by S. T. Abby
All The Lies
Book 4 of the
Mindfuck Series
S.T. Abby
Copyright 2016 S.T. Abby
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The story in this book is the property of the author, in all media both physical and digital. No one, except the owner of this property, may reproduce, copy or publish in any medium any individual story or part of this novel without the expressed permission of the author of this work.
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This is for the ones who lost their voice. This is for the ones who wish they could be Lana Myers. This is for the ones people still whisper about.
This is for the ones who fight every single day to forget.
You’re not alone.
Tim Hoover
Chuck Cosby
Nathan Malone
Jeremy Hoyt
Ben Harris
Random Alley Guy
Tyler Shane
Lawrence Martin
Kenneth Ferguson
Boogeyman (Gerald Plemmons)
Anthony Smith
Kevin Taylor
Morgan Jones
Governments need to have both shepherds and butchers.
—Voltaire
If Logan and I ruled the world together, Voltaire would consider us the perfect blend.
My list might have grown, but the names are coming down quickly. It’s almost time to sprint to the finish line. It’s time they die at the hands of a dead girl who forgot how to be weak.
I can’t wait to watch them burn.
Chapter 1
To the living, we owe respect, but to the dead, we owe only the truth.
—Voltaire
LOGAN
“Marcus Evans…that boy was a handful when he was a child, but such a sweetheart. And Victoria…she was always his shadow. Wherever Marcus and Jacob went, she followed. They let her. Just a year separated Victoria in age from the boys. And Robert, well, he did all he could to make sure those kids were loved. Jacob spent more time at his house than he did his own, because Robert was made of a sort of strength and compassion you can’t find just anywhere.”
Diana Barnes clears her throat, and I watch as she stands to get a glass of water.
“You boys want anything to drink?”
“No ma’am,” we both say in unison.
Her chocolate skin is a stark contrast to her ivory dress that hangs to her knees. She’s a regal, timeless sort of woman, with haunted eyes. Haunted eyes like my Lana.
Only there’s a sense of guilt there as well, unlike Lana’s. There’s a jaded harshness to the way she carries herself, as though she’s forcing herself to make it through each day.
“You have kids?” she asks us as she returns, sitting down with her water, drawing out the suspense.
“No, ma’am,” we both say again.
“I’ll bet you both enjoy being bachelors and thinking time will never catch up with you.”
Donny shifts in his seat uncomfortably, but I just smile.
“I’m not married, but I’m not a bachelor.”
She studies me intently for a moment. “Victoria would have liked you. She was mostly raised by her father after her mother died when she was ten. She shared a house with two men, so she was more comfortable making friends with boys than girls. She was selective with her friends more than her boyfriends. Not that anyone could have known.”
I inch forward. “Known what?”
“Nah. I’m getting ahead of myself. You need to know first that Robert died in lockup the night he was convicted of crimes he couldn’t commit. They threw every shoe and the kitchen sink at him to make him the murderer, as though that would somehow make the killings just disappear and everyone could go on with their lives.”
She sips her water again, and I refrain from demanding she get to the point.
“Robert was with his kids every night. My boy was even over there a lot of those nights. Jacob Denver, of course, was there most nights as well. Robert cooked, he cleaned, he cared for his children, and he usually had others come over and hang out as well. Such a good soul and a good home, people couldn’t stay away. My boy’s daddy left when he was a tiny little thing. Robert always talked to my boy as if he was his own, and as a single working mother, I appreciated all the help I could get. I returned the favor when I could.”
She pauses, swallowing down emotion that I didn’t detect in her voice. Her eyes grow dimmer.
“He never could have raped and killed those women. He couldn’t even raise his hand to his own kids. My boy saw him. Jacob saw him. Several of those nights, he was home with his kids and two extra. Didn’t matter. They wouldn’t allow the eye witness testimonies or admit them as alibies in the courtroom.”
“What? Why?” Donny asks, confused.
“Because then they couldn’t convict him of murders he didn’t commit,” she says as though it’s obvious and he’s stupid for even asking.
Donny leans back, annoyed. Not at her, but at the situation. He knows how Johnson is. He’ll make something stick, and he’ll cut all the corners to lock his suspect away.
“And the court backed this?”
“The court. The sheriff. Everyone. They held him in interrogation for five straight days. Locked him in that box with no right. Wouldn’t let his lawyer in. Then lied and said he never evoked council. It was a witch hunt from the get-go. It was easier to pin it on the school janitor with no other family than his kids in this town. That Johnson fellow pegged it to be him, and from then on, they made it happen. The sheriff was right beside him.”
The original profile was a sexual sadist. They don’t have kids too often, and if they do, they’re distant from those kids. Not loving and doting. He profiled the unsub as a loner, but he wouldn’t have been.
No signs of forced entry means he was charming and approachable, likely someone they trusted. Hence the reason it was someone in the town who did it. His ability to frame a man makes him a narcissist, and this town played right into his hand, giving him the power that really got him off.
And fooling the world was the ultimate high.
“Did anyone have any grudges against Evans before that night?”
“No,” she says, laughing under her breath. “That man was a saint. If a kid had an accident at school, he cleaned it up and told them to run along before someone saw it. He didn’t want them to be embarrassed, and knew kids could be cruel. His own kids were mercilessly mocked for being the janitor’s kids.”
I lean back, trying to find out what in the hell made Johnson so insistent on pegging this guy as the unsub. Even he has a heart.
“What about the sheriff? Did he have any issues with him?”
Her lips tense. “The sheriff was too emotionally invested in finding someone—anyone—to make pay. His daughter was one of the first victims. The true sick, evil man who killed her…he put her in the middle of the street for everyone to find the next morning. She was naked and raped raw. Her skin was sliced to pieces, and she’d bled out overnight.”
Donny swallows thickly, and I sit back,
wondering how in the fuck that never made into the case reports. The sheriff would have been required to step away from the investigation. It also makes him less likely to be the primary suspect, which was the direction I was leaning.
“She was eighteen,” Diana goes on, choking back a sob. “The sheriff wasn’t right in the head after that. After seeing that. It was the hardest thing this town had ever gone through at that time. And from there, they just got worse. A body was even on the church steps one Sunday morning before church started. One was on the school steps, right there for the children to see. It was Ilene Darvis. She was a kindergarten teacher. Just twenty-three.”
She has to stop and blow her nose, her tears falling freely now.
“Anyway, the night Robert was convicted, they were supposed to take him to the prison. Escorts were here and everything. He was found hanging in his cell the next morning after they delayed the transfer. Ain’t no fool gonna believe that man really hanged himself when he was desperate to get an appeal. He was gonna seek out true justice. Not go down like that. I never could find out what really happened. I hope you do.”
Donny’s fists tighten. It’s always painful to hear about the wrong man’s life getting shattered because of another man’s ego. Johnson shattered many lives.
“Couple days later, them babies were walking home, and Victoria stopped by here. I was beside her when her phone rang. Kyle called Victoria, telling her he could get her in to see her father’s body, since they said they couldn’t release it. The sheriff said they weren’t eighteen, and since there was no one of age to claim the body, the city had the right to dispose of it. I got that taken care of later—too much later.”
She blows out a shaky breath, as though she’s steeling herself for the rest.
“Victoria had dated Kyle, gave that boy more of herself than she should have. He wasn’t too happy when they broke up, but he didn’t show his demon right away. He was manipulative and calculated like that. She’d only dated him for a few months, one of the few boyfriends she’d ever had. Her daddy talked sense into her when he heard how Kyle talked down to her. She never said why she broke up with Kyle. But Kyle had never given her a reason not to trust him. Not until that night.”
Donny’s phone beeps, but he ignores it. When my phone starts ringing, I silence it. Neither of us are stepping away until we have our answers. It’s just Johnson trying to find out what we’re up to.
“Victoria went to meet him, and Marcus caught up with her, wanting to see his father as well. They needed answers. No note was left. No goodbye was given. He just died, and they slapped suicide on there. Jacob was not with them for once, and thankfully, neither was my boy.”
She breaks, becoming a sobbing mess. “I shouldn’t have been thankful when those babies suffered, but I was so glad they didn’t get my boy too.”
She’s almost incoherent now, her tears falling too fast and her sobs wracking her body. Donny looks at me, dread in his eyes.
We knew there was assault. We knew it was sexual.
But I’m starting to piece together all the kills now.
Diana calms herself by some miracle, hiccupping around a sob.
“And Kyle, oh that boy was pure evil,” she says, her tone turning angry now. “They met him at the end of Belker Street, and he wasn’t alone. He brought several volunteers with him to help him punish the ‘killer’ through his kids.”
Belker Street is where the message about angels was written to sound like an omen of things to come.
“They jumped them. Got them down on the ground. Stripped them bare in the middle of the streets. After that, they took turns on both of them.”
She has to stop when she gags, and she turns her head.
Donny is white, and his fists are tighter. My entire body is rigid right now.
“How many?” Donny asks quietly.
“Thirteen in all,” she says, still sobbing. “Only…Dev didn’t…couldn’t go through with it. He stood there, though. And he told me the story after it was over. The boy was so twisted up in the head he was sent to therapy for over a year. Then he joined a church ministry group that travels over the country spreading the word of God. He’s how I know.”
“So twelve of them took turns raping them,” Donny states, his calm tone betraying the simmering rage that matches mine.
“Over. And over. And over,” she growls, her tears falling angrily. “They didn’t stop. Those babies laid on that street for hours, bleeding and screaming for help. And no one came. But that’s not even the worst of it.”
I don’t know how much worse it can get.
“Lawrence, Morgan, and Kyle were the worst offenders; the darkest souls around. After they’d grown bored with raping them, Kyle walked inside someone’s house and borrowed a full length mirror. The Whisenants just handed the mirror over like they didn’t know what was going on right in front of their home. Kyle returned, handed the mirror to Morgan, and Lawrence jerked Marcus up to his feet.”
My phone rings again, but I silence it once more, not even glancing at the screen.
“Kyle pulled out a knife, and had Morgan hold the mirror behind Victoria. He wanted Marcus to be able to see what was coming next. Then Kyle told Marcus to ‘fuck’ his sister. To rape his own flesh and blood. Or he’d cut off his dick so he could never use it again.”
My stomach roils, and Donny chokes back a strangled sound.
“Marcus refused, told them all to burn in hell and take whatever. Kyle slid the knife over Marcus’s waist, cutting him, and told him it was his last chance. Said if he was pervert enough to like it in the ass, then he was pervert enough to fuck his sister. Marcus spit in his face. And Kyle made true to his threat. Castrated him there in the middle of the street.”
It’s all I can do not to walk out. I don’t want to hear anymore. Hell, I’m not sure if I can ever look at anyone in this town without hating them for helping hide this.
Why did Diana not come forward sooner?
When Diana recovers again, she goes on. “The mirror fell and shattered. Victoria had already been beaten to a pulp, her face unrecognizable. They’d pounded her face into the ground, hit her with their fists, and so much more. When the glass shattered, they dragged her through it, then Kyle sliced her at the waist with the knife. After that, he grabbed a piece of the mirror, showed her what she looked like, and he slammed the piece of mirror into her. His parting words to her were that she’d die a monster and a whore. They left them to bleed out in the streets.”
“Then Marcus drove them out of the county to give them a chance to survive,” I say on a quiet breath. “Because the sheriff owns everything in Delaney County.”
She nods slowly, then shakes her head. “Marcus never once thought he’d survive. He just wanted to save his sister’s life. Neither one of them made it out of the hospital. And this town lost its soul. We all became hollow shells of who we were, because fear ruled us.”
“Why not tell someone sooner?” Donny asks, trying not to sound accusatory.
She gives us a grim, solemn look. “The ones who tried ended up missing or dead. Lindy May Wheeler tried to stop them that night. She ran up, but Dev hauled her back off, tossing her into a car and locking her in it until they were done. She was married. Next thing I know, Kyle is telling her husband he slept with his wife…that she seduced him. Antonio left her, and no one believed her when she said she’d been raped repeatedly by Kyle. Her daddy had to get her out of town because he worried she’d be killed.”
My blood freezes, and Donny’s eyes meet mine. Lindy May Wheeler. The woman our unsub chose to care for a broken child he took the time to save from a true monster.
Diana doesn’t notice our look.
“They threatened my boy. He was on his way to college in less than a year. They told me he’d never even graduate high school if I stirred up problems. I believed them. Still do. That’s why I sent him to his girlfriend’s place. That girl makes a lot of money, and she has the best security in New York.”
“Most of these unsubs left town,” Donny tells me.
“They had to,” Diana interjects. “The only way the sheriff could keep people afraid, but still living here, was to banish everyone but his boy from this town. His boy is the worst of all of them, but he ain’t getting banished. But don’t you worry. He paid them boys off real nice.”
“Kyle Davenport is the sheriff’s son. It’s no wonder he covered this up,” Donny says on a pained breath.
“Covered this up?” she asks in disbelief. “The sheriff orchestrated it. He had his deputies go to each and every house and said if they heard something, to stay inside. If they failed to comply, there’d be consequences. He even sent out a broadcast to our TVs telling us there was an immediate curfew—no one out past sunset until told otherwise. He helped his son plan this out, then let him do what he couldn’t stomach to do himself.”
“Why?” Donny asks.
But I know why without hearing the answer.
“His daughter was raped, tortured, debased, and shamed even after her death. As far as the sheriff was concerned, Robert Evans was the man who did it. Killing the man wasn’t enough for him. He had to go and shatter his kids before killing them too. Said the world needed to be cleansed of the devils it bore. Yet he never sees the evil in his own son’s eyes. Even that boy’s momma knew he was no good.”
Again my phone goes off, but I’m not finished here, so I ignore it once more.
“Kyle was a monster just waiting to be unleashed. Once that sort of evil escapes from a box, it doesn’t go back in.”
I agree with her whole-heartedly on that. He’s raped at least three people that we know of, and one of them was even a male.
“You boys want to stop a killer from hurting this town. But I just want those babies to finally have a voice. People are dying from holding in these secrets for so long.”
“Who is Dev?”
“Devin Thomas. He’s the judge’s son,” she says on autopilot.
As I stand, I look at her and recite the names we know, two of which are an uncertainty. “Tim Hoover. Chuck Cosby. Nathan Malone. Jeremy Hoyt. Ben Harris. Tyler Shane. Lawrence Martin. Anthony Smith. Kevin Taylor. Morgan Jones. Kyle Davenport.”
