There Was a Crooked Man: A Psychological Thriller

by Katrina Morgan

  Katie rushed on with more of an explanation, “All our finances were in my husband’s name. They tell me it has to do with no credit, no job, no utilities, or loans in my name, for our entire marriage.” She shook her head sadly. “Stupid of me. I just didn’t know.”

  “Not stupid,” Don consoled, “Naïve maybe, but not stupid. On the plus side, you’re not delinquent on loans, you haven’t racked up debt, and you’re not wanted by the police. I guess we’re gonna have to trust each other, aren’t we?”

  Overcome, Katie offered her thanks, “That means a lot. Can I rent the cabin one more night?”

  “No need. Maggie’s already at the apartment, cleaning as though the hounds of hell are after her. Give her a couple of hours, and the place is yours.” He checked his watch. “Say six?”

  After the two of them completed the paperwork, Don handed her two keys. “This gold key opens the back door to the store. Keep it locked, or Skinny Tom will have our butts. This one,” he held up a small silver key, “is to your apartment.”

  Katie took the keys and burst into tears.

  Don stood and patted her on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I know you’re scared.”

  Katie sniffed, “I’m not scared. I’m happy!”

  “Aw hell,” Don pulled her up and gave her a hug, “Welcome to Bluff Creek.”

  Chapter 49

  Jack called the police department on Thursday morning, asking for Darrow. He was forwarded to a voicemail and wasted no time in getting to the point, “I’m calling about the report for Kathryn Werner. It’s been four days.”

  Unable to stall anymore, Darrow called Jack late Thursday afternoon, “The report is ready if you want to pick up a copy.”

  Jack left work early and rushed to the precinct and was ushered into Darrow’s small, windowless office. Darrow was on the phone, distracted and harried, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he mouthed to Jack, indicating he should have a seat.

  Jack flopped down in a hard chair, flipping his phone back and forth between his hands.

  Darrow finished his call and focused on Jack. “Sorry about that. You’re here earlier than I expected. As we explained, all we can share with you right now is the summary” He shuffled folders on his desk, and opened what was obviously a case file. He pulled out the top three sheets.

  Jack saw other papers were underneath, including hand-written notes, post-it notes, and several paperclips holding pages together. Gesturing toward the folder, Jack asked, “So, what’s the difference between what I’m getting today and what’s in there?”

  Darrow rolled his head on his shoulder, tired of the day, tired of Jack. But he remained professional and explained, “This is more detailed,” he turned a few pages of the file, and Jack glimpsed what looked like a photo. “everything said in interviews, downloads, warrants, stuff you don’t need right now. It needs to be reviewed for accuracy. The main information,” he held out the top pages, “ is what you’re looking for—a synopsis of the investigation.”

  Jack reached for the papers, but Darrow pulled back. “These are the originals. Like I said, you’re here earlier than I expected. I need to make copies.” He walked to his door, looking for an assistant. Seeing empty desks, Darrow sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Darrow left, Jack sprang into action, opening his phone’s camera app and snapping a picture of the real report’s first page, turning quickly to the first post-it notes, and the page where he’d seen a photo. Jack was done in less than ten seconds and sat back down, pushing the phone into his pocket before Darrow returned.

  “Here ya go,” Darrow said as he re-entered the office. “I just need you to sign a release form, and we’re good to go.”

  Two minutes later, Jack ran out with the manilla envelope clenched in his fingers.

  Once at home, he settled himself in his den with a bottle of whiskey and his new Marlboro habit. Reading the summary, Jack concluded it was more a timeline, chronicling details in succinct order: His first verbal report listing Katie as missing on Friday night, the car verified at the medical center, searching their house, the doctor’s offices, and finding her phone and wallet in the dumpster.

  Jack flipped through pages quickly, already well aware of how much time had passed and what happened when.

  A list of witnesses was next, and he scanned names, seeing only a few unfamiliar names: the Motel 6 clerk, the cab driver, and the neighbors from Hidden Lake Court. No new names, no men, nothing. “Fuck.”

  He poured another drink, and opened his photo gallery on his phone, scanning the pictures he’d managed to snap. Expanding the image, he read about the bank account and zoomed in on a post-it note, which read, “$5254.00 withdrawal”—something Darrow and Hopkins had failed to mention. “You had five-thousand dollars? Little bitch. Keeping secrets and making plans.”

  The next page, in his photo gallery, referenced a camera #3217 outside a Chevron station, in Middleburg. A woman resembling Kathryn Werner in body style, and overall appearance boarded a city bus, unescorted, and uncoerced, the report said. Could not identify as 100%.

  “Bus? What fucking bus?” Jack’s hand shook as he shuffled papers in the file, looking for the bus number. That particular detail was missing

  The last picture on his phone was a surveillance photo. Grainy, and black and white, Jack enhanced it and could see Katie with darker hair, glasses, and wearing some kind of cheap-ass t-shirt. Jack screamed, “I will find you, Katie.”

  Needing to release the black rage building inside him, Jack called Vicki. She happily agreed to meet again and met Jack at her door wearing a black thong and seamless plunge bra. She’d slathered on oil, and Jack caught the scent of coconut.

  Primal lust pumped through his veins, and he kicked the door shut. He had Vicki stripped and on the foyer floor before she knew what had happened. Enjoying his energy and need, Vicki gave as good as she got, not caring that Jack bit her shoulder or left finger marks on her hips. It was a hell of a ride. Afterward, she lay on the foyer rug, stretching like a contented cat.

  Jack was enjoying the aftermath, too, until Vicki opened her mouth. “That was fantastic. With Katie gone, maybe we can do this at your house next time. I’d love to get naked on the widow’s walk.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes, seeing Vicki as an opportunist. Rolling to his feet, Jack got dressed without saying a word.

  Vicki sat up, watching him. “You leaving already?”

  In answer, Jack walked out the door, pulling it closed with a definite click.

  “What a dick!” Vicki grabbed her clothes and headed to the shower, humiliated, and thinking she didn’t know Jack at all.

  Katie pulled her truck up behind the now-closed General Store. Opening the door to the apartment, she was greeted by a bouquet of fresh flowers on the counter. Katie read the note. “Welcome to your new home! ~Don and Maggie.”

  Katie wandered the rooms, noticing there was no overhead lighting in the living room or bedrooms—something she’d missed in the light of day. She frowned, unwilling to be in the apartment at night, in the dark. The uncovered widows made her feel vulnerable and naked, too. She peeked down on Main Street, looking for Jack. What if he shows up here? She eyed the only door to her apartment and shivered.

  She went to her bedroom, shoved open a window, and stuck her head out. Seeing a small parking lot and the alley behind the store, Katie gauged the drop. “I need one of those fire ladders.”

  The idea satisfied her, and she hauled her suitcases and bags up the stairs. She didn’t have much; some clothes, personal items, a few household articles, and the groceries she’d bought earlier. She couldn’t even put away her clothes because she had no drawers or hangers. She grabbed her keys and headed back toward the highway. If Bluff Creek is going to be home, it’s time I decorate it to my liking.

  Katie pulled into the twenty-four-hour Walmart, ready to knock out her list. She found the safety ladder first; not even caring that it cost almost thirty-five dollars. She plo
pped it in the cart and, on a whim, grabbed a small tool kit.

  Because she couldn’t afford a real bed, she opted to buy a blow-up mattress. She agonized over two: one had a softer cover for fifty-one dollars, and the other was more basic for forty-four dollars. Deciding to save her pennies, she chose the lesser of the two. “I’ll make up for it with bedding,” she said aloud, not caring who heard.

  After choosing a comforter/sheet set and one more pillow, to go with the one she already had, she moved toward the furniture section. Considering the build-it-yourself night tables, she decided she’d done enough work at the house on Forsyth Park to be able to put one together with a fair degree of confidence. She then changed her mind. I can’t be buying furniture.

  Walking away, she consulted her list, “What’s next?” Hangers. I need hangers. She spun toward the correct aisle.

  She splurged on two lamps: a multi-faceted glass lamp for the living room, and a more basic one for her bedroom. She ran off to get light bulbs before she forgot. Looking at a canvas print of wildflowers, she nearly talked herself out of that as well, but gave in at the last minute. I don’t want bare walls. It’ll feel like a prison.

  Two hardcover books went into the overflowing cart. They were on clearance, which made them impossible to resist.

  A second cart was necessary as she loaded up with essential dinnerware, glasses, utensils, silverware and a few pieces of cookware. “And I need a coffee maker,” she reminded herself.

  The rest of the money she was willing to part with went toward paper products and enough cheap food to last two weeks—easy meals and things she could stretch like spaghetti, soups, peanut butter, and eggs. No way can I afford to eat out.

  It took a long time to tally up the two carts, and despite buying everything on clearance, the bill totaled $399.81. She cringed, mentally adding up money. I’ve got to live, eat, she consoled.

  Driving back to the old section of town, Katie was surprised to see all the streets dark. It’s not even ten-thirty. She shook her head at the idea but was comforted to see soft lights spilling out of the windows of homes instead.

  That changed when she pulled in behind the General Store. Here, one meager spotlight illuminated the door. She shut off the truck, peering into the shadow, and breathing hard.

  Backing as close to the door as she could without ramming the building, she propped the storeroom door open, flinging her bags and boxes inside as fast as possible. Sweating and nervous, she locked her truck and slammed the storeroom door closed. “No way am I going back out there tonight.”

  Supply boxes for the store were stacked high, and the single lightbulb cast shadows in all the corners. The freezer motor let out a long whine, and Katie ran up several stairs before she came to her senses. Easing her way back down, she re-checked the door.

  She braved the steps, unlocked the apartment, and turned on all the lights. She made herself look in every closet, and even yanked the shower curtain back. Convinced she was alone, she carted items to the apartment. After several trips, a three-foot pile of bags was stacked in the living room.

  “First things first.” Katie dug through the pile until she found the ladder. She carried it to the bedroom, reading instructions as she went. “Clamp steel handles to the window ledge.” Katie fiddled with them until they felt secure. “Unfurl ladder with safety stabilizers against the wall.” Katie let the fourteen-foot ladder loose, watching it open like a Slinky.

  She leaned out the window, looking for anyone lurking. “I said I wasn’t going out there, but I need to know I can do this.” She took a deep breath and kept reading the instructions, “Test ladder for support.” Katie pulled on the clamps one more time and clutching the ledge, she backed out the window. Her legs shook, but she made herself stand on the rungs, even bouncing once. When the ladder held, she climbed to the bottom, counting the seconds. “Five seconds down.” She ran to the alley, still counting. Allowing a few seconds to get inside the truck and start the engine, Katie announced, “I should be able to drive away in about twenty seconds.”

  She rushed back to the ladder and hauled herself inside, disgusted she hadn’t brought her keys. Tugging the ladder behind her, she left it directly below the unlocked window, ready to be unfolded at a moment's notice.

  Needing noise interaction, anything to drive the fear away, she located the radio from an earlier shopping trip and found a classic rock station. Music blared as she tore into the rest of her bags, eager to see her purchases again.

  After putting away the food, Katie hung up her clothes, counting just seven items, minus what she was wearing. She thought about the closet full of clothes back in Savannah, but then remembered Jack had purchased them. She nodded at her few pieces of clothing, “Good enough for now.” Socks and underwear were folded into piles on the closet floor.

  Thinking about what she would do if she had to run, Katie packed a change of clothes and a few makeup items in the carry-on suitcase, she placed it by the door.

  “I’ll put that in my truck tomorrow.” I should set aside some cash, too, she told herself, overwhelmed by having to have a plan A, B, and C for everything right now.

  Plugging in the mattress pump, she watched her double-sized bed get bigger. Bon Jovi sang, “It’s My Life,” and Katie joined them, belting out the chorus as she hung the landscape print, and made up the bed. As the last pillow was tossed artfully onto the comforter, Katie admired the results, “This is perfect.”

  It was past midnight, but she didn’t care. She piled her new dishes in the sink, ready to wash them, but when she turned on the faucet, water sprayed in all directions. “Yipe!”

  It was too late to call Mr. Connelly, so she headed for a shower. As she stepped under the water, she remembered she hadn’t purchased any towels. “Well, that’s just great.” Katie dabbed at her wet skin with the sweater she’d worn all day. She mentally created another shopping list. Her eyes began to blur, and she dragged herself to bed.

  She’d overfilled the mattress and kept rolling toward the edge, but eventually fell asleep. She dreamed of falling through empty, black space. As she was about to hit the ground, Jack appeared, arms open, ready to catch her.

  Chapter 50

  Katie was up before eight and wanting a cup of coffee badly. Unfortunately, it was another item she’d forgotten to buy. Great. A coffee maker, filters, a mug, but no coffee!

  A fist pounded on her door, and Katie pivoted, ready to run for the bedroom ladder.

  “Are you in there, Annie?”

  Hearing Skinny Tom’s voice, Katie opened the door. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  Tom stepped back, and his face flushed. “Your truck’s practically parked in the back room.” He shuffled his feet. “I got nervous.”

  She opened the door wider to allow him inside. “Sorry. I got home late last night. The store was dark, my apartment was dark, and I kinda freaked out. It won’t happen again.”

  “Bluff Creek’s safe. Quit worrying.”

  Katie said nothing. Tom understood her too well.

  Seeing a multi-colored lamp, and some of her personal items in the living room, Tom commented, “The place is looking good. Do ya need anything?”

  “Coffee! If I can have a cup of coffee, I’ll bake you something.”

  Tom pretended to consider the offer. “Cookies? I get cookies if I give you coffee?”

  “Anything!”

  “Well, come on, then.”

  Tom and Katie stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the store coffee machine to warm. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” Tom said to break the silence.

  “Me too.” Katie fidgeted from foot to foot, willing the coffee to hurry up and get done.

  “Ya need help moving stuff inside?”

  “I hauled it all in last night.”

  Tom handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “Keep that back door locked, ya hear?”

  Katie held her cup up in salute. “Yes, sir!” She spun towards the storeroom. “See ya later!”
>
  Tom shook his head. “That woman’s gonna take some getting’ used to.”

  Katie left a message for Don about the sink and killed time fussing with her books and adjusting the few items she owned.

  On Friday morning, Jack’s boss, Barry, called Jack into his office and closed the door. “Jack, I know you’ve had a hell of a week, but I need to talk to you about the audit.”

  Jack’s eyebrows lifted, and he tilted his head, waiting.

  “After two months, the team’s finally winding down.” Barry ran a hand through his gray hair and took a deep breath before continuing, “The auditors have a list of questions concerning your department, zoning permits, and construction bids.”

  “What are you saying? Am I under investigation?”

  “No. They need to tidy up a few loose ends and get more detail. I’ve set the conference room up for later this afternoon.”

  Jack had no choice in the mater and left Barry’s office, forcing himself to remain calm.

  Another knock on her door, had Katie checking the clock. It was 9:30 a.m., and she opened her door, expecting Don. She was shocked to see the guy who’d smashed her behind the door in the General Store. Panic set in. “What are you doing here?” she demanded and instinctively took a step backward.

  Recognizing her face, Nick’s neck turned red, but he recovered quickly. “You called about the sink leaking.”

  “I called Don. Why are you here?”

  “Ahhh. I see you haven’t been clued in yet. I’m Nick Connelly. Maggie and Don are my parents, and I come with the rental end of things.”

  Flustered, Katie gestured him inside.

  What the hell happened to this girl? Nick wondered.

  “Well, I’ll, uh, let you get to it.” Katie went to the bedroom and closed the door.

  A half-hour later, Nick had fixed the faucet. “It’s good as new,” Nick called out. Taking in the few dishes, and the lack of anything on the counter, he asked. “Do you need anything else?”