The hayride.
Maybe it was time to have an official talk with them.
She glanced at Joe—who was looking at Jackson. They were thinking the same thing—except it would have to be Detective Coley who talked to them. It wasn’t time yet to let their reason for being there become known.
Janice stood suddenly. “Excuse me. Nature calling.”
She headed for the bathroom but teetered, almost falling into Jillian.
Keri leapt up.
“We’ll help you.”
Jillian rose, too. “We’ll get you to a stall. You’re on your own in there.”
“Of course, I’m on my own. I’m not drunk—I’m over tired. I’m . . . you’re such a good kid, Jillian. You were always such a good kid.”
“I try,” Jillian said.
“Let’s get you there,” Keri told Janice.
They made their way down the hall. Keri could hear Steve talking to their waitress, ordering a cup of coffee for Janice.
Gordon suggested they make it a carafe of coffee.
Just before they entered the ladies’ room, she heard Lance say, “Wow. Guys. It’s Halloween, it’s been Halloween . . . I mean, we’re at least an hour into Halloween now. So, my friends, happy Halloween, happy friggin’ Halloween!”
They pushed into the bathroom.
She didn’t have to worry about Jillian asking Janice about her name change. Janice turned into Jillian’s arms, hugging her tightly.
“Jillian. Thank you, thank you. I mean, Steve knows, of course. Because Steve is Eddy, and you know that. I mean, how do you lie to people who knew you as a kid? But then, Steve had his own problems. His problems you could see. Your dad a principal, always wanting you to be perfect. He had to fight against that. Who the hell is perfect, who can live up to that? Me, I had no excuse. My folks . . . my folks were cool. I had no excuse.”
Jillian soothed her; Keri tried to do so, too.
“Janice, what happened, what are you talking about?” she asked softly.
“Jillian knows.”
“I know who you are, Janice. Francie,” she added softly. “I don’t know why.”
“When it was just pot it was all cool. I wasn’t addicted . . . I’d smoke maybe on weekends in college. But then I met this guy, and he had these pills . . .”
“Opioids?” Keri asked.
Janice shrugged. “I don’t know. We couldn’t get them anymore. I was with a super cool senior, and he was a bright guy, going to be a computer whiz like Steve Jobs, but . . .”
“It’s okay, Janice, go on,” Jillian said.
“Heroin,” Janice said flatly. “Heroin.”
“And something happened?”
“Yeah.”
Keri was afraid Janice was going to fall flat to the floor. She probably shouldn’t have been drinking; one addiction could cross to another.
Alcohol, however, was legal.
“One drink,” Janice said, as if she were thinking along the same thought pattern. “I was just going to have one drink. But I’m afraid. I’m always afraid. Not of a stupid hayride. No, wait—I was even afraid out there tonight. There are times when we’re all alone, far from each other. With those stupid motion-activated robot things, and sometimes they just go off by themselves. That doesn’t bother me. But tonight, I heard the leaves and the trees and . . . everything bothered me,” She paused, looking at the two of them. “It’s Halloween,” she said.
And it was almost as if she was issuing a death sentence.
“Janice, they’ve ordered you some coffee. You’re going to be okay. And if you’re really scared, you can just take the night off.”
“It’s my living. Now,” Janice said.
“It’s your life,” Keri said firmly. “But what happened . . . with the drugs?”
Janice winced painfully, looking at Jillian. “The guy I was with . . . we ran out of money. We tried to rob a store and we were high when we did it and . . .”
“And?” Jillian pursued.
“The cops came. But it was really too late. My guy . . . he died. And I was in jail, but there was a cop who thought I could help him, and I could. I knew the dude selling the hardcore stuff and I could arrange for what they wanted. They introduced me to a man who gave me a new life—and a new name.”
“You’re in a witness protection program?” Keri asked.
Janice nodded dolefully.
“Then Jillian appeared,” she said.
“It’s okay. I’ll never give you away, nor will my friends,” Jillian assured her.
Janice was sobbing heavily by then. Jillian took her into her arms.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jillian said.
“I can’t drink. I know I can’t drink. I was just scared.”
“It’s okay, we’re going to sober you up. And if you don’t want to work the hayride tomorrow night, you don’t have to,” Keri assured her.
“You can come and spend the night with me and Angus,” Jillian said.
Janice managed to laugh at that. “Hm, no, no, no. I’m not into a threesome thing.”
“Neither am I!” Jillian assured her. “We can watch television, get a movie, play cards or Monopoly.”
Janice seemed to be feeling better.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay, Janice. You’re okay,” Keri assured her. “They have coffee at the table for you now. We can go on out and get you sober enough so that we can get you home.”
“I don’t even feel safe at home,” Janice said. “I have great people who check in on me, but they’re not there all the time, and . . .”
“Angus has friends. In fact, he’s friends with that Detective Coley who is working at the park. We’ll see that someone watches over you. Unless you want to come with me,” Jillian said.
Janice suddenly managed to stand up straight.
“No. I’m going to work tomorrow night. I’m going to work it. I need to work, and have a nice, clean, sober life. And I’m going to do all the right things.”
“We’ll take it step by step,” Keri said. “Let’s go back.”
“Sure, except . . .” Janice said.
“What?” Keri asked her, aware that in her mind she was still waiting for a revelation from the woman.
She wasn’t going to get it.
“I, uh, I really do have to pee!” Janice said.
Chapter 11
Before they left Sam’s that night, Keri managed to make it look as if she were snuggling Joe; and in that snuggle, she told him about Janice.
It was easy enough to shoot off a message to Angela. It took Angela a bit to get back, but when she did, he knew the information “Janice” had given them was the truth.
Yes, she was in the witness protection program; her testimony had been crucial in putting a major drug dealer behind bars.
As they sat at the table, Joe did his best to survey the group. Gordon Bentley had worked in Massachusetts. He was honest about it.
“Steve Jenson” worked the haunted hayride. He had worked at the park in Massachusetts and admitted to it.
Rowdy was a question.
As were Lance and Marvin. Then, of course, there were those who weren’t with them here, those they barely knew and saw. Belinda—whom they hadn’t done a thorough search on—and Brian Mayfield.
And while they hadn’t seen Corey Templeton’s sister Brenda, she was working at the offices in New Orleans. They needed to speak with her. Now.
When they left Sam’s Shrimp Shack, Joe told Keri he thought they should get a few things and head into New Orleans. They’d go to Mel Jenkins’s offices in the city where Brenda was reported to work.
Since it was almost morning, none of them had any difficulty simply crashing in Jillian’s small apartment. Jackson took the daybed and gave Joe and Keri the pull-out sofa. Both Jillian and Special Agent McGee hemmed and hawed with embarrassment as they managed the sleeping arrangements, but Jackson ended that saying, “Dear Lord, please, just go to bed!�
��
They all went to bed—Jillian happily claiming she’d sleep like a kid with that much protection all around her.
Joe was glad she would sleep. He was haunted by the fact it was Halloween—and they were still far from knowing the truth.
They didn’t talk; they slept.
Which was good; they had from about 3:00 to 9:00 of solid rest. There was some confusion getting everyone showered and dressed since Jillian had only one bathroom, but they were all quick and efficient.
By 10:00 A.M., they were standing at the office door of Mel Jenkins Enterprises in the Central Business District of the city.
It was decorated. In fact, all New Orleans was decorated. New Orleans was a city that embraced the Halloween holiday. Even in the CBD, businesses were adorned with skeletons, pumpkins, scarecrows, witches and more were hung from doorframes and any available hook or overhang.
A secretary at a desk in front greeted them, telling them she was sorry, but Mel was out at his park in Ascension Parish.
“We’re not here to see Mel,” Jackson told her. “We’d like to speak with Brenda Templeton.”
The girl frowned as if worried, but as she did so, a young woman with dark, curly hair, attractive and slim, came walking out. “I need to get a few of these designs to Mel,” she told the secretary. “I—”
She stopped, looking at the group who were all looking at her.
“Brenda Templeton?” Joe asked.
“I—uh. Yes, I’m Brenda Templeton. How may I help you?”
“May we speak privately?” Jackson asked her.
“Uh, sure. Come back to my office.”
They followed her back. She sat behind her desk, indicating several chairs strewn about the room. “Lots of seating,” she said lightly, though she looked worried. “We do design consultation in here. It may be Halloween today but we’re always planning for what lies ahead.”
“Of course. Christmas,” Keri said, taking a seat.
Joe pulled up a chair and Jackson did the same.
“Brenda, we’re curious—and worried.”
Brenda let out a long sigh. “Massachusetts—four years ago. I wasn’t there when it happened. I was living out in Hollywood at the time.”
“You were an impressive actress,” Keri said.
“I was a B-movie scream queen, and I’m afraid we were a dime a dozen. But I did learn how much I love design. I’m sorry. Is there a reason I should be talking to you?” Brenda asked.
Jackson provided his credentials. He’d told them his identity didn’t matter now; they had come to the day when the killer would strike—and they would strike as well.
Take him down.
Or miss.
“FBI?” she said worriedly. “You think that . . . oh, my God. You think it could happen again? I know my brother had been at the park that night. Messed him up good, because he would have been there when it all happened if Jillian hadn’t made them all leave.”
“Did you know Francie Dumont?” Joe asked her.
Brenda looked away. “A, uh, friend of my brother and his other little friends. She was there with him that night.”
“And . . . we know she’s here now.”
Brenda looked down. “No one is supposed to know,” she said huskily.
“It’s all right; so, you do know her, and you keep her secret?” Keri asked.
Brenda nodded. “We don’t see each other. She’s a sweetheart. I think they thought they were moving her far from home—but other people move, too. Luckily, we’re all friends.”
“And what about Eddy Canton?” Joe asked her.
Brenda had been looking at Keri. She paled.
“Eddy?” she said softly.
“Eddy Canton. Working the haunted hayride as Steve Jenson,” Joe said.
Brenda leaned back, inhaling, exhaling.
“Yeah. Eddy and I were in the same grade at school. Man, he hated being the son of the principal. He couldn’t make a move his father liked.”
“I can see where that might have been hard,” Keri said. “But how did you all wind up here? I saw some of your movies—”
“I was one of dozens . . . probably hundreds of young women who were good at screaming,” Brenda said. “But I did fall in love with design, and Mel had run an ad . . . and I wound up here.” She hesitated a second. “I’ve only been to the park once. I wasn’t in Mass when the kids were killed, but I talked to Corey about it, I remembered the place, and the . . . the pigs.”
“And Steve?” Jackson persisted.
She let out a long sigh again. “Steve . . . he legally changed his name. He wasn’t selling drugs or anything like that. He’s a good guy. He became involved with a crazy girl. She insisted she was pregnant with his child.”
“And it wasn’t his child?”
“She wasn’t even pregnant,” Brenda said. “But she hounded him. He was out in California then—he wanted to be an actor. He got beat up the same way I did, but the girl was the final straw. He was at a call-back audition when she came in and went crazy and ruined any chance he’d ever have with a lot of important people. He got a restraining order, but . . . he was beat. He told me he was legally changing his name and doing it through channels so she couldn’t find him. I don’t know more than that. All of us know about each other. We’re living new lives, and we respect one another for it. I . . . I wish there was more I could give you. Steve . . . when he was Eddy, he absolutely loved being Hacksaw Harry. He still loves a haunted hayride. I don’t know more than that.”
“Do you know the girl’s name?” Joe asked.
“Uh . . . Amy. Amy Watkins. She lived in Glendale, California, when all this was going on.”
They all stood. “Oh, one more thing,” Joe said.
“Yes?”
“You know the make-up crew, or the main make-up guy and costume lady,” Joe said.
“Yes, what about them?”
“Did you know either of them before you came here?”
Brenda shook her head. “I do know that Brian Mayfield came with all kinds of recommendations and accolades. Same with Belinda Harrington—I think she costumed a few B and Victorian movies. I think Mel told me she’d won an Emmy.”
“Thank you,” Jackson told her.
Brenda rose as well. “You’re here. You’re scared something is going to happen out there.”
“We’re looking at everything,” Jackson said. “Thank you again for your time.”
They left the office. Outside, while people already laughing and in costume were moving down the street, they grouped together again.
“I’ll be out near opening. I’m going to reach Angela and check on everything Brenda told us. You two go on back out there. And be careful. I’ll send you a list of our agents. Check in with Detective Coley before you go to costuming,” Jackson said.
“Will do,” Joe promised solemnly.
He looked at Keri. This was it. Halloween. She nodded slightly, allowing him to see she understood his concern.
Jackson turned and left them, and they started walking back for their car.
Keri turned to Joe. “Halloween, Joe. Yes, damnit! We’re going to get the bastard.”
He smiled.
The place would be crawling with law enforcement. He couldn’t help but pray they were right; they had been right to keep the park open.
Because, obviously, the killer knew . . .
Knew he was being stalked in return.
***
It couldn’t have gone better. No way; this was perfect.
He managed to be where he should be. And when she walked in, it was early. She never stayed at the make-up/costume tent for more than a few minutes to check on others.
Because her costume was at the Murder House.
She smiled, of course, when she saw him.
“Want to walk out with me?” she asked him.
And he did. Because, as they said, the stage had been set. Belinda was there, humming as she hung up several garments. She didn’
t see them; she wasn’t paying attention. That was Belinda.
“Purgatory Puppy, I’d love to walk you!” he said.
And they walked. And walked, and she was such easy prey! He offered her water when they reached the Murder House. She took it, thanking him, saying the costume was hot.
Then she was his. A puppy in his arms. And it was early; so easy to slip away where he needed to keep her until . . .
Until his time came.
He was already feeling the rush. And the rush was magnificent!
Purgatory Puppy . . .
He found her phone; he took her costume. And he whistled and headed on back to work. He’d already seen her eyes, and he could dream about seeing them again, later.
Perfect, all so perfect. And later . . .
He’d take the man, Joe, and dispatch him quickly. He was a damned big dude, probably in great fighting shape, but that didn’t matter. And he’d choose another, of course, a fourth for the holiday. Wouldn’t much matter, either.
Because he had his dream victim for last. Keri. Those eyes . . .
He couldn’t wait to see those eyes as they looked into his . . .
And then, forever and ever after.
***
It was Halloween. Keri thought everyone was in the tent for costuming and make-up early, but then, it was Halloween.
And every ticket to the park had been sold for that night; they’d be at capacity.
Mel Jenkins arrived just minutes after they were all there; he wasn’t alone. He was with Brenda Templeton. She didn’t look happy.
“Hey, all, this is it, the big night. Be fun, be great—and be careful. Halloween, we all know, can bring out the drunks, the crazy frat boys—and the just plain old crazy crazies! Anything, anything at all, you band together and get out and find one of the cops or the agents working the place tonight, right? The cops are in uniform; the FBI are in black shirts and jeans. They’re just outside so they can see you and you can see them. Get ready, go meet the men and women looking out for us.”
“Mel, you think something bad is going to happen?” Marvin asked worriedly.
“Not if we’re all alert, wary, and ready to act. Come on, we’ve had drunk crazies before; we get to the cops. No act is worth someone getting hurt. So, if anything at all is suspicious, you get out there. There will be a cop and an agent at the entry to all three of our main scare attractions—the cemetery, the hayride, and the house. Okay, guys? Happy Halloween!”
Horror-Ween (Krewe of Hunters) Page 11