When the Shadows Come

by Breck, Alyssa

  “I’m sorry I left you here so long.” He cranked the engine and backed out of the brush and onto the road. “We found a body.”

  Carolina lowered her head and closed her eyes. “I knew you would.”

  “Has Mallory come back?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “What were you looking at in the backseat?”

  “What?”

  “You keep looking back there.” He hitched his thumb toward the rear of the car.

  “Shadows.” She peered out the window. “They come with the dark. Do you ever shiver when it’s warm and your skin prickles?”

  “Yes, everybody does sometimes.”

  “That’s them.”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘shadows’?” She had piqued his interest, and he wanted to know more. He wouldn’t necessarily believe her explanation, but he wanted to hear it just the same.

  Carolina glanced at him. “Shadow people. Shadows not connected to a form or shape. They don’t need any light, and, in fact, they shy away from it.”

  “You see them along with the ghosts?”

  “I only see ghosts sometimes. I see the shadows all the time. In every dark corner. I always have.”

  “That must be unsettling.” Shadows were everywhere but Nathan had never seen one that wasn’t attached to someone or something and he’d certainly never seen one move independently of its host.

  She shrugged. “I’m used to it. I was hoping Mallory would come back.”

  “When was the last time you saw her? Before she died, I mean.”

  “I don’t remember exactly. I think I saw her in the grocery store a few times. But I haven’t talked to her in years.”

  “So, you two weren’t friends?”

  Carolina shook her head and laughed. “Not even close. I hated her guts.”

  Nathan looked at Carolina. She’d just provided a motive for murder. “Why?”

  “We grew up together in a small town where she was everyone’s sweetheart, and I was everyone’s weirdo. It started back in third grade when I made the mistake of talking to a dead kid on the playground. She told everyone I was crazy and to stay away from me. It just got worse and worse to the point where I didn’t have any friends. By the time we made it to high school, I was a complete outcast, and she was the homecoming queen.”

  “Mallory sounds like she was quite a piece of work. That had to be tough on you as a kid.”

  “It was, but kids are resilient, you know? I figured I didn’t need anybody and focused on my grades and getting into college. I haven’t spoken a word to Mallory since about eleventh grade when I couldn’t take her crap any longer and I told her to ‘fuck off.’ That was officially the last time I talked to her. Let’s see.” Carolina paused and looked at the roof of the car. “That would be about ten years ago.”

  “Not a word in ten years?”

  “Nope. Nothing to say to her.”

  “Did you go to college together?”

  “No. She went to school in Tennessee or Mississippi. I’m not sure. I stayed here.”

  “What did you study?” The conversation segued away from Mallory and focused more on Carolina. He had to figure out if she was capable of murder or covering one up. The more he learned about Mallory, the more had the feeling that Carolina wasn’t the only one who might have wanted her dead.

  “I was undeclared initially but ended up getting a bachelor’s in philosophy. My dad wanted me to keep going. He said a degree in philosophy was useless unless you want to teach or go on to grad school. So, I graduated, and I’m still on the fence about whether I want to go further or not.” She talked fast.

  “Are you nervous?”

  She took a deep breath. “No. It’s just been a long day.”

  He cut the engine in front of her house, and she climbed out. Nathan followed her up the stairs, and she held the door open for him. He hesitated. As much as he’d like to take a look around her house, he wanted to be at the gravesite when the coroner arrived.

  “Do you need to get back?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Do me a favor and don’t leave town.”

  She tilted her head. “Why would I do that?”

  Chapter 5

  The night air was cool and Nathan grabbed a windbreaker from the trunk. The white coroner’s van was among the other vehicles already crowded onto the dirt road. This would be a big affair for the area. Murders happened all the time in Little Rock, but he couldn’t remember the last time a body had been found in Romance. It was one of those quiet towns with maybe a thousand people and was only known for people wanting to mail their wedding invitations from the local post office to get the Romance postmark. It was the kind of place where people lived their entire lives in the same house they grew up in. Hell, their police department was literally nine officers and two dispatchers. He walked toward the woods. Floodlights had been set up near the grave, and an eerie glow of dust particles floating in the light emanated from the trees like a scene out of X-Files.

  The forensics team had already removed the body from the grave. Mallory Kramer’s remains were now in a black body bag, still unzipped. Nathan peeked inside and instantly recognized the girl’s pretty face.

  The harsh lights made her look paler than she was, and the bruising on her cheek and neck appeared darker. In her pictures, she had long, dark brown hair and now she wore a shrewdly hacked off boy cut.

  A middle-aged woman stood over the body bag while one of the forensic technicians took photographs of the grave. Clumps of dark hair were mixed into the dirt. Every last strand would be collected and analyzed.

  “Are you the ASP officer in charge?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He stuck his hand out. “Nathan Claiborne.”

  “Delia Preston. I’m the coroner.” She shook his hand and then pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of her pocket and squirted some in her palm.

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. A coroner who didn’t like germs.

  “Preliminary thoughts?”

  “Based on her liver temp and level of decomp, she’s been dead for about forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Of course, that’s an estimate. Once I get her back to the lab, I’ll be able to give you a more precise time frame. The bruising on her throat is consistent with manual strangulation.”

  “Sexual assault?”

  “Looks like it. Again, I’ll know more after the autopsy.”

  “I understand. Do you know when you’ll be able to get to her?”

  “I’ll start first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Preston.” He handed her his card. “Please give me a call after.”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, was there anything in the grave besides the body and the hair?” Nathan asked.

  “No, but ... I think you might have a serial on your hands. I’ve seen this MO before. Back when I was working in Little Rock. The hair, the strangulation. It’s been a while, but I think this guy has killed before.”

  Nathan crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t seen anything about a serial killer in Arkansas. Granted, he’d only taken over the violent crimes division six months ago, but a potential serial killer on the loose was kind of a big detail for his predecessor to have left out when he passed the baton.

  “When you say a while, how long ago are we talking about?”

  “Last one was probably a year ago. We thought he was gone. Moved on or died or something.”

  “So, you have DNA from the prior cases?”

  “Yes, in two. But he’s not in CODIS. At least he wasn’t the last time we ran him through.”

  “The cases went cold then.”

  “I assume so. If there’s any DNA here, we’ll send it out and see if it matches the old cases.”

  “All right. Thanks, again. Please call me when you know something.”

  “Of course.” Delia Preston turned on her heel while two technicians carried the black body bag out of the woods.

  Nathan turned to Singleton. “You ever heard about
these other cases? Surely rapes and murders would be big news in Arkansas.”

  “I remember a news report a few years ago but it was up by the Missouri border. Nothing we worried about here in Romance. But, we’re not privy to what the boys at the ASP are investigating. The most crime we ever see around here is a stolen car or a burglary. Underage kids drinking in the woods. People cooking meth in their garages or making bathtub moonshine. That sort of thing.”

  Nathan rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” It was past nine o’clock and he was heading back to the station in Little Rock. Somebody owed him some answers.

  A LOUD CRACK OF THUNDER jolted her awake. Carolina stretched and yawned and looked at the bedside clock. Four in the morning and Mallory was perched in her chair again.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do at this hour?” Carolina whined.

  “Not really. And I didn’t wake you up. The god of thunder did.”

  Carolina groaned and folded her pillow beneath her head. Everything had been quiet for the last two nights. “I’m not lucky enough to wake up to Thor.”

  “No, you’re not. None of us are. So, how did it go? Did you all find my body?”

  “Yes, we did. Well, they did. Why did you take off like that? We still needed your help.”

  “I had to split. I had no control over it. I figured you guys were close enough to find me.”

  “Nathan found your watch on the dirt road and that’s when he called in the reinforcements.”

  Mallory frowned. “How bad did I look?” She moved from the chair to sit on the edge of Carolina’s bed like they were girlfriends about to share a secret about a boyfriend.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see you. There were a lot of people and a lot of lights though. Almost like a movie set. Nathan kicked me out of the crime scene and took me home before they dug you up.”

  Mallory ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “I always wanted to be famous, but not like this.”

  “Did it hurt?” Carolina stared at Mallory’s face. It was hard to believe she was dead because she looked so real and solid; she looked alive. They all did. It wasn’t like in the movies. The dead people didn’t come back with gunshot wounds in their heads or ligature marks on their necks. They came back in the form they’d been in before they died, frozen in time.

  “Did what hurt?” Mallory asked.

  “When he strangled you. I can’t imagine how horrible that would be.” Carolina instinctively touched her own throat. Not being able to breathe was a fear she had.

  Mallory squinted. “I don’t know. I don’t remember everything. It’s foggy like trying to remember a dream where bits and pieces come to you later. But I think it was a relief. To finally feel nothing.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he did that to you.”

  “Yeah, it sucks. I had plans for my life. You know? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I wasn’t supposed to end this way. I was going to get married and travel. I love Europe. I went to Milan for my senior year trip, and I studied for a semester in Russia.”

  As much as Carolina didn’t like Mallory while she was alive, she felt bad that Mallory was dead, that someone had murdered her. Nobody deserved to die that way. Carolina had had her doubts about helping Mallory, but now she wanted nothing more than for this monster to be caught and punished. Not only for Mallory but also for the other women he’d killed.

  “Do you remember anything else that might help with the investigation?”

  “Actually, I did. Do you have something to write with?”

  Carolina opened the drawer to her nightstand. “Yeah.” She reached in and grabbed a pen and a notebook that she used to write down ideas and dreams.

  “The car was gray, dark gray.” Mallory scratched at her temple. “I’m pretty sure it was an Arkansas license plate. MZP4. I can’t remember the rest. Maybe they can find him with that information.”

  Carolina wrote down the color of the car and the partial license plate number. “Do you know what kind of car it was?”

  “Not really. It was a car though, not an SUV or a truck. It was dirty inside. Like really dusty and there was trash in the floorboards.”

  “What about him? Can you tell me anything about him?” Carolina tried to think like a cop. What questions would Nathan ask Mallory if he had the chance?

  “Not really. Not right now. He was tall and really strong. His hands were big. I know I wasn’t the first woman he’s killed.”

  “You told me that before. You think he’s a serial killer, right?”

  “I’m not sure what defines a serial killer but yeah. He bragged about it. Called them bitches. He said I was a bitch, too.”

  Mallory’s expression went somber and she reached a hand out. Carolina reflexively extended her hand in return. Before their fingers touched, Mallory winked and blinked like a television getting bad reception. Then she was gone.

  Carolina leaned back against the fluffy pillows and exhaled. She’d never had a ghost around that she’d known personally when they were alive. The others had all been strangers and not all of them talked to her. Sometimes they just hung around or were stuck repeating some loop from their life, like being trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario. Carolina wondered if those particular ghosts even realized they were dead or if they had any awareness at all. Maybe they were just circuits of energy with nowhere to go.

  It was five o’clock now, almost time to get up. As if he sensed the ghostly visitor was gone, Douglas padded into the room and jumped up on the bed. The little dog didn’t mind the shadow people, but he didn’t like the spirits around and generally disappeared for a while when they showed up. He sniffed the air where Mallory had been. Carolina never smelled anything when the ghosts visited but the air did take on a heaviness, like humidity. Ghosts felt like a storm was moving in.

  She wished Mallory had been able to give her more details. A description of the killer would’ve been stellar. Carolina drew boxes around the license plate information Mallory had given her. A gray sedan wouldn’t really narrow it down. She put the notepad next to her bed and closed her eyes. Douglas snuggled up against her hip, and she ran her fingers through his silky fur until she fell asleep again.

  AFTER SOME DIGGING, Nathan had found a banker’s box filled with reports about the murders. He encountered every excuse, and, of course, the one guy who wasn’t there anymore took the fall for dropping the ball. It didn’t really matter who fucked up. He had all the information now, and he’d spent the last two days locked up in his office going over it. An hour ago, the coroner’s report had finally come in.

  Nathan spread out the file on the conference room table. He read through the autopsy report. The medical examiner determined that Mallory Kramer had been strangled to death. That was no surprise. The mechanism of death was lack of blood flow to the brain secondary to a pressure obstruction of the carotid arteries. The manner of death was homicide. Mallory was dead before the first critical hours of the investigation were even underway. This guy hadn’t wasted any time, it seemed.

  The glamorous headshot of a smiling Mallory sat in stark contrast beside the crime scene and autopsy photos. The first thing that caught his eye besides her deathly pallor was her hair, the short, jagged patches where her long locks had been lopped off carelessly. Dirt smudged her forehead; dried blood caked her nostrils and colored the corners of her mouth like smeared red lipstick. The pale flesh of her neck was peppered with scratches and gouges.

  From experience, Nathan knew that most often these marks were inflicted by the victim’s own fingernails while trying to pry the offender’s hands off their throat during strangulation. Petechiae were present in the sclera of her eyes and subconjunctival hemorrhage indicated a violent struggle. The hyoid bone in her throat was fractured, and she had been raped.

  There were fluids present and also tissue beneath Mallory’s fingernails. But that could be her own flesh from clawing at her throat while trying to find a way to breathe. In
any event, everything had been sent out for DNA testing. While he needed official confirmation, he was sure this was the same guy.

  Looking closer at the pictures, there were small bits of glue and silver fibers on her wrists from the duct tape he’d used. Locard’s exchange principal never failed. The perp always left something at the scene and took something with him when he left. In this case, he left the remnants of the duct tape and his DNA.

  All the markers of this particular killer were present in Mallory’s case, and the hair mutilation was his main signature. They were sure the hair was his trophy, his souvenir for his crime. When they caught this guy, he was going to have a box full of hair.

  Nathan looked at the profile his predecessor had developed last year. The perp was most likely a white male between the ages of twenty-two and forty. He was a geographically transient killer since he never killed twice in the same place; at least not that they knew of. There were four different types of serial killers and he fit most closely to the goal-oriented killer.

  This type generally sought to rid the world of undesirable people, usually women. His victims were strong, confident women who dressed provocatively and probably threatened his sense of masculinity; ballbuster type women who didn’t need a man. The rapes were brutal and intended to demoralize and frighten but he didn’t sexually mutilate or sodomize. That set him apart from the sexual sadist serial killer.

  The murders were committed with his bare hands. What form of death, at the hands of another, could be more intimate than literally squeezing the life out of someone while looking into their eyes? The rapes and murders were the ultimate display of power and dominance for a man battling inadequacy in his life. He probably had trouble keeping a job and maintaining any interpersonal relationships.

  It was unsettling how alike these types of maniacs were. It was also disturbing that Nathan knew men with those same characteristics that had never killed anyone. None that he knew of. But what pushed someone to that edge? What made them cross that line and give in to the urges? Those were the questions that had driven Nathan into law enforcement. While he loved working the beat, his base instinct loved the science behind the hunter and the prey. And while the killer might be the hunter is in his own arena, the tables were turned in Nathan’s arena.