Killers Among

by S. E. Green

  “I’m different now,” he whimpers. “I did my time. You all aren’t allowed to do this.”

  He must think I’m a cop or something. Fine by me. I give him a sharp intimidating leer. “From the outside, you look normal, but you haven’t changed. You are who you are.”

  His bottom lip quivers. “My brain isn’t flawed. I can control my compulsions. My past is not a prologue for the future.”

  Sounds like he’s quoting something a counselor told him. I release my hold and stand up, taking his phone with me. “If I ever see you around again, I won’t stop with a couple of harmless pressure points.”

  “But my phone,” he blubbers.

  I smack him across the face with it, ignoring his yelp, and walk off. My brain isn’t flawed. I can control my compulsions. My past is not a prologue for the future.

  His words ring a little too true for me. Except I would never hurt a child. If I had the time, I’d follow this pedophile and get more information. Really teach him that lesson I threatened. But I have other things to deal with right now, like picking up Justin and looking further into this serial strangler thing.

  Plus, I do have Mr. Pedophile Oily Nose’s phone, which means I have his contacts and personal information. I can easily find him if I want to.

  15

  THAT NIGHT AFTER dinner I’m in my room scrolling my laptop, digging for information on the three strangled girls. They’re all between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, all petite, and all with long dark hair. There is no mention of the scarf detail and if it weren’t for Adam, I still wouldn’t know that fact. Ted Lowman was accused of doing girl number one, which is how he came to be on my radar. Now, though, I’m not so sure.

  That’s not to say he wasn’t guilty of something, just not murder. I’ve got two bodies now—Teddy and Scott. Teddy, the man who lived in his dead granny’s house and partied with a bunch of high school and college kids, and Scott, the guidance counselor with the knife.

  Teddy and Scott were connected on a deeper level than everyone else is seeing. I just have to figure out how. By now Teddy’s house has been turned inside out, and if anything suspicious was found, it wouldn’t be released yet because he’s still “at large” and the D.A. would be holding her cards close on that one.

  My phone rings and I check the display. The area code is here, but I don’t immediately recognize the number. “This is Lane,” I answer.

  “Hey, it’s Adam.”

  I don’t bother asking him how he got my number.

  “Can we meet?” He asks.

  “When?”

  “Now. I’m at my brother’s place.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “No.” Adam quickly rattles off the address to an apartment community, and I grab my keys and am gone.

  Scott Butler’s place. The man was twenty-six years old, and though Adam didn’t specify, I assume Scott lived alone. I wonder if his mom has gone to the apartment yet.

  I want to say no because when my mom died, it took months before Victor worked up the courage to clear her things out. For now, I bet the D.A. is keeping her distance from Scott’s place. This is probably the first time Adam has been there, and I’m more than curious to see what is there.

  16

  SCOTT BUTLER LIVES in an apartment complex in Loudoun County. I pull in and around back to building C, then head up the inside steps to number ten. Adam must be looking out the window for me because he opens the door as soon as my feet hit the landing.

  “Has your mom been here too?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

  Good, it’ll give me a chance to look around. I step inside and my gaze quickly touches on the key features—the flat screen television; the brown leather couch; the kitchen to the right with stainless steel appliances; and the open door straight ahead that leads into a bedroom.

  Other than magazines spread across the coffee table, it appears clean and organized.

  Without saying a word to me, Adam walks over to the cabinet below the T.V. and pushes the door. It swings open and he rolls out a drawer with neatly filed DVD movies. Curious, I move in and watch as he picks up one with a Hot Tub Time Machine cover. He opens it and shows me the silver DVD with the word Samantha printed in black sharpie.

  He does the same to Animal House, opening it and showing Brittanie printed on that one. Another, this one Old School, opens it to reveal Joanna printed on that one. On and on he goes, opening all of the movie cases and finding each with a silver DVD and a different printed girl’s name on it.

  No wonder he called me. “Have you watched any?” I ask.

  Adam shakes his head. “I can’t. I’m afraid of what I might find.”

  I nod. I get that. “Did you call your mom?” I hope not. I want this all to myself.

  “No.” He pushes to his feet. “I’m going to go for a walk. Will you watch a few and tell me what’s on them?”

  I try not to show how excited this makes me. “Of course.”

  With a nod, he steps around me, crosses the living room and without another word, leaves me alone.

  I pull a pair of gloves from my back pocket and slip them on, then I grab the one labeled Samantha and slide it into the DVD player. It takes me a second to get everything turned on and working, and onto the screen flashes a giggling girl who I assume must be Samantha. She’s naked, rolling around on the bed with an equally naked Scott. I take in the surroundings and surmise this was filmed at Teddy’s granny’s house. More giggling, more rolling around, then sex. I fast forward and that’s it. Sex.

  I take out Samantha and pop in Brittanie. But this one features Teddy, not Scott, and again was filmed at Granny’s home. I fast forward through all the sex, come to the end, and that’s it.

  I take Brittanie out and slide in Joanna. Again filmed at Granny’s, but this one features both Scott and Teddy doing a very willing and enthusiastic Joanna. I fast forward and other than a crotch shot I seriously can do without, there’s nothing here.

  I keep taking out and putting in new DVD’s and they are all the same. Scott, Teddy, young willing girls, and sex. Teddy and Scott may not have been guilty of murder but they were certainly guilty of sex with a minor. I would bet anything some of these girls are from the high school where Scott used to be a guidance counselor.

  The verdict is out on why Scott was at Teddy’s house that night I accidentally stabbed him, but I would guess it has something to do with these DVD’s. One of them probably threatened the other and they got in a stupid fight involving a knife. A fight I then interrupted.

  The apartment door slivers open. “Can I come back in?”

  I turn off the T.V. “Yes.”

  Adam hesitantly steps back inside and closes the door. “Well?”

  “Sex. Your brother, young girls, and Ted Lowman. That’s it.”

  It takes Adam a second to process that. “Please tell me they weren’t raping the girls.”

  “No.” I quickly assure him. “The girls were willing, and by the way they made eye contact with the camera, I’d say they also knew they were being filmed.”

  Closing his eyes, Adam blows out a relieved breath. “Guess that explains why Scott was at Ted Lowman’s house that night.”

  “Yes.”

  Adam notes the gloves I slipped on and smiles a little. “Good thinking.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to leave the sex tapes or dispose of them?”

  “Leave them. It’ll be interesting to see what Mom does with all that.”

  Yes, it will, and I don’t question Adam’s decision because clearly there are some family dynamics that he’s working through. I more than get that.

  Adam sits down on the edge of the couch. “Actually, I know her, and she won’t look for Ted Lowman after finding these videos. She’ll do everything she can to cover this up.”

  I have to say, Adam impresses me because I do believe he’s on to something. These sex tapes just might be our key to getting the D.A. off the missing Teddy case. “You’re a smart guy
, Adam.”

  He blushes a little, and something shifts inside of me, a sense of protectiveness that wasn’t there before, and I wonder if he ever hears praise. “I can tell you’re uneasy with compliments. It’s okay. We all want to be liked. It’s human nature.” Well, for everyone but me. I could care less if people like me.

  Adam’s face gets a little redder. “This, um, seems odd for you, talking to me like this. You always seem so cautious with your words, like your guard is up. I wish I had that trait.”

  It’s not a trait. It’s my nature. Yet somehow that guard he’s talking about has lowered a bit with him. I never take sides, but I’m finding myself on Adam’s side in all of this, and I’m not sure what to think about that. I like Adam, and whether I want to admit it or not, we are linked by a series of events. On some level, I do trust him.

  Or maybe I’m being foolish.

  He stands up. “Well, anyway, you’ve done a lot for me, and if I can ever repay the favor, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Okay,” I say, immediately taking him up on that. “I want to know about the three strangled girls. I want to know everything you can get me on the cases.”

  Adam surprises me when he doesn’t hesitate either. “Done.”

  I open the door to leave, a slight smile on my face until he says, “Actually…no. These sex tapes are not how Mom should remember Scott, and I should be ashamed for thinking that way.”

  Slowly, I turn, my smile sliding away. Not only is Adam too good, but he also doesn’t realize what he’s saying. The sex videos are the key to getting the D.A. off our trail.

  Adam starts taking the DVD’s out of the entertainment center, and I know I need to move fast. I step forward. “Why don’t you let me take care of those?”

  He glances up, and behind his glasses relief flashes through his light brown eyes. “Really?”

  I nod, ignoring the guilt that flares through me. “Really.”

  17

  WITH SCOTT’S SEX-CAPADES in a box in the back of my Jeep, I pull up outside the house where I’m supposed to pick up Daisy. She has her driver’s license now, but no wheels, and where I used to mind the whole chauffeur thing, it’s not so bad anymore.

  She’s standing with a group of her girlfriends, laughing and talking. I study her for a few seconds and something seems off. This isn’t the Daisy I saw earlier. Where this morning her demeanor was relaxed and approachable, now it comes across haughty and very “mean girl”.

  She catches sight of me then, leans in to say something to her friends, to which they all snort and giggle, then trots across the yard toward me. Opening the passenger door, she climbs in and drops her purse in the floorboard. Then she shuts her door and clicks on her seatbelt.

  I put the Jeep in gear and pull away. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Back there. That wasn’t you.” It was the person that she used to be but not the person she is now.

  Leaning over, she grabs a chapstick from her purse and slicks it across her lips. “I’m role-playing.”

  Role-playing? What the hell does that mean?

  “It’s just easier,” she says, “then showing them the real me.”

  Holy shit. That hits way too close for comfort. “I get that,” I carefully say, wanting to know how long exactly she’s been doing that. “And who is the real you?”

  She shrugs. “Who knows?”

  After Mom died, I found a box that I’m positive she never intended me to uncover. Inside were gruesome pictures of her and my birth father cutting people up. Aunt Marji was in some of them, too. As disturbing as it was to find those, what I uncovered at the bottom sent me into a tailspin.

  I found an envelope from a lab with evidence that Daisy was their child too. She is not Victor’s daughter and my half-sister, as I always thought. She is, in fact, my real sister.

  When I found this out, I promised myself I would be there for her. I would watch. I would listen. I would guide her to a more positive path. But at this moment, I don’t know what to say. She sounds just like me when I was her age.

  So I do the only thing I can, I remind her of what I’ve said before. “Always remember you can talk to me about anything. No judgment. And no matter how odd or strange your thoughts, I’m always here for you. I promise you that.”

  But Daisy doesn’t answer, doesn’t even nod, and instead turns to look out the passenger window. I glance at her pretty profile and at her blonde hair blowing with the night breeze. She really does look most like Mom. Sometimes it’s hard to look at Daisy and not immediately think of our mother.

  Something is definitely going on in Daisy’s head. I can keep reassuring her and encouraging her to talk, but I highly doubt she will. It’s going to take me opening up about my own darkness to give her the freedom to do the same.

  I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.

  Big sister, loving daughter, friend to Adam, works at an animal clinic… These all sound so normal and upstanding. So harmless and much better than the girl who keeps to herself and only plays with Corn Chip. Yes, these all sound so real and loving, but do I genuinely feel them? Have I spent my entire life role-playing and I don’t even realize it?

  Maybe I should take my cue from Daisy and really throw myself into the various roles, and even expand on them. Maybe I should throw “girlfriend to Tommy” into the mix, though I’ll have to think on that one for sure.

  18

  “IT’S ANOTHER WORTHLESS tip,” District Attorney Butler tells my stepdad, her voice coming through the speaker on his cell. “But I’ll chase every single one of them until I find Scott’s killer.”

  “What can I do?” Victor asks, moving to shut the office door and muting their conversation.

  I stand in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for our dinner salad and, of course, eavesdropping. Another worthless tip. Thanks to me. I called in an anonymous tip that Ted Lowman had been sighted down in Richmond. I have a theory that if I keep Butler and her team running in circles, then they won’t have time to make any real connections.

  In my Jeep still sits the box of sex movies that will most definitely divert her attention, but I’m trying to be a good friend to Adam. Turning over a new leaf and all. Yet I’m so good at inciting. It’s my strong point.

  The D.A., though, she’s obsessed. As I would be if someone had killed Victor or Daisy or Justin. So I get it. I do. She’s not going to stop looking until she finds a viable reason to put this thing to bed.

  Adam’s words come back to me—let’s just tell her—and I briefly entertain that idea. Grief has hit the D.A. hard and she wants justice. Would she really accept the fact Adam killed Ted Lowman? Would she consider it justice and put the topic to rest, or would she consider it a criminal act and go after her own son?

  I don’t know. It’s a big secret to keep and Adam is right there living with her, day in and day out. If he cracks, we’re both going down. I have to make sure he doesn’t break under pressure. I have to make sure he keeps stable. Let the D.A. be the troubled one.

  Adam needs to know this is my burden, too. He’s not alone. Whatever decision is made should come from both of us. Frankly, he needs to know and realize I’m uncomfortable. That I may seem like the level-headed one, but I’m not.

  Adam thinks this will all die down. Not a chance. None of this is going away. The D.A. is like a dog with a meaty bone. Adam needs some new perspective, some reassurance, and perhaps to be reminded that his kill was done with intent. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

  Role-playing. Yes, it’s time for me to be a bit more dramatic with Adam. Not so even-keeled. Let him be the one to see reason.

  Daisy laughs, bringing me from my thoughts, and I glance through the kitchen and into the living room where she and Hammond are snuggling on the couch. Is she role-playing or is that true love? I try to imagine me and Tommy there, snuggling, laughing. The scene filters through my thoughts, not entirely uncomfortable.

  Hm, interesti
ng.

  Maybe role-playing falls more into two categories: character actors and leads. Leads would be exhausting, I think, with all those emotions. Yes, there’s something to be said for being the character actor. Between Daisy and me, she’s the lead for sure. I wonder if all that emotion exhausts her.

  But if she can be that convincing, surely I can too.

  Victor comes from the office and into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and grabbing bottled water. He uncaps it and takes a swig before crossing over to the counter and peeking over my shoulder. “Radishes?”

  I shrug. “Thought I’d try something new.”

  He snatches a cherry tomato and pops it into his mouth.

  “Dad?”

  “Hm?”

  I nod into the living room and to Daisy and Hammond. “How do you know when you’re in love?”

  He doesn’t immediately answer, which means he’s either thinking, or he’s never been in love and doesn’t know how to answer. Either way, I glance his way to see him watching my sister and her boyfriend, too.

  He swallows his cherry tomato. “Something inside of you recognizes the other. It’s when you don’t feel alone anymore in the world. Like your life is no longer an unanswered question. You feel real.”

  Huh. I think back through the years and to all the people I’ve met, and the only ones I’ve “recognized” or felt a connection to were the ones hiding something. I’m not sure what to think about that.

  “Do you feel alone now that Mom’s gone?” I hope not. Victor is one of my favorite people. I only want everything good and right for him.

  He slings his arm over my shoulders. “With you three kids, I’m good.”

  I give him a little smile, but I want more for him. I want him to have someone great. I don’t want Mom to be the “love of his life”. He deserves better.

  He says, “Also, and this is probably the information I’ll give Justin one day, women lead with their hearts. It’s a good thing to remember during the wooing stage.”