Dead Woman Crossing

by J. R. Adler

  The same screeching noise was repeated again, this time punctuated with a sickening thud and the shattering of glass. Kimberley looked up just in time to see droplets of blood spraying into the air, clumps of fawn and white fur blowing in the wind, glass shards sprinkling the road like a fresh hail had just fallen, and chunks of plastic and metal strewn to the sides of the vehicle that had been coming from the other direction. The deer slid across the pavement, doing roll after roll until it came to a stop in the gravel side strip off the highway.

  Immediately, Sam and Kimberley jumped out of the vehicle, running toward the black Ford Focus. Kimberley got to the driver’s side first. The airbag had gone off, and a woman with long blond hair that looked both dry and oily sat dazed in the passenger seat. Kimberley yanked open the door.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, examining the woman.

  She was thin, dressed in blue jean shorts and a white tank top. Scrapes and cuts covered her bare thighs where tiny shards of glass were sprinkled all over her. The woman looked up at Kimberley, her face a mix of a blank stare and confusion. A dark bruise wrapped around her left eye like a coiled black snake. That couldn’t have formed that quickly, Kimberley thought to herself.

  Sam stood behind Kimberley. “Sarah, let’s get you out of the vehicle slowly,” he said.

  Kimberley glanced at Sam and then at the woman in the car… Sarah. He knew her. She reached her hand out to help. Sarah hesitated, but allowed Kimberley to assist her. With one foot on the pavement, Kimberley pulled her out, so she wouldn’t slide against the broken glass that had fallen between her legs. She gently brushed the remaining glass off of herself.

  “Sarah, are you okay?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just rattled,” she said. “I don’t know how I didn’t see that deer.” Sarah looked out at the fields on either side and then back at Kimberley and Sam.

  “We almost hit one too,” Kimberley said.

  Sam leaned his head toward his radio clipped on the front of his shirt and spoke into it. “Sam, here. I’ve got an 11-81 out on E1000, east of N2440. Send a couple of deputies, a tow truck, and an ambulance, please. Over.”

  “Bearfield here. Burns and I are on our way. Over.”

  Sarah pulled a cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Do you wanna call your husband?” Sam asked.

  Sarah looked up at him and nodded.

  “Go on ahead. We’ll take care of the deer and wait here until the other deputies arrive.” Sam nodded, walking past the damaged vehicle to the back of it.

  “What do you mean we’ll take care of it?” Kimberley asked, keeping pace with Sam’s slow walk.

  As they neared the trunk of the vehicle, she could hear a muffled moan. In the ditch lay the bloodied, broken deer. Its tongue hanging out, its head swaying side to side, and then that awful muffled groan emitting from its open mouth. Its black eyes stared at Kimberley, a shred of life still in them, begging for help.

  “We can’t let it suffer,” Sam said, pulling his revolver from his holster.

  “You’re just going to shoot it? Isn’t there an animal hospital you can take it to?” Kimberley asked, knowing full well her question was ridiculous.

  Sam glanced over at her. “It’s the compassionate thing to do.” He raised his gun, aiming at the deer’s swaying head. Sam squeezed the trigger. Bang. The deer’s head hit the ground with a thud. Its black eyes still stared at Kimberley, but there was nothing left behind them. Shooting animals was new for her and not something she ever thought she’d get used to. At least with humans, the really bad ones, she could wrap her head around the idea that the world was better off without them, that justice was served, that they deserved it. Kimberley found humans were more like animals than animals were. She took a deep breath, inhaling the dry, dusty air. It scratched the back of her throat, causing her to cough several times.

  “You alright?” Sam drew his brows together.

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat and glanced over at the woman, who was in a hushed conversation on her phone, pacing back and forth on the country road. “You see the bruise on her left eye? That couldn’t have happened during the car accident?” Kimberley’s voice was full of concern.

  “You’re right. It didn’t. That’s Deputy Craig Lodge’s wife.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

  Sarah ended the call, sliding her phone back in her pocket.

  Kimberley shook her head and clenched her fist. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop it from connecting with Lodge’s face when he showed up.

  “He’s on his way,” Sarah said, looking at Kimberley and Sam and then down at her feet, almost as though she was ashamed to say it.

  “Looks like I’ll be meeting Lodge sooner than I thought I would,” Kimberley whispered to Sam.

  “Be nice. We all want to clock the guy, but there’s a right way to do things around here,” Sam warned.

  A black lifted Dodge Ram came speeding down the country road toward Sam, Kimberley, and Sarah. Dust and dirt encircled it as it kicked up everything loose on the ground. The exhaust emitted a blaring roar, which was rather annoying. Oh great, Sarah’s knight in shining armor. Kimberley rolled her eyes. The truck came to a screeching, dramatic halt with Deputy Craig Lodge jumping out of the truck and running to his wife. He was dressed in ratty jeans and a wife beater, but he was shorter than Kimberley had pictured him, coming in at around five foot nine. It was clear he tried to make up for his lack of height with lifting as his arms were thick, veins wrapped around them like ropes. He sported a buzzed military cut, despite never being in the military, and a crooked nose, which suited him.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Craig wrapped Sarah in his beefy arms.

  She nodded. “It came out of nowhere. Sam said they almost hit one too.”

  Sam walked toward them, and Kimberley followed behind. She raised her chin and shook out her clenched fist. Walker was right. There was a right way to do things.

  “Deputy Lodge.” Sam tilted his head.

  “Hey, Sam.” Craig released Sarah from his bear hug and stood beside her. “Thanks for being here to take care of my wife.”

  Kimberley expected him to be a huge dick, but he was being pleasant, nice. A wolf in sheepskin. Sam nodded.

  “This here is Chief Deputy Kimberley King. She’s new to the force from the NYPD, but you’ll be working under her when your suspension is up.” Sam gestured to Kimberley.

  Craig outstretched his hand for a handshake. She noticed his knuckles were scabbed over, and it took every ounce of willpower for Kimberley to reach hers out. Be professional, she reminded herself. Their hands connected and Kimberley squeezed as tightly as she could. A couple of bones in his hands cracked. She could see him wince a little. His eyes narrowed for a brief second, but he didn’t say a word. It wasn’t a firm “nice to meet you” handshake. It was a “hello, dickwad.” A warning.

  “Great to meet you, Kimberley. Can’t wait to get back on the force,” he said with a smile.

  They released hands. “It’s Chief Deputy King,” Kimberley corrected. “And, yes, I look forward to it.”

  “Ah yes. Chief Deputy King. Sorry about that,” he said with a laugh. “Been off the force too long.” He wiped his hand against his sweaty forehead.

  “I’ve got Bearfield and Burns coming down to take the accident report as well as paramedics and a tow truck.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Sarah said.

  “You should still get checked out,” Craig said, rubbing her shoulder.

  Kimberley could see her tense up immediately upon his hand touching her body. Sarah nodded.

  “What about the deer?” Craig asked, looking at Sam.

  “We’ll get it cleaned up.”

  “Mind if I take it home? I mean, it’s fresh, and it’d make for some good eating.” Craig punctuated his request with a smile.

  Sam paused for a moment and then nodded. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff,” Craig said pleased.<
br />
  This would be the type of guy that’d pick up dead animals off the side of the road, Kimberley thought to herself. She couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer. Every second she stood there was another moment she might punch Lodge in the face.

  “Should we head out?” Kimberley looked at Sam.

  “Oh yeah. I heard about Hannah Brown. Such a shame.” Craig shook his head. “If you need me back sooner to help out, I… I’m available.”

  Yes, that’s what we need to crack the case, Deputy Craig ‘wife beater’ Lodge. Kimberley forced her eyes to stay in place.

  “We’re good. Finish up your suspension and mandated counseling and stay out of trouble. We’ll see you back in the office next month,” Sam said curtly.

  Deputy Lodge nodded, acting as though he had accepted the answer, but a couple of veins in his neck had jutted out. “Of course.” He grinned.

  Kimberley could hear the sirens getting closer and closer.

  “Alright, we’re going to head out. Burns and Bearfield and the ambulance will be here momentarily. You two good?” Sam asked.

  Sarah nodded.

  “Yeah, thanks again. And it was good meeting you, Chief Deputy King,” Craig said with a nod and a smile.

  “Likewise,” Kimberley forced herself to say. She walked toward Sam’s Ford Bronco.

  Inside the vehicle, Kimberley let out a deep breath—it was all the tension she had been holding in. Sam turned on the engine and looked in the rearview mirror. Bearfield and Burns were getting out of their vehicles and walking toward the Ford Bronco. An ambulance sped toward them in the distance, a mile or so down the country road. Sam rolled down his window as Bearfield approached.

  “Afternoon, Sam,” Bearfield said. “Chief Deputy King.”

  They both nodded at him.

  “What we got?” Bearfield asked glancing at the damaged vehicle, Craig and Sarah, and back at Sam.

  “Animal accident. The deer’s been put down and is behind the vehicle. Sarah has some minor cuts, so make sure paramedics check her out. Deputy Lodge is taking the deer with him. No write up for animal control,” Sam rattled off. “As soon as the scene is cleared, I’ll need you and Burns back on the Brown case.”

  Bearfield nodded. “You got it.”

  “And don’t give Lodge any details on the case,” Sam added.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kimberley looked up ahead. Craig was no longer standing by Sarah. She couldn’t see him anywhere. Her eyes focused on the wrecked Ford Focus. He wasn’t inside of that either. She turned back to see if he had gone back to his truck. Not there either. When she looked forward again, she spotted him dragging the deer’s body out from behind the car. The carcass left a bloody trail behind it, and he smiled widely at his newfound prize.

  “Burns, help me with this,” he called out.

  Before Burns walked away, Kimberley stopped him. “Burns, how’s it coming along with Hannah’s phone?”

  “I just got the device unlocked before I headed here. Phone company said it’d take twenty-four to forty-eight hours to produce phone records. But I’ll start going through what’s on the actual phone just as soon as I’m done here,” he said.

  “Good work. I need them right away. So finish up quickly here.”

  Burns nodded. “Of course,” and then headed toward Craig and the dead deer.

  “Bear, help him compile the phone data. We need all hands on deck,” Sam instructed.

  Bear nodded and took a step back from the vehicle as Sam put it in drive and pulled forward slowly.

  Craig stared at Kimberley as they passed by. She didn’t believe that people could see the future, but she could see his and it wasn’t going to turn out well if she had anything to do with it.

  “Let’s go give Kent Wills a visit,” Sam said.

  “Sure, let’s just get the fuck outta here.”

  16

  Looking through the windshield of the police cruiser, Kimberley knew Sam was right about Kent Wills just from seeing the outside of his house. It was adorned with Halloween decorations despite it being the end of summer. Ghosts hung from trees. Jack-o’-lanterns lined the front porch. There were fake cobwebs stretched over everything; the windows, trees, bushes. He had really gone all out on his ghost tour business.

  Kimberley and Sam stepped out of the vehicle and made their way to the front door. Sam knocked twice before he heard rustling inside.

  Kent Wills, a man in his sixties with thinning gray hair and glasses opened the door. He was dressed in a graphic T-shirt that read “Ghosts are real. I’ve seen them.” His shirt was tucked into his pants, held up by a worn brown leather belt.

  “Sam, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said sarcastically.

  “Just need to ask you a few questions. This here is Chief Deputy Kimberley King.” He gestured to Kimberley.

  Kent Wills waggled his eyebrows slightly. “Got yourself a looker.” He leered. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a town like this?”

  “Solving the murder that happened near where you put on your ghost tours. Know anything about that?” Kimberley raised her chin.

  Kent coughed a few times and swallowed hard. “Of course not.”

  “Let’s go inside and chat,” Sam said. His tone was friendly, disarming.

  Kent backed up, allowing Kimberley and Sam to enter his home.

  The home was beyond cluttered with outdated furniture and décor. Stacks of cardboard boxes lined a wall. Another wall was covered in a hodgepodge of tacky bird clocks that Kimberley found quite disturbing. The beige carpet was worn and covered in stains. It was clear all of Kent’s energy was put into his business and not his house. He walked over to the orange couch and pushed a stack of newspapers off of it.

  “Here, have a seat,” he said.

  Kimberley was going to decline, but when Sam sat down, she figured she would too. Kent sat down in the plaid tattered chair kitty-corner to the couch.

  “Do you keep records of the people that go on your ghost tours?” Kimberley asked, cutting right to the chase.

  “Why you asking about my ghost tour? You trying to book a spot?” Kent lifted an eyebrow.

  “No. We’re just gathering some information. So, do you keep a record of your ghost tours?” Kimberley asked again.

  “Of course. Got to for future marketing.” He nodded.

  “And tax purposes,” Kimberley added, knowing full well there was no way Kent was paying taxes on the money he earned from his ghost tours. When she had learned he only accepted cash, she figured it’d be an angle she could use to force information out of him if he were uncooperative. The IRS threat worked on most people.

  “Yeah, for that too,” he said unconvincingly.

  “How far do your records go back?” Sam asked.

  “Since I started the business.”

  “We’re going to need records for the last twelve months,” Kimberley said. She figured in order to appease Sam’s “gut feeling” she’d have to be thorough. Six months would have sufficed, but twelve months would allow Kimberley to see the bigger picture. How many people on average went on the tour? Were there any repeaters? Her gut told her they were barking up the wrong tree, but this was Sam’s town.

  Kent looked at Sam and then at Kimberley, his eyes like a pendulum. Finally, he stood up. “Let me just get that from my office then.”

  Kent walked slowly out of the room, shuffling his feet along the floor. Kimberley and Sam exchanged a look of disbelief. As soon as he was out of the room, Kimberley stood up and hurried over to the cardboard boxes. She opened up one. It was full of old books. Another one revealed a set of dishes.

  “What are you doing?” Sam asked just above a whisper.

  “Shh, just browsing,” Kimberley hissed.

  Kimberley opened another box. A stack of old Penthouse magazines sat inside. The top one was from June 1978 and on the cover appeared the naked bottom half of a woman upside down inside of a meat grinder with the text “‘We will no longer
hang women up like pieces of meat.’ Larry Flynt.”

  Grimacing, she hurriedly closed the box back up and took her spot on the couch when she heard Kent’s shuffling footsteps.

  Kent returned with five spiral notebooks. He handed them to Kimberley before retaking his seat.

  “They’re all in there. Names. Email addresses. Phone numbers. Separated out by each day. I do one tour a day, three hundred and fifty-one days a year. I give myself a total of two weeks of vacation. I’m the hardest working retired man you’ll ever meet,” he said, raising his chin proudly.

  Kimberley gave Sam a puzzled look and then looked down at the spirals, thumbing through them. Each page had the date at the top and then below it a table was drawn in pencil with three columns labeled—name, email and phone number. Like a guest book for his tours. With this type of outdated record-keeping, she wondered how reliable they actually were.

  “No one is calling your work ethic into question,” Sam said soothingly. “We’re just trying to get a sense of people coming in and out of town. And since your ghost tour is more of a tourist attraction, we figured it’d be a good start.”

  Kent looked mollified. “Oh. Okay. You said someone was murdered down by where I give my tours? Think someone on one of my tours did it?”

  “We’re exploring a number of possibilities,” Sam said carefully.

  “Have you noticed anyone acting rather strange on your tour? Maybe someone a little too invested in the true-crime story you cover?” Kimberley asked, also careful not to reveal too much.

  Kent scratched at his chin as if he were considering, thinking back to the people he had encountered. “Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Well, we had this one weirdo a while back. I remember because it was the hottest day of the year—over a hundred degrees outside—and he was wearing black jeans and a black hoodie. He had them big holes in his ears. I swear I could have fit one of my dinner plates inside of them.”

  “How long ago was this?” Kimberley tilted her head.

  “Years ago.”