by Becky Durfee
Without saying another word, Jenny pulled her phone out of her purse. Looking at the screen, she noticed she had both a missed call and a text from the detective already. At first, she wondered how she could have missed those, but then she realized she’d never turned her ringer on from her nap. Pressing the button to bring up the text, her jaw dropped when she read the words:
Call me ASAP. We’ve had a confession.
Jenny’s head immediately began to spin. How could they have had a confession when the killer was standing just outside the door? “Zack,” she said, “look at this.” She held out her phone for him to see.
After taking a second to read the words, Zack raised his wide eyes to meet Jenny’s. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure the bouncer is the right guy?”
“Rachel is pretty darn sure,” she replied emphatically. Her mind went back to a conversation she’d had with Kyle, her favorite private investigator, where he’d explained the notion of false confessions. “They have the wrong guy,” she declared. “They have to.”
“What are you going to do about this?” Zack asked.
“Text her back,” Jenny said, her fingers already tapping the screen. “I don’t want to call her in case somebody overhears.”
Are you sure you have the right person? Rachel Moore just let me know it was the bouncer at Shenanigans.
She waited for a response, but there wasn’t an immediate one. Muttering a few swear words under her breath, Jenny thought about what she should do next. “Come on,” she said to Zack, motioning for him to follow her.
They approached the bar, where Jenny felt obligated to order nachos after her bizarre proclamation to the bouncer. After making that request, she said to the bartender, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he replied as he typed their order into a computer. “What’s up?”
“The bouncer,” Jenny said. “He looks familiar to me. Is his name Neal, by any chance?”
“Neal? No,” he replied. “It’s Mark.”
“Mark…”she repeated. “What’s his last name?”
“Neighbors.”
Jenny wanted to make sure she had heard him correctly. “Like, the person next door?”
“People next door,” the bartender clarified. “It’s plural.”
Trying to act nonchalant, Jenny simply said, “Huh. I guess I don’t know him, then.”
“He’s not from around here,” the bartender went on. “He just moved here a few months ago.”
Jenny immediately began to wonder how many women had met a similar fate in the town where Mark Neighbors used to live.
Her phone, which was now on vibrate, came alive with a call from Detective Brennan. Jenny wished she could take it, but she didn’t want to say anything out loud in front of the bartender. After the buzzing stopped, she typed, please text me. I can’t talk now.
After what seemed like an eternity, she was made aware of a new voicemail. She determined she could listen—she just couldn’t speak—so she punched in her code and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” Detective Brennan’s voice began, “I’m not sure what you got from Rachel, but this guy here has some details about the case that he just shouldn’t know. We keep some things private so that we can tell which confessions are real, and he knows things about the crime scenes that he wouldn’t know unless he’d been there. We’re thinking his confession is legit. Maybe you can come to the station and see what Rachel and the others have to say about him. Hopefully, they’ll be in agreement that we have the right guy. Okay, I guess that’s it. Call me when you can. Bye.”
Jenny looked at the phone when the message was over; Detective Brennan hadn’t disclosed who the person was. Although the bartender had disappeared into the back, Jenny still didn’t want to make any calls. She was unsure how long he’d be out of earshot. Brimming with curiosity, Jenny used a text to ask exactly who this self-proclaimed killer was.
A long moment passed before she saw Gary Kimbrough appear on her screen.
“Gary Kimbrough?” she whispered to herself. “Who on earth is Gary Kimbrough?” She held out her phone for her husband to see. “This, apparently, is the person.”
Looking confused, Zack asked, “Who is that?”
“Exactly,” Jenny replied, irritated. “It’s like he came out of nowhere.” She sighed and added, “Well, at least I have two names now. I guess it’s better than none.” Her fingers got busy on her phone, typing out a text to Kyle. If you are there, please please please text me back asap.
Her phone quickly shook in her hand. I’m here.
She closed her eyes for a moment as she silently acknowledged how much she adored Kyle. I have two names for you…Mark Neighbors and Gary Kimbrough. Both currently live in or around Bennett, Missouri. Mark works at Shenanigans bar and is new in town. One of they may be killing women. Please find out as much as you can about them as soon humanly possible. Focus on religion—this might be a cleanse killing. Perp strikes at night. Don’t want another victim tonight.
A short pause. I’m on it.
The simple fact that Kyle was working the case made Jenny feel immeasurably better. If anyone could find the facts on these people, it was him. However, if Mark Neighbors was intending to slit another throat tonight, perhaps even Kyle wouldn’t have had the time to stop him.
“The bouncer isn’t stocky.” Zack’s words interrupted Jenny’s thoughts.
“What?”
“The bouncer. He doesn’t look like the guy in the video.”
Zack was right; Mark Neighbors was tall and somewhat lean. She wondered what this mystery man Gary Kimbrough looked like. “Is it possible the two are friends?” Jenny asked. “Could it be that they are in this together, and Gary finally cracked?”
“We’ll probably find out tonight, if the cops come and arrest Mark.”
Jenny saw the bartender returning, so she placed her hand on Zack’s arm to get him to stop talking. A plate of nachos appeared in front of the couple, along with two plates and some wrapped silverware. Jenny thanked the man and then looked at the unappetizing dish in front of her; she didn’t really want this—she was still feeling heavy from the nachos she’d had earlier in the day.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said to Zack, sliding the plate in his direction.
“Always.” He readily dug into the mound of chips; this was his third serving in two days. She stifled a wince.
Keeping her voice soft enough for the busy bartender not to hear, Jenny remarked, “It’s also possible that Mark asked someone to put the note on my car on his behalf—some drunk guy, maybe, who was coming into the bar. It wasn’t like it was a threatening note or anything. It was a smiley face. The person who put it on there may have thought it was a nice gesture. And our car was right across the street from where Mark was sitting. It would have been easy for him to arrange that.”
“There are lots of possibilities,” Zack replied as he put a loaded chip into his mouth. Chewing it a few times and tucking it into his cheek, he added, “Our goal, however, is simple. We need to make sure this guy doesn’t strike again, and if the police believe that they already have the right guy in custody, that responsibility is going to fall on us. They’re not going to be out tailing this guy if they think the killer is already in a jail cell.”
“We need to follow him home,” she agreed, “and keep an eye on him all night. But I’ve been invited to go to the station and check out Gary for myself. I’d like to do that, just to figure out how this guy fits into this whole thing, but I obviously can’t be in both places at once.”
“I can follow Mark, if you want to call a cab to go to the police station.”
“I’m not sure I want you tailing him in the middle of the night by yourself,” Jenny replied.
“He’s not going to do anything to me,” Zack noted. “I’m not his type.”
“I realize that…but if he recognizes that you’re following him, he might have a problem with that. He’s a big guy
; how are you going to protect yourself if he decides to come after you?”
“I can use the gun your mother wanted us to get.”
“Hush. I’m serious.”
“I’ll be in a car, with the windows up and doors locked. Besides, what benefit will I have if you’re with me? Are you suggesting you’d be able to beat the guy up if he proves to be too strong for me?” He placed a huge nacho in his mouth and chomped exaggeratedly, as if to add an exclamation point.
“I am suggesting we use brains, not brawn, you big, fat pain in the butt.” Jenny once again typed a message to Kyle. If you can only find one thing out tonight, please tell me where Mark Neighbors lives.
“What are you doing?” Zack asked.
“Finding out Mark’s address. That way, we can see how close or far he lives. Then, depending on how populated or desolate that area is, we can devise a plan for following him home. If he lives out in the middle of nowhere, he’ll definitely notice us driving behind him. If he only lives a few blocks away, we can probably get away with tailing him unnoticed.”
“What if he’s in between?”
“Then, we figure out something that will work.” Jenny reached over to the plate, grabbed a chip and emphatically bit into it—just as Zack had done—while looking him square in the eye.
He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, you win that one. But what about the other guy? The confessor? Are you going to talk to him?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Jenny said. “The way I see it, he’s in police custody, so he isn’t a threat to anyone. That is, if he was a threat to anyone to begin with. He might just be some guy who is trying to get attention.”
“That’s a very strange way to do it.”
“Well, clearly, helping the homeless won’t get your face on TV. You’ve got to be a murderer before the news will devote any airtime to you.” Bitterness was obvious in Jenny’s voice.
Her phone buzzed once again. She checked the screen, seeing, Mark Neighbors. 621A Hazel Drive, Bennett MO. A smile splayed across her face as she looked at Zack and asked, “Can you call up a map?”
“It’s not that far from here,” Jenny noted, looking at Zack’s screen. “A three-minute drive, tops. We can easily get away with following him home.”
“We’d need to know what kind of car he has.” Zack said. “We have to find it so we can make sure we are in a good position to watch him drive away.”
Jenny lowered her eyebrows, wondering how that little detail had escaped her. Without saying a word, she typed another text to Kyle.
“Here’s another thought,” Zack added. “What if he doesn’t go straight home? What if he drives out to the boondocks with the intent of killing another woman?”
“Then we follow him,” Jenny replied. “And, hopefully, he will recognize he’s being followed and he won’t go through with it.”
The make and model of Mark’s car, along with the license plate number, came through in a text. Jenny showed Zack the screen before she continued, “If he does go home, I’m thinking we can stake him out…sit in front of his house and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. At least until sun up, that is, when we can be pretty sure he’s not going to strike again any time soon.”
“I’m glad we napped,” Zack replied.
“You and me both.”
Zack looked at his own phone and started poking around. He appeared to be shopping. “What are you doing?” Jenny asked.
“Seeing if we can find some kind of tracking device. I would like it better if we were able to keep tabs on his movements without having to actually follow him. Maybe tomorrow we can stick one of those bad boys on his car and then monitor him from somewhere else.”
“We can do that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
Jenny left him to his shopping, allowing her mind to wander. She couldn’t wait to talk to Kyle to find out more information about Mark and Gary. She wondered what kind of background Mark had which would have led him to do such horrible things, and Gary was another story altogether. She had no idea who he was or how he fit into all of this, unless he was simply a friend of Mark’s. She was inclined to dismiss him as a fraud, but Detective Brennan suggested he knew things about the crime scene that only the killer would know. But Mark had been the killer, at least according to Rachel. Was it possible that Mark had confided in Gary? But then why would Gary have been confessing? Why wouldn’t Gary have implicated Mark instead of claiming that he was the one who had done it?
This whole thing stunk.
“It looks like they do sell tracking devices,” Zack said. “They’re supposed to be for your own car, but whatever.”
“Does it have to go inside the car? Or can we stick it to the bumper or something?”
“We can ask. I think we need to go into a store and get one—I obviously don’t want to wait for shipping. We’ll just make sure we get one that can go on the outside of the car.”
“Is that legal?” Jenny asked.
“Does it matter?”
Jenny smiled. No, it didn’t matter. She contemplated how many times she’d stretched the boundaries of the law in order to prevent murder. Of course, her actions were always justified, but she recognized that one of these days she was going to find herself sitting in a jail cell.
At least she could afford bail.
Zack left the bar for a short time to walk around and look for Mark’s car. It was parked behind the building in a small, gravel lot, presumably for employees only. The only way out of the lot was a narrow alley that came out on a side street, so they would definitely be able to see him leave if they set up in an appropriate spot.
The night dragged on slowly as Jenny half-expected the police to arrive in droves at any moment, carting Mark away in handcuffs. It never happened. As closing time drew near, she and Zack went out to their car—which hadn’t been vandalized in any way—and drove away. After circling the block, they pulled onto the street near the employee lot.
“And now, we wait,” Zack said.
Normally, Jenny hated those words, but she knew her wait was relatively short this time. The bar closed at two, and the staff probably had to stick around to help clean up after that, but she imagined Mark would be leaving the bar before three. With a sigh, she nestled into the driver’s seat, leaned her head back and began watching the lot.
“This would be a whole lot easier if that Gary guy hadn’t confessed,” Jenny said. “Then the police could be doing this and we could be back at the hotel sleeping.”
“Do you think the police would take your word for it and send somebody out here?”
“Well, considering twelve hours ago they had no suspects at all, I’d think they’d spare a lone patrolman to come out here and at least take a look. Besides, the chief takes me very seriously for some reason.” She wiped her tired eyes. “This confession is just throwing a poorly-timed wrench in the works. Detective Brennan clearly thinks the confession is legit, so I imagine the entire force is either tasked with investigating Gary Kimbrough or getting some long overdue sleep, taking comfort in the fact that this nightmare is most likely behind them.”
“Hopefully, it will be soon.”
Jenny thought about going home and squeezing her son. “Hopefully, it will be.”
“You know what this means, though, don’t you? Scott Sweigert is just an unfortunate guy who lost both a coworker and a potential girlfriend to the same killer.”
“And Jason is just a man with a very sick wife who flirts with young women to stay sane. And Luke is just a guy with big feet who happened to live upstairs from the first victim, and was potentially the object of another victim’s crush. Every one of those guys suffered a loss, and the cloud of suspicion around them just added insult to injury.”
“They’ll understand, I think, eventually. If they cared about the women at all, they should be glad that the police are investigating every possibility.”
“Imagine being in their shoes, though. Not only would it be s
cary—a little shoddy police work could land you in jail—but you know you’re innocent, and the police are wasting valuable time giving you the third degree. It has to be frustrating to proclaim your innocence over and over and over again, only to have the police not believe you.”
“The problem is that the guilty also proclaim their innocence over and over and over. You can’t take the suspects at face value; otherwise everyone would walk out free.”
“I guess not,” Jenny replied. “I just can’t imagine losing someone I loved and then getting accused of murdering them. That’s a horrible double whammy.”
“Maybe that’s why Scott is still nursing a hangover right now.”
“Oh, that poor guy. He was about as drunk as I’ve ever seen anybody.”
“I can’t say I blame him. I’d probably drink myself silly if I were in his shoes, too.” After a short moment of silence, Zack added, “This is boring.”
“Get used to it, my friend. This is how we’re spending the whole night...hopefully. Either that, or he’s going to try to strike again and we’re going to have a night that is a little too exciting for my liking.” Jenny thought all about the ways the evening could unfold. “Let’s hope we spend the night staring at a parked car.”
At two-forty-five, employees started coming out the back door of the bar, causing Jenny to sit up straighter in her seat. Silhouettes were all that could be seen, lit up by the street light above, but she was able to make out the bouncer due to his height. “Looks like the action is starting,” she noted.
The employees waved emphatic goodbyes to each other, and their laughter was loud enough for Zack and Jenny to hear through the closed windows. “His coworkers seem to like him,” Zack observed.
“Yeah, he’s a real upstanding guy,” she replied sarcastically.
Ignitions started throughout the lot, and Jenny followed suit, hoping nobody would notice them. Fortunately, nobody seemed to. Cars exited the lot in a single file line. Although it took some uncharacteristically aggressive driving on her part, Jenny managed to get behind Mark’s car on the way out.
