by J. L. Hickey
“Who was that?” Gerald asked.
“An old friend, checking up on me,” Haylee sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t ready for that part of tonight’s discussion. It would happen soon enough. “What are you two talking about?” she deflected. She had her own questions.
“Gary, the man who murdered your neighbors and attacked Aaron,” Gerald replied.
“We just can’t find a connection,” Aaron answered.
“We can talk about that later,” Haylee took a seat next to Aaron on the couch. “But, first, we have to talk about this.”
“What?” Gerald asked.
“I want to know what’s going on,” Haylee said, “…with you two.”
“What do you mean?” asked Aaron.
“We were fine, Aaron. Then last night, you were supposed to come over, and you never showed up. You ignore my calls, my texts. That never happens. You show up at my door almost every day. Suddenly, you just ignore me? An entire day, no checkup, no courtesy check? Then my dad shows up and saves you from that madman.”
“I don’t always show up at your door,” Aaron frowned, what did she think of him? A stalker?
“You never ignore me, though. Especially knowing everything I have been going through with those murders. And I am not saying I don’t like your company. I’m telling you the opposite. It hurt me when you ignored me, knowing how messed up I am right now. I needed you.”
“—Honey, it’s not what you think,” Gerald interjected.
“What do I think, dad? That you somehow interfered with my life? That I called you, left you a message that I was done with the psychiatric help, no more doctors, and then all of a sudden, my best friend just walks out of my life?” Haylee was angry now. Her dad is always interjecting, always knowing what was best. “You don’t think that I trust you got to him? That you somehow got into Aaron’s head? What? Did you threaten him? To leave me alone?”
“It’s not like that,” Gerald protested.
“Really? Because I think it is like that,” Haylee stood up now. She was yelling, screaming at her father. “This is what you do. Is it because you want what’s best for me? Or that heaven forbid, I find someone else to be there for me?”
“You need professional help!” Gerald now stood, his chiseled face red with ferocity. “This guy,” he points to Aaron, his hand shaking “Knows nothing about you. Nothing! He is a damn blip in your life. I have been there since the second you were born. I know what is best for you.”
“Really?” Haylee stood up, got directly into her father’s face. “What’s best for me? Like when mom brought Lydia into my life. The first person who listened to me?”
“—She was a hack! It was the meds that straightened you out!” Gerald yelled, interrupting her.
“Guys, guys, c’mon,” Aaron dropped the half-eaten slice of pizza onto the paper plate. The yelling didn’t help the headache, nor his comfort in the room.
“—She was the only person to ever listen to me. What she taught me, that’s what helped—helped with the voices, with the visions, the nightmares. They all went away until you pushed mom so far. She died!”
“Fuck you!” Gerald grabbed the two-liter of soda from the coffee table. In a fury, he threw the bottle against her flat-screen television, shattering the glass.
“Jesus!” Aaron stood up, shocked at the sudden violence.
“I didn’t kill her!” Gerald’s broad shoulders lifted heavily with every breath.
“Right,” Haylee choked back the emotion. “She was so angry over everything; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time because YOU couldn’t let her try and help me. Because Mom listened, Mom got me helped that worked.”
“Enough!” Aaron yelled. “Jesus fucking Christ! I just want to eat pizza!”
“Shut up!” Gerald shot back.
“No!” Aaron was done, done with everything. “You two are fucking nuts. She has a reason; she’s been through hell and back.” Aaron pointed to Gerald, “You? You’re just as crazy. You snuck into my apartment last night, threatening me to leave your daughter alone. That’s crazy, man!”
“—I knew it!” Haylee threw up her hands in disbelief.
“—Wait,” Aaron threw up his hand to silence Haylee. “I fucked up, okay? I moved next door to you after my accident. I lived with my parents for a while. I caught wind of what happened to you. I...I just, I dunno, I was so curious about you. I was working on a new script, and I moved in to get to know you. Your dad broke into my apartment, found the script. Yes, it’s about you, us, the murder, everything.”
“You what?” Haylee’s eyes blurred. Was it hate, anger, or the sharp pain of humiliation that caused her to kneel over?
“I was going to tell you when the time was right if there was ever a time that felt right,” Aaron frowned. “I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me, like, for real? Why would you? Look at me, look at you?”
“Are you serious?” Haylee muttered, her body tensed, her teeth grinding. The words hurt. Was he using her to write a movie? The thought made her sick.
“Shit head,” Gerald shook his head in disbelief.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron’s head hung low.
“You should be,” Gerald interjected.
“Right,” Aaron replied. “I should be, and I am. Sorrier about that stupid script than anything in my life. It’s not worth the friendship we built. But I get it. I will leave. I’ll Uber to my parent’s. I’m out of your life.”
“Smartest thing you’ve said all night,” said Gerald.
“No,” Haylee stood up. Her eyes fell on the broken television. “Aaron stays. Dad, I want you out. Leave…”
“What?” Gerald’s mouth dropped.
“I don’t want you here right now,” Haylee’s words were soft, quiet.
“You got to be joking? I’m your father,” Gerald’s frowned.
“Tomorrow, Lydia will be here at noon to talk with me,” Haylee walked over to the front door. She opened it. “If you want to be a part of my life going forward, then you’re welcome to come. If you promise to listen to her openly.”
“Is that so?” Gerald sucked in his bottom lip angrily, gritted his teeth. “I pay your bills, everything you see here? It’s because of me.”
“And I don’t care. The only reason I am offering you this small chance is because you’re my dad. I love you through everything that’s happened. But we can’t stay this way; it’s killing us. The door will be open. Tomorrow, noon. It’s up to you. Until then, I want you to go.
Gerald stood quiet for a few moments. He stared into his daughter’s eyes. He nodded, walked over the broken television, and exited the door. Haylee shut it, locked it.
“Haylee,” Aaron approached her. Tears in his eyes.
“Shut up,” Haylee blurted out. She fell into his arms. He held her. He held her tighter than he’d ever held another human in his life.
Together, they were beautifully broken.
THIRTY-ONE
The Bad Luck Lager House was mostly empty, except for a few dedicated drunks. It was the night after Gary Thom attacked Aaron Hauser, another media frenzy had followed, taking over the local news. Social media was in an uproar as well. Everyone was spreading false information and theories like a wildfire. This alone drove Detective Pike mad. There was no controlling social media, nor the panic it seemed to create once people started throwing in their half-baked theories.
Not to mention a second terrible snowstorm hit. Further crippling the small town in less than a week. It started up last night and had steadied its course, dropping over eight inches total. This kept most patrons at home, w
arm indoors with their families. However, Detective Pike needed a drink, and a few inches of snow wasn’t going to stop him from having a few stiff ones. He phoned a few colleagues; he needed an outlet. A lot weighted on his mind, and this newest turn of events with the attack had him enamored.
Pike took a seat at his regular table, isolated at the back of the bar. Quiet and alone, he had time to think before his comrades showed up. If they even would, the case had been stressful. Pike and Clent hadn’t buried the hatchet yet, Fat Man Brenkins had just got back into town from a convention, and Vanessa Velasquez, well, he still wasn’t sure how the two of them mixed. His people—the ones close to the case, and embarrassingly enough, the closest things he had to friends.
Pike pulled out his yellow legal pad. He started going over his notes and journals.
Gary Thom hadn’t died from hypothermia despite his lack of survival skills and preparation for one of the coldest, brutal winters in Michigan’s history. Pike was sure that he would have. He had spent multiple days in those woods. How had the weather not taken his life? Unless he had some sort of camp, something hospitable. Even if that was the case, how did multiple search parties miss it? Unlikely, they had some people very knowledgeable about the forest, and they found nothing. Hardly any tracks.
Except the weather kept the search party from hitting the forest hard. Very possible, they didn’t go far enough. They wouldn’t get another shot until the weather cleared up, and some of the damn snow melted.
Pike thought about the papers shoved into Nora’s mouth, Hayley’s initials. The solid connection and adding the close location and the similarities of the murders. Haylee was adamant that she had no relationship with Gary Thom, yet she had hinted that she was aware of more about the crime scene than what was brought out to the public. How did she know the method, right down to the stabbing in the back of the neck?
“Rough night?” Sherry’s raspy voice caught his attention. It had been a quiet night for Sherry; the shit weather always took its toll on her bar and her tips.
“Rough week,” Pike smiled.
“I know, I have been following the news, Whiskey?” she asked.
“On the rocks, please,” Pike nodded. “Weather keeping folks at home? It’s a ghost town in here.”
“Oh yeah,” She gave a toothy grin. “Two wicked snowstorms this week, we’re still trying to get rid of the last crap the good lord dumped on us. Then, the double murder, and now the attack on that young kid. People are just hibernatin’ until all this blows over. I think people are scared, yeah know?”
“I do,” Pike nodded. “He is still out there, and that’s a scary truth.”
“You’re gonna catch him, though. You always get your guy, am I right?”
“You always know what to say,” Pike nodded. “Seems like this weather brings with it bad luck, every time it snows…” Pike pulled out his billfold. He handed her a ten. “Keep it.”
“Be right up with the drink, darlin’,” she nodded with thanks.
Pike went back to his notes. The brutality of the murders. The beheading, the cannibalism, the removal of the testicle. Haylee’s sister’s scene was brutal, as well. Her body had been cannibalized by the fiancé. If Haylee wouldn’t have surprised him, what would have happened to the body? Head removed? Pike wondered.
There were more similarities between the two cases. Both involved two very normal individuals. Robbie had just landed a new job, purposed to Haylee months prior. His life was going well. He wasn’t into the freaky shit like Gary’s hidden lifestyle. The bondage, the sexual torture. Robbie wasn’t a masochist, surely with the lifestyle Dennis and Gary shared they both were. Pike had even considered the two being involved in some sort of sexual cult, but no leads proved the theory. Robbie, however, that kid was clean as a whistle.
“Just you?” Clent walked up to the table.
“So far,” Pike looked up, surprised to see Clent. He flipped his notepad closed.
“On the rocks,” Sherry dropped off the whiskey, “hello handsome,” She put her hand on Clent’s strong shoulder.
“Always a pleasure,” Clent nodded. “I will take a bud light, please.”
“Of course,” Sherry walked away to grab his order.
“Working on the case off hours?” Clent pointed to the notebook, “Classic Lewis Pike, right there. This thing eating you alive, isn’t it? Fucking with your head.”
“Of course, it is, there’s a mad man out there,” Pike took a long sip of the whiskey. It went down smooth.
“Hey guys,” Paul Brenkins swung into the bar, dusting off the snow from his jacket. “Look who I found in the parking lot?” Next to him stood a fancied-up Vanessa Velasquez. Pike always thought seeing his fellow officers out of uniform was awkward. Vanessa was stunning.
“Well damn,” Clent joked. “Is that makeup? Did you get all dressed up for us?”
“Hell no,” Vanessa laughed, “Take it easy, guys. I had a date with a man I met off Tinder, and it was terrible. I did get a meal out of it, though. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-wife. So, I bailed on him. I need a drink, maybe a double.”
“I got you,” Brenkins laughed. “I will be back, going to hit the bar.” He made his way towards Sherry.
“Tinder?” Pike asked, “aren’t we running a case where a man was killed off a similar dating site?”
“Yeah,” Vanessa replied. “Except, I can take care of myself. I also wouldn’t be inviting any strangers back to my place off a single tinder date. I’m a lady detective. I’m also a badass cop, and I can break an arm if somebody decided to try something unwanted.”
“I see,” Pike smiled. “I suppose Tinder and Scruff have different clientele.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clent asked, purposely poking the proverbial bear.
“You know what that means,” Pike added, taking a second sip of his drink.
“Boys, play nice,” Vanessa asserted. “I haven’t even got my first shot yet.”
“I’m pretty sure you are the rookie here,” Clent joked. “You getting a backbone pretty quick. I seem to remember you puking at your first crime scene a week ago.”
“Funny. Look, you guys obviously have a complicated relationship,” Vanessa smiled as Breskin returned with her drink. “Thank god!” Vanessa held up a shot of Tequila with Breskin. They cheered the shot, liked their hand of salt, and downed it. Next came the lime.
“Damn, that’s good,” Brenkins smiled. “What’s with all the tension? I have been gone all week on a convention. I need to relax.”
“They are fighting,” Vanessa added.
“Oh, well, nothing new there,” Brenkins added. “Can we not with the office drama? I just got back from a convention full of wise asses.”
“—No,” Clent interjected. “I want to know how Tinder and Scruff are different?”
“You want me to spell it out?” Pike stirred his drink.
“Yes,” Clent replied.
“Well, one’s for straight folk, the other is for gays. Gays who enjoy practicing bizarre sex acts on one another. Masochists, perverts. And, in the current case, we’re working, brutally kill one another.” Pike countered bluntly.
“Lewis,” Brenkins shook his head. “That’s not fair to say.”
“It’s nothing but the truth,” Pike slammed his drink, downing the rest of it. “Am I the only logical one here? No wonder we can’t find the guy, no one is thinking clearly. Everyone is stuck on being politically correct. I could care less if the man is gay or not, but he is. He is gay, on a gay dating site, and he killed a man— a gay dating site that is known for its users being involved in bondage and sexual torture. These are the facts.”
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“So,” Vanessa interrupted his speech. “You think the murder has to do with sexual orientation. That’s the lead you are chasing?”
“It’s a thought,” Pike added, “a potential theory.”
“Based on what? A Google search on the site?” Clent argued. “Because as far as I know, there has been zero other murders based on the thousands of users on that site. So, what’s the connection? Oh, no, I get it, because you don’t understand that lifestyle, its different, it’s scary. Hell, Tinder has had more killings off it, as have Craigslist. All these sites have the possibility of meeting up with someone crazy. But you’re stuck with the sexual orientation of the victim and the killer.”
“If the shoe fits,” Pike said coolly, trying not to take Clent’s bait. He didn’t want to lose his cool, not again. Not in front of Brenkins and Velasquez.
“I mean, you have an inside look into that world, why don’t you reach out to your source? See what they say?” Clent took a swig of his beer.
“Shut the fuck up!” Pike jumped to his feet; his fist clenched tightly. He knocked his chair over from the commotion.
“Woah!” Brenkins stood up. He got wedged his body between Pike and Clent. Clent didn’t flinch, nor did he stand up from his seated position.
“Step off Fat Man,” Pike’s face was beat red.
“Lewis, you need help. You’re stuck on something that has zero to do with the case,” Clent spoke calmly now. He hit the button he’d hope to. “You are lost in your own head. This murder has nothing to do with sexual preference or a sexual lifestyle. It has one-hundred percent to do with something else. You just don’t want to consider it. Because it’s an easy fucking connection, one that people will eat up, you can sell it, based on ignorance and hate. Easy sells, aren’t they? You’re better than this.”