Killing Season

by Faye Kellerman

  “Ben, I’d be happy to come over and talk to her in person.”

  “Don’t put yourself through it. I know my mom. She’ll just hole up in her bedroom.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “I’ll take care of her. She’ll be functioning in a few days. I’ll see you next time.”

  “What next time?”

  “C’mon, Sam. You know me. Until he’s caught, there is always a next time.”

  “Ben, you’ve got to stop.”

  “Is he gonna stop, Sam?” When Shanks didn’t answer, Ben said, “I’ll stop when you know without a doubt whatsoever that he’ll stop. Until then, it’s business as usual.”

  Chapter 3

  Usually the family ate at seven, but Ben knew that tonight would be different. Haley and Lilly were sitting at the dinner table. They had either finished the meal or hadn’t even started. His sister was twirling strands of curly auburn hair with her forefinger.

  “Did you ladies eat?” Ben asked.

  It was Lilly who answered. “No.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Working late,” Haley said.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  Haley pointed to the kitchen.

  Mom was at the stovetop, stir-frying vegetables. Next to the stove were cubes of cooked cold chicken on a paper plate. She was wearing a black apron and an expression to match. Her graying brown hair was pinned back, and her face was bathed in steam.

  Ben knew he had to say something. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I know how hard this must be—”

  “Ben . . .” She turned around and her eyes were dry. “I’m not feeling my best. Would you mind taking over?”

  “Of course.”

  She put the pan down and retreated to the bedroom. His mom slept a lot. On weekends, it was rare to see her up before ten. He finished up cooking, added the chicken cubes, and then dumped the stir-fry onto three plates. Not very appetizing but it was hot and fresh. He took it back into the dining room with knives, forks, and napkins. Water was already at the table.

  “Here we go.”

  All of them started nibbling, but no one was really eating. Haley continued to twirl her hair, her gold eyes focusing on a distant spot. Lilly, with her dark eyes and smooth mocha complexion, chewed the same bit of chicken for five minutes.

  After a half hour, Ben said, “Well, I see how well my culinary skills went over. Anyone up for ice cream?”

  Haley shook her head. Tears formed in her eyes. “Gonna take more than a sundae to make it go away.” She got up and headed to her bedroom. Lilly looked in the direction of Haley’s bedroom, then looked at Ben.

  “Go, hon,” he told her.

  “You need help cleaning up?”

  “I’m fine. Go.”

  Lilly got up and went to comfort her best friend. After the kitchen had been cleaned and everything had been put away, Ben went to his room and lay down in darkness. His head throbbed and his bones felt sore. He tried not to think, but the images came anyway and he was too tired to fight them. He fell asleep still in his clothes. His slumber was fitful. The next morning his head was on fire and his T-shirt was soaked in sweat. He stripped and showered, but still felt like garbage. He took three Advil, donned a clean shirt, a clean pair of jeans, and sneakers without holes. He needed a shave, but couldn’t muster the energy.

  Again, there were Lilly and Haley at the dining room table. Lilly had obviously slept over, probably because no one had offered to take her home. But she slept over a lot; the house was her second home.

  “Hi, ladies.” Ben looked around. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s still sleeping.” Haley regarded her brother. “You don’t look well.”

  “It was a hard night.”

  “No, you really don’t look well.” She got up and felt her brother’s forehead. “You’re burning up for real. Go back to bed. I’ll wake Mom up.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “He left early. He wasn’t in a social mood.”

  Ben loved his parents dearly, but he didn’t always respect them, both of them checking out when times got tough. They were needed now and they had become background noise.

  “Mom will take us. Just take care of yourself.”

  His sister was right. He crawled back into bed.

  His dreams were bathed in a fog of memories and delirium. Not Ellen this time, but Katie Doogan. The sixteen-year-old had disappeared three months before Ellen’s body had been found, nine months after her abduction. He had thought that with his sister missing, he had hit the nadir of his existence.

  He was wrong.

  He had lived through the whole thing again, this time with enough knowledge to know what was in store for the family. His mother and father had fallen apart again, leaving Haley and him without supervision and guidance a second time.

  In solidarity, Ben and his family attended the candlelight vigils during the first two weeks of Katie’s disappearance. They dared not introduce themselves right away, lest they automatically link their current situation with Katie’s family’s. Because at first there is always that hope. But by the third vigil, it was clear that the Doogans knew who the Vicksburgs were. Margot came up to Ben’s mother, Laura, and without speaking, the two of them hugged. Dad and Alan Doogan hugged as well. There were two other Doogan children: Bryan was seventeen and Kevin was thirteen. Eventually Ben noticed Bryan staring at him and nodded, thinking to himself: Buddy, your hell is only beginning.

  At first, whenever Bryan was home from college, he and Ben searched together. Sometimes in the mountains. Sometimes on riverbanks. They went down south and hunted through the endless stretches of emptiness that encompass the flatlands of southern New Mexico. Their personalities were completely different. It was obvious that Bryan coped with his tension by talking compulsively. Ben remained quiet and methodical. The endless chatter became elevator music, something in the background that Ben ignored except for the occasional “yeah” or “uh-huh.” The months of Katie’s disappearance stretched to a year, and beyond.

  Ben stayed in bed for two days running, thoughts weaving in and out of nightmares. By the third day, his fever had broken. He was weak but well enough to drag himself out of bed and into the world.

  “Keep moving” was his motto. Otherwise, he’d curl up and die.

  Arriving at school, he realized he hadn’t done homework for three days. Not that it would affect his grades, but he hated being irresponsible even with an excuse. He opened his locker, took out his homework notebook, and frantically searched for past assignments. Nothing was written down. Normally that wasn’t a problem because his memory would carry him along. But the last few days had thrown him off balance. He spotted Ro, who was in his lit class. She was talking to Chelsea and Shannon, the three of them gossiping like little magpies. Both Chelsea and Shannon were cute girls. Chelsea had curls, dimples, and a nice smile. Shannon was lithe and even-featured. But Ro was so damn polished-looking that she put them to shame. She also seemed perpetually cheerful. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he pegged her for a middle child.

  Once he had been a middle child.

  “Hey, Ro,” Ben called out. The three girls turned around. “Do you have the lit homework?”

  Her expression was one of surprise. “You mean the five-page essay comparing A Tale of Two Cities with Thomas Paine’s ‘Common Sense’?”

  “Oh shit! That’s right. Thanks.”

  “Where’ve you been?” she asked him.

  “I had a bug, but I’m okay.”

  Chelsea said, “You didn’t do the essay?”

  “She assigned it to us the first day,” Shannon said. “You know how Jackson is with essays.”

  Ro stepped in. “You want to see mine?”

  “No, no. I read the material. In my feverish state, I forgot about the essay.”

  “I’m sure she’ll give you an extra day.”

  “I hope she doesn’t,” Shannon sa
id. “The curve will be better.”

  There was nothing to say to that. Ben walked away, figuring he’d knock the essay out during recess. When the morning bell rang for the break, he balled himself into a corner, flipped open his laptop, and wrote furiously. Fifteen minutes later, it was done—spell-checked, the grammar proper, and somewhat, if not entirely, cohesive in thought. He ran to the computer lab to print it out.

  A minute before the bell rang, Ben sat down and plopped his essay on the desk for Jackson to collect. As Ro walked by, she picked up the paper without asking. She went through the first page and then looked up. “When did you write this?”

  “During break.”

  She put down the assignment and went to her seat up front.

  Class passed by slooooowly. Finally, it was lunch. Ben didn’t hate school, but now that he was a senior, Remez High had nothing more to offer. He found an empty corner table, took out a book, and tried to zone out, getting his mind off school and death.

  Ro came over. “Can I sit down?”

  “Uh . . . sure.” He knew his face was red. God, it was embarrassing . . . getting moony over someone else’s girl. “Do you need something?”

  She sat. “Your paper . . . or what I read of it . . . was pretty brilliant.”

  Ben laughed softly. “See, I have an unfair advantage over you. I’ve had Jackson before and I know how to write to her taste.”

  “It was a good paper, Vicks. Just say thank you. Did you make your important meeting?”

  “Pardon?”

  “A couple of days ago when I introduced myself. You said you had an important meeting with a mysterious someone.” A pause. “Or was that just an excuse to end the conversation?”

  “No, no. I did have a meeting.”

  “College interview or something?”

  “Uh, no, nothing like that. Sure I can’t do anything for you?”

  “You can correct my math homework.”

  Aha. Finally, the real reason. “Sure. Let me see—”

  “I’m kidding, Vicks.” A brief smile. “I just came over to say hi. Although if you’re dying to correct my homework—”

  “Let’s see it.”

  She rummaged through her backpack and handed him her homework. Ben said, “Number three and number twelve.” He gave it back to her.

  “Thanks.” Awkward silence. Ro said, “Um, I’ve heard you don’t do school spirit, but I’m throwing this out anyway. It would be nice if you came to the kickoff game.”

  Ben frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it’s important for the school to get a good turnout—” She stopped herself. “Actually, it’s a personal invitation from JD. I’m coming as an emissary.”

  “Well, if I had the slightest notion to come, that just killed it.”

  “Look, Vicks. I know you guys aren’t best friends, but he doesn’t dislike you.”

  “Nor do I dislike him.”

  “He said thanks for the help. He made AP Calc. So he’s asking you to come.”

  “No, you’re asking me to come.”

  “He thinks I might hold more sway.” When Ben didn’t answer, she tried another tactic. “What about your sister? Correct me if I’m wrong, Vicks, but didn’t she just start River Remez High?”

  “How do you know my sister?”

  “Don’t be paranoid. She happens to be in my brother’s class. He said she was real friendly. In my mind, that immediately put her at odds with you. Just because you’re a wet blanket doesn’t mean you can’t do something nice for her.”

  “You really know how to charm a guy.”

  “My charm would be lost on you.” Ro was begging. “Come to the game. It’ll be fun.”

  “It won’t be fun, but . . .” He paused. “I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to take Haley. That means I also have to take Lilly—that’s her best friend.”

  “Best friends are important.” She gently slugged his shoulder. “C’mon! Get yourself out of your comfort zone.”

  “My comfort zone doesn’t exist.” Ben frowned again. “If I do come and if I have a rotten time—as I suspect I will—you will have to shoulder the blame.”

  “Okay with me. I have strong shoulders, Vicks.” She smiled. “You know, making that pyramid with the girls and everything.”

  “You made cheerleader?”

  “I made the first cut. I realize it’s probably a little lowbrow for your taste, but superficialities are important to me.” When he laughed, Ro said, “I’m serious. If I played myself in a movie, I’d hate me. I’m really not a mean girl, but I am kinda shallow.”

  “You can’t be shallow if you admit you’re shallow. That shows depth.”

  “You’re adding attributes where there are none. That’s why JD and I are so well matched . . . that and we’re possibly the most gorgeous people on earth.”

  “One of you is.”

  She didn’t even blush. She stood up. “If you come and if I make cheerleader, you can look up my dress when I cartwheel.”

  Ben burst into laughter. “Who are you?”

  “I know what guys are thinking. I’m just out with it.” She gave him the stink eye. “C’mon. It won’t kill you to go just this once.”

  “I will give the idea, although initially abhorrent, some thought.”

  “Do that. Get your mind off elevated thoughts and put it in the gutter where it belongs.”

  Chapter 4

  If Ben had read the files a hundred times, Shanks had read them a thousand. Even now, after it had been confirmed that Ellen Vicksburg’s body had no traces of the Demon’s DNA on it, Shanks couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed something—more like years of missing something. One goddamn homicide in ten years and Shanks was as impotent as a capon.

  The kid kept harping on Katie Doogan. Maybe it was time for Shanks to take a second look at that case. He was about to pick up the phone to call down to Albuquerque when the kid decided to make an appearance. Ben was standing at the open door. “Need some coffee?”

  Shanks handed the teen two mugs—his mug and the kid’s birthday present. While Ben was gone, Shanks looked over the cases on his desk. There were plenty of burglaries to justify his salary. Two fresh ones: a break-in at the liquor store and a break-in at the discount electronics store. Both places had video surveillance. Shanks had caught a break.

  The kid came back ten minutes later with two fresh cups. Shanks said, “What took you so long?”

  “Got roped into being the coffee boy for the squad room.” Ben sat down. “At least I’m good for something.”

  “You’ve lost weight.”

  “I’ve been sick.”

  “You need some calories.” The kid was reed thin. Shanks checked his watch. It was almost five. “What are you doing for dinner?”

  “Thanks, but I have to go home.”

  “Understood. How are your parents?”

  “Coping.” Ben sipped his coffee. “I was kinda a jerk to you a few days ago.”

  “You were kinda under stress. I meant it when I said you’re smarter than anyone else.” When the kid didn’t answer, Shanks leaned forward. “Vicks, tell me—in your opinion—what am I missing?”

  The boy looked at him. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  “Okay.” Shanks closed his burglary files and took out a notepad. “If Ellen’s murder was a stranger one-off, I’m never going to solve anything. He kills, he’s done, and he’s gone. If it’s a serial killing, we’re both overlooking someone. You lived with your sister. You were there, bud. Anyone tweak your antenna?”

  “No one you haven’t talked to.”

  “What about Timmy—the boy who had a crush on Ellen? Do we know what he’s up to?”

  “He’s a student at Missoula. He was in Montana when Katie Doogan was abducted.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes. I checked.”

  “And you don’t like any of Ellen’s friends for suspects?”

  “No.”

  �
�What about your friends?”

  “I don’t have friends.”

  “You did back then. Kind of protective of them, as I recall. Maybe now that you have some distance, you might feel differently.”

  “It wasn’t any of them. Besides, didn’t you get DNA off them?”

  “No. They were minors. State labs are always backed up, and I would have needed a good reason to process their DNA. Do you think I should reinterview any of them?”

  “None of them did it. I’m positive.”

  “Do you think it was a stranger abduction?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this same guy abducted Katie Doogan?”

  “Most likely, yes. Things match: the age, the physical similarity, the way they were abducted. This guy knew what he was doing, at least with Ellen. Like I said a million times before, a grave that deep takes time to dig. If it’s the same guy, Katie’s body is going to be found in a deep grave near water.”

  “So we’re back to a serial killer.”

  “Yeah.” Ben was quiet.

  Shanks said, “What’s on your mind, Vicks?”

  The kid sighed. “I blew it, Sam. I really did miss something. It came to me in a dream. I feel like an idiot.”

  “If you missed it, I missed it too, which makes me a double idiot.” Sam sipped coffee. “Tell me.”

  “Ellen was abducted on June twenty-second. That’s a day away from the summer solstice.”

  Shanks stared at him for a moment. “You’re right. Katie Doogan was abducted in the wintertime. There was snow on the ground.”

  “Up here in the mountains there was snow on the ground, but not in Albuquerque. According to the calendar, it was spring. Near the vernal equinox—March twenty-first. The summer solstice is usually on June twentieth or the twenty-first. Me, being a stickler for dates, didn’t even think about those dates. Then I read the chart and we talked about Katie Doogan and I thought a little bit more. And then it hit me.”

  Shanks buried his head in his hands. “I’ll check it out. See if we have other homicides that take place on these . . . earth days.” A sigh. “Trouble is we might pull up quite a few incidents on those days, Ben. The dates are ripe for satanic rituals.”