by Jaycee Ford
“Those curves were so tight,” Jack said without lifting his eyes from the picture.
“It was fucking amazing.” Evan leaned back in his chair, lost in some sort of daze.
“I cannot wait to get my hands on her again.” Jack shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“You and me both,” declared Evan as my eyes shifted back to him.
I shook my head as the pieces started fitting together.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupted. “Murphy, you were there?”
“Well, yeah. We both had to see how well she rode.”
I stared at both men before looking at Grayson, who didn’t seem to have any issue with Jack and Evan going after the same woman.
“Y’all would actually do that?” I shook my head once again. “I mean, good for y’all, but …Wow. Y’all had your own turn or was this at the same time?”
“Well, Heavner went first,” Evan explained. “I went next. Then both of us at the end.”
“For being an older model, she was definitely able to keep up,” Jack added.
“Y’all gotta let me try her out sometime,” Grayson said.
I put down my coffee and sat at the table. I narrowed my eyes at Grayson. “You’d want to join those two?”
“Well, yeah, but my leg still isn’t great. I probably wouldn’t go as fast.”
“Peterman, you’re welcome to join in.”
I leaned back in my chair and stared at Jack. “I don’t think I want any part of it.”
“What’s the big deal?” Heavner asked. “I thought you wanted to do this racing thing?”
Racing?
“Let me see the picture.” I reached out my hand. Heavner slid his phone across the table. I lifted it up and saw a bright red race car. I slid the phone back to Heavner. “Jesus.”
“What?” he asked.
“I thought y’all were talking about a woman. I figured y’all two would be all about it.” I nodded my head toward Jack and Evan. “But once Cooks wanted in, I had no clue what was going on.”
“I would never do that.” Murphy said.
“I would.” We all looked at Heavner. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his tattooed arms, and added, “With two chicks.”
“You want in, Peterman?” Murphy asked. “Cooks is gonna help in the pit. Bum leg or not, I’m making him.”
“Go in with us. We’re all going to pitch in for the car. Heavner should have the first race in in a few months.”
“How much is it?” I asked.
“It’s twenty, but split between the five of us,” Heavener told me. “It’s a good investment. We can win the money back, guaranteed.”
“Are you that confident in yourself?” I joked.
“You know I can do it.”
I nodded. “So, Landry is in?”
“It was Tanner’s idea,” Murphy said.
“Alright.” I nodded. “I’m in.”
Jack grinned and nodded. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
“Are y’all going to Dixie’s for New Year’s Eve?” Grayson asked.
“I’m on call all day,” Evan answered. “But yeah, I’ll probably show up and not drink.”
“Any excuse to sit by the bartender,” Heavner ribbed.
“Maybe if Peterman would back off.” Murphy cocked his eyebrow at me.
“It’s not like that. Seriously, I’ll back off,” I tried to reason.
“Do you even want to go after her?” Grayson looked at Evan, waiting for an answer.
We all stared at Evan, whose eyes never shifted from the coffee in front of him. I had convinced myself he was either afraid of commitment, or he only wanted to commit to one girl. I would’ve completely understood if that was the case.
He glanced up at the doorway, his eyes widening in fear.
“Charley, what’s wrong?”
Everyone turned. Charley stood in the doorway as Murphy walked around the table to go to her.
“A call … I received a call …” She shook her head and covered her mouth.
We heard the footsteps coming down the hall. Tanner Landry, in the middle of putting on his jacket, appeared behind her.
“There’s been a murder. Caleb’s already headed up there to check it out.”
I froze, staring at Tanner.
“Does anyone have any experience with a murder?”
“I have.” Tanner abruptly responded to Grayson’s question, the same question that was on everyone’s mind.
“Where?” I asked, frozen by the shock.
“North of town. Almost in Hudson.”
“Heavner, team up with Peterman.” Murphy said. “I’m going to stay with Charley.”
“No, I’m okay,” Charley offered.
“We all need to go, Murphy.”
His wouldn’t turn away from Charley despite the order.
“I think I’ll be safe in a police station, Evan. I’m just a little shocked. This stuff doesn’t happen in Olde Town.”
She was half right. This kind of thing never used to happen in Olde Town, but as the years went on, it was evident that no matter how small a town was, nothing was safe anymore. This felt like another reason why I should suck it up and consider having another partner. I walked around the table, pulling Evan’s arm on the way out.
Everyone went with their partner to their cars. The wind rushed against my face as I walked alone to mine. I reversed out of the parking spot, flicked on the lights, and glanced at the empty seat next to me, wishing he was here to help us deal with what we were about to see.
“What should I do, Mike?”
I stared out at the road in front of me and followed the two cruisers up ahead, three cars flying down a desolate highway on a grey winter morning. The town was silent, unaware of what had happened in the dead of night. This would get out eventually. It was only a matter of time. Then what would happen?
The radio whirred. Caleb’s only words came through loud and clear. “Prepare yourselves.”
No one said much of anything else. There was a murder. That’s all we knew.
The cars in front of me pulled into a parking lot in front of a row of townhouses. Neighbors stood outside in flannel pajamas and heavy coats. The forensics unit had already set up a tent in front of the door to one of the townhouses. We walked one by one up the walkway and into the tent. Caleb was waiting inside, a white coverall protecting his uniform. Tanner wasted no time pulling on a suit while the rest of us silently followed his lead, not knowing what to do beyond preventing ourselves from contaminating the crime scene. We followed Caleb into a tiny entryway and approached the kitchen. We stopped in horror.
A slender figure lay face down in a pool of blood. A woman. A naked woman. Her blue tinted legs pressed closed, her feet slightly spread. Her arms extended at a forty-five-degree angle on either side, palms face up. The puddle of crimson around her almost seemed meticulously poured. Like spilled paint, it was spread so smoothly without any hint of disturbance. No footprints. No splatters. No traces left to the naked eye. Her dark hair fanned out around her shoulders and her back.
A flash of a camera went off. The forensics team. I blinked out of my trance but continued to stare at the massacre.
“It’s like she was posed,” Grayson muttered.
I walked around the guys to get a closer look.
“Who found her?” Jack directed his question at Caleb.
“Her roommate came home this morning after spending the night at her boyfriend’s.”
“Has she been questioned?” Tanner asked.
“No, not yet. She’s upstairs in her room.”
Tanner took the initiative and went upstairs. I crouched down near the victim’s head. Her vacant eyes stared into the crimson of her own blood. Her throat had been sliced so deep that her head was nearly severed. The blood seeped into her hair but there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere on her back.
“Someone definitely placed her like this,” I said.
“Everything
’s been cleaned. No trace of blood anywhere except for the floor here.”
Blair, the county coroner, came up behind me. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore her black-framed glasses pushed to the top of her head.
“There are incisions on the back of her neck. We’re waiting to move her until we’ve examined for any particulates.”
“Cooks. Heavner. Murphy. Split up to question the neighbors,” Caleb ordered.
The guys headed outside while I remained crouched near the body.
“Do we have a name?”
“Erica Gunter. A waitress at a steakhouse in Lenoir. Age, twenty-five.” Blair crouched down next to me, carefully lifting the victim’s hair from her neck. “There’s something carved into her neck. Given the amount of blood loss from the initial wound, this was made sometime after death. The killer placed her hair over it as if he wanted us to find this during examination.”
“Can you make it out?” I studied the patterns carved into the flesh, but couldn’t make out what it was.
“There are three straight lines on either side of an oval. Two lines at the top.” Blair pointed out the pattern as she spoke, but I still couldn’t make it out in the bloody mess. “The incision appears to have been done with a small knife. A paring knife.”
“And the throat?” Caleb asked.
“Given the depth of the gash, a sharp chef’s knife.”
“How do you know it’s a paring knife?”
“Check the sink, gentlemen.”
Caleb tiptoed carefully between the victim’s feet, leaned over, and peered into the sink.
“Did you bag it?”
“Nope,” she said without breaking from her examination. “It was already bagged.”
Caleb’s latex covered hand reached into the sink pulled out what appeared to be a heavy-duty food storage bag.
“Those look like your evidence bags,” I observed.
“They look like everyone’s evidence bags.”
“So, it’s someone who has access to evidence bags.” Caleb noted while placing the killer’s evidence bag into one of ours.
“It looks like he used her own kitchen knives against her,” I said.
“He left no trace either.” Caleb said. “He had to have made a mistake. How did he get in? How did he leave?”
“I’m not quite sure what this carving is,” Blair continued. “But my gut says it’s a calling card.”
Caleb’s eyes met mine. As much as he tried to hide it, I could see his fear matched my own. We both knew the horrible truth, but only Caleb had the courage to announce it.
“This is going to happen again.”
SNOW FELL OVER the grass in front of the police station. I stood at the window, watching each flake consume the green blades still clinging to fall until the bitter end. The cobblestones froze over as the snow accumulated between the crevices of each of Main Street’s hand-laid stones. An eeriness surrounded the station as winter finally conquered Olde Town, but only few knew of the real cold lurking around them.
I turned away from the window and looked across the conference table. Each of the detectives wore the same blank stare I was surely guilty of at that moment. Caleb was the only one being productive. Pictures of the victim were taped to a whiteboard at the front of the room, her name written above and the date of her death printed underneath — today’s date. As detectives, we should’ve been checking every lead we had to find out who did this to Erica Gunter, but our inexperience and the lack of clues led us here to stare and wonder what to do next.
The door opened and Charley entered, carrying a stack of files containing the information about the murder and the victim. She placed one file folder down in front of each detective. Tanner, Jack, and Grayson opened their folders to discover a picture identical to the one Caleb had hung on the whiteboard; a picture of Erica Gunter smiling and alive. Underneath, another picture of her dead body lying face down in a pool of blood. I blinked my eyes and looked away, unable to look at the massacre again.
I caught Evan staring, not at his folder, but rather at Charley while she spoke to Caleb. His eyes followed her until she left the room. I might have been the first to put all the clues together, but I understood now why Evan was so desperate to get to Megan; he couldn’t have what he really wanted. I could relate. I wanted Megan for the same reason. She was our shared reasoning for not going after what we wanted. I knew in my gut what Megan and I were doing wasn’t right for either of us, but maybe she was right for Evan. I knew I had to give her up. It was time.
“Uh … Murphy,” Jack said without looking up from his folder. “This chick … the victim.”
Evan shifted his gaze from the doorway, flipped open the folder, and peered at the picture.
“Oh, my God.” He glanced up at Jack, horror crossing his face.
“What it is?” Caleb asked.
“She was our waitress last night. I didn’t put it together until now. She gave me her number.” Jack pulled out his phone.
“She sat next to me and laid it on thick,” Evan added. “Of course, Heavner does that thing he does and scored her number easily.”
We stared back at the picture.
“So, y’all two were some of the last to see her alive.” My question drew Jack’s attention.
“Except for the staff, the place was pretty empty. There were a few solo people lingering at the bar, but we were her last table. She had said so herself.” Jack’s eyes stared up, gazing across the table but not really looking. “Jesus, how could this have happened?”
“Are we supposed to just wait until it happens again?” Grayson asked as he closed his folder. “All of her neighbors said she seemed like a normal twenty-five-year old. She just graduated from Appalachian State this past May, took a couple years off to care for her grandmother. Her father left when she was a baby and her mother died of cancer when she was twelve. As far as we know, she didn’t have any next of kin. She didn’t have any serious boyfriends. Her roommate said they had a Christmas party for all her neighbors, all of whom seem pretty shaken up by her death. She didn’t have any visible enemies, which leads me to think it was random.” Grayson sighed. “But this is a pretty fucked up random murder.”
“All we have to go on is whatever we get back from forensics, and we’re still waiting for the autopsy. At this point it’s safe to say the killer knew what they were doing.” Caleb got up from the table. “I’m going to call Blair and see if she’s found anything new.”
I stared down at the picture of Erica Gunter. Long dark hair with almond shaped brown eyes. Her tan complexion gave her a Native American appearance, likely Cherokee given the area we lived in. Perhaps she had native blood. I glanced at the picture of the carving on the back of her neck. Was it some sort of Native American symbol or hieroglyph? Maybe I was grasping at straws, but it was something to keep in mind.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out to see a text from Grace.
Grace: Is Erica Gunter dead?
Me: How did you hear that?
Grace: I work with her roommate, Camille Roy. One of the nurses just texted me.
Grace: Is she really dead?
Me: Yes, but please keep it to yourself. We don’t know what’s going on yet.
Grace: It’s bad, isn’t it?
Me: I’ve never seen anything like it.
Grace: I have one of Mike’s guns. I really don’t like guns, but I have it.
Me: Is Chloe home yet?
Grace: Mom and Dad are going to drop her off before they go to the casino for NYE.
Me: Do you want me to come over after work? Make sure everything’s okay?
Grace: I didn’t want to ask, but would you? I am kind of freaking out.
Me: Of course.
Grace: I’ll make dinner.
Me: You don’t have to make dinner.
Grace: I’M MAKING DINNER.
“Maybe a little less smiling, Peterman,” Tanner’s
voice interrupted me. “Now’s not the time.”
I looked across the table at him and shoved my phone back into my pocket.
“Erica Gunter’s roommate was a nurse at the hospital.”
“Why would you tell Grace about an ongoing investigation?” Landry asked.
“I didn’t. She already knew. Erica Gunter’s roommate is a nurse. A thing like this doesn’t stay hidden very long around here. Everyone’s going to know soon enough.”
Charley burst through the door. “Where’s Sheriff Harris?”
“He’s on a call with forensics.” Evan answered before anyone could.
“I’ve got the Lenoir News-Topic and the Hickory Daily Record calling to ask questions.” Charley stared at us, hoping one of us would know what to do.
“It’s only a matter of time before the city of Charlotte finds out,” Tanner said just as the phone rang in the lobby.
“That’s probably Charlotte.” Charley ran back down the hall.
“I wasn’t even going to wait three days.” Heavner stared at nothing. His hands shook as his knees bobbed under the table. “I was going to text her tonight. And she’s … dead.” He looked up at me. “How could someone so full of life just be dead?”
My thoughts instantly turned to Mike. I had asked myself that question over and over a lot this year. When people die unexpectedly, the common reasoning usually is that it’s just their time, but I couldn’t accept that. If it was their time, they shouldn’t be blown up or gutted at the peak of their lives. There would’ve still been a lot of life left for Erica Gunter … and for Mike Shuler.
Caleb walked back into the room and slumped down, his hands limp against the arms of the chair. He kept his head down, not making eye contact with anyone.
“They found nothing.”
“Sheriff.” We looked up at Charley as she reappeared in the doorway. “The news trucks are here.”
“Y’all go make yourselves presentable.” Caleb stood and walked out toward his office.
