Twisted Retribution

by Donna Arp Weitzman

  “Where’ve you been?” he asked, agitated yet relieved she was okay. Olivia was fast asleep in the bed next to him.

  “Checking out hotel and restaurant parking lots. I hoped to see his car. I would know it if I saw it,” she explained.

  Pete suspected that Sarah knew Lucas more personally than she let on. There was no reason for him to think that, beyond a husband’s suspicions. “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Nope, but tomorrow’s another day,” Sarah said and slipped in bed beside Pete, the first time in decades she wasn’t scared of him.

  ***

  As a precaution, Henry decided to stay in town and begin his Colorado journey in the morning. Becky’s body would start to rot, and he couldn’t stand the smell of death, even after killing so many people. He had paid for the night at the Big Tex, but he decided he’d just sleep in the old blue car, parking overnight in a safe place out of sight like the driveway of an empty house for sale.

  The local Amarillo police knew many of the motel night clerks because most crimes were committed after sundown. Prostitution, sex crimes, drugs, alcohol, petty thefts—most of these perpetrators stayed in shabby motels. They were the dens of sin. Early the next morning, Ben Stewart, a ten-year veteran cop, pulled in the Big Tex motel. He carried the precinct rap sheet showing Lucas’ face, announcing him as a suspected murderer in Nocona, Texas, with possible other crimes in other states.

  “Hey, Jo Ann, how’s everything going?” Ben greeted the motel clerk on duty.

  “Okay,” she said and nodded, taking a slow drag off her Camel straight cigarette. “What’s up, Ben? You want some coffee? There’s a little chill in the air.”

  “Nope,” Ben replied. “I gotta go to the rest of the motels in town. Here’s a flyer. Seen this guy? He’s a bad one.”

  Jo Ann turned ashen while staring at Henry Lee’s face.

  “Ben,” she whispered. “He’s here.”

  Ben looked alarmed. “You’re sure?”

  “Yep, came in last night. I think there was a woman in his car.”

  “Holy shit, which room?” Ben asked. He was nervous. Ten years arresting two-bit petty criminals hadn’t prepared him for a hardened criminal, a serial killer. “I’m calling for back up.”

  Jo Ann looked out the office blinds. His car is gone. “Maybe he left. I’m not sure.” Although Jo Ann’s shift was about to end, she felt compelled to find out if the guy she met was Henry Lee Lucas.

  Ben was feeling equally brave and curious. He joined the police force after he got laid off from the PPG plant a few years ago. Being a cop seemed pretty easy here, and he basked in the awe and respect that wearing a badge and a gun brought him.

  Tracking down serial killers and checking motels for criminals, however, was something left for the FBI and the sheriff’s office. Ben was expected to give traffic tickets and watch for shoplifters in the mall. But he did have pride, so he’d muster up the bravado to do his job here.

  “I’d better go check the room,” Ben said. “Can you go with me?”

  When they opened Lucas’ room, the room was dark and had a slight stench.

  Ben hung behind Jo Ann with his gun out of the holster. An affable cop, he was not one to lead a charge of any kind.

  Jo Ann knocked on the open door and asked, “Hello, anyone in there?” No sound.

  She knocked again. The same.

  She turned on a light. The shape of a woman’s body was slumped on the bad.

  “Shit, probably a meth overdose,” Jo Ann said. She was disgusted with the tragedy drugs brought her community. “Wake up, girl!”

  Henry never left a victim breathing. He was proud of the fact that he completed his mission 100% of the time. Becky was dead and beginning to decompose.

  “Jo Ann, don’t touch her,” Ben ordered. “I need to call the department. An investigator needs to handle it from here.”

  “Damn,” Jo Ann sighed and felt sorry for the girl. This would cut short the guests staying at the Big Tex for the day. Cop cars always scared away the type of people who stayed there. Jo Ann and the other clerks were paid a small bonus if the motel stayed full. So there would be no bonus this week.

  ***

  Sarah hardly slept, feeling the daunting presence of Henry somewhere nearby. Despite her protests, her vagina quivered with the thought of him on top of her. She felt faint and sick at her stomach.

  She got up, made her way to the bathroom, and placed a wet cloth on her forehead. Remembering how she’d sinned with a killer, a thrust of vomit entered her throat.

  “Pete, I need to check in with Zach,” she said to her husband after she dressed. “I’d better call the office.”

  Olivia awoke and went to the bathroom to clean up. She was feeling better, and Pete was healing well. Sarah thought she could leave them again this morning while she searched for Henry.

  “I’m going with you wherever you’re going. We are going to kill him together,” Pete said, adamant that he would kill this bastard, not his wife.

  “Kill who?” Olivia asked, walking out of the bathroom. She had overheard their conversation, but she was not part of the plan to kill Henry Lee Lucas. “Don’t tell me either of you is going to kill somebody,” she said, thinking of Reverend Thomas, her drug supplier. Olivia might have been suffering from drug withdrawal had she not been given pain killers for her abortion.

  Sarah decided to tell Olivia why they were in Amarillo. Olivia was startled by this information. What had her mother become? A hunter of murderers?

  “Well, I’m going wherever you guys are going,” the girl announced. “I’m not staying here in this ratty place.” Nothing, it seemed, had changed the bossy teen’s attitude after all.

  Sarah informed Pete and Olivia to stay put at the motel while she quickly stopped by the sheriff’s department to use the phone and let her boss know she was on the job.

  Harold Stein was the officer on duty in Amarillo. He was busy faxing a notice of the Big Tex motel’s murder when Sarah walked in.

  “Howdy,” Harold said, surprised to see a short, middle-aged woman wearing a sheriff’s uniform, a gun on her side. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  Sarah explained she was the investigator in charge of finding the killer, Henry Lee Lucas. Harold frowned and pushed the faxed copy toward Sarah. “You think this murder at the Big Tex has anything to do with your man?”

  Harold had worked in law enforcement for three decades. Nothing shocked him. He guessed the latest victim was a drugged-out prostitute who visited the wrong sleazy motel room.

  Reading the fax, Sarah turned pale. Instinctively, she knew this was Henry’s work. This was probably the girl he had with him in Nocona.

  “May I borrow your phone?” she asked. “I need to call my office in Montague County.”

  “You bet, little lady. Anytime.” Harold Stein was a good man but exhibited the typical Texan’s male chauvinism. As he addressed Sarah, he made sure she kept that pistol in her holster.

  “Hell, I bet she’s never even fired a gun,” he thought. “A lady sheriff, huh. This damn women’s lib thing has gotten way out of hand.” He excused himself to the office kitchen to pour himself some coffee while she made her phone call.

  Zach answered the phone, just as Sarah hoped. She didn’t have the patience for Ruby’s relentless gossip.

  “Zach, I’m in Amarillo. There was a murder here last night. I think Henry Lee Lucas has his fingers are all over it.”

  “What are you planning to do, Sarah?” he asked. Before she could answer, Zach continued, “I talked with the sheriff yesterday. He needs you back here. They are all talking about Reverend Thomas. There are tons of wreaths, flowers, and notes hanging on the fence around the church. The Lions Club, the women’s club, and all the churches are having prayer breakfasts. I even heard a tent revival is on its way to the county.”

  “Do they still think Lucas did the murder?” Sarah asked.

  “I think so,” he replied. “But a lot of people don’t kno
w who Lucas is. Ruby’s been gossiping with every old woman in the county. Rumors are crazy. Some even say the reverend had a gay lover who killed him. Wouldn’t you know the assholes always blame us ‘fags’!”

  Straight white men hatred was always present in Zach’s soul.

  “Okay, Zach, just stay calm,” Sarah instructed. “Tell the sheriff I’m on Lucas’ trail and that we will find the reverend’s killer. He will be proud of me.”

  “Sarah, be safe!” her partner said.

  “Zach, just stay quiet. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Never forget we’re partners and need to take care of each other.”

  She hung up just as Harold walked back to his desk. There was no reason for Harold to be jealous of this woman. She probably filled a quota, he reminded himself. Harold didn’t like the liberal government and hoped to retire next year. His menial office duty was fine for him until then because it kept him out of danger.

  “Lady, good luck. You might go over to the Big Tex and take a look around,” Harold suggested.

  “Thanks for the advice,” Sarah placated him. “That’s a good idea.”

  Harold liked this strange woman.

  ***

  Jo Ann’s shift was way past time, but she stayed on with the daytime clerk, a twenty-something student who passed the time studying when she wasn’t renting rooms at the Big Tex. Jo Ann didn’t want the girl to panic and quit with all the commotion going on. Then she’d have to work two shifts until they found someone. She told the girl to take care of the office while Jo Ann mingled with the city cops.

  Traffic had virtually stopped in front of the motel, and rubberneckers were getting out to see what happened. The cops were stern, demanding the onlookers keep going. The ambulance arrived and prepared the body to be transported to the morgue.

  Sarah placed a small siren on the top of her Montague County car and pulled into the motel parking lot. A city cop approached. “Ma’am,” he said. “What are you doing in that car?”

  Sarah smiled and pulled out her badge. He frowned and let her drive through the crowd. She stopped by the room where Pete and Olivia were staying and told them what had happened overnight at the motel. She instructed Pete to keep Olivia inside and not to go out for any reason.

  Pete watched his wife work the policemen from the window of the motel room. Now that he paid more attention to his spouse, he was amazed at her efficiency. Maybe she was always a “take charge” person, but he still wouldn’t allow himself to give her credit.

  Pete Sears had suffered his whole life with bouts of anger. His dysfunctional, no-good family upbringing made it worse, and the war had sealed his attitude. Pete had poor self-worth and refused to let anyone penetrate his weaknesses. He knew he was ready to rid himself of his demons, but only after he killed the killer. He would get his retribution, just as his wife had done with Reverend Thomas.

  One more killing and the Sears family would be whole again. Pete would make up for the twenty years he’d wasted. He needed his family more than ever.

  “Why are we still here?” Olivia asked. She had a slight fever and was weak from her blood loss.

  “I don’t know. Just rest, honey. There’s some cookies in that sack on the floor by the bed,” he said. “Eat a few to tide you over while your mother is talking to the police.”

  Characteristically, Pete had always been kind to his only daughter. “Your mother will be through in a few more minutes.”

  “I don’t get it,” Olivia complained. “She must think she’s Annie Oakley with that gun strapped on her. What a fake.”

  “Olivia, I want you to be nicer to your mother,” he scolded. “She has taken care of both of us.”

  Olivia was startled to hear her father say a kind word about her mother. “What is going on in this family?” she again thought to herself.

  ***

  “Hello, ma’am,” Sarah nodded toward Jo Ann at the motel reception desk. “May I ask you a few questions?”

  Jo Ann was still amused at a lady was wearing a sheriff’s uniform. “That’s okay, but where are you from again?”

  “I’m Sarah Sears, the Montague County sheriff department investigator assigned to this case.”

  Jo Ann puffed on her cigarette, staring at Sarah. “Why a cop from somewhere called Montague County?”

  “I’m on the case of a killer named Henry Lee Lucas,” she said. “He murdered an old lady in Nocona, Texas.”

  The paramedic wheeled Becky’s body beside Sarah and Jo Ann, lifting the corpse into the ambulance. Jo Ann shook her head. “I saw this girl yesterday in his car, and now she’s dead.”

  “Whose car?” Sarah asked, sniffing a lead.

  “I already told Officer Ben all this, but there was a man with her in a blue car. They stayed in that room. When I looked out this morning at daylight, the car was gone. I thought they’d both left during the night. I was sure glad I got his money upfront.”

  “What did the man look like?” Sarah questioned. Jo Ann let out the smoke from her lungs, precipitating a crackly cough.

  “Pretty good looking, slim, medium height, about 40 years old I guess.”

  “Did he say anything to you as to where he had been or was going?”

  Jo Ann nodded, sucking in tobacco again. “Asked me the road to the state line. Said he and his daughter were moving to the Colorado mountains. I knew better. He just wanted an easy fuck, and the girl probably needed the money. Oh, well, that what the Big Tex is good at. A quick piece of pussy and ten dollars for the room.”

  Jo Ann stared at Sarah to get her reaction. Sarah didn’t move.

  “But he paid twenty-five for the room overnight,” Jo Ann continued. “I figured the girl would do him several times for that much. But none of my business.”

  Sarah realized Henry Lee Lucas was fucking the girl, then her, then the girl. She felt ill and excused herself after thanking the woman for her time.

  “You bet,” Jo Ann said. “And good luck finding him. Stay safe. No need to let the fucker kill another woman.”

  Sarah choked back the vomit as she went to Pete’s room. “I think he must have left town last night or early this morning, heading toward Dumas and probably on to Colorado,” she told him. “You feeling okay?”

  “Yes, Pete nodded. “Let’s get him! Olivia, get your stuff. It’s time to go.”

  Olivia was asleep again. Pete and Sarah loaded her into the backseat. She would track the monster down, Sarah reminded herself, and God would help her kill the scum.

  Quickly pulling into a filthy convenience store, Sarah practically ran inside to buy three chocolate donuts, two large cartons of chocolate milk, and two coffees for her and Pete. Olivia never complained if chocolate was on the menu. Sarah’s insides were trembling, as she had a foreboding she would see Henry again soon.

  After breakfast, both Pete and Olivia fell asleep. Sarah suspected the trauma was taking its toll on her passengers. She felt guilty forcing them to go through the misery of tracking down a criminal. But certain God was guiding her, she told herself she’d never let anything happen to any of the Sears family again.

  Driving north on the desolate highway between Amarillo and Dumas, Texas, Sarah briefly allowed herself to wallow in her own pity. Had she waited longer to marry, finished her education, or maybe even left small-town Texas, she wondered what she could have become. Daydreaming, she was startled when she thought she saw a highway patrol car up the road. But it had no lights on.

  Slowing down as her sheriff’s vehicle approached the black and white car, she noticed the officer slumped over the wheel. She veered off the two-lane road and backed up, waking Pete.

  “What’s going on?” Pete sounded concerned.

  “Something’s wrong!” Sarah was alarmed. “The officer in that car looks hurt or dead.”

  Sarah jumped out, pistol drawn, and approached the car. Pete also opened his door and climbed out slowly, gritting his teeth with pain.

  Sarah slowly looked inside the front seat and saw a bullet w
ound in the officer’s temple. Blood was running almost black through the congealed areas. Racing back to her car, she yelled at Pete, “He’s dead. Get in, I need to call the Amarillo police. Dumas is not too far ahead.”

  Gunning the accelerator, Sarah knew Lucas was the perpetrator.

  ***

  West Texas storms are also serial killers. They can destroy many lives and properties in brief moments. Dusty raindrops from a storm began to spatter on Sarah’s windshield. The wind was picking up from the west, the most common direction of the deadliest twisters.

  She continued to speed up the narrow lane toward the next civilization. Sarah’s nerves were beginning to fray. Where was Lucas? She was getting desperate. Henry was a killing machine.

  The wind was blowing harder now, making the rain a weapon of destruction. Sarah could hardly see through the windshield, but she didn’t want to stop looking for Lucas before he killed again.

  A slow freight train was parked on the highway overpass ahead. The engineer must have worried about the west Texas weather, Sarah concluded. Lightning was a danger for boxcars, often causing fires.

  Sarah could see two cars parked under the concrete barrier, one on her side of the road and the other several hundred feet away on the other side. Lightning was striking nearby, and the wind was whipping the car to the side. She had to stop. Texas women like Sarah know how to shelter for a tornado: get out of your vehicle and get in a ditch. Glass windows are daggers in a windstorm.

  Sarah pulled up behind one of the parked vehicles. Through the rain and blinding wind, she could see the car was blue, and a man was sitting behind the wheel. She instantly recognized Henry Lee Lucas. God had led her to him.

  “Pete, it’s him!” Sarah was scared and rattled. “I’m getting out, and I’ll shoot him through the glass,” Sarah told her husband, thinking it was raining too hard for Henry to identify her vehicle.

  “Stop!” Pete begged his wife. “He could have his gun pulled. Don’t, Sarah. I can kill him with my rifle.” He was already reaching over the backseat to the floor underneath Olivia, who was waking up with all the noise.