Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 4-6

by Willow Rose

  Diane backed up and held onto the door behind her.

  "How did you find me?"

  Frank saw her slowly backing up and stood to his feet. "Does it matter?"

  "Yes, it matters. W-why have you come? Why are you here?" Diane asked, wondering if she could run for the knives in the kitchen fast enough. She risked him catching her on her way down the stairs.

  "I’m here to take you home," he said.

  "This is my home now," she said.

  Frank laughed. "This place? You can't seriously tell me you're living here?"

  She swallowed. "Well, I am."

  He shook his head. "That's actually how I found you. Your real estate agent was so kind as to post a picture on Facebook when she sold you the house. One of my old army buddies saw it and sent it to me asking if we had split up. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was, huh?"

  Frank was getting aggressive now, and Diane took another step back, still wondering about the knives in the block downstairs. She had moved them, so they were now by the fridge, next to the microwave. She could reach them if she hurried. Frank wouldn't touch her if she threatened to stab him, would he? She realized she had no idea what he was capable of or how he would react to that. But at least she'd be able to protect herself.

  He won't hurt me, will he? What about the baby?

  "I don't care, Frank. I’m divorcing you. It's over."

  She might as well have punched him in the face. The look in his eyes changed drastically, and he reached out to grab her, but she was faster than him, and as he jumped forward, she turned around and ran for the stairs. Running as fast as she could, she took the stairs two steps at a time, but she felt a push on her back, and she flew down the stairs and landed face-first on the new tiles.

  Diane rose to her knees. She felt her stomach while crying.

  Please, be okay; please, let the baby be okay.

  Diane managed to grab onto the counter and pull herself up. She looked down at her pants. She didn't feel anything warm or see any blood. Her shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall and was hurting badly, but better that than her stomach.

  Anything but the baby.

  Frank laughed from the top of the stairs, then started to walk down. Diane coughed in pain and got up. From where she was standing, she could see the block of knives at the other end of the kitchen.

  "Diane, Diane, Diane," Frank said while walking toward her. "You'll never get rid of me. Never. You can run all you want to, but I will always find you."

  Diane panted with pain and stared at the knives. While Frank made his little speech, she rushed to them, sprang for them, grabbed a handle and pulled one out. Panting and wheezing, she turned toward him, pointing the knife at him.

  "Don't you dare take one step closer. I will kill you, Frank. I will."

  Frank stared at the knife as he took the last step into the kitchen. He looked at it, then up at Diane again, then began to laugh.

  "You think I’m scared of dying? Death doesn’t frighten me. Losing you does. Losing you and the baby is the only thing that I’m afraid of."

  As he spoke, Frank pulled out a gun from his pants pocket. His hand holding the gun was shaking violently as he pointed it at Diane. He smiled between tears that were now rolling down his cheeks.

  "It'll be beautiful," he said. "We'll go together. All three of us reunited in death. If we can't be together in this life, then we will be in the next."

  Chapter 64

  August 2018

  Jim Reynolds turned and looked at me as we entered. His eyes were puzzled.

  "Detective?"

  "Mr. Reynolds," I said, and Joe closed the door behind us.

  "What can I do for you? Why are you here?" His voice was shaking lightly as he looked at me, then at Joe, then back at me.

  "What's going on?" Parker said. He was sitting up in the hospital bed but was dressed in ordinary clothes. Jim Reynolds was packing his backpack with all the cards and boxes of chocolate he had received while in the hospital.

  "I don't know," Jim said. "Maybe Detective Ryder and his colleague have come to wish you good luck now that you’re being discharged."

  "Not exactly, I’m afraid," I said.

  "Well, maybe they're here to say they found out who killed your mother and your sister then," Jim said. "I-is that why you're here, Detective, huh?"

  I nodded.

  "Well, that is amazing news, then," Jim exclaimed. "Why the long face, Detective?"

  "Because I’m looking at the killer," I said.

  Jim Reynolds gasped and held his chest. "What on earth are you talking about, Detective? I don't understand. I’ve told you a million times, I…"

  And that was when he realized I wasn't looking at him but at Parker.

  Jim Reynolds scoffed. He looked at the boy, then at me. He was shaking his head in disbelief.

  "This time, you've gone too far, Detective. This is insane, Parker; you shouldn't listen to…"

  The boy looked down first, then lifted his gaze up at Jim. Jim took a step backward.

  "It's…is this true?"

  "I’m afraid so," I said.

  Jim Reynolds stumbled backward and sat in a chair behind him, eyes wide open.

  "But…how? Why? I thought…I thought you were looking for someone who killed someone…forty years ago? It makes no sense?"

  "We were, and we are," I said. "But whoever killed those people didn't kill Parker's mother and sister. Parker did." I paused, then addressed the boy. "They treated you like hell, didn't they? It didn't occur to me until I saw the shed. The clothes there were your size. You hated her, didn't you? You hated your mother for pushing your father away. For treating you like dirt and making you sleep in the shed."

  "She hated me," the boy said. He wasn't looking at me when he spoke. His glare landed on the wall right next to me, like he was seeing it all once again in some invisible movie playing on the white wall that only he could see.

  "She hated all men. You know how she was," he said addressed to Jim. "She made me sleep in the shed. She beat me, and she…she killed Victoria and Hector. She chopped their heads off and made me watch. Then she made soup with the heads and made me eat it."

  "That was why you chopped her head off as well. That was the part I couldn't get to fit with the Monday Morning Killer," I said. "He had never done anything like that before. He had used belts and plastic bags, but always strangled people. He had never mutilated any bodies."

  Parker nodded. "I know."

  "But…but he was hurt," Jim said. "He was hit by several cars."

  "You got scared, didn't you?" I asked. "Killing them wasn't exactly how you imagined it, and then you freaked out, didn't you?"

  Parker began to sob. "I got so scared. My sister, she begged for her life, she cried and screamed, and it wasn't so bad as long as she did that; it was when she stopped that I got scared."

  "Because now there was no way back," I said. "So, when you realized she was dead, you ran, you ran as fast as you could into ongoing traffic, not even caring if you lived or died."

  "I think I wanted to die," he said. "At that point, I just wanted to end it all. I wanted to be a killer; I wanted to be like the Monday Morning Killer, but I realized I could never be him."

  Jim stared at Parker, breathing heavily, still shaking his head. "Why on Earth did you want to be like him?"

  I exhaled and showed him the notebook. "Because of this," I said. "At first, when I read it, I didn't understand. I mean, listen to this," I said and opened the book to a page and read out loud:

  "I was eight years old when I decided I wanted to kill my mother. I guess that's why I kill women, especially mothers."

  I closed the book again. "I kept thinking what the heck is this? That's what I asked myself, and then I realized, it's a book. A manuscript. Written by the Monday Morning Killer, telling about every kill he ever made and even why he did them and how he planned them."

  "How did you get ahold of such a book?" Jim asked, startled.
>
  "That's what I kept asking myself too. But I think I know where it came from. You found it, didn't you? In your mother's belongings."

  Parker looked down, then nodded. "She kept it. It was in the box of things that she had in the garage."

  "Containing all your father's stuff, am I right?"

  Parker nodded. "I wanted to be just like him."

  "His real name is Steve Carver," I said and pointed at the cover of the notebook where he had written his name. "For years and years, people believed he was the victim when his family was murdered up on Suwannee Lane, but in fact, he killed them all, didn't he? Then he told the police a story about the killer still being in the house and how he escaped him, and then told the same thing to the reporters. It made him famous. But then he realized killing his family, killing his mother wasn't enough. He had thought it would be, but the urges were still there. He knew he couldn't keep killing unless he changed his name. He had to become anonymous again, blend in. It was the only way he could keep killing without being noticed. So, he left town. He went away for a few years and came back with a new name, a new look, and a brand-new identity. Meanwhile, the town had forgotten all about him and moved on, and no one thought of looking for him since they believed he was gone. But he's been living among us ever since, looking for a fix that he only believes he can get here, where he had his first kill. He's been trying, again and again, to reach the same high that he got from killing his own mother. It's all in this book. Every little detail." I held up the notebook.

  "She told me I was like him," Parker said, crying. "Said she could see it in my eyes. Called me evil and wouldn't let me even go near my sister or her. She was certain I had the evil inside of me." He looked up at Jim. "Just like my dad. So, I proved to her that she was right."

  "So, she knew?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  Jim Reynolds stared at me, then at the boy, then back at me. He tried to speak, but no words seemed to leave his lips. I stepped toward him.

  "It was while talking to Laurie, your girlfriend, that I realized I had been mistaken," I said. "I had just assumed you were the father, but you were just the husband. You weren't the father. You didn't come into their lives until they were already born. After Steve Carver left."

  Jim nodded. "I was a father as much as anyone gets to be. I was there for them while growing up. They called me dad. But still she…it broke my heart when she kept them from me. I had to leave her because I couldn't be a witness to the way she treated Parker and I couldn't stand the way she treated me. I loved those children, but she wouldn't let me."

  "And you had no rights."

  I nodded at Joe, and he went to get Parker to take him back with us to the station. Jim Reynolds was sobbing as Joe escorted Parker, who came along willingly. I put my hand on Jim's shoulder.

  "I'm so sorry," I said.

  "I…I just don't…" He looked up. "But…but if Parker did…then who…who is the Monday Morning Killer, then?"

  I exhaled. "That's what I have yet to figure out."

  Chapter 65

  August 2018

  "Please…please, don't hurt me…" Diane said. "Don't hurt us.”

  "How…how could you do this to me?" Frank asked, pointing the gun at her. Tears were spilling down his cheeks. "We were so good together. We were the ones who were going to last, remember? Everyone said so."

  "Please," she pleaded. "Please, just let me go. It doesn’t have to end here. Not like this."

  "But you're the one who did this. Don't you see? You killed us; you killed our baby. If you can't see that, then I really don't know what to do for you anymore. You're out of reach. I can't help you anymore."

  "W-what are you talking about, Frank?" Diane whimpered. There was such madness in Frank's eyes that it terrified her.

  "I have helped you, haven't I? I made you a better person. I made you better, Diane. You were a mess when we met, and I helped you. I took care of you, and this…this is how you thank me?"

  Diane shook her head. "You're insane."

  He stepped forward, and Diane gasped in shock.

  "I’m not the one who's insane," he said. "You are. Don't you see what you do to me? What you make me do?"

  She shook her head, crying. "Please, Frank. Please."

  "I’m sorry, Diane. But this is our only chance. There’s no way around it. It must be done, don't you see?"

  Realizing there was nothing she could say or do to make him change his mind, Diane fell to her knees and dropped the knife. She closed her eyes and covered her ears, waiting for her destiny, for death to come and take her away.

  As she heard the gunshot, she fell forward. Maybe it was instinctively; maybe she really thought she had been shot. But as the seconds passed and she felt no pain, she opened her eyes. As she did, she spotted Frank. He was on the floor, lying on her new tiles, his blood spilling from a wound in his chest.

  Diane gasped and got to her knees, then looked behind her. In the doorway stood Dennis, still holding the gun between his hands. He was sweating heavily and stood like he was frozen, staring at the man he had just shot.

  "D-Dennis?" she said.

  Finally, he came to himself and looked at her, lowering the gun. "Diane. Are you all right? I…I saw you from the house, I saw the guy holding the gun and I just…" He looked at the gun in his hand. "I have it for emergencies, you know. When Camille is home alone and I am on a night shift."

  Diane sprang toward him, then threw herself around his neck. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You saved my life."

  He looked baffled and a little proud. "Ah, well…it was nothing."

  "To me, it sure was something," she said.

  Dennis walked to the dead body and looked down at him. Diane felt her heart jump as she saw the body of her ex-husband in a pool of his own blood.

  "I'll be…" Dennis said.

  "You came just in time," she said.

  "Was he the Monday Morning Killer?" he asked.

  Diane looked at him, then shook her head. "He was my ex-husband. He came to get me back or maybe just to kill me; I don't know."

  "I'll be…"

  "I'll call for help."

  Hands shaking, heart pounding, Diane grabbed her phone and once more dialed a number she had sworn she would never dial again.

  Chapter 66

  August 2018

  "Calm down, Diane. Tell it to me one more time; this time slower so I can follow you, please."

  I was driving back to the station when she called. In the back seat, we had Parker. His stepdad was following in his own car. Parker was sobbing behind us as I drove into the parking lot, still talking to Diane who had called me sounding all frantic.

  "Frank is dead. I’m looking at him here on my floor. He tried to kill me, Jack. It was him all along. He’s known where I was all this time, ever since I bought this house. So, he was waiting for me when I got back. I was so scared, Jack."

  "Wait…you went back to the house?" I asked while Joe got out and escorted Parker to the station. I stayed in the car for a few more minutes trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

  "I thought we agreed that you would stay away from that place till it was safe to go back?"

  "We did, and I did, but then after all that happened last night, I decided to…well, I decided I had to get out of here, leave you two alone and not get between you anymore, so I went back home to get some stuff, you know clothes and so on, and then he was there. He was sitting on my bed, waiting for me, waiting to kill me."

  "So, you're telling me all those things that happened, all those strange things, that was your ex?"

  "Yes. It must have been him. He's known where I live ever since I moved in. It was him. I’m telling you."

  "And now he's dead you say? How?" I asked feeling suddenly very awake. "Did you kill him?"

  "No, it was Dennis. My neighbor from across the street. He saw Frank with the gun, then came to my rescue. He's sitting on my porch right now, and I don't know what to do. I’m fr
eaking out. I don't think he's feeling very well, to be honest."

  "Well, no wonder if he just killed a guy," I said. This day just kept getting stranger and stranger. "Listen, Diane. I'll send someone, okay? Just don't touch anything. That's very important, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Good. I'll send a patrol car. Now, are you okay?"

  She paused like she was thinking, then said: "I don't know. I think I might have dislocated my shoulder when he pushed me down the stairs, but other than that, I think so."

  "I was talking about you, Diane, not your body. Are you okay?"

  She paused again.

  "I’m not sure. Come to think of it, I do feel a little dizzy…like I need to throw up."

  "That's the shock wearing off. The adrenaline has kept you going so far, but now that it's sinking in what really happened, you'll feel the consequences. Go sit down, and I'll send a patrol."

  "You're not coming?" she asked.

  I closed my eyes. "I…I’m kind of in the middle of something," I said. "We just brought a guy in for killing the Reynolds family. Things are kind of hectic right now."

  "O-okay."

  We hung up, and I walked inside where I found Mike. "Could you send a patrol to Suwannee Lane?" I asked. "An intruder has been shot."

  Mike looked up at me, surprised. "Let me guess. At your old girlfriend's place?"

  I nodded. "I’m afraid so. Ex-husband. He tried to kill her."

  "I'll be…and you're not going?"

  I bit my lip. "Not right now. I'll wait till the techs are done."

  "You sure about that?"

  Mike looked into my eyes, and I could tell he was searching for answers. I couldn't really tell him the details and why I couldn't face Diane right now, but he seemed to understand. I was overwhelmed with guilt for letting her down in her time of need, but I simply couldn't. I was terrified of the feelings she had revived inside of me, especially now that Shannon was…I shook my head. No, I had to focus on my family right now.

  "Okay, then. I don't have any patrols available right now. There was a big crash on 520, but I'll go myself."