by Erik Carter
“Well, aren’t you just Sherlock Holmes?”
"I’d have preferred if you said ‘James Bond,’ but thanks.” Dale gave her a grin. “It looks like your next antibiotic isn’t for a while, but do you need a pain pill?”
She shook her head, wearing a polite smile. “Feeling okay at the moment. Thank you.” She leaned up on the mattress, balancing on an elbow, looking directly at Dale. “There’s something else you should know. Something that might help you figure all this out.”
Dale stepped toward her. “I’m listening.”
“This is … really embarrassing. Mortifying.”
Dale spoke to her earnestly. “I need to know anything I can to help catch Clyde, Mira. Whatever you say, there will be no judgment from me.”
She looked past him. Took in a breath. And began.
“Clyde and Bill are the best of friends. And they share everything. Everything. The first time Clyde suggested it to me … I didn’t believe him. I thought it was some sort of fantasy of his. It disgusted me. But he kept pressuring and pressuring until finally I ended up in a room with the both of them. He watched. Can you believe that? That was part of his whole thing. Watching. They’d trade back and forth. This went on for months. Eventually neither one of them was the watcher. They were both participants. I hated it so much that we had a fight, and Clyde told me that he had plenty of other opportunities with his other women. After that, he’d hardly touch me. And he did just as he said. He and Bill worked those other girls over. God knows how many of them. But they had a few regulars. The ones who’ve been killed so far. So when you say that you think Bill could be involved and not just protecting Clyde, I think you’re onto something.”
“I’m … so sorry.”
“You must think I’m worthless. That I’m garbage.”
Dale stepped closer, got to his knees beside the bed.
“No … no, no, no.”
“That’s the way they looked at me. Like a piece of garbage. Looming over me…”
She brought a hand to her face, began crying.
Dale took her free hand between his, patted it reassuringly.
“We’re gonna get this figured out, Mira.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
An hour had passed. Mira was now resting in the bed. She’d taken her antibiotic and a pain pill, and both of them had drunk water from the jug.
Dale sat by the mouth of the cave, staring forward at the opposite wall, deep in thought. Earlier, he had recognized that the immediate rush of activity and planning was a distraction for him from the realization of what he’d done. And now that there was some relative quiet, some relative peace, the thought intruded upon his mind. Completely, fully realized.
He had taken a witness away from a murder investigation.
This could get very bad very fast. But he wasn’t one to dwell. So he would put it out of his mind again. And besides, dwelling was the last thing he should be doing right now. Mira’s condition and everything that came with it—persuading her to rest, monitoring her meds, pondering how to get her food—needed to come first. And it was providing a welcome distraction.
Suddenly, her voice cracked through the silence, making him jump.
“I did love him, you know.”
Dale turned.
“Really loved him,” she continued. “For way too long.” She paused. “That must seem crazy to you.”
“No. Trust me. I’ve seen crazier.”
“What about you?”
“Am I crazy? I guess a little. Aren’t we all?”
Mira laughed.
“I mean, do you have someone you love?”
“No.”
“Have you ever?”
Dale didn't respond immediately. This wasn’t something he normally talked about. He tried not to even think about it. “I’ve only had one real girlfriend. And the L word was a bit of a contentious point between us.”
“What was her name?”
Dale looked back at her. She had turned around on the mattress so that her head was now at the foot end, getting close to him. Her head was in her hands, elbows beneath. Like a little girl at a slumber party. Asking the gross boy about his girlfriends.
Dale reminded himself what had happened to her less than twenty-four hours earlier. He could oblige her.
“Allie,” he said.
“She must’ve been pretty special if she’s the only real girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
He thought of Allie then. The dark red hair. The occasional bouts of sarcasm. The smile. “She was a special gal, that’s for sure.”
“Tell me about her.”
Dale really didn’t like talking about things like this. Relationships. Emotions. Bleh.
Come on, man, his inner voice said. Her boyfriend tried to kill her this morning.
“I met Allie on an assignment,” he said. “She and her father were treasure hunters. She’s tenacious. Smart. Tough as hell in some ways. And in some ways incredibly soft. Red hair, curly. Freckles. Curves like you would not believe.”
“And you broke her little heart?”
“Actually, she broke mine.”
“Do you still think about her?”
Dale shrugged. “Against my better judgement, she does pop into my head from time to time.”
“Good memories or bad?”
“Good. I try to filter out the bad in life. You know, it’s funny—the memory that sticks out the most to me is this one time in bed.”
Mira groaned and let out a small laugh. “In bed. Of course. Such a guy way of remembering someone.”
“Not like that,” Dale said. “Just literally in bed together. Sleeping. And I woke up.”
Allie’s apartment. Years ago.
The window was open. Allie liked to sleep that way. She liked natural air, even in the middle of the city.
She was spooned against Dale, asleep. His arm was around her, nestled in the curve above her hip.
He was awake. He stared past Allie to the window. The sun hadn’t come up yet. A bit of light from the streetlight outside her window came into the room. His attention turned to the back of her head, the mass of curly hair right in front of his face.
He buried his nose in it, closed his eyes, and inhaled.
Allie stirred awake. She looked back over her shoulder for a moment before letting her head fall back to the pillow.
“What are you doing?"
“Smelling your hair.”
“Really, Dale. Why are you awake?”
“I tolds ya,” he said in a thick drawl. “I’s smellin’ yer hair. You smell real nice, purdy lady.”
“You’re weirder than a blind optometrist. At least I didn’t catch you playing with my boobs or something.”
She rolled over, faced him, put her hand on his face, stroked her finger back and forth over his stubble.
“You like the smell of my hair?”
“It smells like ... I don’t know, kind of clean but also kind of like a really subtle perfume. Or wildflowers, maybe.”
“It’s lavender, goofball. Essential oil. From the natural shampoo I use.”
“No. I know what your shampoo smells like. It’s not just that. It’s you.”
She looked at him for a moment, still rubbing his cheek.
“I love you, Dale.”
Dale smiled and kissed her on her forehead.
The ethereal look on Allie’s face faded, became a bit pained.“You still can’t say it back.”
Dale didn't respond, just continued with his smile.
Allie shook her head. “You know, if you’re smelling a person’s hair at four in the morning, it means you love them.”
“Well, I—”
“Shh.”
She squeezed up against him, resting her face on his chest, head under his chin.
“Just be quiet. Let’s get another hour or two of sleep.”
“Why couldn’t you say it back to her?”
Dale paused before answering. He’d been reminding himself o
f what Mira had been through, but there were some things he just wasn’t going to share, no matter what had happened to her.
“It’s a long story.” He stood up and walked toward the supplies. “You need your antibiotic. Then we need to get some rest. I’m gonna head into town tomorrow to see what I can dig up.”
He picked up the pharmacy bag and started going through the contents. There was a noise behind him. Mira had gotten out of bed.
“Hey, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be up.”
Mira went to the water bucket.
“Water. I’ll need some for the pill. And you haven’t had any fluids in at least an hour.”
“I can get—”
“Don’t be silly.”
She took the lid off the water jug, grabbed the pair of tin cups sitting beside it, and ladled water into them. She walked over to him, reaching one of the cups in his direction.
“Good for what ails ya.”
Dale took the cup, trading her an antibiotic capsule. While she took her pill, Dale downed his cup of water. She was right. He was parched.
When he’d drained it, he smacked his lips together, trying to decipher the taste.
“Huh,” he said. “This tastes different from the water I had earlier. Bit of a metallic taste.”
“Oh, yes, that’s understandable,” she said. “Each of the springs in town has a different mineral composition, which gives each one a different taste. People have their favorites.”
Dale took her empty cup from her and placed both cups by the jug. He pointed at the mattress. “Someone tried to ... really hurt you this morning, and you haven’t slept yet. It’s time for you to get some rest.”
“Okay.” She walked over to the mattress, climbed under the blankets again.
Dale lowered himself to the cave floor and stretched out. The rocky surface immediately dug into his back. It was going to be a long night. Maybe if he—
“Hey.”
Dale turned. Mira was propped up on an elbow in the bed.
“There’s no need for you to sleep on the ground. It’s a queen-size mattress. There’s plenty of room.”
It was an incredibly kind offer from someone with bandages all over her, someone who should have been in a hospital bed. “I’ve slept on a lot worse. I’m fine, thank you.”
She stared and didn't respond for a moment.
“Dale, I ... I don’t want to be alone tonight. Lie in bed with me. Please.”
Dale shook his head.
“I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I’ll sleep right beside the mattress. How about that?”
“I keep imagining Clyde walking through the mouth of the cave.”
“We’re safe. He doesn’t know about the cave, and—”
“He does know this place.”
Dale turned on her. “What? I thought you said—”
“He found out that this was where I used to come to hide out. And he liked the place. Oh, Jesus. And so this is where he and Bill started bringing their girls for a while. They haven’t been here in months, so I don’t think he would guess that I’ve come here, but…”
She trailed off.
“Oh my god,” Dale said.
Now he too was imagining Bowen walking into the cave, knife in hand…
“Dale ... please?”
She looked at him, gestured with her eyes to the empty area of the bed. Utter fright painted all over her face, tears welling.
Dale took in a slow breath, exhaled.
“Okay.”
Dale stood and walked over, paused, then pulled the blankets aside and got in bed.
Dale stared at the ceiling, his mouth open slightly, feeling rather uncomfortable.
“Thank you.”
He felt the mattress shake beside him for a couple moments as Mira settled in. Then it stopped, and he could hear deep breathing. After everything that happened to her, he had guessed she would either fall asleep straight away or be awake all night. He was glad she did the prior. She needed rest badly.
As for Dale, he knew he was going to be awake for a while. His mind wouldn’t be quiet.
Witness. Victim.
Two words; one person.
And Dale was lying in bed with her.
Yes, he would be awake for a while. He stared at the texture of the rock ceiling, illuminated by the tiniest bit of light.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dale’s eyes opened. The cave was still gloomy, but there was much more light than when he’d finally closed his eyes. It was morning. Another bleak day outside. It was raining just as hard as it had been when they went to bed.
He felt something, turned to the side.
And jumped.
Mira was curled up on his shoulder.
She must have found her way over some time during the night. Dale hadn’t noticed.
He slowly transferred her head off his shoulder and onto a pillow then got out of the bed. He grabbed his leather jacket, walked to the mouth of the cave, and looked back.
She slept soundly.
He left.
In town, Dale walked with his head hung low, avoiding eye contact, concealing his appearance as much as possible.
He went to a newspaper box, inserted a quarter, and took out a paper. Rain pattered it as soon as he took it out.
The top headline of the Hot Springs Tribune was:
LATEST VICTIM OF SERIAL KILLER ABDUCTED BY FEDERAL AGENT
Below this were two photos: one of Mira—a smiling snapshot—and beside it, Dale’s file photo, the one where he’s making a goofy face, eyes wide, cheek bulging.
Dale folded the paper under his arm, lowered his head again, and took off at a brisk pace.
A dingy, single-stall gas station bathroom. The smell of a thousand pisses. Phone numbers and lewd jokes scratched into the paint.
Dale locked the deadbolt and tore open a plastic bag of disposable plastic razors, took out a few, and tossed the rest in the trash can. He stuck all of the razors but one in his interior jacket pocket.
He turned on the faucet, pushed the handle on the soap dispenser a few times, then used the running water to work up a lather, which he put on his cheeks.
After a few minutes of work, Dale splashed water onto his face, rinsing the soap off. He examined his handiwork in the mirror. He had shaved his stubble down to a goatee.
Not bad.
His stubble beard was a bit thicker than usual, so while the goatee was certainly not full, the shape was defined and noticeable, like he'd decided to start growing one not too long ago. He compared his reflection to his image in the newspaper. It was enough to make him look slightly different.
He put his sunglasses on and left.
Dale squatted behind a tree in a wooded area atop a rocky hill. The trees were helping with the rain a bit, but he was still drenched. He was eating peanuts from a small plastic bag, and he watched the building below.
It was a police station, squad cars parked all around it.
The rear door opened, and Sadler walked out, taking shelter under an umbrella and heading toward an old pickup truck.
Dale quickly stood up, shoved the bag of peanuts into his pocket, and headed down the hill. He stepped out into the parking lot.
The pouring rain, the puddles.
“Sadler!”
Sadler looked up, startled. Then shock appeared on his face as he recognized Dale.
Dale walked right up to him.
“Conley! Some nerve, showing up at a police station. What the hell have you done with her?”
“Oh, no. That’s not how this is happening. I’m the one asking the questions. Starting with, where is Clyde Bowen?”
Sadler’s mouth opened. He didn't respond.
“Clyde Bowen. You know, the serial killer? The guy chopping up women around town. The guy you said is a casual acquaintance but who’s actually your best buddy. The guy you tag team women with, including Mira Lyndon. You know, that guy.”
Sadler’s confused look quickly tu
rned into a dark smirk.
“You know nothing.”
“I know that you’re covering for Bowen. Everything leads back to you. And that stupid look on your face tells me more than any clues I’ve found yet.”
“You kidnapped a witness, you dumb shit. A survivor. It doesn’t matter what evidence you have or think you have. You’re null and void. I can stand here, right outside the police station, look you in the eye, and tell you with zero fear that you’re goddamn right I’m covering for Clyde. I’m running the local side of this investigation. I know this town, its people. And by the time this is all over, I’ll make that little bitch Mira Lyndon look like a petty, vindictive, jaded woman who was willing to pin something horrific on a boyfriend just because he liked to fool around.”
“I know something else, too,” Dale said.
“Is that so?”
“I know that they’re gonna give me a damn medal when I bring your ass in.”
Sadler let out a laugh.
“Are you kidding me, Conley? The whole city and the National Park Service are after you. And the FBI, too. They just got into town. You kidnapped a witness, a victim, and the suspect’s girlfriend all rolled into one. So no matter what you think you know, I’ll be the one getting the accolades for bringing your ass in.”
Dale smiled.
“Well. May the best man win.”
They stared at each other. Sadler threw his umbrella aside. Another moment of staring.
And then they both sprang into action.
They collided, arms instantly entangled, and after a quick flurry of grappling, their hands were at each other’s throats, eyes locked, mouths snarling.
Sadler got a foot angled in front of Dale’s leg and gave him a solid shove, sending him flying at the truck. Dale collided with it, hard, snapping his head back. The truck squeaked on its ancient suspension.
Sadler lunged at him, and at the same time, Dale swung a fist. Sadler’s forward momentum met the motion of Dale’s punch, and the timing of the collision was perfect, cracking hard against Sadler’s eye socket.
