Outcast In Gray

by M. Glenn Graves

  “Yeah, I ran into that.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You are kinda tall, aren’t you. Yeah, so you met Hack?”

  “Briefly. I was charmed, to be sure.”

  “I bet you were charmed. Man was disgusting in every possible way, even when he was young. How on earth the school board allowed him to be a substitute teacher is beyond me… no, wait…I remember now. He had family on the school board. And his politics were right. Yep, that’s how it happened. Anyhow, Hack was the sub for the whole week while I was out.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Well, the story is somewhat confusing simply because of Hack Ponder being Hack Ponder and his relatives running things around the county. Anyhow, he made a pass at one of the students during that week.”

  “K.C. Starling,” I said.

  “You guessed it. She wasn’t the only one. I had another girl in that class who was not quite as tall as K.C. Her name was Dolly Mae or Dolly Faye or Dolly something. I don’t know why I can’t ever recall that child’s name. She didn’t stand out like some of the other kids. Lost track of her. Anyhow, Hack made a pass at both of my tall girls. I think they were both six graders at the time, if you can imagine such a thing.”

  “Oh, I can easily imagine such a thing. Did they complain?”

  “You mean the girls themselves?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dolly didn’t. I think she was the one who actually liked the attention. She didn’t seem to mind the fact that Hack was a dirty old young man. But K.C. minded. She put up with whatever stuff he was doing early in the week, but when he tried to entice her to have sex with him after school one day, well, that was it.”

  “She tell Josephine?”

  “Apparently not. She cold-cocked him. Floored him. Knocked right on his tail-bone. Then, as the story goes, he had the audacity to report her to the office. But before she was called into the office the next day, I think, she told him that if he didn’t go to the office and tell them he had made a mistake, he would be sorry. She threatened to tell them what he had done and what he wanted to do with her.”

  “So, he recanted,” I said.

  “Are you kidding me? He recanted nothing. Told them a lie and … well, they believed him because he was a just and honorable man. I swear, if I had a dime for every stupid thing the administration had done during my career, I would have retired a wealthy old biddy. They believed him. Anyhow, they suspended K.C. for fighting, yet another suspension mind you, … suspended the child for hitting a teacher and all that.”

  “Did Josephine Starling ever learn the truth about what happened?”

  “Not from the officials. I told her what I had heard, but couldn’t prove. I told her to ask K.C. for the truth. She told me later that she tried, but that K.C. refused to talk about it. Anyhow, I thought it was worth telling you because it involved K.C. and Hack.”

  “I have an observation which you might clarify if I am wrong,” I said.

  “I’ll do my best, honey,” Eula said.

  “That Hack Ponder incident you recalled was K.C.’s first suspension that year. The second one was over the fight with Dottie Higgins.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re absolutely correct in your observation. Hope all this helps.”

  “More pieces of the puzzle.”

  “Any picture coming into focus yet?”

  “Somewhat, just not a very pretty one. Still a lot of gaps in the puzzle. May never complete the picture. That’s the way it is with my job sometimes.”

  “Good luck to you and that handsome dude. Hey, you guys have time, come back around and visit with me. By the way, I like chocolate cake. In fact, I have a craving for chocolate cake most days.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that, sweetie, you do that.”

  I waited for Ben to go home before I told Rosey and Starnes about Eula Robertson’s call. There was no sense involving Ben Bevel in our investigation concerning motives. It was too complicated, even for us to comprehend. Still, I had an image now of a young girl trying to adjust to a strange culture and who suffered some of the abuses of the bad things that can happen while a child is growing up. I could not imagine how hard it might have been for an unusual child growing up, a child that had lived in the woods for a few years, and a child that was growing up faster than most.

  It proves once again something that some of us learn along the way as we age. Life can be unfair. You have to learn to flow with it or get swept away by the rough currents.

  54

  Something startled me awake during the night. Don’t know what it was, but I was wide awake by 2:33 a.m. I looked at the clock beside my bed out of habit. My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, aided by a three-quarter moon shining outside as if it were daylight.

  I looked around for Sam who was nowhere to be seen in my room. He was probably sleeping by the side of Dog in Starnes’ room. I guess that’s what BFFs do.

  I sat on the side of my bed waiting on something to happen. Perhaps it was a sound that had awakened me. Perhaps it was something else. I just sat there in a daze listening, waiting, wondering. Nothing happened.

  I went to the bathroom and sat in there listening, waiting, and wondering.

  It was too early to flush. Starnes’ commode had a harsh noise it made after anyone would flush it. In a small house it could easily awaken any sleeping ghosts to say nothing of the living who were there. I walked back to my room and stood in the doorway for a few minutes.

  Nothing. I had no clue as to what had awakened me.

  I looked in on Starnes and saw Dog asleep on her pallet. Sam was not there.

  I looked outside to see if Sam had found a way to open one of the doors and leave the house. I felt silly looking out there for him. Dark night, black dog. How stupid can one be? He was nowhere that I could see. Even with a bright moon for light, my looking was futile. And stupid.

  At some point I heard another movement in the house. I slid into one of the few shadows in the living room and stood there as the sound approached my area. I could see out and I was hoping that whoever or whatever was coming could not see me hiding in the shadows.

  It was Rosey.

  “Don’t jump,” I said softly.

  “You a ghost?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What are you doin’ up so early?”

  “Can’t find Sam,” I said.

  “He came to me and wanted out. That was half hour ago. I got up to see if he might want back in.”

  “I’m going back to bed. It’s too early for mortals,” I said and walked past him back to my room.

  I tried in vain to return to sleep but my brain was racing with too much stuff. Too many murders, some leads but still lots of questions, and not enough information about the strange woman named K.C. Higgins. And there was also this thing bothering me about Sam. Couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was not right.

  I got out of bed and went outside by way of the back door. The moon was still casting its strange light all around. It reminded me of those old black and white cowboy flicks my brother and I used to watch. The nighttime scenes from those movies looked like this. Lots of shadows and plenty of light to see the action.

  I wanted to call out for him, but since it was just a few minutes after 3 a.m., I decided against waking up the household. I walked around the outside of the house hoping that I would find him resting on the front porch or in some shadow by a tree or bush.

  No Sam to be found.

  I sat down on the front step to think and wait. Maybe he would come back shortly.

  “I came to warn you,” the voice was Aunt Jo’s.

  I looked up in the direction of the road that led to the house. Aunt Jo was standing near our vehicles. She floated over closer to me. I say floated because it didn’t appear that she was walking. More like gliding from spot to spot.

  “You’re looking for Sam and he’s in danger. He has gone back to Gabriel’s Creek.”

  “How
do you know this?” I said.

  “I saw him as I was coming this way.”

  “So you were coming this way even before you saw Sam?” I said.

  “I was coming to warn you about your investigation.”

  “What now?” I said.

  “You need to stop,” Aunt Jo said.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop searching for the killer. You won’t find her.”

  “Who is it you think I am searching for?” I said.

  Aunt Jo was gone. As quickly as she had appeared, she vanished. She simply floated away and became like a vapor. I rubbed my eyes for fear that I had been dreaming or imagined the last few minutes. All was quiet, as quiet as it gets at the three o’clock hour of the morning.

  I went back inside and lay down. It had to have been a dream. I had seen some strange things from this lady, but it seemed that her strangeness was ever increasing. Either that or my imagination was running wild. It was a toss-up.

  I tried to sleep. No luck there.

  I wrote Rosey a note so he would know that I had lost my mind. Maybe he would come looking for me. Maybe not.

  I wrote—Gone looking for Sam. I have a hunch that he went back to Gabriel’s Creek. Heading there to see. Clancy.

  All the way across the county I continually searched for Sam. I kept telling myself that there was no way he could leave around two something and already be on the other side of the county. Even at a trot it would take him several hours to traverse the geography of this portion of the Blue Ridge. What was I thinking? Why would Sam go back to that place?

  It took me half an hour to get where I was headed. I parked the Jeep in the same spot where we had parked for our searches. I decided to wait for daylight. At least I wasn’t completely insane. Only partially. I rested my head back on the seat and finally fell asleep.

  When I woke up it was light.

  55

  My cell phone informed me that it was close to seven o’clock. My body felt as if it were earlier than that. This was not the place I wanted to be on this day at this hour. I had to find Sam and get him to come home. I had no idea why he would want to return to this place. He still had some healing to do. Surely he would not return here looking for another fight.

  I climbed out of the Jeep. I suddenly felt stupid. An apparition had told me that Sam had returned to this part of the county. Or a dream. Maybe it was a vision I had. It was completely nonsensical for me to get up and drive across a strange county in the night alone. Stupid. I felt like an idiot. At least it was now light and I could see.

  I grabbed my hiking stick and checked my handgun. A full clip made me feel a little better. I took another clip out of glove box just in case. That old saying about an ounce of prevention passed through my mind briefly.

  I trudged into the woods reluctantly. This was not part of my great plan on how to find a killer. Sam and I would have a long talk once I found him. I was wondering what possessed him to return to this place, to travel fifteen or more miles across a county, to do something so out of character. Are dogs enough like humans that they have patterns? Are they also creatures of habit? Perhaps I had missed the obvious in my obsession with these murders.

  I stopped briefly at the clearing where Starnes had been found secured to the tree. I could see the entrance to it from the so-called rough trail I was following. I decided against leaving the trail and examining that rough portion once again. I listened for sounds that might be coming from that area. Nothing unusual could be heard. Just the normal early morning forest sounds—birds, a gentle wind blowing the tops of the trees, and more quiet than what one hears in the evenings.

  A wind rustled across my path. It was a cold wind. I shivered.

  I stayed on the trail and continued to follow wherever it might lead. This was now virgin territory for me, for us. Rosey, Ben and I had not ventured this deep into the acreage that adjoined K.C. Higgins’ land. I thought about the map that Rosey and I had examined a day or so ago. This land area was probably some two hundred acres, if not more. It was a lot of earth to cover, to find one single dog, to say nothing of finding a vicious animal that was bent on killing humans. I knew the dog for whom I was searching; the other, not so much.

  The trail was taking me to the southeast towards the Ivy River. It suddenly dawned on me that K.C. Higgins’ land was directly in the path of my movements. If I were heading towards the Ivy River, I would have to pass through her place, or some portion of her place. The Ivy River area was the scene of what we had earlier decided to be the scene of the first killing. It could have been merely a coincidence.

  As I walked along, I was wondering what provoked these killings, if they were somehow connected with K.C. Higgins. If there was this traumatic time back in 1984 for K.C., what was the trigger mechanism that caused her to be a part of these killings after so long a time had passed? If it’s her animal that is killing people, why now? What had happened recently to cause her to initiate or plan or carry out such ghastly slayings?

  I had some leads, some things we had followed, some puzzle pieces we had connected. Still, nothing made sense to me at the moment. Aunt Jo had told me that we were getting too close. Too close to what? K.C. is a person of interest, nothing more. I realized that I had no clear evidence that tied her to the deaths. Something significant was still missing. Was it obvious? Was it there in plain sight for me to see if I would simply look closer?

  I took out my cell phone to see if I had any signal here in these dense woods. One bar. Wow, at least I had something I could work with if need be.

  As I was putting the phone back into my pants pocket, it rang. The sound seemed to reverberate throughout the woods. It was of course an unnatural sound considering my surroundings.

  It was Rogers.

  “And is it a fine morning in the Blue Ridge, Miss Detective?” Rogers said.

  “Morning is fine, but my situation is less than that.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Looking for Sam. He seems to have wandered off during the early morning hours.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Sam.”

  “Tell me about it. Can’t figure what he’s doing.”

  “Did he have a head wound from his skirmish the other day?”

  “Could have, I suppose. The vet didn’t say much about that. Sam was acting fairly normal, as normal as an animal might act after having fought another animal four times his size and lived to tell about it.”

  “Maybe he’s remembering something at the scene. Not that he’s as intelligent as I, but he does have extraordinary abilities, more so than other dogs I have read about. As you know, my dealings with the canine world are somewhat limited by the space/time continuum.”

  “Yeah, I get that. Maybe you’re right and he’s out retracing his steps to see if he missed something.”

  “Hard to get inside the head of a dog,” Rogers said.

  “Also hard to get inside the head of a computer. I take it you called for more than a checkup on Sam.”

  “As a matter of fact, I had one other tiny little tidbit to transfer to your databank, my love. As I was reflecting upon your version of the events that went down after Starnes was missing, my natural inclination is to do a basic search on all names that you provide me in your earlier accountings. So, my skill-set came across some info on Walt Stanton, that deputy you said helped you in the search for Starnes and the animals.”

  “Your diminutive terms in describing your information are not peaking my curiosity here, Rogers.”

  “What I am about to tell you is likely minimal. But, at the same time, I thought it something you would like to know.”

  “Lay it on me, Brain-Child.”

  “Is that a compliment or a sarcastic tag?”

  “Rogers, you are the smartest …” I paused, searching for a term that hopefully would not offend her, “…entity I know. Take it as a compliment.”

  “So taken. Well, Deputy Walt is the grandson of Zeb and Ida Carter. He was born to Bet
hany Blue Carter and Wiley Joe Stanton in 1990, the same year in which they were married. That means, as you have already surmised, he is the nephew of one Randall Lee Carter.”

  “Nice tidbit,” I said.

  “Could be useful, good be trivial.”

  “In an investigation as complicated as this one is proving to be, any morsel of information is more of use than trivia. I appreciate your diligence once again.”

  “I shall continue my vigil on this. Anything you need from this end of an urgent nature?” Rogers said.

  “Yeah, work your program devices and come up with a motive for these particular deaths. If K.C. Higgins is the catalyst behind these slayings, then why now and what caused her to kill these particular individuals? You can run that list of victims together or separate just to see what pops. Let me know if you find anything.”

  “Is K.C. Higgins your prime suspect?”

  “Not only the prime, she’s it. But that doesn’t mean she’s guilty. Only highly suspicious at this point. The clues seem to point to her, but the method of murder is a wild animal. I am at a loss as to how to convince myself that she is directing some animal to brutally devour these people… everyone but Dottie Higgins. I have no evidence to connect K.C. to any of the slayings except her penchant for extremely large dogs and her mysterious deportment.”

  “Can’t convict her on those grounds,” Rogers said.

  “Yeah. Got that. Hence, my dilemma. See if you can contrive a motive.”

  “Contrive? Might not be the best word in this instance.”

  “I think you know what I mean.”

  “Only because I read your mind. I shall turn my wheels, process, and maybe even ponder.”

  “Right, ponder. That’s the part I still have difficulty accepting about you.”

  “I know. I remain an enigma at best.”

  “Actually, you’re a friend at best. The enigma part is secondary to our relationship.”

  “Wow, Sherlock. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. If I weren’t so highly intelligent and efficient, I would be humbled by your remark.