Dead Woman Crossing

by J. R. Adler

  She stood up from the couch. “I’ll have a deputy get in touch with you tomorrow regarding the paternity test.”

  Lisa unfolded herself, looking up at Kimberley, her face wet with tears.

  “How’s Isobel been doing?” she asked, hoping to leave Lisa in a better mood.

  “She’s still calling out for her mom, but other than that, she’s been sleeping and eating good. I just wish I could do more for her. Wish I could give her what she needs… her mom.” Lisa’s eyes swam with tears again.

  “I’m going to find the person that did this. Just hold on a little bit longer. Your daughter will have her justice.”

  Lisa nodded. “Thank you, Chief Deputy King.”

  Kimberley nodded and saw herself out.

  30

  Kimberley parked her car on the side of the road just before the bridge that crossed over Deer Creek. She hadn’t been back here since the day Hannah’s body was discovered, and she wasn’t sure what exactly brought her here. Perhaps she was looking for another clue or just clarity. She felt good about where the investigation was going, like it was finally heading in the right direction. Her gut told her it was.

  Before she could step out of the vehicle, a black lifted Dodge Ram pulled up slowly beside her and stopped. Deputy Craig Lodge rolled down his window. He was wearing a pair of aviators, a crooked smile and his signature wife beater. A fat wad of dip sat behind his lower lip.

  “Chief Deputy King,” he said with a tip of his head.

  Kimberley took a deep breath. This was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. Be professional. Be professional. She repeated to herself.

  “Lodge,” she said, withholding the “Deputy.” In her book, he did not deserve the title. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just checking out the area so I’m up to speed when I get back on the Brown case.”

  “From my understanding, your suspension isn’t up for another four weeks.” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s true, but I’m sure this case won’t be solved by then. From what I’ve heard round town, y’all are running around in circles, got zilch to go on.”

  Fucking asshole. Kimberley got out of her vehicle, closing the door behind her. She stood a few feet from Craig in his stupid lifted truck. “I think your time is best spent focusing on completing your therapy and your AA classes, Lodge. We’ve got it covered here.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He twisted up his lips and repositioned the wad of dip in his mouth. “Alright then, King. See ya around.”

  “When you’re back on the force, you better have learned to address me properly,” she warned.

  “Apologies, Chief Deputy King.”

  Kimberley turned on her foot and walked away toward the bridge. Craig revved his engine and stepped on the gas pedal, taking off at full speed, kicking up dirt and loose rocks. Jackass.

  Kimberley carefully trekked down the side of the hill, brushing past the long blowing wheat. The sun was peaking behind the horizon, one last look for the day, before it fell completely. Kimberley glanced up and down the creek, listening to the water babble its way past rocks. She walked to the spot where Hannah’s body had been discovered. It was now just an area where the wheat had been flattened and the dirt was out of place. There was no indication that death had been there. Death always left a mark.

  “What were you doing down here, Hannah?” Kimberley whispered as if hoping the wind would answer back. “Why were you here with your baby?”

  Kimberley’s eyes ran over the flattened wheat. It was like a crop circle indicating life lost rather than new life. She walked around Hannah’s spot, down the creek to where the head was discovered. There was nothing to indicate a body part once laid there. No blood. No flattened wheat. No kicked-up dirt. Nothing. But she remembered exactly where it was. The memory of Hannah’s emerald-green eyes submerged just beneath a pool of milk would never leave her mind. Another tattoo for the brain.

  The sound of a vehicle and a loud voice caught Kimberley’s attention. She put her hand over her eyes and looked up at the side of the road. She shook her head when she saw Kent Wills, a younger man that looked just like Kent, and a group of people behind them.

  “The story of Dead Woman Crossing began over one hundred years, but it’s one that continues to this very day, taking the life of Katie DeWitt James back in 1905 and now Hannah Brown, both slain in the exact same way: a bullet to the head and decapitation right in front of their infant daughters. Some say you can still hear Katie calling out for help around here late at night, and recent sightings say they’ve heard Hannah calling out for her baby Isobel. ‘Where are you, Isobel?’ she yells all throughout the night,” Kent said, guiding his tour group down the valley.

  Kimberley shook her head in disgust and rolled her eyes.

  Kent tipped his head at Kimberley. “See if you can feel them. See if you can hear them. Go wander,” he instructed.

  His tour group of ten spread out, walking up and down the bank of Deer Creek, traipsing over the place that should be seen as sacred rather than some tourist attraction for the morbid. Kent walked toward Kimberley, side by side with the younger-looking Kent that she presumed to be his son. He looked around thirty with a full beard and blue eyes that contrasted with his dark brown hair.

  “Chief Deputy King, I thought this scene was cleared yesterday,” Kent said.

  “It was.”

  “Well, then, what brings you down here?” he asked, rocking back on his heels.

  “Just covering my bases.”

  “Alright… this here’s my boy, Kent Jr.” He patted his son on the back. Kimberley should have known that Kent was the type of man to name another human being after him as if there were some legacy he was leaving behind and ensuring it was carried on.

  The son held out his hand for a handshake.

  Kimberley looked down at his hand, ignoring it. She looked back at Kent and Kent Jr. She wasn’t interested in pleasantries with either of them. “You got a whole part in your ghost tour about Hannah Brown already?”

  “Gotta seize every opportunity you can,” Kent said with a “what can you do” shrug.

  “I wouldn’t call the death of a young girl an opportunity.” Kimberley’s tone was icy.

  “And that is where we differ.” He tilted his head, an edge to his voice.

  “Looks like your profiting quite nicely from this tragedy. Is that a full tour you got?” Kimberley looked past them at the people milling about the former crime scene.

  “Murder has been good for business.” Kent Jr. smirked.

  Kimberley clenched her fist. Don’t deck him. Don’t deck him. Don’t deck him. She repeated to herself. She wiggled life back into her fingers, composing herself. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it again. The smugness on his face infuriated her.

  “What my boy meant to say is, although it was devastating what happened to Hannah, it’s provided our family with so much, like reincarnation of a sort. I’m getting bookings again, lots of them. So much business, I had to bring Kent Jr. in on it just to help me manage, which was lucky since he lost his job a while back. We plan to do it all—merchandise, a documentary and a book,” Kent said, overjoyed by his own success.

  Kimberley tasted bile in the back of her throat.

  “Hannah hasn’t even been buried yet. Seems sick, don’t you think?” She tried to remain cool, calm, and collected.

  “Nothing sick about capitalism,” Kent Jr., said, raising his chin.

  Nope. She couldn’t do it. Not the second time. Her hand clenched again forming a fist, but this time rather than staying by her side, she reeled it back and slammed it into Kent Jr. fuckface’s nose. She heard a crunch, like stepping on a gravel driveway. Blood instantly poured from his nose like a faucet in his head had been turned on. Kimberley pulled her fist back just as he fell backward, his ass hitting the ground in the exact spot that Hannah’s head laid just a few days before.

  “What the fuck?” he yelled, t
rying to tip his head back while holding his nose that Kimberley knew for sure was broken.

  She shook out her hand and took a step back.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” Kent spit, while attempting to help his son.

  “Just seizing an opportunity,” she said sarcastically. But in her head, Kimberley was kicking herself for what she had done.

  “I’m reporting this to Sam,” Kent yelled out as Kimberley walked away, passing by the tour guests. Those that saw what happened stared and whispered.

  “No need. I’ll do it myself,” Kimberley called over her shoulder.

  “Fucking bitch,” Kent Jr. yelled, but the blood pouring from his nose made him sound gurgly, rather than threatening.

  Kimberley shook out her hand a couple more times as she walked up to the road. Regardless of how pissed off Sam would be, she would never regret hitting that prick. She looked down at her knuckles, a blue tint already spreading over them. She liked the way it looked. A small blemish of justice.

  Kimberley hopped out of her vehicle and sprinted toward the Happy Trails Daycare Center. She was ten minutes late thanks to her run-in with Dipshit Senior and Junior. Nicole had offered to pick up Jessica, but Kimberley needed to speak with the daycare teacher anyway, and she hadn’t gotten to pick up Jessica all week. The point of moving to Dead Woman Crossing was to spend more time with her daughter, but it wasn’t happening as of yet. At least, she was making it home for dinner, which she rarely did in the city. She threw open the doors and there, sitting on the floor playing with a stack of colored blocks, was Jessica.

  Jessica looked up, her face instantly brightening when she saw her mother. She stood and ran toward her clumsily. Kimberley bent down, reaching out her arms, and as soon as Jessica was safely in them, she lifted her into the air, twirling her around.

  “I missed you so much, baby,” Kimberley said, kissing both sides of her cheeks.

  Jessica wiped at her face giggling. “Ma-ma. Missed… you,” she said.

  Kimberley smiled so wide she thought her lip might split. “Such a smart girl, you are.”

  It was important to Kimberley to always tell her daughter how smart, strong, and clever she was. She wanted Jessica to grow up valuing strength and intelligence over looks.

  “Next time you’re late, I’ll have to charge you for the after-school program,” Margaret said, standing from a chair.

  Kimberley hadn’t even noticed her sitting there.

  She set Jessica down, careful to not get her legs caught up on her utility belt. “Play with your blocks, sweetie,” she said.

  Jessica ran back to her stack of blocks, sitting back down beside them.

  “Sorry about that, Margaret. I got held up at work.”

  “It’s okay. I understand you’re under a lot of pressure with the Hannah Brown case. I appreciate your efforts, and I hope you catch the person responsible, so we can all rest a little easier at night,” Margaret said. Her stern face had become soft and sympathetic.

  “Thanks. Actually, I had a couple of questions for you about that. Do you have time to speak now?”

  “Certainly. Anything I can do to help.”

  Margaret took a seat and motioned for Kimberley to sit in the chair across from her. She walked to the chair, taking the seat she’d indicated, and pulled out her notepad and pen.

  “You were Isobel’s daycare teacher, correct?”

  “Yes, since she turned twelve months old and moved up to toddler care around two months ago.” Margaret nodded as she spoke.

  “Did anyone ever drop or pick Isobel up beside Hannah or her mother?”

  “Not that I can think of. I can check her emergency contact sheet to see if she had anyone else down.”

  “That’d be great.” Kimberley smiled.

  Margaret rose from her seat and disappeared down the hallway. Kimberley glanced over at her daughter as she held up a blue block.

  “What color is that, Jessica?”

  Jessica looked at the block, turning it over in her tiny hands, then looked back at her mother. “Boo.”

  “Bl-ue. That’s right. Such a smart girl,” Kimberley gushed.

  “Here you are,” Margaret said, entering the room and extending out a yellow file folder. “All of the information Hannah put down is in there.”

  Kimberley took the folder and opened it up. The page was filled in with Hannah’s handwriting. Kimberley saw the contact information for the pharmacy, her mom, Hannah’s cell phone, and there was one number without a name.

  “What’s this?” Kimberley asked. “There’s a phone number with no name or address.”

  “Ah shoot. She must have forgot to fill that part in.”

  “Mind if I take a picture of it?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Kimberley pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of the contact form, focusing on the lone number with no other details, just ten digits in a row that may or may not have belonged to the murderer. It could just be a friend of Hannah’s, a co-worker, a house phone, but the way it was written just seemed odd. The first number was a four. A heavy dot of ink was at the top of it, like Hannah had held her pen down for too long, hesitating whether or not to write the number. The rest of it is a scribble, like a chicken scratch, as if she had made the decision as soon as she wrote the number four. Maybe Kimberley was looking too much into it. Maybe she had forgotten the number, held her pen down and then suddenly it came to her. Perhaps Kimberley was looking for something that wasn’t there. She closed up the folder before she started analyzing every letter and number Hannah had written down. Handing it back to Margaret, she thanked her.

  “Anything else you can tell me about Hannah?”

  “Well, she ran late dropping off Isobel in the mornings, and she just always looked tired. But she was a single working mom. So, that’s not unusual. She was never late picking Isobel up in the afternoon.” Margaret paused for a moment. “There’s not much I can really tell you. Hannah was a very nice woman and clearly a good mom who loved her daughter dearly. I’ve had Isobel in toddler care for two months and she’s an absolute joy.” Her eyes became a little misty.

  “Thank you, Margaret. I appreciate your time.”

  Margaret wiped her eyes. “No problem. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “I think that’s everything for now.” Kimberley put away her notepad, pen, and phone. Standing up from her chair, she scooped up Jessica.

  “I really hope you catch the person that did this,” Margaret said as Kimberley walked away. There was a sadness in her voice.

  Kimberley turned back. “I will, Margaret. Have a good night,” she said, leaving the daycare center.

  31

  “Hey, Mom,” Kimberley said as she carried Jessica into the living room. Nicole sat on the couch reading a book with a half-naked cowboy on the cover. The smell of some sort of roast wafted through the home. On the coffee table sat a plate of grapes and cut-up cheese, a bottle of wine, Jessica’s sippy cup, and two glasses of wine, as if Nicole were waiting for Kimberley to join her.

  “Hey.” Nicole closed up her book and placed it on the coffee table, exchanging it for a glass of wine. Her attention immediately went to Jessica. “Hi, sweetie.” Her voice increased a couple of octaves. Kimberley sat down beside her mom with Jessica on her lap.

  Kimberley handed Jessica her sippy cup. She gripped the handles with both hands and took a drink while Kimberley popped a piece of cheese in her mouth and grabbed her glass of wine. The whole setup was clearly Nicole’s peace offering.

  “Food won’t be ready for a while. I’m running late due to my hair appointment.”

  Mid popping a grape in her mouth, Kimberley stopped and looked over at her mother. The gray that speckled and streaked her hair had been replaced by a deep chestnut color. She hadn’t even noticed how vibrant and shiny it looked.

  “Mom, your hair looks stunning. I haven’t seen it look like that in years,” Kimberley gushed.

  Nicole couldn’t he
lp but smile. “Thanks. I figured I needed to change it up. Jessica learned the word ‘gray’ the other day, and she started pointing at my hair, saying ‘gray’ over and over again.”

  Kimberley laughed, handing a sliced grape to Jessica.

  “She has your honesty. There’s no doubt about that.”

  “Yu… mmy,” Jessica said as she popped it in her mouth.

  “That’s right. Can you say ‘grape’?” Nicole leaned into her granddaughter, sounding the word out.

  “Gape,” Jessica squealed. Then she repeated it over and over until it sounded more like ‘grape.’

  “Good girl.” Nicole ran her hand down the side of her head.

  “Is everyone still mad at me?” Kimberley asked, taking more than a sip of wine.

  “Mad? No. Unsettled? Absolutely.”

  “Mommmm,” Kimberley groaned. She ate a piece of cheese and then a grape and then a piece of cheese.

  “I think Wyatt is more embarrassed than anything. I don’t think he’s upset with you. He’s been keeping busy on the farm, trying to double up wheat orders and expanding Emily’s garden. Emily is looking at refinancing their mortgage again, and David is helping them sell off some of the farm equipment they don’t use or need,” Nicole explained.

  “Well, that’s good then. Right?”

  Nicole shrugged her shoulders. “It might be enough to keep them afloat. David said he’ll take a chunk out of his retirement to keep the farm going.”

  “Admirable.” Kimberley nodded.

  “This is his family’s legacy. He’ll do anything to keep it going.” Nicole stared off at the wall as she fiddled with her wine glass. “But I think you should try to stay clear of David and Emily, or at the least not antagonize them until they cool off.”

  “Noted.”

  “I heard you have a lead in your case.”

  Kimberley’s eyes went wide. “Who said that?”

  “My hairstylist’s daughter, Michelle. She works at the pharmacy, said you were asking about Hannah’s secret boyfriend.” Nicole raised an eyebrow.