The Fiercest Enemy

by Rick Reed

  Jack had taken the address and telephone number down and intended to visit Eunice Lynch this morning. Angelina couldn’t find much else on Shaunda besides the school records at Union High School that showed Shaunda had left school at the end of her junior year and didn’t return. Angelina was unable to find out if Shaunda had enrolled in another school, and due to her age, there was no financial paper trail. Angelina was still digging.

  However, there was a font of information on Rosie Benton. She had completed high school at Union and went to Indiana University where she obtained a bachelor’s degree in psychology with a minor in history. She had also earned a bachelor’s degree in business administration and was well on her way to an MBA when she suddenly dropped out five years ago. That was coincidentally the same time that Shaunda had moved back to Dugger, and Rosie had become the owner of the Coal Miner Bar three years before that. Rosie’s parents were also deceased and she was an only child.

  There were a few newspaper articles concerning Shaunda’s occasional mention in reference to Dugger town business. There was an article in the Sullivan Times touting Rosie’s academic accomplishments after graduating from Union High, but nothing after she dropped out of her MBA program.

  Angelina was trying to come up with the name of someone Jack could talk to about Rosie, but she had come up empty. Both women had spotless records.

  Jack’s phone showed it was 5:30 in the morning. He could hear Liddell snoring like a buzz saw across the hall. He got up, showered and dressed in clean clothes. He rolled up the dirty ones and stuffed them in one side of his bag. He hadn’t thought to bring a second sport coat, or jacket for that matter. He had thought he could run back to Evansville if he needed more clothes. Bad idea.

  He went downstairs to make some coffee. He was in luck and Rosie had an old Mr. Coffee. He scrounged around in the cabinets and found coffee but no filters. He used a paper towel for one and was soon smelling the wonderful aroma of coffee. Now all he needed was some Alka Seltzer.

  He poured a mug of coffee, took it out to the barroom and sat by a window. The horizon was all trees, with a luminescent glow rising in the east. This time of morning was always his favorite time of day. Coffee, sunrise, quiet.

  His thoughts turned to Rosie, to Shaunda and Jerrell. There was an unspoken bond between them all. It was as if they had been friends forever. Friends that were occasionally mad at each other. Friends that verbally abused one another and seemed to enjoy the playfulness.

  Angelina had performed a search and could not find any marriages for Rosie or Shaunda or Troy Junior. Jerrell had been married for quite a while, but as he had said, he was absent most of the time. The only victim that was married was Baker in Hutsonville. Baker’s wife wasn’t a widow for long. He knew Chief Jerrell’s ex-wife’s name was Peggy. Peggy had no record, was remarried, lived in Atlanta, had a fourteen year old daughter and taught grade school. Sixth grade just like Katie. He couldn’t imagine Peggy as a serial killer.

  The door to the stairs opened and Bigfoot plodded toward the kitchen. He came back with a steaming mug. He’d found donuts somewhere and brought a couple out on a plate and sat down across the table from Jack. He offered one of the donuts to Jack who declined, then took one to Liddell’s disappointment.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Liddell asked.

  “You didn’t seem to be having any trouble by the sound of it.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  Jack said, “You’re right. That’s not what I’d call that noise.”

  “What was with all the questions at the morgue, and then you didn’t ask Shaunda anything?” Liddell asked.

  “Did you notice which side Shaunda wears her gun on?” Jack asked.

  “Right.”

  “She’s right handed,” Jack said.

  Liddell found the donut more interesting than Jack.

  “Where was her stab wound? Which side?” Jack asked.

  “Her right side,” Liddell answered.

  “Did you notice at the autopsy if this Anderson guy was right or left handed?”

  Liddell put the donut down. “I didn’t notice.”

  “His right hand was calloused more than his left. I’m going to bet he’s right-handed.”

  Liddell pushed the donut away. “Where we going this morning?”

  “Hutsonville.”

  “Hutsonville?” Rosie said from the stairway. “In Illinois? What’s in Hutsonville?”

  Rosie’s makeup was perfect as was her hair. She was dressed in tan slacks and a blue wool turtleneck sweater. She stood in the doorway waiting for an answer.

  “I hear they’re famous for kettle corn,” Jack said.

  “I haven’t had my caffeine yet. Save your jokes for later.” She went to the kitchen and came out with coffee and sat at the table with them. She held up a finger for them to wait. She took a sip of coffee, made a face, and said, “Who made this crap? It tastes like paper towel. Weak paper towel.”

  “I couldn’t find your coffee filters,” Jack said.

  “I’m kidding,” Rosie said. She put a hand on Jack’s arm and left it there. “I use paper towels, too, and make it twice this strong. I’ll put on another pot before Shaunda and Pen come down.”

  Jack said. “We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes.”

  “For Hutsonville?” Rosie said. “You’re not joking?”

  “We have to find the scene where one of the victims was found,” Jack said.

  “Was that a recent one?”

  “It’s a seven year old case.”

  “What do you expect to find seven years later?” she asked. “Oh wait. Was this guy married? I’ll bet the killer is his wife. I know I’ve felt like killing some of the guys I’ve dated.”

  “He was married,” Jack said. “I don’t think the wife killed him but if you’re confessing...”

  Rosie laughed and snorted into her coffee. “Now look what you made me do. This crap tastes so bad I don’t even consider pouring it out wasted. I’ll go make some real stuff now. Hang around a bit. I want to get caught up.” She headed to the kitchen.

  “I like her,” Liddell said.

  “You like anyone that feeds you, Bigfoot. You’re like a dog.”

  “Am not.”

  “We can get coffee on the road. If you’ve got your stuff, let’s go.”

  Liddell finished the coffee in one gulp and stood. “I was born ready.”

  Jack collected their mugs and the empty plate and sat them on the bar. They made it to the door when Shaunda came down the stairs.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. She had on a clean uniform, sans badge. Her gun belt was draped over one shoulder. She moved stiffly but there was no other sign that she’d been beaten and stabbed yesterday.

  “We’re going to follow up on something,” Jack said. “You should get some more rest. You can’t even patrol Dugger in your condition.”

  “Joey’s going to patrol,” she said. “I can’t stand to sit around. What are you following up on? Or is it a secret?”

  “It’s not a secret,” Rosie said from the kitchen batwing doors. “They’re going to Hutsonville, Illinois to badger a dead guy’s wife.”

  “I’ve got a Girl Scout badge in badgering,” Shaunda said.

  “She really does,” Rosie agreed.

  “We’re not going to badger anyone,” Jack said. “We’re just following up on the earlier information. It’s been seven years. Probably nothing to find.”

  “If you’re going to waste your time, I’ve got plenty to waste. Besides, there are two of you big bruisers to protect me. All I have here is this pitiful excuse for a bartender.”

  Jack gave in. “No guns allowed. I don’t want you getting any more hurt.”

  Shaunda handed her gun belt to Rosie, saying, “Will you feed Pen when she gets up? Don’t throw those hospital sc
rubs away. I might need them again.”

  “Very funny,” Rosie answered. “Get out of here.”

  Chapter 35

  Shaunda climbed into the back behind the driver’s side. Jack was driving and Liddell had the passenger seat pushed all the way back. She said, “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

  They were soon on State Road 54 headed west toward the Illinois state line. Angelina had supplied Jack with GPS coordinates of where the body was found, and an address for Shaunda’s aunt. Speaking to the aunt wasn’t possible this trip but they could view the scene, plus he thought it would give him a chance to get Shaunda to talk. He was wrong about the latter. She spoke very little until they reached the narrow two lane concrete bridge that crossed the Wabash River into Illinois.

  “I don’t feel as bad as I thought I would,” she said. “The stitches are holding. They haven’t started to itch like the doctor said. I took a handful of ibuprofen but I haven’t needed any of the OxyContin they gave me at the hospital ER. We should have waited for Rosie to make coffee. She has to-go cups.”

  Jack was half listening and trying to pay attention to the GPS directions on his phone.

  “What’s really hard is the waiting,” she said.

  “Waiting?” Jack asked.

  “You know. Waiting for all this to be over. I mean the whole enchilada. Not just Brandon. The guy I shot. I had to shoot him. You believe me, don’t you?”

  “What I believe doesn’t really matter,” Jack answered.

  “What an asshole,” Shaunda muttered just loud enough for Jack to hear.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened. We haven’t heard it all,” Jack said.

  “Where do you want me to start? Don’t start with the attorney shit. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Jack said. “Why don’t you start with the dumb idea of splitting up with Liddell?”

  “You got me there. That was a dumb move. I really wanted to find this guy. I mean, if he’s the one that hit me and threatened my baby girl, I had to know.”

  Jack translated that as meaning that she was afraid if she found him while she was with Liddell that Liddell would have kept her from bashing this guy into a confession.

  “I got in the trees and imagined which way the guy would go. I was right. I saw some weeds tramped down, and scuff marks where the dead grass was kicked out of the dirt. I followed that but I lost it. I just got lucky and spotted him off to my right. I tried to flank him. He must have heard me because he started walking faster. I had to run flat out to keep up and I know he had to hear that. I cut across and just about caught him but he was faster than I thought. I grabbed for his jacket and he twisted away. I grabbed for him again and he stopped like he was going to give up. He was fast. He turned and punched me in the side. He was getting ready to do it again and I saw the knife. I had my gun out and shoved it in his face and pulled the trigger. I don’t really remember all of it. It happened so fast. I don’t even remember drawing my gun. I thought he’d punched me. Then I saw the knife.”

  Jack hoped Liddell had listened close because she was rambling and he didn’t want to ask questions until she was talked out.

  “I had to shoot him,” she said and went quiet.

  “You didn’t hear us calling you on the radio?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I just remember hitting the ground. Then I pulled myself up. I saw him lying there and the knife was still in his hand. I might have moved it. I was scared. He tried to kill me. He would have killed me. I could see it in his face.”

  “You saw his face before you shot him?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. No. I mean, I think I did. It’s all messed up. I killed him.”

  In the rearview mirror Jack saw tears running down her cheeks. If she was acting, she was damn good.

  “Do you remember how many times you fired the gun?” Jack asked.

  “I’m not sure. I just remember his face when I shot him. I’ll never forget his expression.”

  “Listen, Shaunda. I’m sorry for being a dick. I guess I’ve gotten paranoid. We really needed to talk to this guy.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed with my partner. It was a dumb, stupid, asinine thing to do. I don’t blame you for thinking that I was...” Her voice trailed off.

  “That you deliberately killed him?” Jack finished for her. He could hear a dry sob.

  She said, “Yeah. That. I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to kill him.”

  Jack turned his head toward her. “Don’t say that unless you mean it. Don’t say that to anyone else. You hear me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now let me concentrate on the road. I hate these electronic thingies and this one is getting on my last nerve,” Jack said.

  Liddell reached over and took the phone from him. “I’ll navigate.”

  “’Bout time,” Jack said.

  They followed the directions through the east end of Hutsonville and turned right onto North Pleasant Street and right again at Mill Street which according to the map was a dead-end. It was. At the end of the road they all got out. Liddell led the way using the GPS coordinates Angelina had given them. They walked through a dense area of trees and Jack could feel the ground getting softer until they were into mud. Through the branches Jack could see a little wash just ahead. It was like a pond, an overflow from the Wabash River.

  “According to Angelina the body was found right over there about twenty feet,” Liddell said.

  Shaunda said, “If you want to wade through the mud be my guest. I’m not changing clothes again.”

  “Not me,” Liddell said.

  They headed back to the car. Jack thought he would have to call the detective or Crime Scene officers to get a better feel for the scene and for the victim. The ground was soft. Surely Crime Scene had gotten shoe impressions. He was leaving perfect ones. It was March when the murders happened and it was March now. The weather may have been similar. The ground was wet but not sloppy until you got close to the water where the body was found.

  “Had enough?” Shaunda asked Jack when they got back in the car.

  “I’ve got the victim’s old address,” Jack said. “Angelina said it’s almost three miles as the crow flies. Five by road. His car was still at his house when his body was found.”

  They drove the route the victim might have taken if he was on foot. If he was in the trunk of a car the route was anybody’s guess. Jack stopped the car and let Liddell drive. Shaunda had to move over in the back seat. Backtracking to SR 54 Jack told Liddell to turn right towards the heart of downtown Hutsonville. He gave Liddell the address and Liddell pulled it up on Jack’s cell phone.

  “What are you hoping for?” Shaunda asked.

  “Surveillance cameras, and homes where rich or elderly people might live,” Jack said.

  “I think I get the cameras but why rich and elderly?”

  “The rich are more likely to have alarm systems and cameras. The elderly may not have cameras but they have great memories and they see more than other people do. A strange car down a back road like the one we just took to the river for example. They also pay attention to the news, read the newspaper.”

  “See anything?” she asked.

  Jack turned to face her. “I didn’t see anything promising. Most likely the detectives canvassed all this and didn’t find anything either. There’s nothing in the reports that said they did or didn’t do a sweep.”

  Shaunda leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes.

  “Do we need to go back?” Jack asked her. “You’re hurting.”

  Shaunda took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m okay. Let’s see this house.”

  Liddell followed the GPS directions and after zigging and zagging down some side and back streets they pulled up in front of an old Victorian style home in a neighborhood of homes built only f
eet apart.

  Jack said, “I talked to Angelina and she had done a little more digging on Baker. He didn’t have much in the bank but he was within walking distance of the high school where he worked as a janitor. He was a substitute teacher at Union High School when you were there. Do you remember him?”

  “Do you remember all your teachers?” she asked.

  “He was part time until about six months before his body was found. There’s nothing on record of why he left the Hutsonville school. He was let go by Union High School for keeping a common nuisance at his home. Underage parties, drugs, drinking, exploring,” Jack said.

  “Exploring,” Shaunda repeated. “That’s a nice way of putting orgies and rape. He was probably up to the same garbage here. Guys like that don’t stop.”

  “Like Brandon?”

  “Brandon was a predator. He wouldn’t have stopped.”

  “Unless someone stops them,” Jack added.

  Shaunda faced the car window and remained silent.

  The house where Baker lived had kids in it now. There were toys all over the front yard. Two bicycles. One adult sized, one tiny with a pink basket and pink streamers coming from the handlebars.

  “Want to talk to the owners?” Liddell asked.

  “According to Angelina the family has only been here two years. It’s a rental.”

  “Next stop?” Liddell asked.

  “We have the address of the widow,” Jack said. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

  Liddell drove back to West Clover Drive which was on SR 54 and headed west into more farm country. Most of the fields were still being cultivated in readiness of the Spring planting, April and May for sweet corn and beans. Several structures that looked like Quonset huts covered in opaque plastic sheets were on tracts of land behind the farmhouses.