The Orphan vanished. Rachel spit where Albert stood. His words echoed in Rachel’s head long after she returned to the crime scene.
Peak gave her a concerned look.
Rachel shrugged it off. “I needed some fresh air.”
A sudden change in room temperature caused her to shiver. It was hard to tell if it was an Orphan or not. It had nearly been seventy-two hours since she ingested her last smoothie. It would be wearing off soon, and her Gift would return. She figured that the AC was turned on.
“A shame that fingerprint won’t be of much help,” Peak said. “It appears like the killer dropped the temperature after the murder.”
Rachel approached the wide and tall air-conditioning unit under the window. Still wearing plastic gloves, she popped the latch on its plastic casing and set it aside. In a gap under the control panel sat a porcelain doll. Another little girl, but this time with frizzy red hair, freckles, and a fissure down the middle of her painted face.
The coroner cursed under his breath. Peak studied the child’s toy in silence. After snapping a picture of it, Rachel removed the doll’s shoe. The initials MB were penciled on its sole.
Rachel thought aloud, “Turning down the temperature after the kill. Whoever did this wanted us to find the doll.”
Lieutenant McConnell stepped away from the New Age couple and their children to listen to Rachel and Peak. McConnell was quiet for a moment after the detectives told him about the doll.
“Spree killer?” McConnell asked quietly.
“Could be. Add one more body and it’s a serial,” Rachel whispered.
“The Treasurer and Mayor both killed within a week of each other.” McConnell let out an exasperated sigh. “This is bad, gang.”
“We’re on it,” Rachel reassured him.
McConnell told the detectives about the witnesses. There was the couple who McConnell was speaking with currently. They arrived late in the evening and thought they saw Parkman’s Lincoln park outside around 10 p.m. The couple retired soon after.
There was a grey-haired man with a beer-stained muscle shirt staying one room over from Parkman. He claimed to have heard the Mayor open and close his door three times during the night: the first time was when the Mayor arrived at Room Four, and the next was about a few hours later. He heard muffled voices through his wall but never any sounds of violence. About fifteen minutes later, the door opened and closed a final time. There was no noise the rest of the night.
The final witness was a businessman who was in the lobby when a pizza boy walked to the front counter and rented out Room Four for the evening. He took the room keys and left the motel. The rest of the people that stayed in the motel either checked out earlier this morning or didn’t share the same hall as the Mayor. The room cleaner was so distraught that she could barely speak without crying. What little information they got from her showed just how little she knew. “I open door--to clean. He is on bed. Blood was everywhere.”
They approached Dennis Trevor, the tall and wide motel owner with an egg-shaped head. He fidgeted with his hands and didn’t look the officers in the eye. “Someone destroyed my security room.”
He showed the officer his monitoring closet that had multiple screens set up to view the halls from various angles. The computer on the desk had been smashed to pieces in a pile of plastic shards on the ground. By the impact, someone had stomped on it. Rachel sifted through the broken computer desktop cabinet. The hard drive had been removed. The DVD that recorded the camera had been broken into pieces, too.
Trevor had little to add. He explained that a twenty-something-year-old pizza guy paid in cash, got his room key, but never actually went into his room. “He must’ve used a rock or stick from outside to keep the hall open. That’s the only logical explanation, right?”
Rachel nodded and took note of it. “How about the Mayor. When did he enter?”
“He probably came through the back as well,” Trevor said defensively. “I never saw him at my desk.”
“The security room is behind the main desk. How did someone get back there and destroy the data without you noticing?”
The blood left Trevor’s face. “I--there are times, really late at night, mind you, when I listen to my headphones and shut my eyes for a few minutes. Whoever got in there must’ve…” Trevor’s voice trailed off. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What time did you fall asleep?” Peak asked.
“I don’t know when it happened. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.” Tears welled up in the big man’s eyes. He took a breath.
Rachel flipped through her sketchpad, creating a timeline for last night’s events.
5 p.m., pizza boy rents out Room Four for the evening. He walks to the end of the hallway and leaves a stick or similar object to crack the door open. He drives away, and assumedly, delivers a key to Parkman. Five hours later, the Mayor arrives dressed inconspicuously. He drives his 2016 Lincoln, so he’s not too concerned with keeping his prestige hidden. He doesn’t plan on staying long, because he has no travel bag or toothbrush. According to the man with the stained shirt, the door opened a few hours after the Mayor’s arrival. Whether or not the Mayor was answering someone’s knock or the person had the other key, Rachel couldn’t know. Nonetheless, the confrontation seemed quiet, which meant that the killer and the mayor probably spoke before the murder begun. It seemed this conversation took a turn for the worse minutes later. The killer left behind the doll and adjusted the AC temperature so the police would check within the unit.
Still, there was no answer for the killer’s appearance or the nature of his discussion with the Mayor. That would be lost unless… Rachel got a sickening feeling inside.
“Let’s find out how this pizza boy is involved,” McConnell ordered the officers outside the motel. “Check Parkman’s recent calls. Someone invited him here. We find out how, and that will lead us to who. I want everyone on this.”
In the back of the crowd, Rachel saw John Parkman. His head was cocked to the side. Blood leaked from his neck and onto his fleece. He locked his terror-filled eyes with Rachel. His mouth opened. A hollow gurgle escaped his lips. Rachel feared looking away. Feared he’d vanish.
As McConnell finished his game plan, Rachel slipped back to Parkman. He peered down at Rachel, mumbling incomprehensible words. Red fell from his lips and stained teeth. Compared to Albert’s Orphan, John terrified and helpless.
“Show me what you know,” Rachel whispered to him.
The Orphan stared at her, still leaking from his wounds. Confusion could be seen in the way he shifted his unblinking eyes. The gravel on the ground parted as if someone was dragging a stick across it. In the blank space between the rocks appeared the word HER. Rachel snapped a picture with her phone. A few officers gave Rachel odd looks. They can’t see it. Only I can.
When she turned back to John, his Orphan was nowhere to be seen.
“You see him?” Peak approached her.
“Yeah…” Rachel said. The neck wound would prove problematic. “Remember Maxine?”
Peak looked at her intently. “That the only way?”
Rachel nodded. “If we want to solve this quickly.”
“They are moving the body as we speak,” Peak informed her.
The detectives jogged through the motel.
“The last time we did this, I was drunk,” Rachel said.
“Will that make a difference?”
“It helps with the transition. Without it, it may not be as easy to get out.”
They reached Room Four just as Mayor Parkman’s corpse was being slipped into a body bag. “Cover for me,” Rachel said.
Rachel approached the body. Peak told the body cleaners to wait outside while they checked the body for a final clue. With looks of scrutiny, the Medical Examiner’s assistants backed out of the room, but not before offering a feeble objection. “I don’t feel comfortable with this.”
“We need space to think,” Peak closed the door on them.
“Well, that looked suspicious as hell,” Rachel said to her partner.
“You have a few minutes. Make it quick.”
Rachel brushed her hand over the body. Seconds inched by. Rachel turned to Peak, about to shake her head, when suddenly Rachel was on the ground, eyes rolling back and her body convulsing like an epileptic.
Rachel Harroway was John Parkman. His anxious thoughts were known to her. The stress that tightened his heart was a vise grip on her own.
John paced back and forth in the claustrophobic and mildewed motel room, occasionally patting down his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Iris, he thought when he looked at the damp cloth. It was the last gift she gave him before they parted. That, and the guilt that crushed him every time he looked at Carry, his true soulmate. John thought his political enemies would use the affair to sidetrack him during the next election, but his wife and mistress were good at keeping a secret. But for how long? That was another boulder on his back.
He checked his watch. Two hours late. If the blackmailer was intent on contacting the police, they would’ve arrived by now. John pulled out the invitation and motel room key that had been tucked under his windshield wiper. He frowned.
John refused to sit. He wouldn’t be caught off guard when this person arrived. They would make whatever sort of arrangement and move on with their lives like civilized human beings. That’s how John conducted himself as Mayor. This would be no different.
The lock on the door clicked.
John froze. He felt his fingertips tingle and his heart swell and ache in his chest. As the door opened, the thought crossed his mind to strike the person before they entered, but that would mean the end of his career. If Carry found out he was in a shady hotel in the middle of night, it would mean the end of their marriage too.
Standing in the threshold was a woman. Her blonde bangs were cut in a horizontal line over her forehead. Big circular glasses covered a third of her pale face. Her lips were red and full. She wore a woman’s trench coat the color of the night, jeans, and motorcycle gloves. She clenched the handle of a vintage white suitcase by her side and entered, hips swaying. She shut the door behind her with the bottom of her leather boot.
John stood a solid two yards from the woman. “Let’s get this over with.”
The woman’s cherry lips curled into a smirk. She took a few steps towards him.
John held his ground. He was in a motel full of witnesses and cameras. No one would be foolish enough to attack him. Even if they got away, they’d be national news.
“How much do you know?” John asked the woman. She seemed ageless. John thought he saw laugh lines, but the amount of powder on the woman’s face gave her the complexion of a porcelain doll.
“I meant to ask you the same thing.” The woman’s voice was silky and coarse at the same time. John couldn’t explain it until she drew nearer and he smelled the cigarettes in her breath. A beautiful disaster. Just like Iris.
“Are you recording this?” John asked.
“No. Would you like me to strip down and show you?”
John glanced back, making sure the curtains were closed. He shook his head. There was an easier way to catch me in adultery months ago.
“You knew about Albert’s secret,” the woman said.
“We both know the answer to that. Tell me what you want and why I shouldn’t call the police immediately.”
The woman put down the suitcase and pressed her body against him. Her moves felt natural. This obviously wasn’t her first time. “Albert hurt those girls, and you knew all about it,” she whispered. He could really taste the cigarettes now.
He was my best friend, what could I have done? Besides, I had no proof. John kept his confession silent, just like he had the last forty years. He pushed away from the woman. “I’m losing my patience.”
“I always liked you, Johnny. You were so handsome.” the woman said, reaching her hand behind her. “But it’s time to set myself free.”
John scrunched his brow. “What are you talking about?” Before he could get the first word out, the pig hunting knife was plunged into his jugular. He staggered back as the blade slid from his flesh. It was so quick that he didn’t feel pain. Panic drowned out all other thoughts. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of his neck as he toppled backward to the bed. The woman jumped on him, raised the bloody knife with both hands, and slammed its point into John’s ribs.
RACHEL AWOKE in the back of an ambulance, wailing from the pain John felt. The EMTs held her down. Rachel blinked, adjusting to the light. She touched her neck and chest. No wounds. Bile stuck in her throat. She wiped her tears away. The side of her head felt throttled. Bruises bloomed on her elbow.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?” one of the EMTs asked.
Rachel inhaled deeply and nodded.
“You’ve had a severe panic attack. We advise...”
The words faded to obscurity as she could still feel the cold blade entering her flesh over and over again.
6
THE CHOSEN ONE
With a disconcerted look, the clinic doctor let Rachel walk. “I want you to check back with me in the next few days. A panic attack of this caliber could develop into something far worse.”
Rachel stopped at the threshold of the door, hearing the pill bottle rattle in her pocket. “Thank you, Doctor.”
She slid her hands into the pockets of her unzipped leather jacket and turned her head up to the blue summer sky. Inhaling the cool mountain air helped to remove the taste of blood and cigarettes from her tongue. It was no strange fact to her that these were phantom reactions from a life she never truly lived. Still, the late Mayor John Parkman and her shared a profound connection. Rachel developed a new reverence for the town of Highlands and its people. Every flaw was an opportunity to improve, and every town victory was a cause for celebration. Guilt plagued her when she thought of Carry Parkman and Iris Goldberg--a woman Rachel had never met. Rachel tried to shake free of the feelings, but could not.
Detective Peak’s car pulled up to the clinic's front door. He popped open the passenger door for her. As Rachel ducked inside, she noticed a little girl in the backseat. Her green headphones looked like huge earmuffs on the sides of her copper-haired head. Her fingers punched the buttons of her handheld gaming device. The screen’s flickering light reflected in her intense coal black eyes. Rachel couldn’t help but smile at the little girl’s similarities with her father.
“That’s my daughter, Clove,” Peak said. “I’m not sure if you’d met each other.”
Rachel turned back. “Hi, Clove.”
The six-year-old turned her gaze up from the screen. “You’re the weirdo my daddy talks about.”
Rachel raised her brows at Peak. He shrugged.
“That’s okay,” Clove said. “My daddy’s a weirdo, too.”
“I’m glad we’re all on the same page,” Rachel teased.
“Look at us. A company of weirdos,” Peak joked dryly and drove on. Clove returned her attention to her game.
“Is it bring your daughter to work day? I must’ve missed the memo,” said Rachel
“I’m taking her to her mother’s. There’s too much going on this side of town. McConnell thinks the…” He paused for moment, glancing at the rearview at Clove. “The M-U-R-D-E-R-S are political.”
“It’s not an illogical train of thought, giving how a slew of town officials are ending up…” Rachel stopped herself, thought of Clover, and spelled out the word, “D-E-A-D. However, it's not the truth.”
“What did you learn when you did your thing?” Peak asked.
“The perpetrator is a woman. Blonde hair, around five foot nine, and totes a vintage white suitcase. That’s where I assume she keeps the doll. She’s a smoker and a seductress.”
Clove looked up from her game. “What’s a seductress?”
Peak pursed his lips for a moment. “Something you’re not going to be when you grow up.”
Clove frowned and kept on playing
.
Rachel continued. “By the amount of make-up she caked on, I couldn’t tell the woman’s age, but she was blackmailing Parkman. Somehow she knew about Parkman’s knowledge of Albert’s dark secret.”
“Parkman wasn’t involved in the actual K-I-L-L-I-N-G-S?”
Rachel shook her head. “From what I interpreted, Parkman had his suspicions of Albert but never vocalized them. Brotherly loyalty and all that jazz. It’s probably why the Orphans warned me of him during our initial investigation.”
“Could the woman be Jennifer Blankenship?” Peak asked.
Rachel recalled the facts of the investigation. During the murders of 1976 and 1977, Jennifer was the only surviving female in the Highlands High honor society. Rachel’s father, Liam, was part of that class and told Rachel that Jennifer and Albert had a fling during the time the girls went missing. It could’ve been that relationship with Albert that kept Jennifer from the Roper’s noose, Rachel theorized. But how much did Jennifer really know?
After the death of Maxine Gunther, Rachel had reached out to Jennifer via phone, but the woman was dodgy and wouldn’t return her calls. She’d be in her late fifties now, like Albert. If he could kill at his age, why couldn’t Jennifer? But what was the woman’s motive? Vengeance? Justice? Rachel thought about it for a moment before voicing her opinion. “It’s a worthy lead.”
Peak nodded to himself. He turned down another street. “Are you sure we can trust this vision of yours?”
“We’ve been doing this long enough, Peak. We can trust it,” Rachel said, taking a little offense.
Peak didn’t look fully convinced, but he had always been a hard man to read. They spent the rest of the ride in silence. A small single-story house came up on their right. There was a trampoline in the backyard and a Harley parked in the open but messy garage.
Peak turned back to Clove. “Alright, sweetie, make sure you got everything.”
“I do, Daddy.”
“And promise me you won’t play that game the whole time.”
The Haunting of Rachel Harroway- Book 2 Page 5
