Twisted Retribution

by Donna Arp Weitzman

  “Yes, I’m going to load some stuff in the car.”

  “What do you need to take?” Sarah asked, “I can do it. You probably shouldn’t lift anything. You need to take it easy. I’m driving us to Vernon.”

  Sarah surprised herself with her new-found confidence and control.

  “You get Olivia,” Pete insisted. “I know what I need to do, and I can manage it, really.”

  Sarah was curious about what her husband could possibly be taking to West Texas. She had made sandwiches the night before and filled the cooler with drinks. She switched on the coffee pot and got the thermos ready for the trip, praying the sleeping pill was keeping Olivia asleep while she readied the car.

  Pete opened the door to the closet in his office upstairs and saw several boxes of shotgun shells and several sleeves of 30-06 rifle shells. He stuffed the rounds in his travel bag and got out two guns. Pete kept his weapons in pristine working order, not for use against humans but for deer and bird hunting.

  Still weak from surgery, he carried the shell bag downstairs first. The metal weighed several pounds. With Sarah still in the kitchen, he threw the bag in the car’s trunk.

  Each gun mandated a trip up and down the stairs, but Pete was finally packed and ready. He and Sarah would find the killer’s trail. Stopping off in Vernon might be a good start. Every day Pete was getting stronger, and when they found Henry, this expert marksman would kill him from several hundred yards away. Lucas would never have a chance to return fire. Pete was confident just one shot would send Lucas to his grave.

  Upstairs, Olivia was barely coherent. Sarah threw a blanket around her daughter’s shoulders and helped her down the stairs. She knew Olivia would be difficult if she were lucid, but the sleeping pill had worked its magic, and the girl was groggily compliant.

  Sarah laid her in the backseat of the car and wrapped the blanket around her. Olivia fell back asleep.

  “Pete, are you ready?” she called.

  Her husband lightly slammed the screen door and headed to the car. He was casually dressed and wearing a light jacket covering his bandages. Sarah opened the trunk to put in two suitcases, immediately spying the two powerful guns. Why would her husband want those?

  Pete saw Sarah’s surprised look when she saw the rifles. He looked her straight in the eyes.

  “Pete, why do you have these guns in the trunk?” she inquired.

  “I’m going hunting,” he said dryly.

  Sarah’s mind took her to their traumatic honeymoon and the dead antelope shot from the highway.

  “What in the world will you hunt?” Sarah asked, hesitantly.

  Pete answered slowly and deliberately, “Henry Lee Lucas.”

  Sarah gasped. “How? I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, yes you do, Mrs. Sears, police lady,” Pete seethed, a familiar roughness to his voice. “You know about killin’ and so do I. Together, we’re gonna catch the monster, and I’m gonna take him out. One clean shot to the heart and he’ll never stab or kill anyone else. I must do it. He might hurt you or our family.”

  “Pete, I’m scared,” Sarah whimpered.

  “No need,” he responded. “We’ve both killed before. I’m still a good shot. You just ain’t been keeping up with your husband.” Pete smiled. “Think you can find Henry?”

  “I think so,” Sarah nodded.

  “Well, then let’s get Olivia to your aunt Sadie’s.”

  Sarah backed out of the driveway in her state-issued patrol car. She’d call Zach later and check in. Zach and her boss would need to know she was on Henry Lee’s trail. The sheriff might not like that, as he probably wanted her to be working on the reverend’s murder. She would try to evade him so that she and her husband could take the law into their capable Sears hands. Sarah’s mind was controlling her thoughts, issuing her the satisfaction of seeing Henry Lee Lucas bleeding from her husband’s rifle. She, Pete, and God would have their retribution. It was God’s way.

  10

  Sarah had a suspicion that Henry was again on the run. However, she was unsure which road he took from Nocona. Returning to Florida would be too risky, so Oklahoma or somewhere out west was more likely.

  Pete was silent but pleasant on the drive. Approaching Wichita Falls, Sarah planned to stop for gas and to make a phone call to her office. Avoiding Ruby’s gossipy interrogations, she would speak only to Zach about the reason for her call. He could then assuage the sheriff, deflecting his questions and intentions.

  Reverend Thomas’ murder would be the topic of conversation in that county for months, maybe years. Sarah smiled to herself, knowing that this evil, corrupt church leader could try to get in Heaven, but the truth was that Sarah’s God sent the preacher to a burning hole called “Hell.”

  “Hi, what’s goin’ on?” Sarah asked Zach on the other end of the phone.

  “Oh shit,” Zach said, sounding nervous and excited. “Guess what?”

  Sarah was a little perturbed that he didn’t get straight to the point. “What is it, Zach?” she insisted. Her heart was beating rapidly.

  “Old Lady Mooney’s bones were found stuffed in a pot-bellied stove in her backyard! The city cop found them yesterday afternoon. Everybody’s saying that drifter Lucas killed her and Reverend Thomas. Ain’t that great?”

  “Zach, don’t say that. Forget anything you know about the reverend and focus on how I’m going to catch Henry Lee Lucas. Does anyone know if he’s left town?”

  “He’s nowhere to be found,” Zach reported. “When will you be in the office?”

  “Zach, listen carefully and follow my instructions,” Sarah said. She explained she was taking Olivia to Vernon, Texas, that morning to stay with her aunt while she searched for Lucas.

  “Will you be back this afternoon?” Zach asked, worried. He needed Sarah with him, there was so much going on in town with two murders.

  “I said to listen carefully,” Sarah was firm. “I’m not coming back until I have either captured or killed Henry Lee Lucas. God is telling me I must rid the earth of Satan’s son.”

  “But Sarah, what if the sheriff comes here and asks me lots of questions?” Zach pleaded.

  “Zach, you’re very smart. You know nothing about anything except I called in and am taking Olivia to Vernon. You’re not sure when I’m getting back, but you told me about Mrs. Mooney. Tell the sheriff I’ll call back later today.”

  Zach paused.

  “Nothing else, you understand?” Sarah said. “Don’t be too talkative about the reverend’s murder. You and I both know that too much talking is bad anytime and especially now. Soon everything will be back to normal—just you and me taking care of each other and our little town. God will be pleased with both of us.”

  In the past, Zach didn’t trust God or anyone else. But Sarah was always right, so he was beginning to think maybe there was a God. If so, Zach hoped he had the same God as Sarah. She seemed to talk to hers a lot.

  “Okay, Sarah,” Zach whispered, away from Ruby’s prying. “I got your back. Be careful.”

  “One more thing,” Sarah added. “Try to find out anything you can about Mrs. Mooney’s murder and which way Lucas is running. Oklahoma or to the west?”

  She had spent a lot of the drive that morning thinking about Henry’s profile. Criminals like to return to the scene of their crimes, but he was hardhearted and stone cold. He would not let his sense of murderous satisfaction get him caught. Like a wolf, he would move on from his prey, she assumed. The dead had no benefit to Henry. Money and sex were his primary goals in life, and seeing his victim’s dried blood didn’t excite him in any way.

  Sarah was also sure he’d killed Mooney, but why? Did the old lady find out who he was and what he’d done? Or did he want something from her? Questions flooded Sarah’s mind. Did the woman have money stashed somewhere? Regardless of where Lucas was headed, Sarah and God wanted him in Hell. She could put him there.

  Sarah started to hang up the phone with Zach.

  “Okay,” she said
. “I’ll talk to you later this afternoon. Be calm and smart, partner.” Sarah knew how to control Zach. He was so pleased that Sarah depended on him this way. He would keep his mouth shut and help his friend.

  “Hey, Sarah, hold on a minute,” he said. “A fax is printing out.” Sarah was disturbed by how often Zach would try to keep her on the phone.

  “Okay, but just a minute. I’ve got to go,” Sarah explained. She could see her car from the payphone outside the gritty convenience store. Oil field workers were coming and going with their hands full of drinks and donuts on their way to the surrounding oil patches. It was hard for her to hear, as the wind was blowing and the dirty trucks kept pulling up near her.

  Olivia had awakened and was looking over the backseat toward Pete. Sarah was anxious to return to the car. Olivia had to be out of Nocona, but she wasn’t going to like it. Sarah needed to be firm with her daughter.

  “Got it,” Zach said and began reading the fax into the phone line. “This is from the sheriff’s office in Wichita County. It says a highway patrol spotted a car like Lucas’ blue Chevy on Highway 287 headed north toward Amarillo. It looked like two people in the car. The officer was on the other side of the divided four-lane and couldn’t get across to pursue him.”

  Sarah wondered if the patrolman just didn’t want to tangle with the killer.

  “Got it, Zach! Good work!” Sarah hung up.

  Olivia was getting out of Sarah’s car, still woozy from the sleeping pill her mother gave her the night before. Sarah ran toward her.

  “Olivia, what are you doing? Get back in the car.”

  “No, bitch,” Olivia slurred. “I’m not going to a hellhole. I’m going home.”

  Sarah reached for her arm, and Olivia jerked away. She instinctively pushed Olivia toward the backseat door. Olivia was screaming at her, but Sarah had to get control. She slapped Olivia hard on her face and pushed her inside at the same time.

  Olivia, stunned, began crying. “I hate you,” she hurled the words toward Sarah.

  “Someday you won’t,” Sarah responded and started the car. “But for now, go ahead and hate me. You’re going to Vernon!”

  ***

  Aunt Sadie lived about eight miles west of Vernon, closer to a small town named Crowell. Sadie was well known in town, often attending church and buying gasoline there. A solid Southern cook, her fried chicken, white gravy, and whipped potatoes were ready for the Sears family. She had made up some pie crust with extra sugar and opened a can of cherries for a cherry cobbler. Sadie liked cooking and missed eating with Ralph.

  She had stripped the single bed in her tiny guest room, washing all the covers and adding a vase of wildflowers on the 1940s-antique dresser. Having a teenager would be a challenge, but she looked forward to the company.

  Sarah had never driven her state car very far after the Oklahoma trip where she got rid of the two thugs that raped her. This was her second longest trip, and it gave her a strange kind of pleasure showing other drivers a woman could be a law officer. She was careful to drive the speed limit, although a state trooper was unlikely to pull over his comrade.

  Pete had not said a word since Sarah had pushed and slapped his daughter. He was mentally struggling to accept his now powerful and take-charge spouse. Although he was grateful she’d saved his life and felt fortunate to be alive, Pete was perplexed about the future of his family. Not a deep thinker when it came to emotional issues, he decided to let his fears subside. He could and would deal with whatever came in the future. For now, he would regain his manhood and kill that son-of-a-bitch, Henry Lee Lucas.

  Olivia interrupted his thoughts by letting out a scream. “I’m bleeding again.” Blood had stained her nightgown and the pallet Sarah had put in the backseat. “Help me!”

  Sarah quickly pulled the car to the side of the highway. She grabbed Olivia, this time as a caring and scared parent. The girl looked pale and frightened.

  “Mom, I can’t go to some fucking country hick place while I’m bleeding to death. Take me home!”

  Sarah was busy mopping up the blood with a towel she kept in the trunk, and Pete wrapped his arms around his daughter. He looked at his wife and said firmly, “Sarah, our daughter needs to stay with us. She is still sick.” Sarah shook her head, agreeing to her husband’s command.

  “I’ll call Aunt Sadie,” she said. They were only a few miles away from the hospital in Vernon.

  For the next ten minutes, the family was utterly silent. Sarah questioned God’s motives. How could her family be in such a dire situation? A daughter in physical and emotional peril? A wounded husband? And a wife willingly having had sex with a killer? What would happen to this Texas family?

  Sarah never questioned her murderous deeds—these were acts demanded by God. She believed God talked directly to her, so there was no reason to question it. But everything else was in doubt.

  After making a short phone call informing Aunt Sadie that the Sears family would no longer be visiting her, Sarah felt relieved that Olivia’s bleeding had stopped. Timidly, she asked Pete if they could head on toward Amarillo, now only a few hours away. She explained that the fax delivered to her office affirmed that Henry was headed that way.

  Pete was as determined as his wife. “Let’s go,” he nodded toward the west.

  The stretch of lonely highway across West Texas made the drive more ominous for Sarah. While Olivia and Pete slept, Sarah’s mind pulled back again to their honeymoon. The trauma of Pete’s abuse, the shock of skinning an antelope, and the disappointment of a scarred marriage haunted Sarah’s psyche. She began to pray.

  “God,” she began, “if killing this murderer is not something you want me to do, give me a sign. I need your guidance and comfort now.”

  God said nothing in return as Sarah drove.

  ***

  The Big Tex motel was ripe for all kinds of crimes. It was situated on a creek bed in the poor part of Amarillo on the south side. People with little to lose liked the message displayed on the motel’s sign: “We rent for an hour, a day, or a lifetime.”

  The night clerk at the Big Tex eyed Sarah’s uniform and especially her gun.

  “Are you a lady cop? Where you from?” she asked.

  This woman seemed a little too inquisitive.

  “My family is with me. They are both sick, and we need a room. I’ve come upstate to hunt a criminal. Have you seen a strange man and maybe a girl together in a blue car?”

  “Lady, the only strange thing I’ve seen is you,” she snorted. “A lady cop dragging her family with her on a hunt.” The Big Tex clerks rarely divulged who might or might not be staying there. “Make sure you don’t use too much hot water in the shower,” she noted. “The building works off old heaters, and they don’t give too much hot water.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and thank you,” Sarah added. She was going to put Pete and Olivia to bed, and then she’d drive to every motel and café parking lot in this city to find Henry’s car. It was probably a wild goose chase, since he’d probably stolen another one by now. But she had to start somewhere.

  It was standard procedure for anyone from another county sheriff’s department to check in with the local office, but not Sarah. She believed God wanted her to kill Henry herself, not help someone else do it. The Amarillo sheriff’s department was probably already alerted to his possible existence in their city. She didn’t want to be called back to Montague County. So she would go this alone.

  About 250,000 people called this desolate outpost home. They had a reputation for being friendly and hard working. Sarah hoped Henry was not spending the night among these nice folks.

  ***

  “Henry Lee, I’m hungry. Can we go eat? I want some strawberry pancakes,” Becky whined.

  “Goddammit, shut up, bitch,” he replied. Henry was growing weary of this teenager. He hated most, if not all, women, and she was no different. “Her whining is so damn irritating,” he told himself. “Her pussy isn’t worth her bitching.”

  “I
said, I’m hungry!” Becky was persistent.

  Henry was getting madder and barked, “Did you hear me, bitch? I said, shut up. I need to think.”

  Fiddling with the old television inside a room at the Big Tex motel, he was looking to hear any news about him. His savvy, reasonably intelligent mind had kept Henry out of jail thus far, and he needed to scheme his future steps.

  “You never do anything I want,” Becky’s shrill nag hit the wrong nerve. Henry rushed to the bed and backhanded her across her face, her nose now bleeding as she cried. Henry’s emotions hit a high. He’d had enough, he promised himself. This immature bitch was going to die. He needed to go this part alone.

  Henry jumped on Becky, ramming his dick up her crotch.

  “Stop!” she yelled for the first time ever. But Henry continued to thrust in her vagina while putting his hands around her neck. She began fighting back, arousing Henry even more. The harder he thrust, the tighter he gripped her throat. She was gasping for her last breath when Henry ejaculated. Nothing excited Henry Lee Lucas more than necrophilia—a dead woman full of Henry’s semen.

  Becky Toole had stayed too long in a demon’s den. She now paid the ultimate price: being raped and strangled in a cheap Amarillo, Texas, motel room.

  Henry zipped his pants, grabbed his old leather knapsack, and slipped out the door. It was time to move on. The lazy motel clerk wouldn’t check on the room until tomorrow afternoon, giving him time to head to the Colorado mountains.

  ***

  Exhausted, Sarah gave up the search at midnight. She needed rest and was anxious to check on Olivia and Pete back at the Big Tex. She was frustrated with no sign of Lucas’ car.

  Sarah would check in with Zach tomorrow morning. She knew she was likely in hot water with her boss for leaving town, but God was her partner now. She felt confident he would help her find the killer.

  Watching late night television, Pete was waiting on Sarah in the room.