by Jon Mills
“Do you have the money?”
“What?”
“Your ad. It stated you would pay for information. Money first.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jenna reached over and felt around for her handbag.
“I’ll get it,” Meghan said. She had visions of her jumping out or striking her with the bag just so she could take the money. Nope, instead, she rooted through it and pulled out the purse and handed it to her. Keeping her eyes on the road, she placed it between her legs and fumbled with the zipper before pulling out a couple hundred dollars and handing it over. Meghan tucked the notes into her bra and then pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
“Got a light?”
Jenna pushed in the button on the car lighter. Though she had a number of vices, smoking wasn’t one of them. When it popped out, the girl put it to the end, and it glowed bright orange. Smoke filled the inside, and she brought the window down. She never asked if it was okay, then again it was to be expected, most of the women she’d met did whatever they wanted.
“So what can you tell me?” Jenna asked, eager to hear.
“You’ll know soon enough. For now, I need you to drive me to one more client, then I will tell you.”
“That wasn’t the deal. I said I would pay you.”
“Listen up, lady.” Her tone changed and became sharp. Jenna immediately regretted letting her into the vehicle. “The two hundred is for my time, I still have a job to do and I’m not going to lose this client on account of you.”
Jenna didn’t agree but what other options were there? Kicking her out? Not after paying her.
She sighed and pressed on the gas. “Where do you need to go?”
“Green Bank.”
Chapter 4
Deputy Sam Larson entered his darkened home on the outskirts of Marlinton at around twelve-thirty that evening. He carefully hung the keys to his Ford Crown Victoria cruiser on the hook, tugged off his boots and headed into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water before he turned in for the night. A light switched on and his wife, Kerry, was sitting in a rocking chair with their young daughter. At twenty-six, he’d been married to her since he was twenty-one. She had been his high school sweetheart. Both of them had grown up in small towns in West Virginia, though he’d never imagined he would remain there. He had his heart set on Charleston. Kerry had other plans.
“Still up?” he asked, surprised to see her awake.
“Baby wouldn’t settle. I’ve only just managed to get her to fall asleep.”
He turned on the faucet and filled a glass before chugging it down and leaning back against the granite counter. They’d moved into the two-bedroom home as soon as she got pregnant. It was a step up from the dive of an apartment they’d been living in on the west side. He unbuckled his duty belt and took it into the living room.
“What’s up?” she asked.
He shrugged but didn’t reply. He slumped down in his chair and yawned hard. He was exhausted but found it difficult to go straight to bed when he got in. He needed to unwind as his mind was still preoccupied with the last few calls that had put him into overtime. Mostly domestics, dealing with drunks and those who thought it was fine to beat on women. Policing in a small town with just over a thousand people wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, certainly not what he had in mind when he entered the recruitment process. He’d yearned for policing in a big city, something that would give him variety and keep him busy around the clock.
Here, in Marlinton, it was a joke. The twelve-hour shifts moved by painfully slow. The calls were all the same. But he had taken the position because of Kerry. She was worried about him not coming home, and with the newborn, her concerns had only increased. The fact was it didn’t matter whether he was working in a city or a small town, every time he headed out that door there was a possibility he wouldn’t return. Things could go south real quick. In his first year alone, back when he was on probation, he’d already stared down the barrel of a rifle on two occasions. Fortunately, he was able to talk his way out of it. Next time he knew he might not be as lucky. Of course, he hadn’t told Kerry that. She would have had him hand in his badge the same day. No, there were some things he didn’t share with her. It was better that way. She had enough stress on her plate.
“Was there another death?”
“No.”
Kerry struggled to get out of the rocking chair. He was about to give her a hand but she got up and disappeared out of the kitchen. Sam leaned to one side and retrieved the Pocahontas Times. Local events, awards and achievements took up most of the front-page news. It lacked the punch he was hoping to find. Though the recent string of disappearances and deaths of five women had managed to garner some attention, once it got out the kind of lives the women were leading, it soon faded into the background. Sam had been biting at the bit to get involved but the chief said State Police and the FBI were now handling it. That was a crock of shit. He’d yet to see any of them in Marlinton for longer than a day after the discovery of each body. Sure they had shown up, asked questions and gone through the bare minimum required, but what then? Even the families were baffled by what was being done. It pissed him off. The chief wasn’t the one that had to deal with the public on a day-to-day basis, he didn’t have to make excuses or look into the eyes of heartbroken family members.
Kerry returned to the kitchen, cracked the fridge open and stood there for a minute in the glow before taking out the milk. She tucked a strand of her long dark hair behind one ear and gave him a smile. Even when she was tired, had dark circles around her eyes, and probably felt like crap, she still looked beautiful.
“You want a glass of warm milk?”
“No, I’m good.”
She put a pot on the stove to heat it up.
“About time we get a microwave, isn’t it?” he asked.
“And cause interference?” she said without even looking at him.
“You know that ban only applies to Green Bank. We’re out of the restricted area.”
“But still in the quiet zone.”
He shook his head. While the National Radio Quiet Zone’s thirteen thousand square miles covered the eastern half of West Virginia, only those inside a ten-mile radius of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory were prohibited from using devices that emitted a frequency. Marlinton wasn’t included. It frustrated him to no end. They lived twenty-six miles away from Green Bank and the most restricted area, and yet a large majority of folks still lived as though it was the 1950s. As much as he respected his wife’s concern for the Green Bank Observatory, he drew the line at cell phones and wireless Internet. He cast his eyes down at the paper to a small article with the headline:
NO LEADS IN THE DEATH OF MARLINTON RESIDENT
The Pocahontas County Sheriff Department and the WV State Police are still investigating the death of Marlinton local Brenda Norris. She was reported missing two months ago. She was in her late 20s to early 30s and was last seen at the Locust Hill Inn Pub on the night of May 11, 2017. She was wearing a green shirt with dark khaki pants and had shoulder-length hair. Her body was found in Deer Creek by a Green Bank resident while out walking her dog.
If you saw her in Green Bank or have any knowledge related to this case, please call the Pocahontas County 911 Center.
Kerry wandered in with a mug in both hands, she glanced down at it.
“You’d think by now they would have found something.”
He folded the paper, sighed and tossed it on the floor. “I should have gone through the recruitment process for a position with the State Police.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” She took a seat across from him and curled up her legs.
“They want anyone who has information to call us, and yet we aren’t even the ones handling the case. WVSP are. All we are doing is passing on leads.”
“And the FBI?”
“Oh please, they showed up for a day and the last I heard that was only to save face. Their resources are maxed out. S
ince 9/11 most of them are working on cases related to terrorism. The Bureau is not what it used to be. They simply don’t have the time.”
He shook his head, juggling his inner frustrations.
“But we discussed this, Sam. You could have been posted anywhere. I wanted us—”
“To be close to family. I know.” He sniffed and took a sip of his water. “It’s just…” he trailed off. They’d had this conversation numerous times. There was no changing it now so he didn’t even know why he bothered to mention it.
“Look, there is more to policing than spending every waking hour chasing down criminals. Your recruiter told you…”
“It’s hours of boredom and seconds of sheer terror,” Sam said before she could get it out. “I guess I was just hoping for a little more action.”
“Can’t you speak to the chief and see if you can be involved more with the investigation?”
He groaned. “It doesn’t work like that, Kerry.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how it works. I’m just fed up with you coming home looking frustrated. If I had known you were going to be like this, I would have…”
“What? Would have what?”
She shook her head. “I’m going back to bed. I have to be up early in the morning.”
He nodded. She left leaving tension in the air. He hated going to bed angry, and yet he only had himself to blame. He should have kept his mouth shut or put his foot down and signed up with WVSP, at least then he would be in the thick of it. As he sat there contemplating heading off to bed, he got a text from Ethan Rigby, one of the officers on the night shift. He checked his phone only to find another one of his gags. The guy was full of them, except they were groan-worthy. He tossed it down and engaged the La-Z-Boy chair. The number of nights he’d fallen asleep in there were too many to number. His phone buzzed again, and he snatched it up out of habit. This time it was a phone call from the department.
“Sam, you asleep yet?”
“I will be in about five minutes.”
“You think you can come in for a couple of hours?”
“I just got off a shift that ran into overtime.”
“It’s Ethan. He’s taken a turn for the worst.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “But he just texted me a few minutes ago.”
“So can you?”
He groaned. That was the problem with being the new guy. Shit rolled downhill and the hill in this department wasn’t very steep. There were only six uniformed deputies, one shift commander, one patrol sergeant, one captain, one chief deputy and a sheriff.
“What about Matt?”
“He’s in Durbin dealing with a dispute. Look, I wouldn’t ask but you know how these things work.”
“Of course, I’ll be there in five.”
“Good man.”
He hung up and texted Ethan back. “Asshole.”
This wasn’t the first time he had done it. Ethan had been with the Pocahontas County Sheriff Department the longest, and as shift work operated on seniority, he tended to get away with a lot of shit, especially when it came to nights. He hated doing them. It wasn’t like it was hard work. Most of the time the guys would park up, do some paperwork and turn the radio down and catch a few winks. Not Ethan. The problem was Sam wasn’t in a position to argue. Sure he was out of his probationary period but in their books, he was still wet behind the ears and Ethan was milking it for all it was worth.
He rubbed his eyes and pushed out of the comfort of the chair and went about getting ready to head out. Kerry must have heard him puttering around as she made her way back down.
“I thought you were coming to bed?”
“They’ve called me back in.”
“Another one?”
“No, just Ethan.”
“You need to tell Brian about this. It’s not right, Sam.”
“Yeah, well, it is what it is.” He snapped in place his duty belt, and finished making a coffee. “That’s life in the fast lane, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll get a promotion to head coffee maker,” he said in a sarcastic manner. She narrowed her gaze as he leaned in to give her a kiss. Kerry pulled her cheek away and put up a finger.
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
The baby started crying again and Kerry sighed. “Just when I thought I was going to get some sleep.”
“You and me both.”
Despite their disagreements, he loved her and would do anything to keep her happy. In many ways she was right. He had his kid to think about now. His idea of solving murders, chasing after criminals and being at the helm of some newsworthy investigation was just a dream. Some grandiose, unrealistic idea that ended the second he stepped inside the academy. Kerry headed upstairs to take care of Anna-Belle, and he finished up twisting the cap on a flask of coffee. It was going to be a long night.
She was breathing hard and not making any sense. It was a rambling incoherent mess. Words and tears jumbled together. It seemed like nothing more than the babbling of an insane person. The call had woken him out of a deep sleep. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, let alone understand what she was shouting. Was it a prank? A wrong number? Hell, a few times he couldn’t even tell if it was a female. There was a lot of crying, and desperation in the voice. In the background was the distant sound of a vehicle.
Jack held the phone to his ear and perched on the side of his bed. “Who is this?”
The person was barely able to string two words together. By any measure she sounded like she was high. He had encountered a lot of drug users in his time. When they were really out of it, they couldn’t speak clearly, it was like they had a mouthful of marbles or were dribbling after dental surgery.
He put a finger in his other ear. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”
It was like her mouth wasn’t anywhere near the receiver.
Words blended together as if she was in a rush. She was completely incoherent. At first, he just thought it was a joke, and he hung up. But she called back again within a matter of a minute. This time he caught a few words. “Meghan Palmer.”
“Your name is Meghan?”
Again, back to dribble from her lips. “For God’s sake, woman, it’s the middle of the night, who are you?” The reply was mixed together with tears and intense crying. Whoever it was, they were putting on one hell of an act. But why him? Why now? He stared at the clock. The red luminous numbers flashed back two seventeen. It was too damn early for this. He was planning to leave for Marlinton at six. It would take him until early evening before he reached there and that was if he didn’t stop.
“Look…”
She muttered again, this time words of pleading.
That’s when he thought he caught the name Jenna but when he asked her to confirm, he got no response. She’d gone quiet. Then slowly he could hear her mumbling. It was almost as faint as a whisper. Getting annoyed, he was seconds away from hanging up when she started to flip out. A scream echoed so loud he had to pull the phone away from his ear.
“I’m sorry, I think you’ve dialed the wrong number.”
“Jack,” she croaked out.
“Who is this?”
“No. No!” the woman yelled, her words blending together. Next, it sounded as if she was fighting for her life. In the background, Jack could hear a male voice. It was firm and gruff.
“Give me that.”
“Let me go.”
Several knocks could be heard as if plastic was hitting plastic. Then he heard one more thing. “Jack, it’s…”
Several large thuds were followed by a groan, and then a few more as if someone was being struck with the phone. What came next was the close-up sound of a male’s voice breathing hard before he hung up.
Jenna? Jenna Whitmore?
His mind went into overdrive. He dialed *69 to get the last phone number. Once he had that, he rang the operator and asked if they could tell him where the number was from. The operator put him on hold for a few minutes and then returned.
&n
bsp; “Green Bank, West Virginia.”
Chapter 5
After the operator hung up, Jack tried Jenna’s cell. There was no answer. Each time it just went to voice mail. Exhausted and disturbed by the call, he leaned back and closed his eyes, contemplating his next step.
Jenna had already paid him a quarter of his fees. Although his initial reaction to save time was to pack a bag, book a flight and hire a car when he got there, could he really be sure that it was her? It was incoherent at best. He cursed under his breath, rolled over and jotted down the one name he’d heard, Meghan Palmer. It was the only thing he could discern amid the jumbled mess of words. He swore he’d heard the name Jenna but he couldn’t be certain. It certainly didn’t sound like the woman he’d spoken to earlier that day.
As he chewed it over, he slowly succumbed to his tiredness.
The following morning, after gathering together his belongings, Jack handed in his keys to the front desk and headed towards his car.
“Hey there, are you leaving?” Serena called out to him.
“Afraid so.”
“For how long?”
Jack held the door to his vehicle open. “Not sure yet.”
“Well, if you are ever in the neighborhood, swing by.”
He smiled and gave a nod. It was strange, but he felt more at home in that dingy motel than he had in a long time. The connections he made with strangers in that short time had more depth than those he’d known for years. Though he never mentioned what he did for a living, he never got the sense that he needed to hide his past or lie about his work. He had a feeling they were all running from one thing or another. Over the past year he’d traveled around the States, stopping for only a day or two in motels until a job was completed or he became restless. The idea of putting down roots was no longer in his mind. He enjoyed the open road and the eclectic variety of people that crossed his path. After spending so many years in New York, seeing some of the United States was like a breath of fresh air. When he was driving on the open road, talking with strangers or taking on jobs in some small town in the middle of nowhere, he felt at peace and no longer bothered by the demons of his past.
