Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  “When?” Quinn asked him.

  “A week ago Saturday, I think,” he said.

  “You were scoring some dope?” Quinn asked.

  “Shut up!” Dee said fiercely, looking at the door. “These walls aren't exactly soundproof.”

  “Sorry,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah,” Dee muttered. “We were out there, doing business, when we heard something coming. We couldn’t tell what it was at first.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Out along Gallows Road near…” Dee said, looking irritated by the interruption.

  “A good place to stay out of the way,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Dee replied. “We thought maybe it was a cop, or something. We didn't know what to think. Then I figured it out—it was a guy on a horse. You could hear the sound all around you, man. It sounded like it was hell bent for leather.”

  “A horse?” Quinn asked and felt his throat constrict. Almost immediately, his palms started to sweat. Dee didn’t notice.

  “It was a horse all right,” Dee said. “You could see him coming down the road, riding like the wind.”

  “Could you see who it was?” Quinn asked.

  “Are you kidding, man?” Dee asked. “It was the dead of night—and you see some crazy fucker riding straight at you. How likely is it you’re going to get an ID?”

  “What was he dressed like?”

  “Dressed like?” Dee asked, his face knotted up in frustration. “You aren’t getting it.”

  “Getting what?”

  “Let me finish my goddamn story and you will,” he replied. “It was like nothing I’ve ever seen, man. The rider had this huge cape and the horse looked… demonic, you know? I could see his red eyes staring right at me. I thought for sure I was going to lose my head.”

  “You panicked?” Quinn asked, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

  “No, I mean it literally,” Dee replied, looking straight at Quinn. “This dude had no head. He was dressed like the Headless Horseman. You know, the one in that movie?”

  Quinn felt like he had been punched in the gut. His throat closed in and he had trouble pulling in oxygen. He nodded only briefly as Dee continued.

  “He just ran right past me, but I thought I was a goner,” Dee said. “I was seriously toast.”

  “Jacob?” Quinn croaked.

  “Jacob was fine,” Dee replied. “But I think the guy may have tried to take a swipe at him. He was so close, it looked like he ran through him. Jacob shit himself, I know that. But he didn’t lose his head.”

  Dee stopped and looked at Quinn strangely.

  “You feel okay, man?” he asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  “I’m fine,” Quinn managed, still feeling like his head was spinning. “What did you guys do?”

  “Do?” Dee asked. “Jesus, man, what do you think we did? We ran like hell after he left.”

  “So you didn’t see where he went?”

  “We didn’t exactly stick around to find out what the hell was going on.”

  “Then what makes you think this horseman killed anyone?”

  “What makes me think it?” Dee asked. “Christ, man, I thought you were smart. You asked all those questions when you wanted to do your dope story, made the school look bad. You seemed pretty crafty. Where is your head now? Stuck under a rock? When a dude dresses up like the fucking Headless Horseman and then somebody dies with their head no longer attached to their body, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, you know?”

  Quinn still felt short of breath.

  “But maybe it was the husband…”

  “Maybe, if he liked to get all dressed up,” Dee shot back. “You telling me there is some killer out there as well as some motherfucker dressing up like a ghost? Because I’m not sure what bothers me more. The idea that some son-of-a-bitch is out there taking people’s heads off, or the fact that he is just one of two psychos in the area. It’s the same guy, man. It has to be.”

  “Why haven’t you gone to the police?” Quinn asked.

  “Oh, well, I’ll just go fucking do that, won’t I? ’Hey, Sheriff Brown, you know when I was buying drugs from your son, he and I just happened to see some whacked out motherfucker dressed up like a guy from that Johnny Depp movie?’ I’m sure they would give me a fucking medal for that, don’t you think?”

  “I see your point,” Quinn replied, reaching in his head for something intelligent to say. But all the knowledge had been sucked out somehow. One line kept repeating itself: The dream is real. The dream is real. You thought you heard him the other morning. You were right. He’s real. The Headless Horseman is real.

  “Jacob hasn’t talked about it, man,” Dee said. “I wasn’t going to mention it again, but after the murder… I tried to get him to speak up, maybe say something to his Dad. But he…”

  “Jacob’s a shit,” Quinn said. “He doesn’t give a damn about anybody but himself.”

  “Amen,” Dee said.

  “I should have printed his name when I had the chance,” Quinn said to himself.

  “You did that, you wouldn’t be in this county anymore. They would have run you out. You were cool, man. You had to play it cool. You know I appreciate that. My guys did too. If our names had been in the paper… Anyway, you have to pull your head out of your ass on this one. Because there is some serious freaky shit going down.”

  “More than you know, Dee. More than you know.”

  “Seriously, you look like you need a doctor,” Dee said.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Look, I don’t want Jacob to know nothing about this,” Dee said. “But I felt like I had to tell somebody.”

  “Thank you, Dee,” Quinn replied. “I really appreciate it. I do.”

  “Do you?” Dee asked. “You look more sick than excited.”

  “Let’s just say you caught me off guard,” Quinn replied.

  “But you believe me, right?” Dee asked.

  “I believe you, Dee. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

  “Good,” he said. “Look, I’ve got to split. I’m done with this, okay? I told you, my conscience is clear. So don’t have no cops show up and ask me about it, okay?”

  “It’s off the record, don’t worry,” Quinn said.

  “Alright man,” Dee said and shook his hand. Two seconds later, he was out the door.

  Quinn sat down in one of the chairs. He needed to think. Someone had actually seen the Horseman. He couldn’t believe it. Although Dee was a pot smoker, he wasn’t a liar and wasn’t inclined toward making stuff up. During the whole weed story, he had been one of the few reliable sources of information.

  Quinn put his head in his hands and stared at the desk. So it was real. The dreams had been forecasting something, just as he feared. A voice from the darker part of his mind piped in: What did you think was going to happen? Did you honestly believe it was going to go away? That it was all in your head?

  He hadn’t, Quinn realized. He had felt this sense of dread all month and it had been increasing every day. When he heard about the murder, it only confirmed what he had seen coming all along. Hadn’t he slipped up and said something about the Horseman to Gary when he called? But he hadn’t connected the Horseman with the killing. Maybe it was that serial killer or maybe someone who knew the woman. But he hadn’t thought of it. It was just a dream. But what if it wasn’t? Quinn kept wondering what he was going to do.

  The Headless Horseman was riding in Loudoun. His nightmare was real.

  Kate came back to her desk, sat down and sighed. She loved being a reporter, but she wondered how she was going to turn that particular business story into a good profile. It bored her, it bored Josh in photography. She had to face it—it was just boring.

  She looked around the room for Quinn to commiserate with, but only Alexis and Helen appeared to be there.

  With a start, she realized that her voice message light on the phone was blinking. She had not noticed.r />
  She picked up the phone and dialed in. The voice on the other end surprised her.

  “Trina, this is Sue Redacker,” the woman said and Kate bristled at the sound of her old nickname. “Johnny needs to talk to you. He said as urgently as possible. But he was a little worried to leave a message himself.”

  Mrs. Redacker named a time and place and Kate started to worry.

  Since she had pressed Johnny Redacker for information, she had begun to wonder more about him. At first she had trusted his intel about the Kilgore murder, but the more she thought about it, it felt wrong. He had so many details about the case—almost as if he had been waiting for someone to ask.

  One hour later, she pulled up in Quarry Park near Ashburn Village. Clearly he had picked the spot because it was remote—very few people came here because it was off the beaten track.

  Johnny was waiting in his car when she pulled up.

  He got out and they shook hands formally. This was the first time they had actually seen each other in years and he seemed to be appraising her.

  “Your father told me you had turned into a beautiful woman, but I thought he was just giving the usual Dad-is-so-proud speech,” Redacker said after a minute.

  “Dad has been known to exaggerate,” Kate said.

  “Well, not about that,” Redacker replied.

  “Thank you. So, what’s up? I assume this is not a social call.”

  Redacker shook his head.

  “Look, you have to understand that I thought I was telling you the truth,” he said.

  “About Mary Kilgore?”

  “Yeah,” Redacker said. “I would never have deliberately lied to you, but...”

  His voice trailed off. Kate looked over the park area, which felt bare. It was just a field and a few benches.

  “But what?” she said.

  “Look, they were quite clear,” he said. “Brown called the guys in and told us what had happened—about Don Kilgore and the marriage troubles. How the arrest was going to take place. He said there would be rumors floating around, that maybe it was something else...”

  “Someone like Lord Halloween,” Kate said.

  “He didn’t say that exactly, but that was the gist,” Redacker said and glanced around nervously. “He said we should tell anyone—anyone—who asked all about Don Kilgore. He said he didn’t care if that got out, but he didn't want any false rumors going around.”

  “And you weren’t suspicious?”

  “Of course I was,” Redacker said. “I’m no rookie. It’s just—he was so adamant. Said he wanted to keep everyone in the loop. I knew something was wrong with it, but I never thought…”

  “You never thought he would lie?” Kate asked. “Come on…”

  “I know, I know,” Redacker said and sat down at one of the benches. “I know it seems stupid. But it isn’t like it used to be in the old days. And when you called…”

  “You didn’t know if you could trust me?” Kate asked.

  “Maybe that was it,” he said and shook his head. “It just caught me off guard. And I didn’t know what to say. All I had was a vague feeling of unease. I didn’t know anything specific.”

  “And now you do?”

  “There is no case against Donald Kilgore,” he said. “Brown must have known it. The marriage problems were real enough, but the guy was half-way across town with another woman at the time of his wife’s death.”

  “And you know that?”

  “Not officially,” he said. “But there is no way the case against Kilgore will stand up in court. Some of the stuff we gave your reporter, it wasn’t… It wasn’t for real. I’m pretty sure Stu made some of it up.”

  “Jesus,” she said. “That could get him fired. False arrest, falsifying documents…”

  Redacker waved his hands in the air.

  “Do you think that matters?” he said. “You’ll never nail him down. Who gave the reporter the documents? Would he turn his source in? Stu isn’t a brilliant guy, but he is far from stupid. If you try and come after him, you won’t get far.”

  “Why the deception?”

  “I think you know.”

  “I need you to tell me,” Kate said. “This isn’t something to just assume.”

  “We don’t know anything for certain,” he said.

  “Just tell me what you do know,” she said.

  “Mary Kilgore? Let’s just say she didn’t seem like she was murdered in the heat of passion.”

  “Give me details,” she said.

  “Look, I don’t think…”

  “Details,” Kate said.

  Redacker put his hands up.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said.

  “Consider me warned.”

  “She was killed slowly,” he said and looked away from her. “Whoever did it had at least basic medical training and knew how to cut someone without killing them. The doctor couldn’t be positive, but all indications are that he started cutting while she was still alive and conscious.”

  “Jesus,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry that I know the truth?” she asked. “I asked you. Goddammit, I asked you if it was him. And you lied straight to me.”

  “Kate, it wasn’t that simple,” Redacker said.

  “It seems that simple to me,” Kate said.

  “We still aren’t sure it is Lord Hal…”

  “Bullshit!” she said and stood up. “How can you sit there like that? One person is dead. I don’t know where he has been or what he has been doing, but he is back. I knew it.”

  “You can’t know that,” he said. “Your dad and I think it was really Holober. This could be a copycat.”

  “It’s not,” she said.

  “You don’t know,” Redacker replied.

  “I feel it, Mr. Redacker,” she said. “Call it an intuition or superstition, but I feel it. And you do too. You don’t believe this for a second. I know you don’t. I doubt my Dad does, either. But you are so anxious to fool each other and yourselves…”

  “Maybe that’s why I told you what Brown asked us to,” he said. “I just…”

  “You don’t want it to be true,” she said and looked across the field. A cold wind blew across it—she crossed her arms and shivered. Winter was coming, you could feel it in the air. “Did you find a note?”

  “Brown and Stu said Donald Kilgore was just trying to throw us off the track,” he said. “He was trying to make it look like Lord Halloween.”

  “Do you think that’s true?” she asked.

  He paused. “No,” he said.

  “What did it say?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know,” Redacker said.

  Kate turned and stared at him.

  “Mr. Redacker, I need to know I can trust you,” she said. “I don’t have many allies here. And I can’t trust you if you keep lying about this. I know you are trying to protect me, but you can’t. I’m older. I chose to come back here, remember?”

  “Why? Your dad would freak…”

  “You can tell him what you want, but you’re right, he would freak,” she said. “But I’m not leaving. Things are just getting started.”

  “But that’s crazy. You don’t need to be here. If the guy is out there, we will catch him,” Redacker said.

  “You didn’t before,” she replied.

  “You know we tried,” he said.

  “But it didn’t really cut it, did it?” Kate said. She felt her fingers twitch and gritted her teeth. “I need to know I can trust you. Can I?”

  “Yes,” he said, but he put his head down.

  She wondered when the change had happened. Kate had always looked up to her father and her father’s friends. They had seemed so strong and commanding when she was young. Now Redacker appeared old and frail.

  “Then tell me what the note said,” she said.

  He lifted his head.

  “It didn’t say much,” he said.

  She waited for him to contin
ue.

  “It was a small post-it note on her chest,” Redacker said. “It said, ‘Did you think I would stay away forever? I will be making up for lost time. LH.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “Not very frightening,” she said.

  “He had it attached to her with a carving knife,” Redacker said.

  “Any prints?”

  “What do you think?”

  “He never left any before,” she said. “He seemed familiar with police procedure.”

  “Exactly,” Redacker said.

  “And you really believed it was Donald Kilgore? That he stuck a knife through his wife’s chest?”

  Redacker looked down.

  “Is that it?” she asked. “Is that all?”

  “That’s all I know now,” he said. “I…”

  The radio in his car squawked for a moment.

  “Hang on,” he said and walked back to his vehicle.

  “Yeah, I’m out in Ashburn now,” she heard him say. “Yeah, I can head over there. No problem. Five minutes.”

  He walked back to her.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’m sorry about before. And maybe we’re wrong…”

  “Just be honest with me,” she said. “If not for my sake, then for my mother’s.”

  Slowly he nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “I promise I’ll do the best I can.”

  “What’s your call?” she asked.

  “Not sure,” he said. “Some lady wants us to check out her friend’s house. She said her friend was visited by the police last night and she hasn’t been able to talk to her since.”

  “Was she visited by police?”

  Redacker shrugged.

  “I’ll check it out,” he said. “Usually it turns out to be nothing. I should get over there. Are we okay?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Just remember your promise.”

  “I will,” he said and walked back to his squad car.

  She watched him go. She idly brushed her hair out of her face. She would have to go back to work soon. But she saw her hands were shaking.

  Now she knew. Suspecting was one thing, but now that she knew, it felt all the more real. But what had she expected?

  It was irrational, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before Lord Halloween figured out who she was. He had a county filled with people to target, but Kate would be on the list, she was sure of it. So she wasn’t going to wait around for that to happen. She had to find him before he could find her.