by Willow Rose
"And the husband?"
"Not in the picture as far as we know," Mike said. "They're separated. He lives down in Palm Bay. He's been notified and is on his way here."
"That should give us a quick ID, then. Where's the girl?"
"The bedroom. In the back."
Weasel nodded and walked down the hallway. Pictures of the girl and her brother hung on the wall from when they were just young children. Next to the bathroom were pencil marks on the wall with their different heights next to dates and years.
Not gonna be any more of those, Weasel thought to herself morbidly.
"In here?" she asked and pointed at the door with the many KEEP OUT and KNOCK FIRST signs. Mike nodded.
Weasel stepped inside, then gasped. Tears appeared in her eyes, but she didn't give into them. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the lifeless girl dangling from the ceiling above her bed, her face barely visible behind the plastic bag. On the floor stood a backpack next to her lunch bag. She had been getting ready to go to school. Mike came up behind her.
"He used her own belt to hang her with."
Weasel swallowed the lump in her throat. "I see."
Mike stood next to her, and she fought to hold back tears. As the head of the police department, she couldn't show emotions in a situation like this.
"So, what do we do next?" Mike asked.
"I guess we call in Ryder," she said. "He'll know how to handle this. If anyone can, it's him."
Chapter 3
August 2018
"Here you go. The house is all yours."
Mary Hass, the realtor who had been helping Diane find a new place to live, dangled the keys in front of Diane's face. Diane grabbed them with a happy chuckle. They were standing on the porch of the small bungalow style white painted beach house in North Cocoa Beach.
Diane lifted her head but remained silent.
"What?" Mary said. "You're not going inside?"
"I’m just listening," Diane said. "I can hear the ocean."
"It is literally just one block away," Mary said. "Imagine going down there every morning for a quick swim or after work when you're all sweaty and gross. Nothing beats the ocean."
Diane took in a deep breath and smelled the fresh air being brought to her porch by the breeze coming from the ocean. It smelled divine.
"Thank you," she said. "Without you, I would never have found this little pearl of a house."
"You were lucky," Mary said and looked at her phone. "No one gets a house for that price around here. A condo maybe. But not a three-bedroom three bath, no way."
"Guess luck is finally smiling on me," Diane mumbled.
Mary was still looking at her phone, her finger sliding across the screen. "Yes, well. Congratulations. Enjoy your new house." She lifted her phone up, then took a selfie with Diane. "For the Facebook page," she said and tapped on the screen afterward. "We like to do a little post every time we make a deal. You know, to show business is booming and all that."
"Of course," Diane said and looked at the keys in her hand.
"Anywh-o-o, enjoy your new home and let me know if you're ever in the market for an upgrade."
"Thank you."
Diane waved at Mary as she rushed to her car, her nose once again stuck in the phone, even as she put the key in the ignition and rushed off down the street.
When she was finally gone, Diane took in another deep breath of the fresh air, then put the key in the door and opened it. The musty smell that met her was no surprise, since she had been to the house several times before and knew it had been empty for many years. This was what you'd call a fixer-upper, or what people like Mary would call a home of great potential, with lots of curb appeal, but that didn't frighten Diane one bit. Even if she never got it fixed up properly, she knew she could make a good home for herself and Misty, her cat. She didn't need granite countertops to be happy. She didn't need IKEA furniture or a flat screen TV. She was happy to simply have a roof over her head, one that was safe.
Diane walked to her small Toyota and grabbed Misty in her arms. The cat complained slightly. Diane brought him inside and put him down on the old wooden floors. The cat immediately took off, sniffing his way around the kitchen.
"There you go, buddy. Get comfortable. I know I will. This is our new home. This is where we start over again, just the two of us."
Chapter 4
August 2018
"Registration day is tomorrow?"
I looked at my twins, Abigail and Austin with wide eyes. Tyler—my very energetic two-year-old was sitting in my lap, playing with my phone, giving me a much-deserved break.
Abigail rolled her eyes. "We told you this yesterday. You're the one who's supposed to keep track of these things, not us."
I sighed, exhausted. I had been alone with the kids all summer while my wife, Shannon King, the world-famous country singer, was on tour. It was sort of her comeback tour, one of those you can't miss even if you have six kids in the house. Granted, only two of them were hers, but still. She had left me alone in a madhouse and wasn't coming back for six more weeks.
I wasn't sure I was going to make it.
"All right then. So, we go get you kiddos registered tomorrow and meet your teachers."
I smiled, not at them, but because this meant they would go back to school in just a few days. With Tyler in pre-school, that meant things could finally get back to normal. I wouldn't have to depend so much on my parents helping me out whenever I needed to work. I would occasionally leave them alone with Emily in charge, but I wasn't too fond of doing that. She was nineteen now but had been through a couple of rough years. I didn't want to impose too much responsibility on her shoulders. Handling three nine-year-olds, one twelve-year-old, and also a two-year-old was too much for her. I was so grateful that I had my parents living close by.
While Tyler played with the phone between his chubby hands, it started to ring. A picture of Shannon showed up, and Tyler shrieked with joy.
"Mommy!"
"Here, let me get that," I said and took the phone out of his hands, then picked it up.
"Hi, honey?" she chirped. "How are things back at the house?"
I looked around our newly-built beach house. It looked like a disaster. Toys were spread everywhere on the wooden floors. Someone had painted on the white walls next to the fridge with permanent marker. The girls had been making slime in the living room and left stains all over the couches and on the carpet.
"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy," Tyler whined and tried to grab the phone from my hand.
"Is that Tyler?" Shannon said. "Put him on."
I gave the boy the phone, and he shrieked with joy as he placed it against his ear. "Mommy?"
They spoke for a few minutes. It was mostly Shannon who did the talking, while Tyler just made babbling noises. After a few minutes, he lost interest and put the phone down on the counter while I could still hear Shannon talking to him.
"How about that, buddy, huh?"
"It's me again. I’m back. Tyler had somewhere to be," I said and watched as the young boy climbed down and staggered toward the living room, holding a wooden spoon in his hand that he without a doubt would use to hit one of his siblings with within the next few minutes and then they would come crying to me. At least I had a few minutes before it broke loose. A few minutes were all I needed to talk to my beloved wife.
"How are things, for real?" she asked.
"Tumultuous, would that be a word?" I asked.
"I am sorry," she said. "I feel bad."
"Don't. That won't help me one bit. Enjoy it, and I'll feel like it was all worth it."
I sighed and found my cup of coffee from this morning. I sipped it. It was cold, but I didn't care. Anything would do at this point.
"Don't forget registration day tomorrow," she said after a small pause.
"I'm on top of it," I said. "Everything is under control."
"Phew," she said. "So, I don't have to ask if you bought back-to-school supplies
and clothes either?"
My eyes grew wide, and I almost spit out the cold coffee. I coughed instead. "Supplies? Clothes?"
"Oh, no, please tell me you’ve bought them?" she asked.
"No…no, of course, I have. As I said, I'm on top of it all. You don't have to worry about a thing."
I tried to sound reassuring. It worked.
"Of course, I don't. I am sorry I doubted you for a second. Of course, you have it all under control. You're Jack Ryder, the perfect husband and father."
"Don't forget detective," I said.
"Of course not. Detective too. How's the new job?"
I looked out the window at the ocean in front of me. This house had the most gorgeous views of the Atlantic Ocean, and I kept forgetting to enjoy it because of all the busyness around me. One day I'd get to surf again, I thought. One day.
I had taken a transfer from the Brevard County Sherriff's office to the Cocoa Beach Police department. I needed a change of scenery and was sick of the commute. Cocoa Beach Police department was like coming home for me, and the position was brand new, so I wouldn't have to follow in anyone's footsteps. According to the Weasel, who was the chief of police there, I could take care of my own hours and even work from home from time to time if that was needed, which it most certainly was. It was a slight step down career-wise, since the area we covered was smaller and the cases a lot less attractive, coming from covering the entire county to only a small town with barely ten thousand inhabitants, but it was what I needed right now. I needed to slow down a little in order not to lose myself completely between my family and my work schedule.
"It's okay. Got a new case yesterday though. Ugly one. A mom and her daughter murdered in their own home right before they left for school and work. The son got out and got away but was struck by a car on A1A. Yesterday was busy, but my parents have been great at helping out. I’ve told Weasel I might do a lot of work from home, if possible, and she doesn’t seem to mind. She knows I have a lot on my plate."
"I do like that woman," Shannon said. "Without her, I don't know how we would make things work."
"Neither do I," I said when I heard the expected scream coming from the living room, and less than a second later Angela stood in the doorway, holding the wooden spoon in one hand and Tyler in the other.
"Listen, honey; I need to go now. There's trouble."
"All right. I have a show tonight, and then we'll be on the road again tomorrow. Talk to you later."
I hung up with a deep exhale.
"He hit me," Angela said. Then added while holding the spoon up, "With this."
"I know. I'm sorry but listen up. Could you go get the others? We have some shopping we need to do, fast."
Chapter 5
It isn't that impossible in this society, and I know that there are many more out there like me, hiding in plain sight. I know because I have lived as an ordinary person all my life and I still do. Even though I have been living a parallel and increasingly sick life. But I have always managed to keep it to myself. It's not like I can put a finger on a certain date in my life and say that on that date I decided to be a killer. I think you are one way before you do the actual deed. For me, it was something that built up inside of me over the years, from my childhood and into adulthood. I was raging inside. My rage contained such incredible energies. Yet people would say that I was a nice guy. Sure, I looked troubled at times; I looked moody, but generally, if you asked people back then, they'd all say I was a nice guy. They liked me. But that was only because they didn't know what was really going on inside of me because I am very good at hiding it.
It was while growing up that I realized something dark was growing inside me and, even as I suppressed it, I knew one day it would demand my attention. As the years passed, it became more and more demanding and, finally, one day, I simply had to give in.
I had to do it.
I still remember the smell of his last breath. Of course, I do. He was, after all, my first kill. It was a surprise. He was a surprise. The fact that he was home was. I hadn't expected him to be. Knowing this family and their routine, having carefully planned this for months, I hadn't expected the father to be home. But he was, and that threw me out of balance at first. Of course, it did. He was strong, and he fought bravely for his family and for his own life. But I was stronger. As I wrapped the belt around his neck and tightened it, his face almost exploded. It swelled up so terribly, that's what I thought it would do.
I came in through the back door. I opened the unlocked door leading to the kitchen and let the dog out first. I knew it tended to bite, but as it realized it could run out freely, it no longer worried about me. It ran happily into the backyard where it had spotted a black raven to chase into a tree.
I heard voices coming from the kitchen as I stood in the doorway, the knife clutched between my fingers. It was morning. They were all going through their usual routines. The kids were upstairs getting ready, fighting over some toy, while their mother yelled at them to hurry up.
She was making their lunches as I entered. I was sweating behind the mask, and a droplet landed in my eye and stung. It wasn't that hot out since it was February, so I guess it was just my excitement that made me break into a sweat. This was, after all, my first. I was a virgin up until then. This was the culmination of many years of fantasizing and dreaming about doing this. Years of planning. And it was so perfect.
The woman didn't notice me at first as I moved in closer from behind her. She was smearing peanut butter on toast. She seemed stressed and was mumbling to herself. I stood there for what must have been a few seconds, a thrill of emotions rushing through me in waves, causing the hairs to rise on my arm.
Then she yelled. Still without turning around, holding a piece of toast in her hand, the butter knife in the other.
"Timothy! Brianna! Bus will be here soon. Come down now! Eat breakfast."
Timothy. Brianna. Those were the names of the two youngest in the family. Eight and ten years old when it happened.
When I happened.
"Coming!" a voice replied from up the stairs. It was Brianna's.
Then the woman went back to mumbling. I walked closer to her and could almost smell her. I imagined me reaching over and slicing her throat, killing her instantly just like that, but then regretted it. I remember thinking I wanted my first kill to be spectacular, and not fast. I wanted her to fight for her life. I guess I got what I wanted because, as I stood there, with the knife in my hand, ready to jump the woman, a voice interrupted me and threw me off guard.
The yelling was angry.
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
I turned to look into the face of the father of the family. As I said, it took me completely off guard since the dad usually had left for work at this point of the day. I had studied their routines closely, as I do with all my victims, and the husband wasn't supposed to be there. Needless to say, I don't like surprises very much.
Chapter 6
August 2018
"Ten minutes, Shannon!"
Shannon King nodded with a sigh as the door was closed again and the stage manager disappeared. She turned to look at herself in the mirror in front of her. Her make-up was on; her hair was set. She was ready for her next performance. Every night meant a new town.
"Where are we again?" she asked.
Sarah, her PA, looked up at her from her phone. "Detroit."
Shannon nodded. "Right."
She had brought Sarah along on her tour and was so grateful to have her with her. Without her to keep track of her life, she would probably go insane. Shannon corrected a lock of hair.
"How do I look?"
Sarah put the phone on the table and stood up. On the table was an immeasurable amount of chocolate boxes and flowers that Shannon would never even get to enjoy. It was the same everywhere she went. Sometimes, she wondered if she should have her manager call ahead and tell them to save the money they used on flowers and chocolate and donate them to s
ome charity instead. It always filled Shannon with such deep guilt to look at all of it and know that it was just a waste.
"You want water before you go on?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, please," Shannon said, and Sarah went to the mini-fridge to grab one for her. Shannon took it and drank greedily without ruining her make up that her make-up artist had carefully smeared on her half an hour ago. Shannon felt a shooting pain in her hand as she put the bottle down and winced.
"Still bothering you, huh?" Sarah said. "Maybe you should have a doctor take a look at it again soon. It happened two years ago; it shouldn't still be bothering you."
"I'm okay," Shannon said and turned away. She looked at her guitar in the corner and knew in a few seconds she would have to grab it. Shannon sighed. Holding the guitar used to be her joy; it used to make her feel so whole, but lately, it had filled her with despair instead. The pain in her hand was terrible when she was holding the guitar and playing made it even worse. It had been tolerable at home and almost didn't bother her until she went on the tour and had to play every day. The situation wasn't getting any better, and even though she tried hard to ignore it, she would soon have to admit that something was terribly wrong. Every night, when she came off stage, it hurt so badly it would keep her awake at night.
She had been injured in Savannah, where she and Jack had been married two years ago. A woman, actually Shannon's own deranged aunt, had taken Tyler, and she had fought her with the result that her hand was stabbed. The doctors had told her the pain would go away eventually, but so far, it seemed only to get worse. Shannon had thought about seeing a specialist, but there didn't seem to be much time in her life. Or maybe she was just terrified of the outcome. What if they told her she needed surgery? She wouldn't be able to perform. What if they said she would never be able to play her guitar again?
