Perdition

by R. Jean Reid

  That was why he had sex with the children. The more ways he violated them, the more fear he created. He couldn’t claim he didn’t enjoy it, but it was for the power, watching them struggle and fight and finally understand there was nothing they could do. Everything was his choice. If they tried to scream, he tightened the gag. If they tried to kick and scratch, he would bind them. And enjoy it when he told them how much more it would hurt with their legs firmly bound together. He toyed with them, told them if they were quiet for a few minutes, he’d let them go. Of course he made it hard for them to be silent, thrusting longer and harder, enjoying the smell of blood and fear.

  The TV reporter was labeling him a sexual psychopath, but he wasn’t. He was a man who enjoyed power and had the courage and wit to take more than the rest dared. Most people would do what he did if they thought they could get away with it. But they were cowards and he wasn’t. And he had the brains to not get caught at it.

  He looked at the phone and thought about calling Nell again and telling her how much he approved of the coverage the paper was giving his daring. But he was too smart to be trapped by his petty temptations. It wasn’t a good idea to use his home phone. He would call later. He liked the sound of her voice. She liked power, too; he knew that. It was in her voice and in the way she ran the paper. She could have sold it after her husband died, but she liked the power too much to let go. It was particularly gratifying when he could hear fear in her voice. He very much liked to hear terror in powerful voices.

  He smiled at the memory, and then at the reaction that the memory produced. Power wasn’t about sex, but it could be sexual. Very sexual. He folded the paper and put it down.

  twenty-two

  Nell was fielding the more than usual barrage of calls that awaited her on Monday. Why had the paper devoted so much coverage to a mad killer? Why didn’t the paper do a better job of covering the murders—the whole paper should be devoted to the matter! The paper really needed to investigate our next door neighbor, he was very strange and probably the killer.

  “And what evidence do you have?” Nell patiently asked.

  “Well, he’s trying to sell his house, so he leaves his garbage in front of our house. And he’s not very friendly, you know. We might have been okay about the garbage if he’d asked, but he didn’t. Everything from cut-up banana trees to pizza boxes.”

  Nell agreed that this was not a polite and neighborly thing to do, but didn’t concede that wayward pizza boxes were the sure sign of a brutal killer. She civilly told her caller that she had a long-distance call and had to go. Someday I’m going to have to keep track of the lies I tell callers so I don’t keep telling the same caller the same lie, she thought.

  “Hey, Nell,” Dolan called to her. “Chief Shaun is holding on line two. Says he needs to talk to you.”

  “Nell,” he said as she picked up the line. “I don’t want a media circus, but I thought you might like to snap a few pictures.”

  “Pictures?”

  “I’m going to make an arrest.”

  “An arrest for what?” Nell asked, but the triumph in his voice made her question only a formality.

  “Murder. You don’t think I’d call up if I was arresting someone for littering?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the station. Meet me here in about ten minutes or we leave without you.” He put the phone down without waiting for a reply.

  Nell hurriedly jumped up and grabbed a camera. “Chief Shaun’s about to make an arrest,” she announced to the main room as she came out of her office. “Jacko, I want you to come with me. Carrie, head over to the sheriff’s office. Be there to catch his reaction.”

  “You’re sticking me with the sheriff again?” Carrie grumbled.

  “Look, it makes more sense to stick with the same people you’re already covering,” Nell said.

  “Yeah, once again, take the man to the real stuff. I get stuck watching the beer-drinking Sheriff burp.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet he’ll do more than burp when he hears that the chief has made an arrest right under his nose,” Jacko said.

  “If you think it’s going to be so interesting, why don’t you babysit the sheriff ?” Carrie shot back at him.

  “Fine by me,” Jacko said, with a glance at Nell and a small shrug, as if to say there were other stories.

  “Fine. Let’s go then,” Nell said curtly, doing a less-than-perfect job of hiding her irritation.

  Carrie was digging in her desk, presumably for her purse, forcing Nell to stand and wait.

  “Okay, do I ask the sheriff his reaction to the chief’s making an arrest?” Jacko asked. “Or should I just hang around until something happens?”

  “Ask away. Get him going and maybe he’ll forget to take it off the record,” Nell answered as she decided that Carrie had five more seconds before she headed out the door.

  Carrie took the full five seconds, only jumping up when Nell’s hand was actually on the door handle.

  “I’ve never seen anyone arrested before, have you?” Carrie babbled as they crossed the town green to the police station.

  “Yes, numerous times.”

  “You think there’ll be shooting or anything like that?” Carrie asked.

  Nell considered telling her it would be very dangerous, maybe even adding that she was wearing a bulletproof vest. Carrie seemed happy she’d gotten her way and was oblivious enough to think that if she was happy, everyone else should be.

  “I’m sure if there’s danger involved, Chief Shaun wouldn’t invite us along.” Nell chose as her reply one she assumed was truthful.

  She was spared from further conversation as Chief Shaun came out of the building with several of his officers.

  “Nell, right on time,” he greeted her, then gave Carrie a questioning glance.

  “Hi, Chief. This is Carrie Brody, one of my cub reporters. She wanted to come along and see her first arrest.” Petty, Nell, petty, she chastised herself as the words came out, but her guilt was minimal.

  “Keeping the pretty ones hidden from me, Nell?” Chief Shaun said flirtatiously. “Jacko’s nice, but he’s not this nice.” He radiated an excited energy, almost exuberant.

  “It never crossed my mind to assign reporters by gender,” Nell blandly replied. Carrie, she noted, was blushing and giving the chief that kind of look that signaled the beginning of an infatuation. “How did you discover who did it?” she continued, more interested in getting the scoop she knew this was than watching the chief and Carrie flirt.

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Nell, why don’t you ride with me. Gar, take the pretty young lady with you.” He was already walking to his car.

  Nell followed, motioning Carrie to go with the other cop. There were two other cars idling as well. Clearly this was a major arrest.

  “Any danger?” Nell asked as she slid into the car. Chief Shaun was already turning the ignition.

  “I doubt it. He doesn’t know we’re coming.”

  Nell barely managed to get her seat belt fastened before the chief sped out of the parking lot.

  “How did you find him?” Nell asked again. The chief wanted attention; she would give it to him.

  “Someone spotted a suspicious car near one of the locations. We ran a check on it and discovered that the owner had been arrested for sex crimes. So we got a warrant and searched his home about an hour ago.” He was silent, waiting for her next question. Almost a game of questions.

  “What sex crime was he arrested for?” Nell guessed the chief would expect her to ask what he’d found in the search, and she wasn’t going to be so compliant with his question game to ask the ones that he expected.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Both prostitution and child molesting are sex crimes. I’m interested in what specific sex crime this person committed, and why it was potent enough for you to get a
warrant based on it.”

  “It was an arrest and not a conviction, so I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Off the record?” Nell asked, curious as to why Chief Shaun seemed reluctant to divulge the information. She suspected he’d cut a few corners to get here, corners he might not want a noisy reporter poking into.

  “Don’t you want to know what I found in the search?”

  “Yes, but I’m still not clear on why you felt you had enough probable cause to go after a search warrant.”

  “How about because kids are being killed and I felt I needed to move on this?”

  That was probably as close as she was going to get to him admitting that everything wasn’t by the book. But it was something to do some research on later. “Tell me about the search.”

  “He kept trophies.”

  “Such as?”

  “Underwear. A lock of hair. And pictures. Sick bastard.”

  “He took pictures of the murders?”

  “Of the bodies afterward. Like some hunter with his kill.”

  “You’re right,” Nell said. “A sick bastard.” She started to add, I know you skipped a few steps here—and I don’t care. Just get this brute off the streets so that my kids and I can sleep tonight. But she decided the chief could earn that.

  Nell assumed they would be heading to some secluded place on the outskirts of town—that was her image of the killer—so she was surprised when they turned onto the main street. And even more surprised when the chief stopped the car in front of Ron’s Flower Shoppe.

  She vaguely knew Ronald Hebert. Mrs. Thomas, Sr. was an avid gardener, so choosing purchased flowers over her mother-in-law’s homegrown ones wasn’t something that Nell did often. Ronald occasionally advertised in the Crier, at times like Mother’s Day or Valentine’s Day. The mild-mannered florist she recalled from his few visits to the paper seemed very far from someone who would be the murderer of children.

  But isn’t that often the case? Nell thought. Evil was banal and sold flowers on Washington Avenue. Still, the three police cars with their lights flashing seemed a bit much next to the pastel colors of the flower store.

  “Make sure you get my good side,” Chief Shaun said as he got out.

  Nell also got out, staying on her side of the car. Just in case, she was keeping something between herself and the flower shop. She propped her elbows on the roof and aimed the camera at the door, catching a few pictures of the chief and his officers entering.

  “What do you think will happen?” Carrie asked as she joined Nell.

  “I’m going to take pictures, you’re going to write a story,” Nell told her, annoyed at the distraction. Her reporter had the soul of a gossip columnist.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Carrie, if you make me miss this shot, you’re fired.” Nell put enough bite into her voice to let the young woman know she was close to meaning it. “Jot down notes, describe the scene, the people. Catch reactions, pretend you’re a reporter.” Nice didn’t seem to work with Carrie; maybe not-so-nice would.

  Carrie at least understood something. She ambled away from Nell and even pulled out a notebook and started scribbling something down. Probably I hate my boss, I hate my boss, Nell thought.

  The three police cars and their flashing lights quickly attracted the curious and the bored. Nell glanced at the growing crowd. For a sleepy small town, Pelican Bay could quickly produce a lot of people, giving a hint about how many people were behind the closed doors. She noticed Wendell Jenkins at the far end of the crowd, talking into a cell phone, his gesturing hands indicating his agitation. Nell would bet money that Wendell was on the phone with his good friend Sheriff Hickson. She just hoped Jacko was in the vicinity also. He would be taking notes.

  Just then the door to the flower shop burst open, its usual gentle bell a harsh jangle from the force with which the door was thrown back. Two of the cops pushed through, with Ronald handcuffed between them.

  Nell snapped the picture and kept her camera focused as they led him to one of the police cars. “Pathetic” was the only word she could think of to describe the florist. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he was on the verge of tears. He looked small and powerless wedged between the two large police men, his handcuffed arms stiffly held out in front. Looking at him, Nell found it hard to picture him as the man who’d called her in the night. I just want a better opponent, she told herself. Not this banal, scared man.

  The chief came out of the flower shop then, followed by two more policemen. They didn’t bother closing the door.

  The first two cops kept Ronald next to the police car. Nell heard the chief read him his rights, wanting to make the arrest a public display. Ronald just shook his head in bewilderment, as if he didn’t understand what was going on.

  A camera crew from one of the television stations appeared. Maybe that was who Wendell Jenkins was calling.

  Nell edged around the car to get a better picture of Ronald and the circle surrounding him. With four cops, the chief, and a television camera, the florist seemed even smaller, incongruous even. Nell couldn’t shake the sense that this was almost ludicrous—all this show of force to capture one abject man amid his flowers, as if the roses would rise to protect him.

  But Nell was reporter enough to step in front of the TV camera to get the shot of them putting the florist into the back seat of the police car. She was close enough to hear him say “This is wrong” before the door was shut.

  As she waited for Chief Shaun to finish talking to the inquiring TV reporter, Nell took one last picture of the open door of the flower shop. She wondered what would happen to it, to the daisies and irises still there. Who wouldn’t get roses tonight?

  Nell turned the Open sign around so that it said Closed, then shut the door. Neither the shop nor the flowers were guilty.

  She joined the chief at his car. He still exuded exuberance. The mighty hunter, Nell thought. And I’m glad of it, she reminded herself. If her intellectual side didn’t exactly approve of Chief Shaun cutting corners, the much greater part of her, that of a mother, was incredibly relieved there would be no more late-night phone calls and no more murdered children.

  “What happens now?” she asked as Chief Shaun held the door for her. “Do you want me to try to get a picture of Sheriff Hickson’s face as you drop your suspect off at his jail?”

  The chief just smiled, clearly liking the thought. He didn’t answer until he got into the driver’s seat. “I’m sure the sheriff will be glad to have a vicious murderer off the street.”

  “Okay, that’s the quote I’ll print,” Nell told him. “But you’ve got to get some satisfaction out of capturing this killer. And you and I both know that Sheriff Hickson wasn’t really up to the task.”

  Doug Shaun smiled at her again, and Nell noticed how much the smile transformed the stern uniformed police chief into a handsome man. “You and I both know that. But I see no point in rubbing his face in it. Tempting as it is.” He started the car.

  “How forgiving of you, Chief Shaun. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Doug. Really, call me Doug. How about dinner tonight to celebrate?”

  Nell almost said yes. She suddenly realized she longed for companionship, the frisson of going out with a man. She would enjoy sharing this moment with him. The killer had invaded her days; she deserved a chance to celebrate his capture.

  “Two kids,” she answered instead, with a rueful smile. “It makes it hard to just go out for dinner on the spur of the moment. Although this is certainly something to revel in.”

  “Ah, well, maybe the next murderer I capture,” he said with a shrug.

  Nell wondered if she should suggest another time or if she wanted him to. Damn, this is all so complicated, she thought. “How about lunch tomorrow?” she offered. It was a hedge; lunchtime could be work instead of romantic.

/>   “I may be jawing with the DA, all the paperwork. But if I can get away, we can manage lunch.”

  That was where they left it. If he called her sometime in the late morning, then they’d arrange something. No call and she could assume he was tied up with the arrest of Ronald Hebert, Jr.

  Chief Shaun dropped her off in front of the police station; he was off to the courthouse to talk to Buddy Guy, leaving his men the joy of delivering the prisoner to Sheriff Hickson.

  Nell wasn’t spared Carrie’s company any longer. Gar had been right behind the chief and deposited his passenger beside her.

  “Wasn’t that exciting?” Carrie gushed. “Nothing like beefy men in uniform and lots of guns.”

  “Glad it made your day,” Nell said dryly.

  “C’mon, Nell, even you have to admit that Doug Shaun is a hunk.”

  Nell decided she didn’t have to admit that. She also ignored the implicit insult in Carrie’s “even you,” as if she were some dried-up, sexless shell. She even forwent the petty revenge of casually mentioning that he had asked her out.

  “Now, I’d like to do a feature story on him,” Carrie continued. “Get to sit down and ask him some personal questions.”

  A feature story on Chief Shaun might not be a bad idea, Nell admitted, although only to herself. He had only been police chief for about six months—in Pelican Bay terms that was still brand new. She wasn’t sure she wanted to assign it to Carrie; although that, too, might be interesting, seeing how she’d perform on a subject she was interested in.

  But some response was clearly expected. “Get the story around today’s arrest first,” Nell said. “I want you to find out everything you can about Ronald Hebert. If you do a good enough story on him, I might consider letting you tackle Doug Shaun.”

  “Who should I talk to? I mean, I can’t exactly go interview the florist,” Carrie said.

  “Start with the businesses next to his,” Nell instructed. “Find out if there were any other employees at the shop and talk to them. You might be able to get the names of family members, or at least an outline of who he was. Happily married or the weird loner? At least get some quotes from them.”