by J. R. Adler
“Fucking fuck,” Kimberley said, clenching her fists. “So, we’ve got nothing.”
Sam took a deep breath and slightly nodded, unwilling to fully admit how completely fucked they were on this case.
“We got a decapitated body left by a creek with a single bullet to the head. A fourteen-month-old girl as our only witness. No DNA evidence. Phone calls to a presumably unregistered number, but no texts that would indicate any sort of a relationship,” Sam thought out loud.
Kimberley said nothing.
“Hill,” Sam yelled.
Moments later, Hill appeared in the doorway.
“What have you got on outside-town visitors?”
Hill cleared his throat. “Not much. Motel guests came back clean. A family on a cross-country road trip. A couple of elderly couples. No criminal histories. Nothing out of the ordinary. I talked with a motel maid and a front-desk worker. They noted nothing unusual. I’m still checking on Airbnb guests.”
Sam rubbed his hand over his face. “Alright. I want all of that compiled and on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.”
“You got it.” Hill nodded and left the office with a slight limp.
Kimberley crossed her legs, tapping her fingers on her knee. She’d had cases like this before. Cases where there was nothing to go off on. And that was in New York City, a place with nearly nine million people, and she still somehow figured out the single person responsible, nearly every time. But this was different. This was one murder, not five, and this was Dead Woman Crossing, a town so small, they didn’t even bother counting how many people were in it. The odds were better here. She had learned as a detective that people can’t hide, and secrets don’t stay secrets forever. She was going to catch Hannah Brown’s murderer.
24
Kimberley drove through town in her newly assigned police vehicle, a Ford Explorer, with “Sheriff Custer County” plastered along the sides of the vehicle. She had stayed at the office later than usual, the last to leave, mulling over anything and everything pertaining to the case. When her stomach started to rumble and she noticed dusk had fallen, she packed up her tote bag with files to bring home with her. When she left New York, she promised herself that she would never take her work home with her again. Less than a week in, and she had already broken that promise.
The town of Dead Woman Crossing was quieter than usual. At the four-way stop, she noticed The Trophy Room was closed. All the lights were off, it was silent, and the men that typically hung outside smoking were nowhere to be seen. It was like a quarantine had been put over the town; no traffic, no one outside. Not only had she alienated herself from her family, but she was sure she had done the same with the whole town. With their beloved bar closed for the night, what would the townies do? Plot her demise? Or just drink cheap beer in their own homes without the comfort of their comrades. Were they scared? After all, one of their own was murdered and there was still a killer out on the loose.
Kimberley pulled into the long gravel driveway. Her headlights lit up the large white farmhouse, and she quickly turned them off. Wyatt was spending the night in jail, so Emily would be home alone with her two boys. Kimberley parked the vehicle off to the side and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat before getting out. She looked up at the farmhouse. A light was on in a room off to the left, which Kimberley knew to be the living room.
She stood there for a few moments, deciding whether or not to check in on Emily. Before her brain could decide, her feet were already pulling her toward the wraparound porch, and her knuckles were rapping softly on the door.
“Just a minute,” Emily called out.
Moments passed before she heard footsteps, the click of the lock, and the turn of the handle. Emily’s face immediately went sour when she saw Kimberley. The corners of her lips turned downward. Her eyes so narrowed you couldn’t slip a dollar bill between her lids. She didn’t bother to open the screen door for a proper greeting either. Kimberley looked at Emily through the screen, her face split up by a thousand tiny squares of aluminum, each one displeased with her presence.
“What do you want?” Emily’s voice was laced with anger and annoyance.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. See if you needed anything?”
“Yeah, I need you to get off my front porch.”
“Emily, I’m not the enemy.”
Emily shook her head, wiping the side of her face against her shoulder. “And you’re not a friend either.”
“You have every right to feel that way, but your husband broke the law, and I’m just doing my job.”
“You couldn’t have come to us in private first? Asked him to stop? He would have listened. He would have done the right thing.” Her voice cracked as she forced out the words.
“I didn’t know about the moonshine, Emily. I was simply trying to line up Wyatt and Ryan’s stories on where they were when Hannah was murdered. He fessed up to the moonshine on his own, we didn’t even have to press him.” Kimberley paused, seeing the words stringing themselves heavy around Emily’s neck. “Look, for what it’s worth, I have seen a lot of scumbags in my career in rooms just like that, lying through their teeth, showing no remorse. This was weighing on Wyatt, and he didn’t hesitate to want that burden off of him. Your husband is a good man who was trying to do right by his family but just went about it the wrong way.”
Emily wiped the tears from her eyes and stared at Kimberley, waiting for her to go on.
“What he did isn’t that big of a deal, and him being cooperative really helps. He will probably just get a fine and some community service and life will go on as usual.”
“But we couldn’t afford nothin’ before. How are we supposed to pay off a fine?”
“I’m sure you will find a way. Maybe sell that equipment he bought and never used. Or take out a loan and collateralize the farmhouse. Talk to your dad—he might have some money hidden away. That’ll be for you guys to decide as a family.”
Emily stood silently, weighing her options.
“I really didn’t mean to cause your family harm. I didn’t even know about the moonshine; I just had some questions for him. That’s all.”
“Your family too, Kimberley.” Emily slowly closed the door on her, ending the conversation.
Her words cut through Kimberley, right to the center of her chest. She slumped her shoulders and shook her head. Kimberley hadn’t thought of herself as family. To her, she was a temporary guest. Her mother was family. She and Jessica were just her baggage. She walked across the porch and down the steps, cutting across the lawn to the rock-lined path that led to the cottage. She hoped with time things would straighten out between her and Emily, but she couldn’t focus on that now.
At the front door of the cottage, Kimberley hesitated, her hand hovering just above the door handle. She was excited to see Jessica, but her excitement ended there as she was sure the reception from David and Nicole would be cold. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. The living room was empty—a small sigh of relief. She walked through it and into the dining room. David was seated at the table drinking a Bud Light, waiting for his food to be served. He didn’t look up at Kimberley, his eyes forward, staring at the wall on the other side of the room as if there was something there to look at. Kimberley followed his line of vision to a blank wall, not even a splotch or a crack of paint to focus on. Her eyes went back to him, from his hands to his tense shoulders to the prominent vein in the side of his neck illustrating how infuriated he was.
Kimberley said, “Hi, David,” with a nod as she walked by.
He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her. He was just still, like a statue, aside from that beating vein.
In the kitchen, her mother was at the stove stirring a pot with a wooden spoon.
“Hey, Mom,” she said, trying to be nonchalant, like everything was normal and she hadn’t just had her stepbrother-in-law thrown in jail.
“Kimberley,” her mother said, not looking at her. It wasn’t exactly a gree
ting, more so like she was stating who else was in the room with her.
“Where’s Jessica?”
“I put her to bed.”
“Before I got home?” Kimberley twisted her lips, upset that she didn’t even get to say good night to her daughter, nor tuck her in.
“She was tired, Kimberley,” Nicole said curtly, looking over her shoulder at Kimberley for a brief second and then refocusing her attention to the meal she was preparing.
Kimberley knew her mom was mad, but she couldn’t stay mad forever. “Can I help with anything?”
Nicole shook her head. “Just pour yourself a glass of wine and have a seat.”
Kimberley did as she was told, uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses, one for her and one for her mom. She took a seat at the counter, spinning her glass slowly in her hand as if she were examining the red liquid.
“Whatcha cooking?” Kimberley attempted small talk, anything to get her mom to speak to her.
“Beef stew with potatoes, carrots, and onions.” Nicole took a swig of her wine and went back to stirring the pot.
“I’m sure you heard about Wyatt.”
Nicole nodded. “The whole goddamn town has.” She clenched her jaw, trying to compose herself.
“He fully cooperated, so the judge should go easy on him,” she explained.
“They’re going to lose the farm,” Nicole said just above a whisper.
“What was that?”
“She said… they’re going to lose the farm!” David yelled, slamming his Bud Light on the table, liquid shooting out the top like a volcano. The statue had woken up, his stone exterior crumbling around him. He got up from the table and with two big, thundering steps he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The vein in his neck bounced up and down, up and down.
Kimberley wasn’t afraid of David, regardless of how large or how mad he was. She looked him straight in the eye, laser focused, and said, “Now why would a perfectly prospering and legal farm go under from a small fine?”
“Don’t play fuckin’ smart with me. You know damn well it wasn’t any of those things.” Another vein made an appearance in the center of his forehead. It looked even angrier than the one in his neck. Was it the same vein, Kimberley wondered? She pictured the rod-shaped tissue emerging from his forehead, skin splitting, blood oozing, like a scene out of Alien.
“David, I don’t make the laws, I just enforce them. I didn’t make Wyatt illegally manufacture and sell moonshine.” Kimberley raised her glass of wine to her lips and took a sip.
His hands clenched the trim on the doorway, turning his fingers white. He glared at Kimberley like they were about to take part in a duel. Who would raise their gun first? David shook his head, let out a huff, and dropped his hands from the doorway. Immediately, he turned around, walking away, his heavy footsteps traveling through the dining room, the living room and then crossing the threshold of the front door, which slammed behind him.
Nicole stood silently in the kitchen holding the wooden spoon. Her mouth slightly open. She didn’t know what to say. Kimberley looked over at her mom, shook her head, grabbed her tote bag and walked out of the kitchen, retiring to her bedroom for the evening. She’d had enough of the Wyatt/moonshine situation.
Kimberley closed the door behind her and felt her way in the dark. She turned on the bedside light and quietly walked toward the crib.
“Good night, sweet girl,” Kimberley said softly, pushing Jessica’s hair out of her face and pulling her blanket up a little higher.
She tucked her stuffed elephant under her arm, careful not to wake her.
Kimberley changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and climbed into her bed. Pulling the files out of her bag, she turned her bed into her office. The pictures of the crime scene splayed out in front of her. Reports from first responding deputies, from the fisherman. The results of Megan’s forensics exams. It was all here. But when she looked at it, she realized how little they had to go on.
She read over each report carefully, looking for something to stand out, but nothing did. She looked closely at the crime scene photographs. Kimberley strained her eyes to focus on every detail. The strands of grass. The specks of dirt. The freckles on Hannah Brown’s arms. She reread the few witness statements they had, from Hannah’s mom, her co-worker, her boss, her daycare, the fisherman at the scene. All the fisherman could tell them was when and where he found the body. Everything else in the report was a blubbering mess. The first deputies on the scene could only verify how they found the body. Hannah’s mother couldn’t tell them anything about the night that her daughter was murdered aside from the fact they fought that day. Her co-worker, her boss, and Isobel’s daycare teacher said Hannah was normal on the day she was murdered. Kimberley still hadn’t gotten in touch with Isobel’s father, Tyler Louis. It was a loose end that needed to be tied up. She wrote his name down on a pad of paper, circling it twice. Bearfield had verified that Hannah had worked at the pharmacy earlier that day and that there was nothing unusual, but what did her co-workers know about her? She wrote down “co-workers.” How often did Lisa watch Isobel? She wrote down “Lisa.” Was Hannah dating anyone? Nothing in her apartment indicated that she was, nor in her cell phone records, aside from the unregistered number. What about the daycare center? Sure, as Bearfield noted in his interview, Hannah was fine on the day of her murder, but what about before that? What could they tell Kimberley about Hannah? They interacted with her several days a week. Kimberley wrote down “Happy Trails Daycare.”
She tossed down the pad of paper and pen and let out a sigh. Maybe Sam was right. It was a true-crime obsessive, an out-of-towner, responsible for the gruesome murder. After all, the sheriff knew Dead Woman Crossing better than anyone, well, aside from Barb. She pushed everything back into her tote bag and laid her head on the pillow.
Kimberley told herself that she had a few things to follow up on tomorrow, as weak as leads as they may be, they were still something to get her started. That was enough to ease her slowly to sleep.
Kimberley’s eyes shot open. A pressure had built up in her pelvic region, calling her back into consciousness. The bedroom was dark and dead silent, save for the soft breathing of her sleeping daughter in the crib. She glanced over at the clock on her bed stand. 3 a.m. She closed her eyes again, trying to fall back asleep, but the pain was too much, and duty called. She groaned to herself, sliding out of bed. Holding her hands out in front of her, she felt her way to the door. An uncomfortable sharpness met both of her palms as the popcorn walls once again jutted into her flesh, its bloodlust still not quenched. Kimberley stepped to the left and felt down for the doorknob. She pulled it open slowly and tiptoed out into the dark hallway. The house was eerily silent. The floor creaked under her. She paused, hoping she hadn’t woken anyone. Silence. Not even the ambient sounds of crickets outside or the wind blowing through the vegetation. Nothing. It took her a few steps to reach the bathroom and before flicking on the light, she closed the door behind her, so as not to illuminate the main area of the house and possibly disturb David or Nicole. Kimberley felt the wall for the switch. When her hand found it, she flicked it on. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, rubbing them for a moment, trying to let her pupils contract back to normal and dampen the amount of light coming in. Her eyes opened just a squint and there on the mirror written in blood, “Who’s the King now?”
Kimberley screamed, punching the mirror with an instinctual reflex. She looked down at her hand; it was pouring blood as clunks of glass shot out of her skin like needles from a cactus. She reached for the faucet to rinse the blood, but instead of water, more blood poured from the faucet. She quickly twisted the handle back to close the valve, but it wouldn’t stop. She tried to leave, get David to help with the plumbing emergency, but the door was locked from the other side. She screamed back into the pieces of the mirror that still hung in place, but two arms shot out and massive gloved hands squeezed Kimberley’s throat, the air immediately cut
off mid scream. She looked closer and there he was; she could finally see him, after all these years. The light began to fade from her eyes and the room went dark, no oxygen getting to her brain. This was finally it. Kimberley made a last-ditch effort and dove forward into the mirror, her face just about to make contact with whatever was on the other side—
“NO!” Kimberley yelled out loud, sitting up in her bed. Her breath was ragged. Her heart raced. Sweat was dripping from her forehead and the sheets were damp where her body had been lying. Fuck, it was just a dream. She held her breath, listening for her daughter, and when she heard her soft breathing, Kimberley exhaled a sigh of relief. She laid back down in bed, pulling the covers up around her.
25
Dressed in her uniform with her tote bag over her shoulder, Kimberley carried Jessica out to the kitchen, setting her in her highchair. Nicole was already up, sipping on a cup of coffee while slicing up a banana. She was sure the banana was for Jessica because Kimberley still had yet to see her mother consume anything substantial. It seemed something was eating at Nicole.
Nicole placed half of the cut-up banana on a plate and put it on Jessica’s tray. “Good morning, sweetie,” she said, pinching at her cheeks.
“Nana,” Jessica said all smiley and sleepy while she put a piece of banana in her mouth.
Nicole filled a sippy cup with water and handed it to her granddaughter. “Take a big drink.”
Jessica did as she was told, taking a drink and then another piece of banana. Kimberley was grateful Jessica had always been such a good baby. Nicole poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Kimberley.
“Thanks,” Kimberley said, hoping her mother’s displeasure with her had faded.
Nicole gave a small nod. “David went to bail Wyatt out.”
“That’s good.” Kimberley leaned against the counter.
Nicole pretended to be busy with emptying the used coffee beans from the pot and wiping down the counters, but Kimberley could tell she wanted to say more.
