the state park,” Bo continued. “It looks like she’s been there a couple of days.”
“Were there any signs of trauma?” Sam asked.
“It appears she was strangled,” Bo responded. “The killer probably used a ligature to choke her from behind and then just dumped her on the side of the road.”
The death of the young girl was especially disturbing to Sam since her death marked the first victim, as far as he knew, who was not at the Red Dog the night Gina Porter was raped. The killer had departed from his normal method of operation, that is if the girl’s death was the work of their killer and not a copycat. At this point, the sheriff wasn’t so sure all the deaths were the work of one person. The killing of Tia Wray didn't seem to be part of the killer's method of operation.
Her death cut the sheriff deep given her young age. The girl's life had been sidetracked by drugs. That was something she could have overcome had she been given time. Now, she wouldn't have that chance. Her life was ended because she became involved with the wrong man, or perhaps, wrong men.
Sam would never realize it but his gut instinct was spot on with the exception of the motivation that drove her the day she died. It wasn’t loyalty to Rhody Turner or her addiction to drugs. Instead, her motivation was old-fashioned greed.
Just weeks before the jailbreak, Tia contacted Bart asking his assistance in springing Rhody from the county lock up. Rhody figured his old friend owed him a favor since he had maintained his silence about the Red Dog for so many years. At that time they had all assumed they were not just guilty of rape but also of premeditated murder for what they thought was the death of Earl Cutts. It was actually the death of the bar owner that was the motivation behind their continued silence since the statute of limitations for rape had expired. There is no statute of limitations for murder.
The career criminal realized he would be going up the river for a long time on his most recent drug charge. That was what prompted him to use his trump card when it came to leveraging Bart’s assistance in his escape. However, Bart, despite his criminal enterprises, was not inclined to stick his neck out for Rhody since he would hate to see his many shady dealings come crashing down for being a party to a jail escape. Bart made a calculated decision to deny his old friend’s request when it was first made. This was despite Tia’s physical bribe which he readily accepted, opting to chance no one would believe Rhody’s version of the Red Dog events. However, with the Red Dog killings came the realization there would be people who would give credence to the criminal’s story. The businessman also knew Rhody would be quick to trade him and the mayor for a lighter sentence. He couldn’t just wait around and take that risk. Bart was a man of action.
That was when he contacted Tia and agreed with the plan that called for Bart to provide a vehicle and transport out of the state. Bart was standing next to her, listening to her every word, when she made the call to the jail the day of the escape. In exchange for her cooperation and her agreement to forever leave Castle County, Bart promised her twenty-five thousand dollars in cash along with a car of her choice. She readily accepted his generous offer, her greed overcoming her concern for Rhody’s well-being. However, in doing so she failed to realize that once the escape was set in motion her usefulness was over. In fact, she became a liability.
When it came to Bart, his liabilities didn’t last long. Tia was dead within an hour of her call. The businessman kindly offered his trusting accomplice a ride to her apartment where she packed and loaded her baggage in his car. Her return inside her apartment to check for anything she may have left behind was her final mistake. Bart made short work of the petite young woman. She never heard him approach from behind before he strangled her with a dog chain inside her apartment. Bart prided himself on the kill since he used what was available to him to commit the murder. The dog chain was lying outside the house after Tia untied her dog, letting it go free since she wasn't planning to take the canine with her when she fled town. Anyone could kill with a gun. It was adapting to one's environment that separated the truly gifted from the rest.
He resisted stuffing her in the same trunk her boyfriend would end up in that night, opting to dispose of her body immediately by tossing her remains off the side of the rarely traveled country road. He would later throw her belongings in a dumpster. While not needing an excuse for his actions since he had no conscience, Bart rationalized killing the young girl by telling himself she would have been quick to point the finger at him once the body of her old boyfriend was found. Killing Tia Wray wasn't personal, it was just business.
Not knowing of Bart’s involvement in Tia’s death, the young girl’s murder made Sam realize he could leave no stone unturned during his visit to SMHI. He had to find an answer or at least a clue as to the identity of the person who was leaving the trail of bodies behind. Right now he had nothing, absolutely nothing. The killer could be a total stranger or his next door neighbor. The sheriff knew there was no such thing as a perfect crime. There had to be something he could seize on, something that would flip on the proverbial light bulb.
With a feeling of desperation, Sam pulled into the parking lot of the mental institution Gina Porter once called home. Had she left a clue as to the identity of the person who was wreaking vengeance on her behalf?
Sam immediately caught the eye of the receptionist, the same woman he met during his first visit. She gave him a knowing nod and picked up the phone.
“He’s here,” Sam heard her say.
“You can go on back. Ms. Marks is expecting you,” the receptionist invited.
Sam gave the receptionist a smile as he walked to the administrator’s office where Agnes Marks was waiting. She had been forewarned about his visit by the call he made just before he left Easton that morning.
“I have what you’re looking for,” the middle-aged administrator announced as Sam walked through the door.
The administrator pointed to a box full of folders sitting on her desk. She had collected the files shortly after the sheriff left following his first visit, anticipating his return.
“I think I rounded up everything," she said. "I actually had it ready the day after your last visit. I looked for you to be back a little quicker.”
“Well, we’ve been kind of busy back in Easton,” Sam responded wryly as his intents had originally been to come back the next day with the warrant he now handed the administrator.
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Agnes replied with a smile crossing her face. “I caught your interview on Channel Five this morning.”
Sam couldn’t help but blush since he felt, in hindsight at least, that he went too far that morning especially given the fact it was on live television. He was us
ually in better control of his emotions. He was normally the level-headed one instead of the cowboy. The pressure, he figured, was getting to him.
“Hey, don’t worry. I think that Hal guy is a jerk too,” Agnes said as she patted the sheriff on the shoulder. “Just give me a shout if you have a question. I’ve got some errands to run around the facility. I hope there’s something in there that can help you.”
Sam settled down at Agnes’ desk and began shuffling through the voluminous files in the box. He donned a pair of reading glasses that he recently began carrying in his front pocket. It was just another sign of his advancing age. It was more of an irritation than anything. Just the same, he avoided letting people see them on his nose. He would conceal them when he could, quickly whisking them off his face once he was through reading. They would sit on his nose for a couple of hours this afternoon as he read the book of Gina Porter’s life.
The files revealed Gina had been in and out of mental health care for much of her life. Her last four years were spent under in-house care at SMHI. The trigger, the doctors wrote, for her mental illness was her victimization at the age of eighteen. The exact details for her lapse into insanity were not contained in the paperwork.
Diagnosis ranged across a litany of mental illnesses, most psychologists agreeing that post-traumatic stress syndrome had brought about other neuroses and mental issues. They also agreed her instability could be traced back to one event - an event that so traumatized her that she would never be the same.
Sam learned she never got married. Her distrust of all men was understandable given what she went through. She left home shortly after the incident and never returned to Castle County again, not even to visit her parents. Both of her parents were now deceased. Her ties with her parents had been permanently damaged as the result of what occurred that night. Her reluctance to reveal what happened to her drove a rift between them. Sam figured her parents went to their graves never realizing what happened to their daughter. Had she been ashamed to tell her parents what happened, perhaps fearing they wouldn’t believe her? It was all so sad.
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