At the district offices, the parking lot is packed with cars from everyone who is going to be joining this meeting and listening to the superintendent addressing the atrocious catastrophe at Parker High. I feel something roll in my stomach. Sensing my discomfort, Tim grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. I squeeze his hand back.
Inside the building, we see everyone from police officers, advisors from the FBI, media representatives, public relations workers, teachers, counselors, and the upper echelon of the workers in the whole organization. I don’t like the looks of any of it. It feels like I’m in the middle of somewhere where I don’t belong. I’m amidst the giants and I shouldn’t be here. I look at the strange faces and see only a handful that I recognize and even those are not faces that I’m eager to see. I look at Tim and he has the same look of disappointment on his face as well. Neither of us is looking forward to whatever is coming.
Thankfully, I see Mrs. Connelly, and approach her. She’s talking with Kate, Shauna, and Rebecca; which makes me think that they’ve probably already heard about Kelly’s mom as well. They are all good friends with Kelly and I feel the urge to hear what it is they have to say about it. What do they think that we should do for her? On the whole car ride, I tried finding something to do for Kelly, but I came up empty. What do you do for someone who has lost their parent in a murder? I suppose there really isn’t anything that we can do for her, but a gesture would still be wonderful. It would make me feel better.
“Debra.” I approach the woman I’d called Mrs. Connelly for so long that it feels awkward addressing her as a peer. She looks at me with a sweet, appreciative smile, happy to see me. Wrapping my arm around her, I give her a sort of awkward side embrace which I’m glad to get out of when she finally releases me. “How are you holding up?” I ask her, knowing that this is what’s expected of me today. Today, I’m going to put on the face of the concerned instructor, even though the mask doesn’t fit.
“I’m well, sweetheart,” she answers kindly. “How are you?”
“Shocked,” I answer with a half-truth. “I’m still taking it in and processing all of it.”
“Aren’t we all?” she answers with a smile.
“I wanted to ask if you heard about Kelly’s mother?” I ask her, pushing the conversation where I want it to go. Honestly, I don’t have the patience for any of this. I want to sit down, do my time here, go to lunch, go back to Parker High, and finish the day discussing what’s next with my department members and head. I’m not interested in prayer vigils, community outreach, or anything else that might fall into those categories. A spinster, a recluse, and a bitch don’t really strike me as martyrs. I know that makes me sound like an awful person, but it’s what I’m dealing with right now.
“I did,” Mrs. Connelly answers with a concerned and horrified tone that makes me conjure up images of church ladies gasping at the thought of such a horrendous tragedy. The other ladies who were friendly with Kelly nod in somber agreement that they too had been notified of the terrible turn of events. “We were just discussing a little brunch or something that we could set up to help her in this trying time of hers. With her mother passing and the tragedy that’s unfolded here at school, that poor woman must be suffering under more than she could possibly bear right now.”
I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. My parents raised me to keep up the appearance of graciousness, kindness, gratitude, and optimism; but underneath our exteriors, we still see the world exactly how it is and we don’t like it any more than the rest of the human population. I think of myself as an optimistic person, but I’m not ignorant. I know how the world really is. Mrs. Connelly is a sweet woman, but I can’t help but think that she lives in a fantasy world where everything is rainbows and kittens. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she goes to bed listening to gospel hymns.
“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” I smile at her warmly. “I want to help her any way that I can.”
“Oh, that’s so kind of you, dear.” Mrs. Connelly leans in for a hug. I embrace her and feel a cold chill like someone breathed down the back of my neck. I smile and endure it while she hugs me and fills my nose with the scent of old woman perfume. Why anyone would wear that scent is beyond me. “I’ll give you the details after the meeting. I think they’re about to start now.”
I look at Tim who shrugs and takes my hand, offering me a reassuring squeeze. We both walk into the enormous meeting hall where they usually address the numerous budget issues and the cutbacks that the schools hear about all the time. I kicked myself over and over in college for going into a field that is so readily slashed for the sake of the government, but I have a passion for what I do and I won’t let money stand between me and fulfillment. I think Tim understands that too. We both just came to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t be taking cruises any time soon. Together, we find two seats and drop down next to each other, nestling in for the long, sermon-esque address that is sure to put us both to sleep.
Together, we all listen as we’re notified that, like we all suspected in the first place, the CDC did not find any trace of neurotoxin or any kind of mind-altering chemicals or gasses inside of the school. There were no diseases, viruses, or bacteria detected either that would conclude that there was a biological attack upon the school. I look at Tim, who rolls his eyes for me, and we both continue to listen as the spokesperson tells us all what we already know. No one has a goddamn clue what went on at the school and why Pamela and the two students decided to kill themselves at the same time. Honestly, I don’t care anymore. It’s weird, it’s freaky, and I just want to move past all of this.
XIV
I stare at the girl putting the four tacos in a red, plastic basket in front of me and can’t help but realize that for a topless bar waitress, her nipples are nowhere near perky. They’re flat and bored and I can’t help but think that it should be a cardinal rule of any topless establishment that it should be cold enough or whatever needs to happen for the waitresses to all have pointy, erect nipples every time someone comes into the establishment for a shift. That’s basic customer service in these kinds of places and right now, I feel like I’m not getting my money’s worth.
She puts the food down in front of me and I can’t help but realize where I am and the fact that I’m about to eat the food here. I look at the tacos and come to terms with the honest to God truth that there is nothing appealing about the food in front of me. The waitress smiles at me in a phony sort of way that makes my skin crawl, like I’m being tolerated rather than appreciated. She looks at me with that grotesque smile and I realize that this woman is nothing but a sex doll. She’s got the big blonde hair that’s ratted in the back, a set of fake tits with no perky nipples, and the kind of makeup that makes her look like she’s been stuck in the eighties for too long. I don’t find her attractive, maybe because she’s too old for my selective tastes, but so far, I know that I’m not tipping her.
“Will that be all, sweetheart?” As she says the words they feel like ash being stuffed into my earholes. It’s just wrong and completely unwanted. What I want is for her to go away. I nod to her and thankfully she does go away.
I don’t know why I eat at places like this. After a night of drinking myself into oblivion and a morning filled with paperwork, though, who could blame me? As I look at my waitress walking away with cottage cheese legs, I can’t help but feel like this is an omen of things to come. Maybe Florida isn’t going to be that amazing. Maybe I should go attend Kate’s funeral and wipe away all the plans of running away to some sex-infested beach and think of some other way to invest my time. God knows what I’d do, but maybe there’s more out there for me than private investigation and cheap sex.
My phone vibrates and I dig it out of my pocket. I look at the name when I flip it open and realize that I never called Owens. I never told him that we were done, and lo and behold, here he is, calling me. I hit the talk button and think over the multitude of excuses and reasons that I could give him, but I fi
gure that in the end, I’ll just wing it with him. Who knows how much Lola has told him? I hold the phone to my ear. “King,” I answer.
“Where the fuck are you?” Owens demands instantly. “We get two bodies in twelve hours and everyone keeps telling me that you’ve gone off the radar. Penny and Lola said that you’re off the case, that you pushed it up the chain of command. What the fuck is that all about, King?”
“I didn’t push it up,” I tell him honestly. “The feds showed up at the high school, and they took over from there. It’s all theirs now and there’s not a goddamn thing that you or I are going to do about it, Owens. It’s their case now. We’re running support wherever they need us.”
“You know the feds, King,” Owens argues with me and I have no idea why. “They’re going to backtrack, get lost following their own footsteps, and this killer is going to keep on killing and you know that he’s got Kelly in his sights, and you’re just going to pack up and call it quits on me? What the fuck is this all about? Since when did your balls abandon you?”
“Three people died yesterday because of me,” I tell him coldly, letting my tone and attitude speak more than volumes of shouts and profane berating ever could.
“I hate to break this to you, King.” Owens brushes it off, not even letting my reply faze him. I can’t help but envy that sort of attitude. I wish I could just let all of this fall off my shoulders, but I can’t. It’s stuck with me, because I’m the one with the responsibility. I got exactly what I didn’t want out of this arrangement, and now I’m dealing with the guilty conscience, not Owens. “But, there’s been a hell of a lot more than three people killed during the course of this investigation and I’m not done hunting this asshole, which means that you’re not either. You’ve still got time before you retire and I don’t intend on letting you sit behind a desk when this fucker is still running free. You got me? So get a pen, get something to write on, and take this address. We’ve got another one.”
I don’t know what it is, maybe the disappointing tacos, the depressed nipples, or maybe this whole damn speech that Owens so eloquently crafted for my benefit, but I take the address on the napkin and leave the diner, tossing a few quarters from my pocket on the table next to a ten dollar bill to pay for my tacos. It’s more than she deserves for making my lunch more depressing than what I’m already dealing with. Getting into the Shelby, it takes me thirty minutes to get to a parking garage at the Garden Hills school district main offices that are tucked away near where Parker High is.
I’m met by Owens and the original cohorts of the patrol division who have so fraternally built up a network to help Owens get revenge on his mythical serial killer. Today, his victim is no doubt whoever the kid on the overpass met with last night. To my surprise, what’s left of the woman looks like she’s an adult, which means that she’s probably a teacher. Again, I feel the familiar burn that I’m just playing cleanup for the demon and that there’s nothing really proactive here that I’m going to learn. There won’t be fingerprints or DNA, because this woman, whoever she is, really did mutilate, maim, and horrifically kill herself. That’s the sad truth here.
“Meet Susan Larsen,” Owens says to me, holding his hands outstretched to a rolling parking garage gate that has rolled up into the ceiling, but has stopped just in time for the victim’s body to still have her legs intact. I’m not sure what kind of a benefit that will be to her family, but it makes things interesting for us.
Looking at the scene I can read it rather easily. Susan Larsen came down to the parking garage, stuck her head in the vertically ascending grated gate that triggered whenever a vehicle came near the sensor. Sticking her head, hands, and legs through the grates in the fence, she sat there, waiting for someone to come and slowly, the gate rolled up toward the ceiling where it crunched, crushed, and detached her head from her neck, ripping and tearing it free brutally before it repeated the process with her hands. Whoever the driver was, they got out and rushed over to the emergency shut off switch and stopped it before her legs could be ripped off by the motor and the unyielding ceiling.
What remains is a woman in a floral sundress hanging upside down from a metal, grate patterned fence with her arms shattered, broken, torn apart by steel and concrete and most of her forearms taken off as well as her head. Her dress is hanging down, exposing her underwear that is soiled brown with her emptied bowels and the blood that’s run down her stomach and chest, before dripping from her savaged neck down into a puddle of blood, shit, and urine. Her head is caved in, badly broken, and right in the middle of all the blood. It’s hard to tell that this was a woman. Whether she was attractive or not is beyond me. I can hardly even tell if she was anything other than a redhead. Her mode of killing herself was beyond efficient.
“What did she do at the school?” I ask Owens, looking at the mangled fingers and hands near her head, jagged bones ripping up out of her skin. “Was she a teacher, a counselor, or something else?”
“She was a teacher at Parker High,” Owens answers, but I didn’t need to know that. I already know that she worked at Parker High. Everyone who is dying right now is someone at Parker High. I look over at Owens and turn away.
“So it’s still after Kelly then,” I say, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders once more.
Honestly, the disappointment comes from the fact that I had been wrong. I know that the demon has a weakness and that I’m close. It’s what has driven it to the frenzy and murderous vendetta against me, because I’m closing in on it and it wants to discourage or break me before I find it. But I also hoped that maybe it would find Agent Halbert as its new target, now that I was supposed to be off the case. Granted, the creature probably doesn’t know that I’m off the case unless it was taking refuge in a police officer or someone in the department who is well aware that the FBI are starting to take point on all of this. Maybe the creature needs to have a run in with Agent Halbert.
“I’ve got men outside of her house,” Owens tells me. “There’s been no sign or movement for a while. Did you tell her that someone is after her?”
“Yeah,” I nod, lying to him. She’s not in the house, but I’m not about to let that information slip out. I don’t want anyone knowing where she is, because right now, there’s no way of the creature tracking her if she’s using cash while she’s on the run. I don’t even know where she is. Unless she’s drawn out somehow, she should be completely safe. If I’m really lucky, she’ll get out of here before her mother’s funeral. That’s the only time I think she could be successfully lured out into the open by the demon and struck. I realize that the clock is ticking and that I need to stop this thing before they lower Kate into the ground. “Was there a note?” I ask Owens, trying to pull him away from the subject of Kelly. I don’t want Owens messing up her silent escape.
“There was.” Owens hands me a slip of paper and I wish that I was surprised by all of this, but I’m not anymore. This demon has a hard on for me and I’m going to have to kill it before it kills me. I take the note and read it.
‘When those you care for have died, you’ll wish you were next. –Susan’. I find it strange that the demon didn’t address it to me and that it’s only one sentence this time. It’s starting to slip more and more. It’s not even willing to follow through with all the signs and little tricks it had employed prior to my involvement. It’s getting sloppier by the minute. I’m close to the thing. I just need to get a little closer.
I decide that I need to take a chance, but it’s risky. I know that it’s going to try to lure Kelly out into the open and it’ll most likely try to do this with Kate’s funeral. I need to talk to her. I need to tell her what’s really going on here, and if I’m lucky, she might actually listen to me. I need her to see that I’m not a madman and that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. I need to tell someone other than Lola what’s really happening here. I need to tell her the truth.
XV
The phone rings and I’ve never felt this nervous.
I can feel my bones rattling, shaking with my nerves that have been unleashed upon me like nothing I’ve felt before. I feel like a fool, a child attempting to voice pure madness. I look back at the crime scene, where Susan Larsen is hanging like some sort of horrifying Halloween piece. I listen to the second ring and I can feel my heart thundering, sending tidal waves of terror shooting through my veins while I wait for her to answer. This is madness and this is insanity and I’m about to tell my daughter something that no one would ever hope to believe.
“Hello?” I hear her voice and I feel all that thundering blood in my veins freeze over like an arctic gale washing over me. I stare at Susan Larsen down the driveway that’s packed with patrol cars and I wonder if I could just show her the video footage.
“Hey, Kelly, it’s your father,” I say after a moment. “I need to talk with you about something and I know that it’s probably not going to make sense a whole lot, but I just need you to listen and have an open mind about it. Can you do that?”
There’s silence on the other end, Kelly listening to the breathing, waiting to assess whether she should trust her father or not. I feel nothing but fear right now, it’s the kind of aching fear that makes me wonder why I’m even trying. It screams at me to give up and to try again another time. I was a fool to think that this is the route I should take. No, I should have been smarter. I should have gotten the footage for her to see. I should have gotten some kind of proof for her so that she wouldn’t doubt what I have to say. Slowly, I drop down into the driver seat of the Shelby and shut the door behind me. I don’t want anyone to hear.
Quite frankly, I’m scared that the demon is watching me, lurking inside the skin of another person, listening to my every word, my every movement, and watching who I talk to. It’s taking down names and numbers, waiting to find someone to strike after it gets Kelly. It’s going to keep striking until everyone I’ve ever known is dead, that’s what it implied with Susan Larsen’s note. I can’t let it get to Kelly. I can’t let it kill anyone else. It’s time to end this. It’s time to end all of it and get on with life. This thing has been around for God knows how long and I’m ready to finish the job Owens started.
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